When the gods go to war, it's their people who suffer.
The moon was the most benevolent of them until they took everything from her. Vengeance turned her into the instrument of destruction, now those who destroyed her have to give her back what the...
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Some moments in life defined you, points of decisions that came without notice, forcing you to either be this or that. At times these moments were internal, a realization of ideals or ideas you were unaware of before. Something that changed your perception of yourself.
Most times an audience to your decision forced you to acknowledge what, for some reason, your psyche hid from you. Like bellowing your favorite song on stage and having your proud smile met with horrified silence, to realize you can't sing. Or have your six years younger sibling paint something worthy of Picasso, to realize your paintings are hardly even mediocre.
Nia had resolved not to give in to Huehuecóyotl's demand, to uphold the decision she and her siblings had made. A decision to never interfere with people's lives or free will. They were too young, too new to their powers to know the damage they might cause even with the best of intentions. Now she sat in her own cocoon, aware of more than she was ready for, of the dangers inherent in her powers. Not just from the outside, no, even she was a danger to herself.
One look at the stoic young warrior had sunk her resolve. He was at that age when a male were found his mate, between twenty-eight and thirty-three, and yet Nia could tell he had never had hope of finding his. She could see his hopeless acceptance and his devotion to her mother. Underneath all that was pain, ancient pain, as if he carried the weight of his bloodlines' pain all the way to the beginning.
The compulsion had hit her then. Welling up from the core depths of her soul, a quiescent reservoir summoned by her recognition and acknowledgement of another's pain. In the three months since her healing ability had shown up, the power she called up had been, without fail, a trickling pool. Which was why she had thought it a liability, robbing her of her fighting skills when it was so insignificant.
What arose obliterated her concept of what her ability was. Threatened her acceptance of who she was becoming. Her mind shied from the intensity of the power, the rawness beyond what she could even think of managing. How had she failed to realize this existed inside her?
Some instinct she hadn't known she had caused a precise amount to separate and push against her while the rest resided. Compared to the rest it was insignificant, yet it was more than she was comfortable holding. It reached out to the young warrior, pressuring her to heal him.
Helpless against it, she moved forward, imprisoned within the need to heal. A magnetic force that drove her forward to the exclusion of all else. She wanted to stop, needed to reason out the impulse but she was ensnared like a moth with fire.
The warrior seemed to be as rooted as she was, unable to look away from her even as dread coursed through him. Nia felt his emotions as if they were hers, her empathic abilities focused wholly on him. He wanted to run but was too proud to even attempt to. Shame was a living thing in him, a desire to blend with others intertwined with the realization he never could.
