The Cursed Beauty (BEYNIKA)

Chapter 11: {The Witch And Her Bitter Curse}

Teyana.

Humans were never the brightest kin amongst the rest of us, but as those thousands of years went on, they proved to be the easiest to control, command, as well as manipulate. Hence why the human realm has always been one of my favorites to cause chaos in, to disrupt as I watched from the heavens above how one little whiff of fresh breath I draw out can shake the Earth's fragile core to the ground. You see, Earth has never been the rude planet to turn whichever deity that seeks comfort within its corners down, it was always so welcoming, just like its residents. Humans, ever the pitiful creatures, were nothing but mere subjects to be tossed around if they left me unfulfilled, yet they never learn, and still continue seeking The Enchantress' door, and who am I to refuse my pets? 

So, as I descended upon this realm with ease, the night wrapped itself around me like an old lover, eager and familiar. One that is unlike the one who ruled my heart for centuries, yet whose heart I could not overrule. Onika, the goddess whose whole existence has made a slave out of the enchantress. Kali Mata, the Dark Mother Goddess of them all who made the Shaahee Jaadoogaranee, the Royal Enchantress fall for her ruthless heart, an enflamed one that burned me the closer I got to it, yet I never learnt. I would do everything I have made others do for me just so her hard-steeled eyes fall upon my twisted heart, yet she never cared.

So, I settled for a lamentable consolation, the next best thing. I settled for toying with our subjects, manipulating my way into their lives, controlling their minds, charming them out of their wits, and taking over them until their whole essence is drained, and I threw them out. Humans were like that, eager to please for a temporary amount of pleasure, even if it meant sacrificing their themselves. They were always willing to welcome the likes of me. A few charming pleasantries here, a soft whisper there, and they would bare their souls, handing me the very keys to their destruction. I have watched them flounder, begging for a mercy they have signed away the moment their orbs locked onto mine. They begged for release, for freedom from a deity who barely stirs, one whose heart has crumbled beneath her, and no amount of endless magic I possess had helped me pick the shattered pieces up. They were nothing but mere specks beneath the weight of my power, bound to me until the end of their time that I crush under my feet.

But Onika, ah, my pitiless goddess. She is not one to bend, is she? Even when I kept pouring my heart to her, she never blinked. Even when I poured the world at her feet, whispered promises of boundless loyalty and love to her, she remained an untamed storm. And now, I understood. I understood that I could not offer everything to someone who already had it. Even when I tried everything to ensnare her, to shape her desires around me, nothing was making her budge, nothing was enough. And when the last remnants of my love for her were worn thin, when she had bruised my pride for the final time, I decided: I would have her cursed to her own fate that she repeatedly chose over me, the one doomed fate she chose as companion over myself, I damned her to wander with no comfort in the world but her loneliness. If she had rejected my own comfort, the rightful one to her, she shall be blessed with none.