It feels like all the
gods are dead. She looks to the sky, but
she cannot find Father’s face. She knows
that there is so much darkness in the world. So much hate, so much slaughter. The chic negations. The gleeful desecrations. 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 around 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
amongst 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…
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