A Daughter of Lenka
She felt ready. She could summon the fire on command. She could summon it in rain, and snow, and even underwater. She could touch it to her cloths without catching on fire. Her hair no longer burnt.
She felt ready. Her heart was hardened. Her sword work was finessed. Her armor was complete, even though no one would see it.
She knew she must do this. She felt her duty call, and yet, was it needed? Could she still not go to the nunnery and live quietly?
No, she knew, it would do no good. The abandoned castle was free from such constraining lifestyles. The empty towns all echoed the life we used to have.
As the sun set, and the darkness fell, she headed toward the trees. She hesitated only a moment before she set the first brush pile on fire, and spread it to the next pile. She made sure at least ten of the piles burned.
She climbed to the top of the stone tower to wait. It was the only way to gather them, she told herself.
It took about an hour for the blaze to become impressive, and reach into the sky above her. Soon, she knew they would come.
She saw them fly by her tower without even slowing, and they began to organize into symbols high above the flames. They chanted, and the rain came from nothingness. The unnatural rain was summoned into existence below them without clouds, and without blessings.
She stood, and summoned the fire, and flew toward the vile arcane users at full speed. She beheaded the first one as she flew toward the second. The second was a warlock, that barely had time to form an ice shield for protection. She directed the flame to cover the ice shield and moved onto the third target.
The third was a wizard, with the ridiculous pointy hat, and he shot snow and sleet at her. She easily melted the attack and impaled him. She knew to bring it upward, to cleave the heart in two. She felt joy as she was successful and moved onto the next target.
She faught for her life, and the lives taken by these vile Wiccan monsters. She may not be the right gender to channel holy power, but she could still direct her wrath onto the nature-worshipping witches who had taken everything from her.
She had killed at least half of them when she heard a name called out to her, “Inessa! Please stop, we love you and will help you.”
She screamed in response to someone calling her name, “Inessa died with her mother. Inessa died with her father. Inessa died with her husband and her children and all the children of the town. Inessa is dead. I am Wrath. There is only Death.”
“Inessa, I am here. Please calm, you are cursed.” A woman that looked like her mother, with her mothers voice, spoke to her kindly. “Nissy, please calm.”
“How do you know that name?”
“You are cursed, let me show you? Follow me,” the woman-that-wore-her-mother’s-face said. “It’s okay, I’ll accept the responsibility. I accept the chance to help her.”
The woman-who-wore-her-mother’s-face flew toward the town on her broom. She glanced back many times, to make sure Nissy followed.
They both landed by the well. The woman-who-wore-her-mother’s-face pulled up the bucket, and set it on the ground. “Wait for it to settle, then use it as a mirror. You know that the reflection from water cannot be arcane-changed.”
Nissy looked down at her reflection, and it was her face, but she was a demon. She had black skin, black eyes, and curved horns growing out of her forehead.
“But, I didn’t know. I am…the demon?” Nissy stared at her mother, who she now recognized.
“My dear, you are still loved. You are still save-able. Put the sword down, and give me a hug.” Her mother opened her arms wide, and gave her an encouraging look.
Nissy hesitated only a moment. She remembered the last few months of darkness and shadows chasing her, and knew she had become the evil she wanted so desperately to end. She carefully laid down the sword, and once she no longer touched it, the flame died.
She stumbled toward her mother. They embraced, and her mother prayed to the moon, and visible stars. She prayed to the ground, and trees, and wind. Nissy felt fog surround them. She felt able to breath for the first time and never noticed the difference before.
She looked down at her armor, which was simply her hardened skin. It was mottled, and it seemed to visibly show the fight in her heart between trust and wrath. Suddenly, she was overcome with anger.
“Where were you when they died?” Nissy asked.
“I was away for the festival,” her mom said.
“Why was I abandoned?” Nissy said.
“You ran into the night, screaming, already possessed. Your father did his work well,” she said.
“What did he do?” Nissy said.
“He begat many children. He cured people, and came back to life. He offered up everything he ever had to his God as an answer for his sins. He sacrificed you by name to his God, and his God tested your father. For his own sins he died, and became a legend, because no one knew he sinned except lowly street women. Like I was.”
Nissy felt the truth pour from her mother, and she felt the comfort of love and remembered happiness again. “Were did I go? Why do I return now?”
“You went to train in hell, and came back with false life, and wrath in your heart. It is almost gone now, you must choose. Destroy the sword, or pick it back up and burn the world.” Her mother looked so powerful, and yet so sad.
“I do not know what to do. I am broken. But my sword is whole.” Nissy said.
“Inessa, you are a powerful woman, and an arcane force on your own. Destroy your sword now, or pick it up and burn the world.”
“I…choose…life.” Inessa said, each word she had to force out.
Her sword shattered, and the shards burnt to ashes in an instant. Her mother collapsed. She caught her mother’s lifeless shell in her arms. Some of the other witches now approached.
“She knew if she found you, she could heal you. She wanted to do this.” These kind witches, warlocks, and wizards, came and embraced her one by one as she cried for her mother, and her own deeds.
Link to Google+Project day 6 : https://plus.google.com/u/0/107396241442191327319/posts/XU29KV3KnrA