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"We were made to rule"
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December, ??? ???, ???
SHE WAS BORN in the Age of Dragons, of a time where myths were real and fairytales, true; when mortals witnessed the rise of heroes and the fall of monsters, the worshiping of Gods and the loathing of Titans; when ships sailed with mermaids at their oars, pegasi soaring freely above their heads.
What a world she was born into; what a privilege it was to breathe the air dragons breathed.
She was an adored babe, born from the womb of her mortal mother and held by the hands of her immortal father. Her insensible babble brought joy into her mother's life, and distaste into her father's eyes. She cried when her mother was killed and her father exiled. Her tears fell like hail as her heart was pierced by a harpe's blade.
A life short, fleeting, meaningless.
A fluke, a weak thing.
She was born in the Age of Slaves, of a time where humans stole humans, mortals selling mortals; when the goddess of magic cleverly placed the Mist over vulnerable eyes, hiding creatures of myth; when ships sailed by the help of slaves, corpses splashing against great waves.
What a world she was born into; what a burden it was to breathe the air humans breathed.
She was an adored babe, born from the womb of her slave mother and held by the hands of her immortal father. Her insensible muttering brought content into her mother's life, and disappointment into her father's eyes. She trembled when her mother was taken and her father gone. Her tears fell like pearl droplets of rain as her throat was snapped by a powerful hand.
A life short, fleeting, meaningless.
Another mishap, another weakness.
She was born in the Age of Wars, of a time where humans slaughtered each other like animals, the thirst for power riddling sons of Hades; when demigods were left to roam in freedom, living in power uncontained by their lineage; when the children of gods were torn apart by monsters, weak and useless.
What a world she was born into; what a pleasure it was to breathe the air war breathed.
She was an adored babe, born from the womb of her doting mother and held by the hands of her immortal father. Her words brought pride into her mother's life, and approval into her father's eyes. She watched when her mother grasped onto the wall as the floor gave out beneath them. Her eyes had no tears to spare, her lips forming a silent goodbye as she fell.
A life short, fleeting–
Meaningful.
For in this lifetime, she had a name.
Ophelia Kairos fell to her death, crushed by a thousand pounds of wreckage as Poseidon's earthquake took her life with swift determination.
