Forsaken

The thick, dark clouds gathered overhead in anticipation of the encounter ahead on the heels of chaos and magic. The secret shame of the divine, the mortal of his blood, held herself and averted her eyes from him as he approached. Both wore their human masks, the only form the mortal had ever seen of her father. Her arms were wrapped tight around herself with her head lowered, making herself small and non threatening to the powerful presence coming near.

Cicero grinned, the feathers in his hair bobbing as he tilted his head down at his daughter. The bells on his earrings jingled with the motion. His gaze towards her was not kind, though it was hard to tell the exact emotion flickering in the flames of madness within his eyes. She hated that they were turned on her.

“You’ve given my proposal some thought, then?” Right to the point. Not wasting any time with pleasantries.

Saphira kept her eyes on the ground and her arms around herself. Hoping meekly that the embrace would somehow hide her. She grimaced at his words, knowing that he wouldn’t like what she had to say. She gave it nearly a year of thought. All of the time he had allotted for her cold feet. With a deep breath, she gathers some sliver of her nerves in order to speak.

“I have. And I’ve made my decision.”

“Heeheehee, yes, yes. And?” Cicero giddily bounced on his feet. Already removing his human mask and not waiting for her answer before encroaching on her space. It made her stagger backwards. His divine form was large with two pairs of wings and eyes that betrayed the madness he created. There was nothing but chaos on his mind and the magic in his veins made him appear to almost glow. The toothy, cracking grin stretched all the way around his head.

Saphira shook her head and raised a hand to stop his approach, “I’m not doing it. I don’t want to be a god.”

Once she uttered her last word, the wind picked up around her and chilled her to her bones. She dreaded his reaction. There was never any way to tell what her father might do when he was angry. There was no way to tell how he would respond to any emotion. She avoided his gaze. Standing her ground with a tremble in her knees.

Cicero simply glared at her. There was complete silence in the moment he stood still. Even the lashing wind hushed for him. He shattered his human mask in his hand and towered over Saphira. His wings flexes and shuddered in his anger. The pupil-less eyes in his monstrous face burned with fury. He wouldn’t tolerate the insubordination from his own child. Cicero grabbed her by her wrists and lifted her effortlessly into the air. He took her feet off the ground as he straightened to his full height at double her size.

Saphira kicked and struggled. Swinging herself around to try and rip her arms from his grasp to no avail. When he held her up, taking her off the ground, there was no way out. The malice he radiated left a rotten taste in her mouth and encouraged her attempts to flee. She knew something was about to happen, but she had no way to anticipate what it could be. She fearfully pleaded for him to put her down.

“You would deny your birthright?” Cicero asked in a cold tone that Saphira hadn’t felt turned on her before. Disgust began bubbling in his stomach. Her audacity was not welcome. He had shown her ample kindness in offering her a choice and she has made the wrong one.

His frown was stark on his usually gleeful face. The antennae on his head bristled dangerously around his sickle horns. In one swift motion, he jammed his nails into her eye sockets and pulled both her mask and her eyes out of her face. The shock of what he had done made Saphira stop struggling, dangling her in his grip for a second. He tossed the trash from his hand and bared his teeth at her as she writhed. The agonized, betrayed screams that shredded her throat were grating to him and he dropped her in the dirt. She held her face and cried in a crumpled mess. The blood pouring from her empty sockets as she writhed in the intense pain.

“This will be the last mercy I give you, brat. You are not to disobey me.” He growled, his tone low and icy as the clouds overhead rumbled with thunder and unleashed a freezing rain that bit their skin. Saphira didn’t answer, unable to comprehend anything more than the damage to her being. Cicero stood nearby, not bothering to comfort her, waiting.

The mortal coil surrounding Saphira cracked steadily. As if the shell of an egg, the human flesh shattered in a burst of divine light and left Saphira in her silvery blood as it streamed from the endless depths in her face. Her T’vahren flesh began to stretch and change as well. Her neon leather was replaced with golden feathers as a duplicated set of wings crest from her back. Her symbol was gone, no longer tied to the ebbs and flows of her being. A second set of arms held the ground for dear stability as her initial pair gripped her face in despair.

Pleased with the new form she has taken, the saccharine smile once more painted his lips. He turned away from her, satisfied with what he had done.

“Rejoice in your new gift.” He chuckled, leaving the storm with her as he shot off to his divine shelter.

Saphira was left in the fields alone. Blinded and unable to make sense of her new limbs with the pain that screamed in her head. She curled in on herself and sobbed, arms holding her body and steadying herself at once. The silver rivers streaming down her face pooled around her. The mixture of blood and tears refused to stop. She felt alone in the cold, bitter rain. A divine fledgling with no one to guide her and no way to tell what would come next.