#original ficiton

[gwen-tolios]

You know a little about garden fairies. No one wants to be the victim of small curses, but it's nearly impossible to know what sets a fairy off so they're often treated like wasps - you ignore them and they'll ignore you.

Still, half-dead chrysanthemums can't be a nice home.

You buy a new pot, putting it right next to the old one. The fairy investigates it from time to time, you can see them harvesting nectar, but they continue to live in the half-dead pot.

Thinking it might just like the placement of the pot, you rotate the two. The fairy stays with the now-dead chrysanthemums. It thankfully doesn't seem to have too much against the move; you don't think you've earned a curse, anyway.

In the evenings, you sit on your balcony and enjoy the sun. Sometimes you see the fairy, sitting outside the burrow it's created in sun-baked earth. You don't know where it goes during the day - they're supposed to feed on nectar but your one pot of healthy chrysanthemums can't be enough to feed it. Does it harvest from your neighbor's mini roses? The posies three floors down? You've never seen it fly from or to your balcony, but it is nothing more than a tiny, green speck the size of a thumb joint.

It sticks around as summer ends, and you start to get worried. You know it's not a pet, dependent on you for care, but you notice the flowers are dying and with it the fairy's food source. You start to leave out caps of honey water, and now, after nearly two months of you and the fairy mutually ignoring each other you have attention.

It's nerve-wracking, seeing it land on your hand while you're holding a book. Can you turn the page? Or will that upset it, leading to a stinging curse? You don't turn a page for a solid ten minutes until it flies off to its burrow.

When you step outside it flies around your head, wings buzzing in your ear.

One evening, you place the cap of honey water not on the floor near the pot, but on your small bistro table. The fairy lands next to it, slurping the water. You've never seen it drink before, and try to hide your laughter. Faires are delicate, magical creatures and you expected them to use their hands as a cup. But no, the fairy ducks its head into the cap, slurping. When it sits back on its knees, water drips from its chin. Its hair, really wisps of magic, is weighed down.

It looks at you with round, faceted eyes and sings. You tense, fairies only make a sound when casting magic. Have you finally pissed it off? Have you been cursed?

Slowly, you step back into your apartment. Your bowl of raspberries, which you'd been munching on, is once again full.

You've not been cursed, you've been blessed.

You cry, glad the fairy likes you that much. Trusts you that much.

It's just a magical wasp, you know that. It feeds on flowers. They die when the weather gets cold. You shouldn't feel so connected to what many people consider a pest.

You grab a shallow dish, fill it with more honey water. A fest for a fairy. Slowly, you carry it and your bowl of raspberries outside.

The fairy is on the table's end, legs dangling and wings flapping like a butterfly. Its gaze zooms in on the dish. You can't read its facial expression, but you think clapping hands are joy. You set both dishes on the table, and for the first time, enjoy a meal together.

You find a fairy living in your “garden”: a half-dead pot of chrysanthemums on your 7th floor balcony.

[berenwrites]

Oh No - This Can't Be Happening! #comedy #vampire #shortstory

Happy New Year! Check out my first story of 2024 on Tales with Tasha. A funny paranormal comedy or new year, vampires and a teensy bit of regret! Check the end of the vid and the description for details on how to pick up your free copy of the eBook too.

Title: The Morning After: Fangs for the Memory!

When Liz wakes up on New Year's Day with a mysterious neck pain, she quickly realizes that things are far from normal, the biggest sticking point being she has no reflection! With no answers at hand, Liz sets out to unravel the mystery behind her less than usual condition. Who was the handsome man she vaguely remembers at her New Year’s Eve party? Is she ever going to be able to do her hair and makeup again?

With the help of her best friend Pete, she embarks on a quest to find answers that will leave her questioning everything she thought she knew about the world.

Genre: paranormal, vampire, comedy

Thanks in advance for any reblogs!

[textual-deviant-blog]

Conflagration - A short prompt.

There's a strange calmness within you when your feel your feet leave the ground. The first paradox comes with the onset of wind- it's too loud to hear anything else. It rushes past, and almost through you as you fall. The top of the sinkhole falls away from you, and for a scant few seconds, you feel weightless.

The impact comes and goes as it breaks something possibly vital, but you were numb long before you jumped. The water is bitingly cold, sapping heat like a pit of vipers. Your body, as if in protest, feels hot. Searing, almost. A second paradox. It is of no reassurance that you know this to be a just another trick of your mind; that your body is pushing through the last of it's reserves like a desperate wildfire in the middle of a snowstorm.

Once it's done ravishing the landscape, the cold will set in, and then death.

But, therein lies the third paradox.

You float there, on the surface of that windswept lake, lacking the weight to sink properly. Exactly when death claimed you shall forever remain a mystery, as you did not see a light, you didn't have a final reconciliation with past memories and deceased loved ones, you did not even feel the last of your strength leave you.

With a final intake of air, you pass out before you can even exhale, being left, in that moment, holding your breath for all of eternity.

It's sudden and immediate when you wake, as though mere seconds passed. So sudden, in fact, that you could almost swear that you hadn't died out there in the Wight Hole.

For a single, thoughtless, hopeful moment, you thought you had failed to kill yourself.

That thought leaves you the moment your vision clears, and, instead of Detroit's starless sky, you're greeted by something more akin to a great sea of colors. You lay there, stunned, as swathes of cosmic beauty dance across your eyes.

The grass sways with the wind a moment longer, then stops, and only the sound of footsteps moving across the grass can be heard. Laying there, you quickly shift your body around to face the noise. Whoever had made it was most likely directly behind you.

You were only partially correct.

A great shadow loomed over you as the new arrival inspected you- or, more likely, you were the new arrival. Their arms and legs stretched a little too long even for such prodigal proportions, and his skin was purplish, stretched, and wrinkled across all of his surface, which was only visible on his hands and head, past his sleeves and unkempt head of hair. His jumpsuit hung loose, being the wrong size, and their hair had barely recieved more attention than keeping it out of their eyes.

They seemed amused. "A new face touches the void. I suggest you dim your flames, or you may not last very long here."

Before I could even wonder "What flames?" I smelled something burning. I looked down, and saw my body. Saw what had been on the edge of my vision but had been ignored in favor of what was pretty and spectacular and not whatever the hell this was.

What I was, was on fire. The grass was alight, and I was panicking.

First, I yelped and tried to put myself out by dropping to the ground and rolling. The purple flames did not submit. They were not hot, but it freaked me the hell out. And they caused even more grass to burn.

Second, I planned to plead to the stranger for help, but he was but a distant laughter by the time I had gathered myself.

Third, I finally tried to just... not be on fire. I succeeded. Then collapsed from exhaustion. Or, more accurately, my limbs wouldn't move.

Rather than learn how, I just decided to take a few more breaths, and then a few more, before eventually someone else came upon me.

There was no amusement in their voice as they spoke, tenderly and ponderous. A far departure than the wrinkled old cynic. "Child," They said almost remorsefully, "Welcome to the Void. I must apologize for the world that is, for now, you are no longer as you were. You will never be able to return to what you were. What you are now, is... a Conflagration. And I, I am an Ember."

Gentle hands cradled my head, "You will have to learn quickly. But for now, rest. Let the harshness of the world fade away, if just for now. When you awaken, you must embrace it. The void demands nothing less."

I felt a tap on my forehead, and it was like a dam had collapsed in my mind. I didn't merely fall unconscious. It was as though all the aches and strains of my life had caught up to me, and I could think of nothing but succumbing to my body's needs.

My eyes shut, and I let myself fall into a deep, deep sleep.

[thedeviousdevilxx]

A WIP I've been working on lol

[acroynon]

The Heist

They were all hunched over looking intently at the laid-out map. This was the most important mission, they couldn’t afford anything to go wrong. 

“Alright, let’s go over the plan one more time,” Tommy said. He’d brought this team together. It was his plan they were following. They’d all follow him to the end of the earth if they had to. “Oliver, you’re the lookout. You stay on the roadside and let us know if you see any movement. And I mean any movement.” Oliver simply grunted and nodded. He was a big guy but didn’t have much going on upstairs. That’s why he was always the lookout. “Marco, you’re the distraction. We need something big that’ll distract the target for at least 15 minutes.” 

“Yep, I’ve got the perfect idea.” He replied. Smirking as he patted the briefcase he was holding.

 “Angela will then use her master safe cracking skills to get us inside.” Angela twirled her tools around her fingers in agreement. “Bobby, then it’s up to you to disable any alarms or trip wires we might encounter”. Bobby had years of training in the field. He could tear apart any electronic device and put it back together without leaving a trace. He simply nodded. “I’ve managed to get the location of the device from my network of spies. I’ll retrieve it. Then it’s up to Lucy to get us out.” Tommy and Lucy’s eyes met, they’d know each other the longest out of anyone around this table. 

“We take the air vents to the adjoining room. There is a window leading to a fire escape. A quick hop down and I’ll be waiting to drive us all the hell out of here.” She said. The confidence in her voice washed over the entire team. They were going to do this.

“Alright team. Let’s go get my Gameboy back from my sister!” Tommy shouted as all the kids scrambled down the treehouse and ran towards the house.

[romanwitchgirl]

Original Works

Original fiction that in no way ties to any other published work!

Behind the Trigger

Poetry

More will be added as I write more!

[missvalerietanner]

He stumbles back from the room, doubling-over to cough against the swelling possession of the rotted stench chewing through his senses. His eyes water, and he gags as his stomach heaves. His entire body locks up as it struggles to suppress the sting of the stench and the sight of its cause.

Context: the watcher at a panopticon does some sneaking around at night (naughty!) and stumbles upon the prison's morgue, overflowing with dead bodies in multiple states of decay. This is his first clear sign that no one ever leaves this place, not even in a body bag. OHHHHH!! [/mic drop]

[spirk-trek]

S1E19: Arena ⋆.˚ ✧ · ˚⊹ ·

[roselyn-writing]

Finally, After a month of working on Adeleois/Rakan lore, I managed to wrote it 😁. Let’s get started now!

Name: Rakan (Mortal) Adeleois (Mantle/Divine name).

Name meaning: In Arabic, Rakan means ‘noble’

Age: 450 Y.O.

Date of birth: 13 July. (791, In Virginian time and year).

Hair colour: Black (formerly) Silver (currently)

Eyes colour: Light Brown (formerly) Silver (currently). (Silver with violet and blue hues when he uses his powers.)

Aesthetics/Colours: Silver, Grey, Night aesthetics, moon aesthetic, moonlight, Bohemian aesthetic. Warrior aesthetics, pagan. Etc.

Favourite colours: Black, Silver, Navy blue, White.

Likes: to help people, being honest, practicing his Kophesh sword. Spread peace and justice. Loves to admire the moon. (In its every phase). Likes to read, eating healthy, Lover of mountains, lover of nature, lover of caves.

Hates: liars, bigots (Hate them with his VERY heart), Thieves, murderers, abusers, racists, Racism, Wars, and etc.

Favourite food: Beef Barley soup with roasted veggies, Mushrooms salad, Porridge. Tea, coffee, hot beverages. Bread and cheese, chocolate muffin. Beef chops.

Least favourite food: Ice cream (any flavour).

Wardrobe/outfits:

“I will defend the defenseless and protect the innocent till my last breath!” ——- Adeleois’s quote, The moon warrior.

🗡️The lore 🌕

CW: Gore and blood, Bigotry and etc.

In the glorious mountain Kythera of Virginia. An ancient place filled with power and wonder. Where the only worthy will be bestowed upon such power of divinity and wisdom.

There, on top of the mountain and beyond is fit place for living, There is a tribe called So’lar they worship and venerate the sun, They deem all other sources of light inferior.

They disrespect the people who worship the stars, the planets, the sky, but the most people who are tortured and disrespected by them; were the people who worship the moon. They are called the ‘Moon’aris’ and the Sun worshippers are called ‘Sun’aris’

The Sun’aris always call other people who worship and venerate other things ‘Lestsi’ which means: ‘Blasphemers’ or ‘Heretics’ or ‘unbelievers’

The Sun’aris took a lot of prisoners of the Moon’aris and tortured them until they abandoned their beliefs and converted to their religion, and worship the sun like them.

Rakan, was born in a place closer to the So’lar. But he found his way into the tribe because of the tribe scouts, They brought him there as a baby and decided to welcome him into the tribe.

They made sure to tell him of their ‘glorious’ religion when he grew up. And they did. They taught him everything they want. And they did the same to other children.

Rakan grew up into the So’lar tribe. He learned their ways and embraced them. He thought they are true and righteous until the day that changed his life forever.

Rakan, Who is 16 years old, He saw the scouts of the tribe brought a few people of the Moon’aris, They were two women and a man.

They were tortured brutally because they refused to abandon their beliefs. Rakan and his best friend: Andreas, they were traumatised by this.

They saw the tribe leader: Alexander, shoving his hand into the woman’s throat and pulled her vocal cords out along with other soft bloody tissues. She screamed loudly, in pain and horror; it was a macabre sight, the floor was painted in a crimson canvas of the innocent woman’s blood, she was tortured brutally, she gurgled loudly, trying to summon a cry of help and plea but she couldn’t, because her vocals cords were pulled out of her throat, Rakan changed forever. He doesn’t want to be a part of this tribe. He winced in pain at that sight and it was forever in his mind.

That sight was enough to haunt Rakan for the rest of his life, The woman was still alive when the leader tortured her like that.

Rakan and Andreas were best friends from their younger days, They ate together, played together and even studied together, They were known as ‘brothers in arms’ and they friendship was strong, one time, Andreas saved his friend Rakan from a stampede of the desert beasts. Their bond became much stronger ever since.

One day, Rakan was admiring the full moon in the night, Andreas, once again, warned him that he shouldn’t get caught while watching and admiring the moon, Rakan noted and left, after that, He heard a voice, it told Rakan he should climbed the mountain and he will see something he need. Rakan, begrudgingly agreed, He climbed the mountain with the man, After he and the man reached the mountain top.

Rakan felt something strange yet beautiful, He was admiring the full moon again. Suddenly, A bright and blinding light of the moon came down on Rakan, Bathing him in the moonlight, He felt his flesh wrought anew, reborn in the moonlight as a beacon; ready to fight for justice and the truth, it felt like eons then it dissipated, Rakan saw his reflection on the glassy rocks of the mountain, He noticed his face and everything about him changed, His looks, his body and everything thing, There are even tattoos and crescent moon mark on his forehead and body.

Fully adorned with armor made of moonlight and bestowed upon the powers of the moon. Rakan decided to use his newfound powers to protect the innocent, defend the defenseless and bring justice to the land of Kythera, He took his Kophesh sword that was made from moonlight and dashed like a moonlight meteorite to fight for freedom and justice.

Rumors and words spread alike, about a new moon warrior. That came to rescue the other people who aren’t worshipping the sun and thus being oppressed by the Sun’aris, The Sun’Aris deeply loathed this new information and they decided to search for this warrior and kill him on sight.

The leader of the Sun’aris knew of Rakan disappearance but he didn’t care at all. He thought that he died or something. But he didn’t knew that Rakan became the next Moon Warrior that is protecting the oppressed people who aren’t worshipping the sun. He is protecting morning, noon and night. He didn’t tire while doing so.

The leader of the Sun’Aris: Alexander, didn’t believe his eyes or ears, when his scouts told him of a new aspect of the moon, His eyes widened, his mouth fell agape as he tried to process their words. He even asked them again.

“Is this true?” He inquired.

They all nodded, Their faces tell the answer. “Yes, It is.”

“Yeah, He is Rakan,” one of the scouts volunteerd.

In pure anger, He threw his pen and everything on his desk on the floor. He looked terrified and confused. He looked at his scouts but they didn’t answer him let alone reacted to his meltdown. They bowed their heads and excused themselves to leave.

Alexander vowed that he will kill this new moon warrior, and he will bathe in his blood to satisfy his hatred and anger.

It was from that moment, Alexander made Andreas hate his best friend: Rakan, He managed to poison Andreas’s hearts and made him feel ‘abandoned’ and ‘betrayed’ by his so-called best friend: Rakan.

Andreas began to hate Rakan, He began to train more and more to prove himself the best warrior in mounth Kythera, He even became the aspect of the sun himself: Sunayois

Rakan or preferred to be called Adeleois, He is protecting the people of Moon’ari, Satarins and other people who worship other things, This made Alexander even more angrier and hateful.

Adeleois was excellently deluding the Sun’aris attacks and traps, He even killed them when they refused to leave him alone, bloods on his hands, his armor and on his Kophesh, So his hands are pretty much tied. He was forced to kill, he disliked killing,

The Sun’aris vowed to find Adeleois and kill him, but they couldn’t defeat him if they found him, He was far too powerful for them. He is strategic, calm, and patient unlike Sun’aris, they were brash, aggressive and aren’t strategic at all.

Adeleois is threatened with death and torture, but he didn’t care at all, his devotion was set aflame when he saw there are people who needed him, people who would pray for a saviour and Adeleois answered their prayers, His life isn’t important when he saw the numbers of people being tortured and killed for what they believe in, and —Lady Selene, The beautiful and benevolent woman who is currently the Queen of the Moon’aris. She needed him, They needed him.

It had been years of war between the Sun’aris and Adeleois, the latter managed to unite the Moon’aris, the sky worshippers, Thee satarins, and the planets worshippers to join him and aid him against those monsters, who will oppress anyone that does not convert to their religion.

All are united against the Sun’aris, The battle was fierce, bloody, merciless for the Sun’aris and yet they couldn’t win at all, because, they weren’t strong and united enough to win against Adeleois and his allies, Adeleois announced that the previous Adeleois was Andreas’s father, He was shocked when he knew that Alexander killed his father. Andreas turned on Alexander, Thus, Rakan and Andreas are friends again.

In the end, Adeleois and his allies won, Adeleois banished Alexander from Mount Kythera, The latter went to another place where he can live with his beliefs and etc, he lived alone and died alone.

Thus, All races and other people who have different religions lived together and in peace, giving way to a new era of peace and harmony and prosperity among all other people and religions.

[elfboyeros]

Overcast Coastline

Read about the nerds and other nerds

“Klaus went missing on the 15th of March, Cobalt is murdered on the 23rd, 9 days later. Klaus was married to Greyson, Cobalt was a close friend, right? What if -just hear me out," Loki babbled on, as she and Amora sat on their bed talking about possible theories on Cobalt’s death, “Cobalt loved Greyson and wanted to be with him, but Klaus killed and went into hiding because he murdered someone?!”

“Cobalt?”  Amora asked the ghostly man sitting in her desk chair.

“Couldn’t have happened, I’m straight,” He replied, “I was also happily married to my lovely Primrose before death.”

Amora shook her head before looking back at Loki, “Straight, and happily married.”

“So, no love affair and no girlbossing wife,” Loki sighed, crossing off the theories of a list in a little notebook, “The last thing I got on my list is Ms. Thornton, could she have done it?”

“No!” Cobalt exclaimed, “Just as I loved Primrose, I loved Lilybeth just as much if not more! She would not have killed me; I refuse that notion!”

Amora shook her once more, “He wouldn’t believe it if it were true,” she replied, “Besides he’s seen Lilybeth, and he doesn’t have a bad vibe… he just gets sad.”

“I’ve died and my daughter has become a beautiful young lady, I’m sorry my depression is an inconvenience,” Cobalt sassed.

“I think we should stop for right now,” Amora sighed, “This is just getting us nowhere.”

Loki huffed, “Maybe we are looking in the wrong place?” she questioned, getting a confused look from Amora and even Cobalt, “We are trying to link Klaus with Cobalt, yet we know nothing about Klaus, maybe if we start looking into Klaus when can find out why he is missing which could lead to us finding out why Cobalt died.”

“So, we have to find Klaus,” Amora asked.

“Basically,” Loki answered making Amora groan into her pillow, “Or at least try to.”

“How are we supposed to do that?! We are students, moreover, we are seniors?! How the hell are we supposed to find an old man who has been missing for 15 years when we’ll have midterms in like 3 weeks!” Amora exclaimed sitting up before gesturing to Cobalt, “I’d rather be stuck with him! At least he’ll tell me if I’m failing my Trigonometry final!”

Cobalt shook his head before scoffing as Loki held in her laughter, clearing her throat, “Maybe you just need a little break for the ghost investigations,” the British girl posed, “Come with me into town tomorrow.”

“I thought you were going out with Lance,” Amora muttered.

Loki shrugged, “he said he wanted to hang out with Odis, and Luther said he was going to study with Iphigenie for their current events test, so I’m on my own tomorrow unless you come.”

Amora thought for a moment, spending 2 weeks on campus with Cobalt over her shoulder with no results in their little investigation seemed to put both of them on edge with each other. The thought was nice, being able to explore the town on Solostica would be nice too. The American girl looked to her ghostly companion who shrugged as if to say he didn’t care either way.

“I mean either way I’m going,” Loki remarked, holding a large strand of her hair, the green dye faded a good amount making it a sickly pale color, “I’m getting this hair dye!”

“I’ll go with you.”

Loki smiled, “Terrific!”

The next morning the two girls woke up after sleeping in, Cobalt did what he had been doing every morning, exiting the room to give them privacy, before they left. While walking down the paths leading to the exit of campus, Calliope passed by seeming running for her life.

“Calliope, everything okay?”

“Yeah,” She huffed, her cheerleading bag slamming into her side as she looked back at the two girls, “If anyone asked you didn’t see me!”

Loki and Amora looked at her confused as she ran to the main campus, she was already for cheerleading practice and yet she was running away from where they normally practice, the roommates looked at each other and shrugged before leaving campus, as Calliope ran through the halls of the large schoolhouse, slowing her pace as she reached the great music room were Odysseus, Lance, and Solomon resided inside. Solomon played the harp in the corner as Odysseus sat on one of the choir risers beside Lance, his light blue Guitar in his lap.

“Calliope, everything okay?” Lance asked, her panting at the door to the music room catching his attention.

Solomon stopped playing as all three of the boys waited for a response.

“I was the first one at practice today!” she huffed, “No one else was there. So, ha…. Huh… ha I left.”

“Calliope, if you want to quit the cheer team—” Solomon began because Calliope let out a laugh.

“And piss off Cassiopeia, not a chance!” Calliope replied, “I do that just by existing.”

“And skipping practice,” Odysseus commented, “Either way she is going to be pissed off at you.”

“The only reason she started the cheer team was to watch Roux practice football,” She huffed, “I don’t know why I had to be involved.”

She toddled over to Solomon’s place in the corner, dejectedly, “If it bothers you this bad, just quit,” Solomon remarked.

“If you quit, you can actually but in the campaign again!” Lance added with a smile, “I’ve missed Ruelle the cleric ever since the last time you played with us.”

Calliope smiled, “That’s a great idea.”

In the town center of Solostica’s city center with its cobblestone streets and its many small and hidden shops and convenience stores Loki and Amora stared at the many boxes, containers, tubes, jars, and pouches of hair on the shelf in front of them. All are color-coded and pleasing to the eye. Many brands Amora had never heard of before.

“I wish I had hair like yours,” Loki sighed.

“Mhm?” Amora hummed.

The British girl pointed to her roots, growing in a dark color of her roots where her green pieces used to be after tossing a boxed bleach in her little basket, “I need to get a bleach kit so the green will take on roots. If you dyed your hair any kind of fun colors, you wouldn’t have to worry about it.”

“Oh,” Amora replied, chuckling, “Bellamy dyed her once, it was purple. I remember asking my mom if I could dye my hair with her because she said it looked “so bad” and I remember it started a huge argument with my mom… she did not want me to dye my hair.”

Loki hummed, before pointing to all the boxes of hair dye, “Wanna give it a try?” she asked with a smirk painted across her lips, “’cause mummy isn’t here.”

Amora looked at all the hair dyes on the shelf, then back at Loki, who grinned down at her, “Alright! Let’s do it!” she replied, grabbing a random box off the shelf.

“Alright, but we don’t want to use that,” Loki replied, taking the box out of Amora’s hands and putting it back on the shelf, “If you want red, you should go with this one.”

Loki pulled a small box off the shelf with a simple pale green color and labeled named Deathly dyes, the color was called Lover’s Haze. Amora nodded as Loki looked at the green section before quickly grabbing a jar from the same brand but in a dark green color and walking toward the check-out counter.

They left the little convenience store before venturing around the town center some more, going into different little stores and shops not really buying anything but enjoying being off campus as well as each other's company.

Stopping by Vixen Café to grab a little something to eat, while also getting to see Iphigenie in action at work and Luther sitting outside working on a paper for one of his classes, aided by caffeine and chocolate croissant.

While stopped at an intersection, Amora stared at the beach which Loki noticed.

“You wanna go to the beach?” Loki asked.

Amora nodded and once the intersection was clear to cross, the two of them headed to the beach. Shoes were taken off and bags were dropped by the cement walk leading to the sands. Clean beige sand between their toes, with the smell of sea salt in the air and a light breeze.

Loki watched Amora from afar as she enjoyed the breeze and the salty air against her face. There is something so scenic about Amora, wearing a genuine smile as she heard the sounds of the ocean and waves crashing into the shore, enjoying the breeze as it moves her cardigan. Loki had never been fond of the beach, life events had turned memories of going to the beaches in England into reminiscences said rather not think about, however now staring at Amora the beach is no longer a place Loki wants to stay away from, rather a place she wants to stay if nothing above to keep seeing Amora smile a genuine smile.

But the skies won’t let wants become reality

“Amora we should get going!” Loki called, “It’s going to rain!”

Once at the back on campus, it was already drizzling, and when in the safety of their dorm room, pulling one of the girl's desk chairs into the bathroom, and sitting it in front of the sink and mirror.

“Is he around?” Loki asked, pulling out all the hair dye and other tools on the bathroom counter after bleaching the front pieces of her hair.

“No, he's probably still mad from yesterday,” Amora answered as she put on an old shirt the British girl gave her before hearing her scoff, “Or he’s just wandering.”

“Come sit,” Loki called as Amora made her way to the bathroom.

Amora entered the bathroom where Loki had some of her favorite music playing at a low volume, in an extremely old shirt covered in blotches of bleach and a pair of gym shorts, waiting for the young American girl a hand resting on the desk chair beside her and a foot resting against her calf.

“You wanna do the whole head or just a section?” Loki asked as Amora sat down.

“Uhm….I don’t know, what do you think?” Amora replied.

Loki hummed softly, “Let’s do your bangs, and your little front pieces, yeah?”

Amora nodded, as Loki opened the Lover’s Haze box and quickly read the instructions before plopping the dye into a mixing bowl, “Ready?” Loki asked.

“Yeah!”

Loki took the hair dye brush and began painting the pinkish dye on to Amora golden strains of hair, “Is Cobalt annoying at all?” the British teen asked.

“I mean sometimes, he makes math harder than it should be,” Amora answered, “Honestly he acts like my dad. Not like my dad, but he acts like a dad, which I know he is one, but we’ve only known each other for like a month he’s very fatherly, protective almost.”

Loki hummed curiously, “Like when I was in the library trying to figure out how to help him the talk I told you about everything, the Librarian—”

“Iphigiene’s weird ass mom?”

“Yes! He knocked over a stack of books to help me escape just to yell at me when I was safe!”

Loki chuckled, “And he’s an ass!” Amora groaned, “Telling me my math isn’t right when I do my homework but he won’t tell me what I’m doing wrong! And and and he makes little comments when I’m talking to people like his commentary is soooo important!”

“Oh! What does he say about me?” Loki asked, walking around her to get the other side of her hair.

“Chickadee, do you know, Loki stares at you often?”

“Have you realized that you are the only person she actively smiles at?”

“Loki seems fond of you.”

“Aw, she gave you her jumper because you were cold.”

“You too are quite cute together.”

Amora’s face flushed, remembering just a few of the many things that Cobalt had commented over the past two weeks, the all-around consuming feeling of simply enjoying being around Loki. The overwhelming feeling of a crush!

“H-he just make comments about... how helpful you are,” Amora answered, fumbling with her words before jumping at her phone ringing.

A single windchime emoji on the caller ID for a video call, answering Bellamy’s call with a smile and rosy cheeks, “Hey girly, what does Edgar like to play he hates the puff balls Jane likes to play with. I--” Amora could only see Bellamy’s light blue roots once she answered the call, before she looked at her phone wide-eyed, “WOAH! WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME YOU WERE DYING YOUR HAIR?! And where did you get that shirt?”

Amora looked down at the shirt she was wearing to protect her skin from bright red hair dye,  a faded black T, and the graph for the band Oasis horribly faded. “It’s Loki’s, we’re doing this kind of spontaneity.”

“ ‘Ello Bellamy,” Loki commented, grabbing Amora’s bangs.

“Shit, she’s British!” Bellamy squealed, “Eee, your girlfriend is such a cutie, Amora!”

“Girlfriend?” Loki mused, “What have you been telling her, lovely?”

“Bella! She isn’t my girlfriend, she is my roommate!” Amora shrieked her face turning the same color as her hair dye.

“Roommate, girlfriend same different,” Bellamy shrugged.

“I like her already,” Loki muttered with a smirk.

“Amora what does Edgar like to play with?”

“Uhm… He likes the crinkly toys.”

“Got it got it,” Bellamy replied while throwing a couple of toys in her cart, “Is ther anything else I need to get for the boy, besides his special wet food?”

“I don’t think so,” Amora replied, “How are things back home?”

“Reese got kicked out of school,” Bellamy answered nonchalantly.

“WHAT!”

“Yeah,” Bellamy shrugged, “Mortemore had been shit-talking him since everything happened, Reese decided to punch him out in the hallway, and he got his ass expelled.”

 Loki clicked her tongue, “Serves him right,” she mumbled.

“I told Mortemore I would bake him a coffee cake,” Bellamy added, “As a thank you.”

“Oh, he’ll love that!” Amora replied with a small smile.

“All right, I only called to see what Edgar liked to play with,” Bellamy remarked, “I’ll text you later!”

“Bye Bellamy,” Amora replied, hanging up her phone.

Loki finally set the hairbrush in the sink, “You need to sit with it for 30 minutes.”

Amora nodded, getting up and leaving the bathroom, “What have you been telling Bellamy, for her to call me your girlfriend?” Loki chucked putting her head in the sink bowl.

Amora’s face became hotter, before covering her face, “I HAVEN’T TOLD HER ANYTHING!” She yelped, “I just told her that I had a grungecore roommate that was nicer then I thought, and I told her about hanging out with you during school!”

Loki hummed raising her head out of the sink, “You look cute when are all flustered,”  she remarked with a smirk before putting her head back in the sink.

Amora blushed even more before going to sit on her bed and wait for the time to wash her the dye out of her hair as Loki dyed her hair green. Once everything was all said and done, Amora stared at herself in the mirror her bangs and the large chunks of hair that she kept resting off her shoulders a nice pinky-red color.

“You like it?” Loki asked.

“Yeah!” Amora said with a smile, “Thanks Loki.”

“Anytime, lovely.”

Once cozy in her bed in the early morning Amora left a heavy weight on top of her, groggily waking up to the intense stare of Cobalt an odd and wicked grin, “I have a lead!”

[gwen-tolios]

You press your hands to your face, hiding your eyes. You know it's Hera before you, but as the goddess of marriage she's taken on the form of your ideal wife. *Your* wife, and it's hard to hear a woman who looks and sounds like Nikoleta say to your face she wants a divorce.

"I'm not sure I'm the lawyer for you, my Hera," you say. "Surely there's a single man who can help you better?"

"Spiros," Hera says, and her voice is Nikoleta's high alto, the voice she uses when she's placing dinner on the table and serving in the bedroom, "I need a husband to represent me. And I know Athenian law doesn't apply to Olympians, so don't make that argument either."

By the end, her voice is different and her face is wrinkled. Not Nikoleta, but your mother Eva and she's smiling with the doting look she'd give her husband Dimitri every time he brought her a shawl.

"I need you to be my lawyer because you are everything Zeus is not. You are a kind and loyal husband. You make Nikoleta meals and take the children to the park. You satisfy her in bed, and when the chance came for you to cheat, you choose not to."

You blush, remembering the looks of your boss's secretary as she led you to meetings. The slide of a phone number across the counter of your regular lunch spot.

"My divorce from Zeus is simply a side effect of what I'm trying to do, and you're perfect for the job, Spiros. I promise."

"And what are you trying to do?"

"I'm the Goddess of Marriage, certainly that means I should represent it's current expression. Embody a healthy balance of work and vulnerability. And showcase that you should never, ever feel compelled to stay in a toxic relationship. For some marriages, divorce is the right answer. So I'll lead by example, divorce my cheating husband, and enter into a new marriage. One that reflects the mutual respect between modern Greek couples. Such as you and Nikoleta."

"Are you saying I'm a better model of a husband than Zeus?"

Hera laughs. "Most people are. But this isn't about Zeus, he will always be king and sky and lightening. Those things are unchanging. Marriage, however, is a reflection of culture. And so I'll shift with it. Who knows?"

She leans back in the chair, rolling her torso to draw attention to her breasts. "Maybe my next marriage will be to a woman. Those are on the rise. Or perhaps another man, but declare the marriage open. Maybe...two spouses. One of each. Greeks have so little concern about bisexuality, and as a Goddess of Marriage I have to set an example for all who worship me. Weren't you and Nikoleta looking for a third?"

You swallow. "I sincerely doubt we'd satisfy you, my Hera."

"You never know."

"I'll speak to her."

Hera leans forward in her chair, face shifting again to Nikoleta's. "That's what satisfies me, Spiros. The communication you have with your wife. How all decisions are joint. It makes you the perfect lawyer for my needs. We'll see about anything else later."

You are a divorce lawyer, the best in your field. You have just received word that you will representing the Greek goddess Hera in her divorce from Zeus.

[rubberduckyrye]

I need you all to understand that:

WaveMaker is an awesome program and it actually shows you how many words you've written in a day! Please check it out I'm in love with it. Also here is my Tutorial on how to manually sync up your files so you can write your projects on any device. It also copies and pastes well into Gdocs and LibreOffice. No I will not shut up about how cool this online program thing is.

It has only been March 30th for about 5 hours and I've already written almost 3k words.

Have I--Have I found the insanity again? Can I write 12k words in a single day???? I'm almost a 4th of the way there--

[moons-cozy-corner]

First Impressions

Hello all! This is the first of MANY that I hope to write, so hop on for the ride if you may. I'm hoping to be more active now that it is summer, and there will be much more original character content. I already have so much planned for my little guys >:)

Content Warning: Self harm, homelessness, blood, starvation, betrayal(mention), fighting/beating, stabbing

Daren held the worn cotton jacket in his hands, wringing it between sensitive fingers as he stretched out his stiff wings. A lump of stale bread lay limp between the fabrics of a pocket, not nearly enough for a meal. If he had taken any more he would have been caught. Being a thief was not something Daren had necessarily trained for when he lived in Glissden. He had never known hunger when he lived in Glissden.

Now he sat in the silent alleyway on an old thin blanket he found in the dumpster months ago. He tore off small chunks of the bread at a time, nibbling on them slowly to create the illusion that there was more food than there really was. Normally Daren managed more than just bread. Ideally, he went for fruit, but that was starting to become more and more like a luxury than the basic need it definitely was.

His stomach cursed at him all morning. On and on it went and ignoring it didn’t work. Even now, downing some of the bread didn’t ease that deep ache in his gut. Not to mention the fact that it tasted terrible, though not much did anymore. Human food was bland, all the bread and dry vegetables and greens, the lack of fruit everywhere. The water always tasted off, metallic, and there was never enough of it. It left him tired and dizzy constantly, which made the feat of finding food even more difficult.

A whole year had passed since he’d left. They hadn’t even bothered a final glance as he was shoved in the wagon and taken away. The stickiness of the plaster over his wings and the cold metal of the cuffs never left his mind, even a year later. If that wasn't insulting enough, they had to hold him down for almost an hour to get the plaster on his wings while his family and friends watched wordlessly, even as he cried for help, begging them not to let the humans take him. 

Tears pricked his eyes as the memory crossed his mind. He grabbed rusty scissors from under his blanket before adjusting himself against the wall, his green wings splayed out against the brick. The silver was tinted a minty green, a color that almost glowed in the faltering light of dusk. How much would a human pay for just this, just a small remnant of his blood? Daren’s family said he would save lives. Maybe that’s why they felt so just in selling him to the humans and sending him away for what was meant to be forever. Through blurry eyes he watched as the scissors slid across his skin. Minty green dripping down soft brown down onto gritty gray, then to nothing. He didn’t mean to go so deep this time… but now all he could do was watch.

The cool metal felt satisfying on his skin. He’d sharpened these specifically to protect himself from humans, but now they had another purpose. He watched as the blood oozed through the slit he created, letting the pressure and tensions fall out of his body along with it. He knew a human would have at one point gotten an infection from the rusty scissors, or perhaps would have just bled out. They wouldn’t be of any use now, though. Not with his life force ingrained into the metal. 

He considered returning for a while. To Glissden. His once-home. The human city was filled with filth, dirt and trash lining the streets. It was always so loud, too. Around every corner there was a fight, sellers and traders yelled about their prices and goods as if it was their dying breath, horses trotted loudly on poorly-paved streets. Moths aren’t loud. Their voices and movements are soft and his home represented that–they flew everywhere, and nothing was paved. It was grassy, flowers blooming on the mountains that they lived on. Even in the ravine where sparkling water flowed, it was a soft trickling that accompanied the chitter-chatter and the flapping of wings. It was much more colorful there too. Daren missed it, and it only made him cry more.

“Hey.” Daren looked up through hazy eyes. Above him stood a man, a human man, frail in build but confident in stance. Bleached hair fell loosely over his pale face, clearly unkempt but somehow still shiny and smooth, like silk. When he kneeled down to Daren’s level his eyes shone, a dark magnificent blue. The color reminded him of Glissden right after sunset, before the sky turned completely black. A hand wrapped around one of his upper arms, making Daren pull back and squeeze himself against the wall, two hands wrapped around his midsection and the other two held out for defense. “Hey, hey, calm down. I’m not going to hurt you. I want to help you, if that’s alright? You’re… bleeding.”

His arm. The stranger was referring to his arm. “No. No, stay back, human,” he snapped, trying to get a hold of himself, though tears unwillingly fell from his eyes. He didn’t want to be taken again. “Whatever you’re planning, stop planning it.” More blood oozed from his arm. It didn’t even really hurt anymore, it didn’t need healing. It would heal on its own. Who did this human think he was anyway? Leave me alone.

“I’m not planning anything.” The human blinked at him, then sighed, taking a few steps back. The human looked over the wound, then the rest of his body with a look of pure confusion, noticing the extra arms, his antennae, the way they started twitching. He’d already noticed the odd blood, but… “what-?”

Before the human could ask, Daren stood, grabbing his things. “Wait, what are you doing? Where are you going?” As Daren walked further back into the alley, the human only followed, his steps coming to a stop as Daren hid behind one of the dumpsters, watching the entrance carefully.

The human sighed after a moment, rubbing a hand over his face and turning himself around in one lazy swing. He began to leave the alley when a group of humans turned the corner. Daren covered himself as fast as he could, wrapping himself in his jacket where he sat huddled behind the dumpster. The scissors felt heavy in his hand, dripping with his own blood. He wiped it off quickly and curled up, hoping to be swallowed by the shadows.

The blonde human was quickly surrounded, shadows stalking over him as street lights turned on. Three of them, circling around. They didn’t see Daren. “Did you bring what we agreed on?” The tallest of them towered over him a bit more than the height Daren would. His muscles were intimidating and tense, though he wasn’t scared. He was angry. The other three kept their mouths shut. It was clear they were there for security only—power in numbers and all that. Daren noted how their hands were kept in their pockets. Weapons, for sure.

The human dared to spare a glance back at Daren, but only for a split second. “No. I need more time.” His stance was loose, but his white-knuckled fists told Daren he was terrified. “It’s been tight. I’ve got part of it, like $2500. I know that barely puts a dent in my debt but it’s the best I can do-“

The man stalked closer so that the two were face to face—or face to chest, considering the height difference–and grabbed him by the collar. The others stood back, blocking off the entrance to the alley. “That won’t cut it, kid. You’re running outta chances.” Out came the knife. Daren’s eyes followed every movement carefully with wide eyes. It looked dull without any light glinting off it, hidden in the shadow the man created, but the promise of pain was still evident. “In fact, I may just gut you right here and now. You’re more trouble lettin’ live than you are dead.”

He pushed the human back, making him stumble to the ground. The sound of his body hitting the concrete echoed in the alley. Daren flinched at the sound of a bone snapping, a consequence of how skinny the poor human was. There was a slight gasp in the short length of silence that passed before the pounding started. Two sets of fists beat upon the humans’ flesh as he tried his best to shield his head and center, but with only two hands not much could be done. They kicked and punched relentlessly, until all that came from the blonde human were small grunts.

When the man finally told his underlings to let up, the boy was left shaking and bloody. He was nudged with a boot but still didn’t move. One signal and the underlings had him pulled taught by the limbs, each arm secured as he was pushed to his knees. His torso was completely exposed, and the knife was right there. 

The knife jerked back then forward before Daren could even blink. It hit the human in the lower abdomen, eliciting a choked cry. Then it went again, and again. And again. Two of Daren’s hands covered his eyes while the others clamped his mouth shut to keep any shrieks from escaping.

“You,” the man’s voice boomed, “are a useless piece of trash. Nobody’ll care when you’re gone.” Then he turned, knuckles covered in deep red ooze, walking back to the street. One of the others spat at the human as they left, a final insult layered on top of all the red and purple.

After the last of the bunch turned the corner, Daren tentatively stepped out from his hiding spot, clutching his scissors. He inched forward slowly, unsure whether or not he should turn back and hide again.

“…Human?” The once stark blonde hair had streaks of red now. The source of the blood became apparent as the human's head lolled back, blank eyes struggling to focus on Daren. He knelt down, holding the stranger's head in his hands. Daren’s own blood slipped from his fingertips and onto the other’s neck. “I’ve got an idea. Hold on.”

Daren helped the human lean up against the alleyway wall, then focused on himself. It didn’t take a lot for him to slide the scissors back over his wrist, reopening and widening the previous wound. The warm blood flowed down his wrist and into Daren’s cupped hand. Some of it was guided to the human’s head, but most to his gut–it would take a lot of green to heal that up.

He’d never seen his blood work on humans, or at all, for that matter. It must have been the first time for the other as well, for the human too was staring in disbelief as the wound, now smeared with green, stuck itself back together. Then, when the human touched his forehead, they both realized that the bleeding had stopped there as well.

“What the…” The human tried sitting up straighter, but only fell over again into the puddle of his own blood. “How’d you do that? I mean- thanks.” As the human began to try to regain his mobility, Daren backed off. Part of it was awe, the other fear. What would the human do now that Daren had shown him what he could do?

He didn’t know, though. The human didn’t seem to have been aware of Moth abilities, which was definitely a first. Not that Daren had stopped to ask many humans if they knew about his blood's healing capabilities. The human had to have noticed Daren’s wings, and the extra arms. It was impossible not to. But now, staring at the human in his weakened state, especially after watching him get pummeled near death by a group of thugs, Daren couldn’t find it in himself to be so terrified. But he was still human, and human meant danger. He’d always known that. 

A series of spluttering coughs tore Daren from his thoughts. This was ridiculous. The human could barely breathe and Daren was worried about his own safety. Daren wasn’t the only one in danger of getting killed if the human decided to yell out. So, he crawled back to his side.

Daren pulled the human to his feet wordlessly, which only caused more sputtering and coughing from the other, making Daren wince and cringe. He even thought he saw a bit of blood fly out of the human's mouth. Ew. The human nearly fell back down, but Daren wouldn’t allow it, using his other arms for support rather than his own self defense. “Tell me the way to your home, human.”

“Arnin,” he grunted, wrapping an arm around Daren, making his wings shudder in response. “My name…is Arnin. My house… that way.” Daren nodded, committing the name to memory. Arnin. The name made his heart flutter and filled him with a sort of determination as he started walking towards the alleyway entrance.

“Alright, Arnin,” he said, draping his jacket over himself with one of his arms, keeping a strong hold on his new companion. “Let’s take you home.”

taglist: this may be outdated, sorry

@bleeding-letters @nicopascaline @whumped-inc @subval01

@whumpkinz @littlespacecastle @hollowgast1 @aswallowimprisoned

@edkore @vermillion-emerald

if i forgot you (which im pretty sure i did forget some ppl, its been a while) pls let me know :>

[miakate-writes]

Juniper Sloan

"Juniper had always been that boy in the back of the class with the bright eyes and beautiful smile that could make even the coldest day warm again. He looked at life like a challenge, like a bucket list of things he could say he had done. He covered himself in oversized jumpers and random notes on paper and countless pairs of high-tops. Juniper did everything with no care in the world, so much so that sometimes Maeve found herself wondering if his brain was formed the same as hers. Did he have one less part of his brain? The part that conducted all of Maeve’s overthinking, did he not have that?"

[romanwitchgirl]

Act II

Word Count: 3,603

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~Helios’s POV~

As soon as I charged, the rest of my friends followed. Morta and Ash stayed calmly in place, but they were ready. Morta send a shockwave Vix’s way, but he knocked it away with a blast of wind. They engaged in magickal combat, slowly floating off the surface like they did the first time. Celestial was firing arrows in volleys, but most of them were knocked aside. Andromeda and I fought Ash. He had the most skill with a weapon I had ever seen and successfully fought off Andromeda and I alone. Andromeda kept on whirling around with her knives, both infused with her magick. Her eyes slightly glowed like a supernova, but they still couldn’t compare to Morta’s. I tried to push him down my whacking my two swords in any way I knew how, but nothing worked. One sword, parried it. Two swords, blocked it. Andromeda and I both went at him at the same time, he knocked one of Andromeda’s knives out of her grip before going after me. 

We fought for what felt like forever but was probably only a few minutes. Our swords clashed, creating a waterfall of sparks that rained down on the field around us. I tried to focus on the battle going on between Ash and I, but I kept looking to the side to see how my friends were doing. Celestial brought out a knife and started to help Andromeda distract Ash, but Morta trapped Celestial in a cage for the time being. I knew she could get out, but I was still worried. Andromeda was using her knife and magick to try and distract Ash, but she seemed to be looking up to the sky at Morta and Vix. 

Morta and Vix were a light show. Blue and white versus red and black. Shadow tendrils shot out of the Earth to get Vix, but he kept blocking them with air. He shot ice daggers at Morta, but none of them hit their mark. Since that didn’t work, he landed on the ground and formed two knives out of ice, and grabbed them. Morta landed in front of him, her eyes still aglow. She used her staff and they engaged in a one-on-one battle. Andromeda ran over to help Vix with her knives, picking up the one she lost along the way. She projected a star blast at Morta, but she put up a shield just in time. The star blast dissipated and Morta went after Andromeda instead of Vix. I could see a gleam in her eye like she had a plan. Morta pounded on Andromeda, the intent to kill. Ash caught on to this plan that I couldn’t find and left to go attack Andromeda as well. She was soon overwhelmed by Morta and Ash, the magick from Morta was too strong to fight off. Vix helped where he could, but he couldn’t get in close without being flung across the field. 

Andromeda was on the ground in seconds, her knives scattered. Morta had stepped aside and fought Vix again after realizing that Ash could handle Andromeda alone. I was too far away to help, and I was afraid that if I did things wouldn’t end out nicely for me. Since Andromeda had no weapon, Ash went in for the killing blow aiming his sword at her chest. Vix saw this and used the winds to propel himself forward, catching the blade before it could strike Andromeda in the chest. 

“VIX!” I yelled from across the field. 

His body was laying on the ground, blood pooling out of his chest. Ash had taken the sword out as soon as possible, letting him bleed out. Andromeda got up and cradled his head in her lap, the light fading from his eyes. Morta was nowhere to be found, so I couldn’t focus on that. Celestial was trying to get free out of her magick cage. I ran over to Vix and Andromeda, looking at my best friend dying before me.

Vix said his last words, “The most dangerous thing is to love.”

Andromeda cried over his death. In his last moments, he confessed his love to her, but he couldn’t be alive to have a relationship. Tears were streaming down our faces as Andromeda closed his eyes, laying him down on the grass. We were both filled with something more from his death. We were going to avenge it. 

Morta came back into sight a few moments later, not giving us time to pick up the broken pieces inside of us from watching our friend die. She focused on Andromeda, so I went back to my fight against Ash. We fought harder than we did before, my blade and energy fueled by anger and vengeance. Vix had died because of Ash, and I was going to make him pay. Celestial was still trapped, but almost free. She was using her magick to break through the cage. 

I spared a glance to see what Morta and Andromeda were up to. They were in a grueling battle of knives versus magick. Morta kept going after her, blow after blow, strike after strike. I turned my attention back to Ash. We fought like maniacs, blades crunching and crashing and sending shockwaves through the air. The metal collided with a bang and screech each time we deflected each other’s blows. I started to put my magick into my swords, each blade glowing with power. Ash’s eyes glowed for a moment and he disappeared from sight. I barely blocked his blow from behind me. He could shadow travel. 

“So, Morta’s not the only one that can use magick,” I confronted him between pants and blows.

“No, she’s not,” he growled through gritted teeth.

We pressed even harder against each other. Our blows got bigger and faster, getting more powerful by the second. We spun around the field, our bodies twisting and turning on our blades. We somehow got our way over to Andromeda and Morta, still in a standoff of magick and knives. Andromeda parried and blocked every shadow and magick blast that was thrown her way, fueled by Vix’s sacrifice. Her eyes were all white and her body was charged with magick. Her knives glowed like the stars in the sky, making a new sight for us to watch. 

Morta’s magick was strong, but Andromeda’s was made of revenge and sadness, two very strong emotions when used in the right way. They fought hard, sweat dripping off of their faces. Blow after blow was exchanged between the two. Morta parried her blows with her staff, shooting shadow after shadow at Andromeda. She held her knives so hard her knuckles turned white. Soon, Andromeda was tiring and it was noticeable. Her arms drooped and her magick got sloppy. Her aim was off. 

Sparing a glance from their battle, I looked behind Ash to find that Celestial was gathering her bow, aiming for Morta. She nocked an arrow, the silver arrowhead glinting in the sun. The string was pulled back and she aimed. Celestial let go of the string and the arrow went flying, but Morta saw it. She blocked it but fell down from Andromeda in the process. 

Andromeda towered over Morta, a charge of star magick gathering in her hands. I could see from here that Morta smirked. She pulled a blade out of her boot and stabbed Andromeda in the gut with the small blade. The magick on her hands dissipated as she fell to her knees, red blood flowing out of her gut and through her fingers.

“Before I kill you, I want you to know something before someone sacrifices themselves for you,” Morta said while crouching down to her level.

“What could you possibly have to say to me?” Andromeda glared at Morta’s crimson eyes with all of the energy she had.

“A hero would sacrifice you for the world, but a villain would sacrifice the world for you,” Morta said before pulling out the blade in her gut and stabbing her in the chest.

Was Morta talking about me? Was I the hero in her quote? 

“No!” Celestial screamed.

We had lost two friends to these villains. Morta had to be stopped first, her magick was too powerful. I left my fight with Ash to go to Morta. 

“You wish to fight me now, Helios?” Morta growled out.

“Let’s give it a try,” I panted.

We struck at the same time, our weapons ringing at the touch of the other.

“I never understood why you threw me out that day, Helios,” Morta admitted as we exchanged blows.

“I did what was best for my people,” I answered.

“No, you did what was best for you. You thought I was too powerful, too dark. In Alfhiem, you can’t be dark. Everything is sunshine and rainbows. In the Darklands, it’s night all the time. The only sun I see is when it rises over the hill of Alfhiem. I never get sun anymore. I live off of the light of the moon. I feed on the darkness,” Morta replied with seething anger.

“Yes, that may be true, but I felt bad about it after. I realized what I did, but I could never bring it up. I’m the Crown Prince, I can’t make mistakes,” I said, pushing on my blades and energy to fight faster.

Morta parried just as fast. She was dripping sweat, but so was I. I couldn’t look at Ash and Celestial fighting, but I knew it would be one heck of a fight. 

“I’ve made mistakes and I’m a Queen,” Morta admits with a renewed vigor.

“What would those be?” I asked her.

“Trusting people,” she accused.

“Why would that be such a bad thing?” I questioned.

“I trusted you, look what happened. You threw me out. I almost died that day and you did nothing about it,” she seethed.

“I made the mistake of trusting you in the first place. Look what happened. Now you’re a villain,” I almost screamed in her face.

She looked taken aback at my statement. 

“You know the difference between us, Helios? You would protect everyone you know and everything you care about. You would gladly put yourself in front of a blade if it met Alfhiem was safe. Me, I don’t have to worry about anything. I know Ash can handle himself. I know that my people can handle themselves. They all know how to use at least one weapon. Knives, swords, spears, you name it. They all know how to fight. I don’t have to worry, so I can kill or sacrifice the world if I wanted to,” she spills as we keep fighting.

“Why would you do that? Why sacrifice the world?” I press.

“So I can make a better one,” she finalizes.

I continue fighting with her, swords against staff. I looked over to Ash and Celestial. My sister was fighting with knives and Ash still had his sword. They seemed to be in conversation with each other, I just don’t know what about. 

“What do you do in your free time in the Darklands?” I ask, honestly curious.

“Assassinate,” she shrugs.

“How can you be so carefree about killing things?” I question bewildered.

“I do it for a living. What, you think I sit around and drink coffee all day? No, I have work to do. Then I fill out reports. In any free time, like when I’m not working at all, I train or sleep,” she confesses.

I continued to press her with my weapons, but we eventually moved over to Ash and Celestial. Close enough to hear the conversation.

“Ash, what happened to the big brother I used to see in you?” my sister asks.

“I ran because of your brother,” he says back.

“What did he do?” she says, not noticing that I’m here.

“He would discuss everything in the kingdom and I heard him talking about how he would change the laws. His new laws scared me as a ten-year-old,” Ash says.

“Helios, what did you do?” Morta growls.

“What do you mean?” I ask frantically.

“What. Did. You. Do?” she accents each word.

“I wanted to get rid of everyone that was different. I would have them executed if it were my way, but my mother made me just exile you that day. I wanted to kill you,” I admit, letting my dark side out.

“Even if I am a ruler of the Darklands, that is just harsh. You can’t just kill people because they’re different,” Morta scolds me and presses on my blade harder.

We continue to fight more, and our weapons catch. I hold my two swords in an X in front of me and Morta presses down with her staff. She channels magick into hers, so I put magick into mine. Our weapons glow, mine gold and her’s red. My eyes are glowing, I can see it in the reflection of my sword. Morta’s eyes go black for a split second, her strength overpowering mine. She knocks my swords to the floor and I roll to the side as she comes after me. 

In an attempt to run, I make some magick illusions to keep Morta busy. She knows they’re fake, but she has to defeat them before getting to me. Momentarily distracted, I look over to Ash and Celestial.   

Celestial is trying to talk to Ash from where she is on the ground, but her words don’t have an effect on him. I try to scream, shout, yell, anything, but my voice doesn’t work. Tears stream down my face as I look at my sister, helpless to save her. She’s crying, pleading with Ash to hear her, but he doesn’t. Ash pulls her up and Morta must know what he’s doing because she creates a wall right behind her. She’s pressed against the wall, immobile.

“Ash, listen to me!” she pleads over and over again.

 He can’t seem to hear it. Morta’s not focused on me anymore, just on the wall holding my sister in place. I run and grab my swords, intent on killing Morta, but before I can even get close to her, I freeze in place from magick that I can’t break. 

“Celestial!” I scream, tears streaming down my face like a river.

“Helios, I’m sorry,” she says. 

“No! You can’t leave me!” I protest back.

“You’re going to have to live on without me, I’m sorry, big brother,” Celestial says.

I just cry for my lost sister. My eyes are blurry and my knees are weak.

“Celestial, I want you to know something. I choose to be a monster. Not because I didn’t want to be a hero like you, but because the world doesn’t deserve it,” Ash says.

Time seems to go in slow motion as he drives the blade into my sister’s chest. It pierces her heart and her head goes limp. I watch as she falls, her purple eyes devoid of light. Her blonde hair was matted from the dirt and grime, but she still fell with a smile on her face for me.

I couldn’t move, time seemed to stand still. Morta’s magick was no longer holding me in place, but I couldn’t move. I lost my sister and my best friends. I was alone in this battle. I watched as Morta stepped up to me, she wanted to be the one to kill me today. Ash stepped back and went away, probably to do something to Alfhiem. I couldn’t help anyone anymore. 

“So, Helios, how does it feel for everything to be taken away from you?” Morta mocks.

“Is this what you felt like when I exiled you?” I ask in desperation. 

“No, not exactly. Everyone’s grief is different. You just lost almost everyone that mattered to you. Ash is on his way with troops to destroy Alfhiem. He will personally execute your mother,” she deadpans on me. 

“No! Not Alfhiem. You can hurt me all you want, just not my people!” I beg.

“You forget, Helios. I am a villain in your mind. Why should I spare you mercy?” she provoked.

“I don’t have a reason for you to spare me mercy, but the people of Alfhiem are innocent,” I tried to reason.

“They threw me out just as you did. They are as guilty as you are,” she says. 

I hear the soldiers of the Darklands marching to Alfhiem. The steady beat of feet on the ground.

“Fine, I have a deal. Trial by combat. You kill me, do whatever you want. I incapacitate you and you have to spare my mother,” I bargain.

“I accept,” she steps forward and I grab her hand to shake. 

I ready my swords and she levels her staff, already charging the tip with power. We go at each other at the same time, the sound of our weapons hitting the other nearly making a sonic boom. We clash, light against dark, black against gold. My gold blades ring out against her obsidian staff. She charges her staff with magick, as I do to my swords. They glow gold and her’s takes on a glow of blood. 

We back up from each other and fire magick at the other, only her shadows swallow my sun blasts. I growl in frustration. I go all out, all my sadness, rage, anger, worry, and confusion in one blast. I nearly kill myself, but that’s beside the point. I pant in exhaustion, but Morta charges up a blast and swallows mine whole. She doesn’t look like that took her any energy. 

She stalks towards me, her staff held high. A wall breaks out from behind me, shadow tendrils breaking from the ground and holding me in place. She fires a blast at me, one that I can’t block. It strikes me in the chest and I scream in pain. I hang my head from the draining fight. 

“Now, about that deal,” Morta starts.

“What….About…..It?” I pant out, each word burning from my injuries.

“I think that I’m going to kill you without remorse,” she deadpans.

“You know? That’s not….the strangest……thing I’ve heard,” I retorted.

“Good, but your death will be painful, so buckle up,” she says and bashes her staff to my chest.

I can hear and feel my ribs shattering. I would scream, but I can almost tell that my lungs are filling with blood. When I breathe, a metallic taste fills my mouth. Blood. I cough it up, each one more painful than the last. 

“Do you know what you said to me the day I left?” Morta says.

My brain was so foggy, I couldn’t think. I could barely catch on and process the words she was saying. If I had to guess, she was using magick to keep me alive so I could be her little puppet. She hit me again, her magick going straight for my gut. The next time she uses magick, it’s not directed at me. 

She creates a swirl of shadows and they condense into forms of my dead friends. Vix first, Andromeda next, and I almost cry when I see Celestial.

“Why did you leave me to die?” fake Vix scolds.

“You let him die,” fake Andromeda accuses.

“No,” I mutter, the two-letter word barely audible.

“Big Brother, you left me at the mercy of Ash. I can’t forgive you,” fake Celestial growls.

I bawl at the sight of them. The sight of my dead friends. They don’t even look like them, but it’s heartbreaking. They’re just shadows, I chide myself.

“You let us die, you let us die,” the three shadows chant. 

“No, I didn’t mean to,” my voice is raspy like I had just drank a glass full of sand.

“Are you sure you didn’t mean to?” Morta emerges from the shadows, destroying my fake friends.

I couldn’t speak, the lump in my throat too big. She lets the wall behind me drop and I fall to the ground, unable to move. The wall of shadows around us drops and I slowly get up on all fours to see Alfhiem in flames. 

“I’m sorry,” I choke out.

“Are you sorry? Or do you just feel like it’s right to say sorry to something you’ve failed?” Morta hypothesizes.

“I don’t know,” I mumble.

Suddenly, a shadow forms before me in the shape of my mother.

“You let Alfhiem down, my son. You got your friends and sister killed. You killed my daughter! Think of Vix and Andromeda’s parents. They’re drowning in sorrow. You let everyone down!” the shadow screams at me.

“I’m sorry!” I wail.

“Your mother was executed a few minutes ago in front of the town,” Morta says.

“No! You said if you killed me you would execute her!” I try to yell, but it doesn’t get very far. 

“You don’t have a chance, Prince Helios,” she chides.

She uses magick to help me stand and pulls a blade out of her boot. She calmly walks up to me and thrusts the blade into my heart and twists it. I scream in agony and pain. Sorrow overfloods my body. 

Morta walked closer to my body as I lay in my own blood, the warm red liquid seeping into every inch of cloth on my body. The gush of blood just kept pouring out of my chest. She bent down, putting her lips right up to my ear.

She carefully whispered the last words I would ever hear, “Sometimes the person you would take a bullet for is the one behind the trigger.”

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