"Men must bleed. They caused the pain of my sisters and I. United we are Goddesses, apart we are queens."
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Made from the souls of a thousand, the daughter of the earth is made to be one of the many rulers in a l...
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"They killed the kings, all of them except Abus for the role that they had played in the deaths that they caused. The daughters of the Godesses lived as warnings against the evil of man."
I catch snippets of a story that a griot tells from her tent made of cheaply woven cobalt fabric and tight leather bounds tied into bows to entertain children that watch her with large eyes and eager faces. Only on a day like today, you'll see so many heads of colors together.
Sea blue for those under the banner of the tide, their locks falling in waves in honor of the great sea that kisses their land. Dark purple like mine for the banner of the summoners and darkness of the night found in every corner of Ve'hra. Red for those of might, chaos, and flame. White for the rare honored who can see the future and past like the griot.
Time and fear had killed the original powers of the first mothers of the man and beast, creating mutations of what was. No one could fly without calling down a cloud by the hands of a summoner, change the direction of a high tide with more than twenty under the tide banner, and changing the foundation of the earth was beyond comprehension.
Zixo rides on through the stalls, antlers to the wind. Her massive size is nothing in comparison to the riders that wait in chaining stables, dwarfing her both as animals of paws and hooves. Their furs shimmer under the blazing summer sun, reflecting the colors of their owner's magi of birth.
Clay buildings are flanked with massive tents that hold lines of bidders for bundles of well-ripened vegetation and merchants dressed in fine garments as their ankisasstay guard. These animals, born from the sand with their masters like Zixo are the reason such an establishment can exist.
This place was built on their backs, enhanced by their magi and the true tie to the goddesses of old. Their last gift to mankind is in honor of the way that many beasts aided their daughters.
The giant purple anterpanther picks up pace as we make it closer to pristine statues of the new gods and high-rise walls that sit atop the side of Jano's sand mountain, shimmering sparks of white and the royal cabinet's gold estate color coldly welcoming me to either a hanging or a victory.
Today is the celebration of the eternal life of the royal family but no more. No more will our magi be the cost for them to live lavishly under a banner of the King's son's skull. Today, I take power from both the thousand-year-old king and the Gods who blessed him out of pity.
I am the thousandth life. The self-appointed fall of the man king by the will of no god or goddess. My beeline for the wilderness at the side of Jano castle, the only ancient palace still standing is sure as I pass antlered leopards and elks with satchels full of merchandise strapped to their flanks is sure.
They think Zixo's ice satchels are full of fresh fish and prey animal flesh but instead is every flame incantation possible and crystal enhancer for the seers who await at Jano's forest for the sound of tribal drums to play. For the royal family to die.
