Wednesday, 6 April 2016
It feels like all the gods are dead. She looks to the sky, but she cannot find Father’s face. She knows there is so much darkness in the world. So much hate, so much slaughter. The chic negations. The gleeful desecration. The imperious dismissal of those most wounded, those most in need. It can break a girl. Especially a girl who can see things. It can shatter her heart into a million shards of light. Fragments of a broken sun that she now carries on sheer faith. Splinters of brilliance, now rapidly cooling in her palms. The sky darkens. She is alone. She knows that she is witnessing the death of a star. In blackness, in void, she cries out. To gods, to spirits, to Father. She thinks all the heroes are dead, that nothing in this abyss will hear her. But truth is a strange thing, and stars even stranger. Suddenly she recalls that she has walked among witches and kings. She has stood gazing as empires fell, as cities crumbled. She has seen things be reborn. In darkness, the angel reminds her. "There is fire in your veins, child. You are of royal blood. Love is not Lost…"