#that as his GOD gale should seek redemption from

[javiersprincess]

i have so much mixed feelings about gale asking mystra’s forgiveness

[galesdevoteewife]

Some thoughts on Act 3 cutscene, endings and the line “To know you love me for the man I am"

[ Gale romance spoiler all the way to the epilogue ]

In my vanilla playthrough, the particular act 3 cutscene dialogue which Gale wanted the crown caught me off guard. It was one of the rare bg3 moments that stirred complicated feelings within me. (to a point I was considering maybe I should romance Emperor lmao) The structure of his proposal felt thoroughly planned and scripted. Every question I raised was met with a well prepared answer.

Too ambitious? It's not for myself; it's for us, for the greater good. Too dangerous? What have we done that wasn't risky? We're up to the task! Power corrupts? Just a means to an end. I’ll still be me, just an improved version. Now I only need a kiss.

I viewed it from the perspective of him hard-selling the player a difficult decision, and the entire conversation felt strategic. Topping it off with the famous line, “With you, I forget my goddess. I love you.” Such a powerful, attention-grabbing statement delivered with utmost sincerity. It's likely that the player would remember only this line, also making it more difficult to reject him. While I don't doubt his love for them, his motives were a question to me.

One of the things that makes Gale's darker path unique is that everything looks beautiful—voyage through the galaxy, kissing lovers, his voice, so tender and sincere. There's no eerie light, no violence, no bloodshed.

Some thoughts on his true intention and how insecurity is the must-solve in Gale's romance arc

In my opinion Gale’s main emotional knot in relationship is the insecurities he harbors. He holds a logic that he is loved (or tolerated) because of his power. Gale Dekarios wanted to be seen and loved but he "holds a poor figure next to Gale of Waterdeep". While there are exceptions like Tara, his mother, and perhaps Elminster, who love him for who he is; it's not his default to believe that people would appreciate him without his power/achievement/service.

With that in mind and let's circle back to why he wants godhood.

If the player reject him in the boat scene, his instant reaction is: “But I could be so much more to you.” If they reject godGale: “I achieved everything we hoped I would, and still I'm not good enough for you?” –Not a word about the better world. I wasn’t convinced he wanted the godhood “for the betterment of all”.

Instead, what he truly wants is the player’s heart... and I think he believes that obtaining the crown and godhood can win them over. Awkwardly, he would need their help to get rid of the elder brain and he is trying hard to convince them.

Some argue that godGale quickly transforms into the type of passive deity he despised, but I hold my opinion on how deeply he cares about the world in the first place. True, he could sacrifice himself to save the day, but he always says "it's the right way/fate" with nothing empathetic for the general folks. I am suspicious that he says it to dismiss the player's concern.

A bit of addition to this theory. Seeking godhood is not a new ambition for him, according to Elminster's epilogue letter. In my canon, he desired it for Mystra if not for the player, attempting to draw closer to her as an equal.

Gale, the god of ambition

Ascending without resolving inner conflicts is like thrusting a dagger into redemption Durge's hands, potentially exacerbating the situation. The ascension path strengthens this twisted logic. Looking at the godGale romance ending cutscene, he gets to dress the player in matching outfits, hold them in his arms, in his realm, in his symbol. They are finally his, and he would believe it’s the power that made it happen.

However, this would lead down to a never ending thorny path with an insatiable hunger. As a god of ambition, it's in his nature to desire more, continually pursuing additional power because it's a viable all-purpose solution in his mind. He will work his way up to the god rank, might even consume a few, "bringing chaos that even trembles the heavens" —according to Raphael. And guess what? In the dnd universe, there are even superior beings above AO.

Nonetheless I hold hopes and optimism towards the godGale romance. I don’t see anything stopping the player from starting to make things better and nudging him into better use of his godhood. Ambition is not necessarily a bad thing. However, at the point where the game ends, this path is a dimmer one.

Some thoughts on the line: “To know you love me for the man I am, and not the magic I command... None have loved me so purely before.”

When I first saw this line and my tav reacted with a sad face I thought she was thinking “Huh? But i love you for your magic too??” xD

It just doesn’t make sense if he is drawing a conclusion that the player would love him for a 0 magic muggle Gale. He is a wizard. His alliance with the player was built on him contributing to their journey with his magical ability, and their romance was sparked by a shared moment through the weave.

My interpretation is that what he meant by “the magic I command” was referring to the mighty power he used to possess, and “the man I am” was everything he showed you—his love for magic, nerdy side, witty jokes, cooking… things that he thinks define who he truly is. In my canon, he probably went through a long period where his title/talent was all that mattered to people, for his portfolio was way too strong (if I read my dnd materials right, lorewise he could be a legendary character even. I will make a post once I put my findings together). The Chosen of Mystra (among the 22 known chosen in more than a thousand years, some of them are even Mystra’s daughters), the prodigy archmage with the gift to conduct the weave. He could have experienced hurt multiple times as people showed little interest in his personality, then he fell back to conceal Gale Dekarios behind the Gale of Waterdeep fortress. However, this consequently blocked him from building real friendships/relationships.

His circle is small, yet I suspect it's partly because he wouldn't let people come close enough to see Gale Dekarios. Even in Act 3, he still wants to keep it between the player and himself. At the beginning of the journey, he denied the player's attempts to know anything other than his profession. If the player is a wizard, he would even play authority and "apprentice" them. By the by, here's an interesting reading about how he might be masking.

Professor Dekarios of Illusory school

Lastly, my favorite path for Gale! Ugh, it just melts me to see him smile that wayyy (How can Tim and the team be so genius and make the expression distinctive???? I mean, he has been smiling all the time, but especially sweet in the epilogue???) He is content. He knows he doesn't need the mask, nor power, or godhood for the player and him to be each other's. From my point of view, it's an arc of self-acceptance and unknotting. He is convinced power isn't everything, and he chooses to teach illusory magic (gotta admit, destruction-force wise it’s almost a harmless school) for he is the one who wants magic for realizing imagination and the one who shed tears over burned roses.

The path in which Gale Dekarios believes that he is seen, understood, loved, and finds peace. Nothing I would like him to have more. I hold true love for this fictional 3D man *wipe away joyful tears*

Sidenote [1]: Some hate Gale for thinking he's only “pretending”. I personally think he is a well-layered character, for there are so many ways to explain him and plenty of room for ambiguity, making it fun to think about his thinking.

Sidenote [2]: I inevitably project some of myself onto him. The concept of “you don’t need to try so hard, pretending to be someone else to be accepted by the world. you only need to find the right band.” is a kind thought that’s so cozy to me.

[archived-from-the-realm]

My idiots' general opinions about companions and each other

Astarion

Artemis: His skills are useful. I like his drive, but he could do to gain some sort of moral fiber rather than just seeking amusement.

Astrophel: Oh, he's the best. I would like to know more about him, but I get the feeling that the two of us are too alike for an honest conversation.

Azriel: Hm... he's a hunter in his own right. I can respect that... he also has a pretty good sense of humor.

Kieran: He's odd and livelier than most undead that I've met. I don't know how to feel about it, but he's nice, I think. He's sneaky sneaky, too.

Shadowheart

Artemis: Her devotion is admirable, but I wish she would allow herself... something more while she has her whole life ahead of her.

Astrophel: A kind and devoted soul. I... feel a little bad for her, the gods, especially ones as petty as Shar, rarely reward such things, but as long as she's happy, then whatever.

Azriel: She's a nice person and a good friend to have.

Kieran: Her goddess freaks me out, but she's nice. I like helping her heal the others.

Gale

Artemis: An ambitious wizard is hardly a novelty, but straj, he'd put a lot of them to shame. Whether that's good or bad remains to be seen.

Astrophel: Oh, he's a delight. Normally not entirely fond of wizards, but he's nice to listen to. Hm, wonder if he'd loan me any books...

Azriel: He's smart, but he's not the wisest guy there is, huh....

Kieran: ...I don't think he likes me or thinks much about me, but I... wanna get along with him. ...maybe learn a few words, too...

Lae'zel

Artemis: She's a devoted warrior. I... don't exactly trust her goddess. Vlaakith isn't like my father's goddess, but I can't help but be unsettled by an entire race showing one deity such reverence.

Astrophel: I knew a githyanki, once, before I met her... he was... very different than how she is, not sure they'd get along. That said, she's one of the more unique souls I've ever met.

Azriel: Heh, I like her style.

Kieran: ...I want to know about the funeral rites of her people, just in case.

Karlach

Artemis: Heh, she's strong... very strong. I want to aid her in getting her heart fixed in whatever way I can. Someone like her is worth facing the hells for.

Astrophel: Oh, she's... wow. The better poets would have a field day writing about her, as they should, really. She deserves to be immortalized, I think.

Azriel: I'm really glad she isn't dead, and I'll do whatever I can to keep her from begin dead.

Kieran: She's fun! ...I'll be sad when that weird thing goes out.

Wyll

Artemis: He's an honorable man, one of the best I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. He will regain some of what he has lost. I will make sure of it.

Astrophel: ...at least he sold his soul for an honorable cause, but I'm sure there is a loophole in his contract somewhere...

Azriel: I don't think much of the noble prince thing he has going for him, but he isn't a bad person to know.

Kieran: When he passes, he will be honored greatly by everyone who's lives he played a part in. There are few that can attest to the same.

Halsin

Artemis: A wise man. I'd seek out his council on most matters.

Astrophel: He's unique, I'll give him that. He's the type of elf that has a lot of stories to tell, and I'd love to hear his most interesting.

Azriel: His connection to the earth is admirable...

Kieran: He's wise and respects the natural order of things. I can respect that, though... do I wonder if he would... make a little wooden duck for me...

Minthara

Artemis: She was wise to reject Lolth, but I do not trust her. My honor is unstained and my hands are ready to deliver justice for all that she has slain... but everyone deserves a chance at redemption, even those like her.

Astrophel: As lovely and twice as deadly as the most lethal of nightshades... I do not envy anyone that invokes her ire, but if she calls me a faerie again, I'm stabbing her in her sleep.

Azriel: Deadly and loyal, a good mix.

Kieran: She reminds me a little of those in the cult of Myrkul I knew... calculated and cruel, but she's different in the fact that she'll at least kill while the enemy can fight back sometimes.

Jaheira

Artemis: A just and stern soul. My mother used to read me stories about her when I was still a child. Words do not do her justice.

Astrophel: Others of my profession tell such tall tales of her, but I must admit, her actual story seems far more interesting.

Azriel: She knows my true nature and allows me to live anyway... it's more than I deserve, probably.

Kieran: She'll live forever in the hearts of many for her heroic deeds from before and now... though, for her sake, I hope the bards get it right this time.

Minsc/Boo

Artemis: He's a warrior, and I would hope to spar against him one day.

Astrophel: Well, his hamster is adorable, but I'm not so sure what to think about the man himself. He's an honest soul, and those usually don't associate with the likes of me.

Azriel: ...I don't know how to feel about him calling himself my uncle, honestly.

Kieran: Boo is cute, but uh... Minsc... worries me.

Artemis

Astrophel: Ah, the noble, just paladin... truly the heroine of a great tale of chivalry and honor... forgive me if I fall asleep halfway through.

Azriel: Her thirst for spider's blood is only matched by her love of shiny things. Just need to keep her focus on our enemies.

Kieran: She's kind... I really like her. She gave me rocks that were kind of shiny that I like to keep with some bones I thought were neat.

Astrophel

Artemis: He's a more prolific liar than poet, and it shows. Though, whatever he's hiding, he doesn't seem to want to harm anyone.

Azriel: He's useful for his charms, but I prefer Alfira over him.

Kieran: He likes to tell me stories about all sorts of things... he said he's going to teach me to read when we get time, but I doubt he'll be able to.

Azriel

Artemis: If we can keep his bloodlust focused on the enemy rather than on us, then he is an asset. Should he lose control, though... I will put him to the sword.

Astrophel: I don't trust him, but I don't dislike him either. He... tries, so I'll support him... but he'll have to forgive me if I'm not eager to get too close after the last bard he was left alone with.

Kieran: Unnatural death follows him like a shadow... he is a killer, but he is kind, too. I don't know what to think about it all, but he is strong enough to fight his own demons...

Kieran

Artemis: I have... never thought I would meet a cleric who does not know the name of the god they serve... nor one that was so flippant about life and death.

Astrophel: I've never met someone so blunt before, but it adds to some of his charm... They just need to learn to read, and I'm sure they'll be... well, not better, but maybe more articulate.

Azriel: He's wiser than his naivety would imply. I would trust them to bury me with the greatest care and not much else.

[chainsawmascara]

THINGS THAT I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW ABOUT MY FELLOW WRITERS

Thank you for the tag @lewdisescariot

I tag: @angelosearch @beaubambabey and anyone who wants to participate!

Last book I read: “Merrick" by Anne Rice (i have not finished, it is a slog, I'll finish it eventually), a book chronicling the works of Boticelli, "Go Ask Ogre," I'm in the process of reading "The Rebel" by Camus for the fifth time.

Greatest literary inspirations: John Keats, my former spoken word mentor and activist Jared Paul, William Blake, Anne Rice, Jose Saramago, Albert Camus, insert any 18th and 19th century gothic horror writer here.

Things in my current fandom I want to read but I don't want to write: mutually toxic bloodweave, disgustingly toxic bloodweave, mutually obsessive and manipulative toxic bloodweave, i need them to be their worst selves, i need them to fuck nasty, i need them to take advantage of each other (not sexually but also sexually with consent or begrudging consent to get what they want DO YOU SEE THE VISION)

Things in my current fandoms I want to write but I think nobody would be interested in them but me: Let's focus on bg3. Disgustingly violent, manipulative psychosexual vellioth/cazador. Utter monsters. Twisted power hungry fiends destroying each other where love is too kind, obsession is too shallow, hatred is too soft. Modern aus of them being awful, wretched creatures. Canon compliant awful, wretched creatures. Dead dove do not eat, would get me ostracized, self indulgent horrors.

Modern aus of Astarion being a mess and a menace in every way possible. Everything is wrong with him. He lives with Shadowheart, I need them to be perpetual roommates, she's the only thing keeping him from complete self destruction. His coping skills are atrocious, he cannot be fixed, no one knows how he isn't dead yet. Gale is sometimes moderately better if he's there, they cannot fix each other, there is no magic happy ending. Nobody dies, but they probably should. It doesn't necessarily start as a dumpster fire. It may creep up on you until it's too late and the sunk-cost fallacy has set in. Surprise, it's trauma! It's not pretty trauma! It's not "love can save you" trauma!

Also: long, lyrical canon compliant (mostly) pieces of everyone's suffering, of redemption and damnation, of character studies, of heartwrenching beauty in the tragic fates they cannot escape - they never wanted, leitmotifs in phrasing, a chorus of chosen words, the agony of everything, the love they seek, endless run on sentences, unyielding prose, allegories, their characters boiled down to fever dreams. Symbolic, headspinning, pitiful, reverent, songs that aren't songs, poems that aren't poems, stories that tell themselves yet say nothing without scrutiny, you will leave in awe and madness and hell and hope. Slant rhymes everywhere. It's accidental, it's intentional, it's everything everywhere nowhere at once, it's a spiral, it's linear until it isn't. GOD.

You can recognise my writing by: Please see the above third paragraph.

My most controversial take (current fandom): This answer from my dear friend carries over - "You aren’t better than anyone for hating their favorite character or how they love them. Just let people live."

90% of the Astarion headcanons I see convince me we have not played the same game. He does not become a better person, he is better to you. Ascending him does not remove my sense of irl morality. You're thinking of Wyll, everything you project onto him is a part of Wyll. Astarion is an awful person, he's a mess, he's full of bitter hatred, he needs to kill, he wants everyone to suffer, I love him. Cowards.

Cazador is SO FUCKABLE. He's a horrid, monstrous, contemptible, vile, wicked creature and while i cannot fix him, I can indulge in hedonistic blood filled psychosexual madness and honestly that's close enough for me. Larian, please let him rail me. Cazador romance WHEN. Self preservation? WRONG. Dancing with death for a hellsent vampire.

Top three favourite tropes: "i hate you, i need you." They are suffering, but they are suffering together. "You are so far past saving, yet i will not leave." Bonus: psychosexual obsession, have you figured this out yet, have i made it clear, are we on the same page. DO YOU SEE THE VISION.

What’s your current writing mood (10 – super motivated and churning out words like crazy, 0 – in a complete rut): it's 10, but chronic fatigue/where do i start with this and how does it end, it has to end eventually, I GUESS.

We're working on it.

Share a fandom frustration: As per my last email, refer to the astarion hot take.

[the-stage-manager]

My polite rebuttle below! (I'm actually 100% on Gale's side, fuck Mystra, but I simply cannot resist a good debate. I'm a whore like that.)

Tldr: Inspite of the grooming, Gale really should have known better

My biggest qualms with your argument is that it completely neglects the fact that Gale made some pretty shitty choices.

Firstly, the Karsite Weave and the Orb: Mystra DID in fact know that Gale wanted that Orb, and she very specifically forbade him from going after it, but he chose to do so anyways. He did so because he wanted her to show him more of the weave than she was willing to. I have to dock Gale points here—she set a pretty firm boundary, and he went out of his way to attempt to weasel around it.

Yes, he was groomed from an early age, which is absolutely abhorrent—Elminster's letter implies that he started catching her attention when he was only 8. That's extremely fucked up. He was the "gifted child" who only got praised for his magical abilities and nothing else. Obviously, all that praise massively inflated his ego, so perhaps he genuinely believed he could be Mystra's equal, but I find that sort of hard to believe. I mean, if you're a mortal man in a relationship with the literal goddess of magic, you have to know, at least on some level, that you will never be equals. I am not at all trying to discount the effects of the grooming, because those left an obvious mark. HOWEVER, I think there's a difference between the power dynamic between a child and an adult, and the power dynamic between a mortal and a literal God. There isn't a comprehendible equivalent on earth.

And this is where I think Gale's ego really bites him in the ass, and the point that I think OP was trying to make: Gale, a mortal man, thought he knew better than a Goddess. She told him that she would not show him more of the weave, he sought to convince her to change her mind. She told him specifically not to seek out the Karsite Weave and warned him away from it, but he did so anyway, thinking that he knew better. I mean, he KNEW what happened to Karsus! He KNEW what happened to Mystyral and the weave. Karsus literally unleashed a power so devastating, it killed a God and made it so nobody could channel the weave for centuries. But Gale? Oh, he thinks he knows better. So he goes fucking around with something that literally killed his Goddess, thinking she'd be please.

Talk about fuck around and find out.

So Gale, having ignored the command of his goddess, is stuck with an extremely dangerous piece of magic in his chest, one which has the capability to (at best) level a city and (at worst) completely destroy his goddess and the weave again. Honestly, I'd argue that Mystra's behavior towards him is MERCIFUL. She has every right to strike him down, to damn him. But not only does she allow him to live, she allows him to continue to rely on her weave. Yeah, it sucks that he's no longer her chosen, but imagine being in her shoes: You ask your BF not to bring something home because it's dangerous and you have a traumatic history with it. But not only does your BF bring the thing home anyways, he EXPECTS YOU TO BE PLEASED WITH HIM. Babe, that's when you dump his ass.

About Blowing up the Orb: the thing is, asking him to blow himself up is only shitty from a mortal's perspective. Gale and his companions can only comprehend their short, mortal lives. But Mystra? Mystra is eternal. She sees into infinities. She is offering him yet another kindness by offering him redemption—and it IS redemption, by no small stretch of the imagination. Yes, Gale's mortal life will end and that is sad. But! If he blows himself up, he gets to spend eternal life in Elysium. Inspite of EVERYTHING he's done, she's still merciful enough to offer him a paradisical eternity as opposed to the eternity of suffering that he 100% deserves for defying her and putting her and the entire weave at risk.

A lot of Mystra's behavior fucking sucks, and I am absolutely not trying to defend her for the grooming. However! Gale is nearly 40! He's an archmage! He has the capacity to make his own choices and he makes some really shitty fucking choices. He fucked around with something immeasurably powerful and, despite everything, she continues to offer him second chances.

Extremely hot take but Mystra kind of seems reasonable? Like, telling Gale to go kill himself is obviously not great, but look at the events from her perspective. Her boyfriend tried to control a magic that nearly killed her and raised a madman to Godhood. She sends him away with a bomb in his chest because she knows he wouldn’t endanger anyone else and he needs to be punished for his hubris (rather Greek of her). She finds out that the Dead Three can only wield the Absolute power with the Crown of Karsus, and that can be destroyed. She reaches out to him when he’s tempted to rise above his abilities and fall into the same madness and hubris she saw in Karsus and she offers to forgive him and heal the bomb, all the while directly feeding it her Weave. Remember she tells Gale to blow himself up because 1) she thinks that will solve the problem (it won’t) and 2) she will forgive him and not send him to languish on the Fugue Plane, which she sees as worse than a quick death. She also can’t directly become involved because of Ao, and she knows Gale is her most potent offence. Plus when Gale realises that the Crown shouldn’t be in mortal hands, he gives it to her and she heals him and fully restores him, including his good standing amongst wizards.

[obliviouskind]

Sinnoh, Cynthia and Cyrus – Who She Was, Wished to Be, and Would Become

---

Sinnoh is a region that brings opportunity to the working class man. The diversity of the regions people comes from job opportunities that are offered. Being one of the main manufacturers of energy – work in power plants and mines are plentiful and always in high demand. Enough so, for young men and women to leave their home (most commonly, those native to Kanto and its sister region, Johto) to travel to the considerably disadvantaged region in terms of location.

Sinnoh brings you work, but takes you from your family.

Cynthia Nechayev comes from a family that migrated away from this very place to build a better life for themselves. Though you could live a life of moderate comfortability within Sinnoh’s boarders – to go beyond the working class is almost impossible. The hurdles in your way are specifically set out by those in power so that the population under close monitoring can’t find itself greedy. Individuals can’t climb further than allowed without connections. --The Nechavey’s never held a poor status – yet they weren’t thriving either. Only after they departed from Sinnoh, could they flourish into a dynasty of sorts. Unimportant to the public, sure; but in the world of business, they ruled with an iron fist.

That there was pride and confidence that came to ooze from the next generation’s prodigy was only a matter of time. Since her young years, Cynthia had held one goal in mind – to be the strongest, the most respected. Her parents that gave her the opportunity to achieve these goals. And though Unova was no birthing ground for a rise in such power – one place was.

Sinnoh is a region that brings opportunity to the working class man. But it is also a birthing ground for corruption – for where time and space were first created (where the creature who came to be cast away for the violence was birthed and banished), only chaos can be born.

Cynthia was a chaotic gale that took the region by storm at the tender age of fifteen. Arriving back into the region that seemingly was her home by birth, yet she never had set foot on its land in her young years. To invest her time in training, in fighting, was something she was both used to and enjoyed – yet this time, it was under the watchful gaze of those in reach of power.

The league worked in unison with the government. Backed its decisions as well as laid out their own goals and guidelines. (For more thoughts on Sinnoh as a region: X ) --To make Cynthia the successor to the previous champion was a goal shared by them all. A pretty, young face – a girl to inspire the young trainers.

Celestic town became her home during this time. One, she spent less time in than perhaps she should have. Extended family granted her surrogate grandparents – the mother and father of siblings she did not know her father had. --Hearthome, as it were, sat as the religious hub of the region. The largest city by far – with the biggest international reach, as contests were held there – that Hearthome could shield nefarious business from public view was one by design. Impossible. Risky. Yet it worked wonders.

To travel there was a means to and end.

It was in Hearthome that she first come to meet Cyrus. Taken to view the church – the heart of the metropolis, she would find herself more captured by the youth leader than with the architecture of the church itself. To say that Cyrus became her first infatuation beyond battling held some truth in it. Boys, as they were, had never truly interested her. Though she could see their appeal – had shared hushed whispers of classmates back in Unova in locker-rooms between classes, Cyrus would be her demise for the coming years.

Her greatest love and her biggest regret.

As bold and confident as ever – it did not take Cynthia long to test the waters with this young man. Three years older, he held innocence she lacked through the rough training that came with battling. What Cynthia wanted – she took. And a kiss would first be stolen (forced, his back pressed back against the rough stone that built up the ancient church as she took what she felt was her right), then touches and words exchanged in the privacy only God allowed.

Whenever time allowed it, Cynthia would seek him out. Take up his time, spend hers with his and sought to make him into what she saw him as. A boyfriend – a good one. One that would be there for her when she needed him the most. --Cyrus was never one of those things, however. Awkwardness in his relationship with her – unwilling and hesitant to do as she pleased and when arguments came to fall between them, things rarely ended pretty.

And though they had moments of good; of understanding. (Cyrus, coming to confess his plans – his thoughts and ideals to her in the late hours of the night as fingers would intertwine under bed covers. How displeased he was with the world – how he saw himself as deserving of more, for he was chosen.) --But she would not come to understand his view on the world. Saw his goals, his ideas, as a sickness in need of clenching. For to seek legends that were but simple stories to rid the world of spirit? Not the words spoken by the Cyrus she wished to see. That she wished to be with – for nothing could be wrong in her world of perfect.

When they parted – it was in tears. On her side and hers alone. A broken record stuck on melodrama.

Years would pass, as her focus was diverted to what was important. Forced to forget, but never doing so – Cynthia put herself through the training of becoming champion. And as hard work and connections does – she succeeded. Becoming the new leader of a secluded region at the tender age of twenty.

That she would have to deal with what used to be her world, was only a matter of time. Cyrus became her responsibility the moment they caught wind of his actions and her manners of dealing with him quickly became a national spectacle. To use a child – a hero’s story for publicity, was truly her way of giving away the responsibility to anyone but herself. Selfishly wishing to stay out of anything that would mean she could hurt, destroy, or cause Cyrus to hold hatred towards her.

In the end, she had to bite the sour apple and take care of it. To lose the child in what could only be described as Hell was an inconvenience born out of tragedy – one she would have to defend herself against in the coming three years.

Cynthia did, however, get one thing out of the whole spectacle. Cyrus was under her watch – under her fingertips and there was that young fifteen year old girl inside of her that adored the possibility of redemption. To fix what was broken, so that they once more could be together. --His acceptance of her offer to rid him of all his wrongs was the start of a new beginning.

[fatal-blow]

The Soldier

Sometimes, just moments before I go to sleep, I become possessed by some weird writing demon and pound out a good 600-700 words on my phone.  The following is the result of last night’s possession.  It’s sparsely edited though so like...be warned haha

You are many things, hold many roles.  To your mate you are a lover, sweet support and fierce loyalty.  To your pantheon you are a sister, willing sacrifice and unconditional love.  To this plane you are a goddess, soothing the faithful’s fear and breathing hope in its place.

 The one thing you are not is a coward.

 No, in fact you are a fighter.  You are a soldier born with sword in hand and a ceaseless fire in your chest, rousing existence itself with the upheaval of your very creation.  Your temper is a forge that will never grow dark, fuelled by the wild energies of the storm, snapping at all those who would oppose you.

 So when Death came for you, you didn’t run.  You are not a coward, not like your elder, who bowed before a monster of their own creation like a sapling in a gale. Not like your sister, cast from the family without a fight, leaving behind the very thing that hunts you now, has hunted you for centuries.  Not like your mate, whose guilt ended in self-driven exile to the next plane over, seeking redemption for a sin that he never committed.

 Now you face Death and Death faces you, smelling of the holy, fragments of the True Gods seeping into its flaking flesh, a howling hurricane of power that crushes your chest and holds your breath.  It faces you smelling of the damned, monsters borne of rot and fear which claw at the lowest reaches of the plane, each step driven by insatiable hunger, need to grow, need to gain.

 But Death is not holy, and nor is it damned.  What stands before you is something new.  Some dangerous combination of both.

 You are not deterred. With the storm in the palms of your hands and the howl of battle in your throat you make the first move, scoring the earth with errant arcs of lightning, whipping and snapping to your will and your will alone.  You hit Death with the brunt of the power that lies at your beck and call and...

 Death is unmoved.

 You have never felt the pain of a losing battle before.  It hits you now, piercing you like the curved blade that enters your body.  Blood, your blood, deep bright blue, flows freely from your wounds, across your hands, your sword, down your chin and onto the ground with an audible drip, thunderous in the silence sat between you and this beast.

 You’re connected now, you and Death, you on its blade and it at the end of that blade’s chain which signifies the life you have left.  Every link, every inch, will go to the fight.

 Time starts again as Death yanks you forward, wrenching a foot of life from you.  You call the storm again but its weaker now, a whirl of wind battering itself on a well-built wall.  You fight and struggle with valiant effort but with every inch Death gains your powers only wanes further.

 Now you fight only for your next breath, knelt before Death.  Your forge has gone dark, your sword has been broken, and your fire has sputtered out.  You expect it to take you now.  That’s what it wants.  That’s what He wants.

 You are wrong.

 When you see Him, the monster who had spent so long hunting you, you see your sister’s eyes in his skull. They look down at you with cold malice in golden depths, a simmering hatred that you know you deserve.  You know that you should have been the one to shoulder the guilt that hounded your poor mate because it wasn’t him who had created this thing, it was you.  It was you and all the rest of the pantheon, thinking a boy with no concept yet of right or wrong, a boy with no say in his own creation, a thing to be mistreated.

 Now the boy is a man and he thinks he knows the difference now between right and wrong.  And the wrong?  It’s you, and you can’t disagree.  Still, you are not a coward.  As he fixes you with that sharp gaze, you turn your face up and meet your sister’s eyes headstrong, silent daring.  He smiles.

 ‘You’ll never bow,’ he says, speaking it as fact, not query.  ‘Not like this, at least.’

 There’s a mad glint in his eye.  You are no coward, but today you feel fear.

 You are placed before a different monster, not a new one, not one that you created.  You are chained and bound, naked before the burning eyes of a starving animal.  With each quivering breath, you suck in the wretched rot of the Nightcrawler, magic gone bad, magic gone feral.

 This is a different fight. It devours you and you find yourself at odds with a million other souls in its makeup.  You fight and claw to keep yourself separate but bit by bit they tear away at you until you’re just another piece of the monster, mindless, hungry, tortured by the need to grow, the need to gain.

 When you wake up, you can’t remember a thing.  You have no name, no memory, no past, you know only that you are a soldier. You were born with sword bow in hand and a ceaseless fire storm in your chest, rousing existence itself your peers with the upheaval of your very creation.  Your temper calm is a [waiting] forge that will never grow dark, fuelled by the wild brewing energies of the [oncoming] storm, snapping at all those who would oppose you...except for one.

You are a soldier, and you do what soldiers do best: you serve.