Morgathra The Goddess of Flesh

Born into the depths of severe poverty, Morgathra’s early life was a relentless nightmare. As a young girl, she endured unimaginable hardships and abuse at the hands of men who exploited her vulnerability. Each day was a struggle for survival, and each night brought new horrors. This constant torment and suffering fueled a deep-seated hatred within her, festering like a wound that would never heal.

As she grew older, Morgathra became branded as a witch in her town, a label that stemmed from the mysterious deaths of her five husbands. Each marriage had ended in tragedy, and whispers of her supposed dark powers filled the air, leading people to view her with fear and suspicion. They believed she was cursed, a vessel of misfortune.

The turning point in her harrowing existence came when a stranger, driven by a clear obsession with her, approached her father to propose marriage. This man, Thraxx, was wealthy and influential, but his interest in Morgathra felt more like a predatory fixation than genuine affection. Despite her father’s eagerness to secure a profitable match, Morgathra felt a cold dread settle in her stomach at the thought of becoming this man’s sixth wife.

Determined to either kill herself or find a way out of the marriage, Morgathra pleaded with her father for another option, but he refused, insisting that the marriage was for her own good. When the day finally arrived for Thraxx to collect his bride, she was met with fierce resistance. He overpowered her easily, using a spell to force her to remain still, his grip like iron around her will.

Noticing Thraxx’s foul obsession with her, Morgathra resolved to use it to her advantage. As he released her from his spell, she dropped to her knees before him, her voice trembling as she said, “I’m sorry for being disobedient.”

Thraxx, his eyes gleaming with a mix of desire and delight, responded, “Ah, my sweet Morgathra, I knew you would come to understand your place. It’s only natural for a bride to test the waters before yielding to her husband.” His smile was both charming and chilling, revealing the darkness that lay beneath his polished exterior.

Seizing the moment, Morgathra feigned submission, maintaining eye contact and speaking sweetly as she noticed his staff leaning against the side of their cabin. In a fumbled attempt to reach for it, the glass orb sitting atop the staff fell and shattered on the floor.

Thraxx froze, his expression shifting from pleasure to hurt and then anger. “What have you done?” he hissed, rage boiling beneath the surface.

Using this moment of distraction, Morgathra bolted. The only thought in her mind was the cliff that had haunted her dreams, a place she had fantasized about more and more since being locked in her father's cellar. She had vowed to herself that if anyone was going to take her life, it would be her. The path to her end was etched firmly in her mind.

Morgathra sprinted through the twisted, darkened forest, branches clawing at her skin as she pushed through the underbrush. Her breath came in frantic gasps, and glancing over her shoulder, she saw three grotesque creatures pursuing her. Their long necks twisted at unnatural angles, their skin a gruesome shade of blood red, with bones protruding sharply from their bodies. They moved with a sickly grace, as if possessed by some dark force.

“Morgathra, my love!” a voice called out, sickly sweet and taunting. “Hiding will get you nowhere. Your father signed the papers; you are mine!”

The words echoed in her mind, mingling with the fear coursing through her veins. But she would not allow Thraxx—or anyone—to dictate her fate any longer. With each step, she quickened her pace, the jagged rocks of the cliff looming ever closer. The forest seemed to close in around her, but her resolve burned brighter than the darkness that pursued her.

In that moment, Morgathra was not just running from a man; she was running toward freedom, toward the only choice she believed she had left. As she neared the cliff’s edge, the adrenaline surged through her, propelling her forward as she prepared to make the ultimate decision.