CHAINED FLOWERS ( z. dragneel )

━ begin

━ beginning;
‘ of love and destruction. ’

- -

There were dark days, when the moon was covered by clumps of grey clouds that billow about in the starless sky. When the lake was still and even the tiniest pebbles thrown can soil the calm and create ripples that would reach farthest parts.

The little girl stood still on a corner of the vast palace, enraptured by the way the glimmers in the pillars reflected the light, shown the land. Even as she lived for years inside the palace of golden columns and marble floors, humanity was still the object she marveled at the most.

"Mistress," one servant calls, dropping to his knees on the immaculate marble floor. "Your father is here."

Her lips were strewn on a straight line almost immediately, eyes the color of the pastures her mother had made in order to complement the darkness her father had spread, betraying nothing of fancies she had ensorcelled herself with. Ensconcing the fact that the little girl made to be a goddess was nothing but a furtive rule breaker.

With a flick of her fingers, a cheap trick she had taught herself with, fingers passing over the different pages of the library which held the many secrets of the gods for ages, she moved the clouds to cover the vision on land and all the remaining evidence that she had been observing the humans. Again. For the umpteenth time.

"My sweet," her father murmured in his ever dark voice, the edges of his cloak like crawling, purple miasma and his skin the color of the waning moon below. He strode into the room, carrying the scent of death and she is as fond of him as he is of her, but she really cannot help but play favorites and love her mother the most. Her mother, Goddess of Light and all good things. The scent of different flowers and warm hands. "I have returned."

"Father," she responded, preparing the lie she had to tell to cover up the fact that she was doing the only thing her father had forbade her, the reason her mother was resting in the tomb laid with white flowers that changed as the sun dipped into sea and resurfaced. "It is pleasant to see you."

His eyes, so unlike hers for they were dead and empty, looked at her. And terror clung to her bones. "You watch those humans..." he began and his voice was many years of unfathomable horrors. He was death and darkness. The time before time and the death before dying. And she loved him, but cannot help but be afraid. "Again?"

Her throat was dry, even when she had total control over the oceans and seas and rivers and lakes— a gift from her father who gave her everything she wanted, because she was princess of the cosmos and the stars glittered in the sky just for her, her throat was like a desert. Dry and the green cacti scratching against its surface. "Father, I—I was—"

"You dare disobey me?" He froze, shook his head after minutes and his eyes darted to the little girl's petrified form. No matter how many powers she acquired, no matter how many stars sparkled in the sky and no matter how many times the world stop spinning on its axis just for her, the little girl born of many centuries was just a little girl in the face of her father's wrath. "I am the God of Death, and my own daughter, crafted by the same stardust and ichor, you of all the beings in this world, dare defy me."

"I didn't mean it!" she pleaded. And that was a terrible lie that hurt the man in front of her. Because she meant every single moment spent watching those humans. Because she was enchanted by their humanity as her mother before her.

"You did it over and over again, my sweet and for that—" he looked at her and she felt the wave of terror wash over her celestial skin, the stars sparkling against it dimming. "—I cannot. I cannot harm you. No, no, no, but you must learn. I cannot bring harm to you."

He shook his head, then eyes of death reached the pool of water in the center of the castle, showing various images of the humans down below. With a wave of his palms, the clouds vanished to reveal the humans down below. With their primitive lifestyle and clothes barely covering flesh. At least they were past the stage of leaves and branches. "But I can harm them."

"No—!" she rasped, and tried to reach her hands out to him. To stop him. "No—!"

But it was too late.

Ankhseram had already raised his fists, the darkness seeping and then crawling slowly towards the water where various images flickered. A boy with black hair, a girl with silver hair unlike any other. A punishment, because he who dare defied him, the laws he casted can no longer be tolerated and he will pay the price.

The gods erred too. Because how else could Ankhseram, God of Death and Darkness and the Chaos that reigned supreme explain how the laborious, fateful, terrible tragedy occured right before his very eyes.

The daughter of the Gods threw herself unto the darkness.

And Anksheram screamed.

He willed the darkness to stop, but it was too late. The little girl's body was gone and the water in the middle of glowing stones displaying the humans trembled, trembled so much signifying the beginning. Of a tale that was never meant to be and the pain that was never meant to be endured.

And so it begun.

-

e n d.
[ thank you for reading chained flowers. ]
c o m i n g:
00 | "the girl cursed with death."