PYRRHIC, percy jackson

GENESIS

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SHE WAS THE WATCHER. She saw, and observed, and even glared to the things humanity did. She saw how they evolved.

   From Greece to the Roman Empire. From the Roman Empire to the Byzantine Empire. From the Byzantine Empire to the Islamic Empire...

   From back then, to then.

   She had seen it all after she was turned into stars. She had seen her people suffering. The gods abandoning them and moving to the next big centre of power—Rome. She had seen how they had suffered too, and how that time they were the ones who abandoned the gods.

   She had seen so much suffering, and misery, and grief. She had seen so much pain, and hate, and fear. She had seen how people were left soulless, careless for themselves because they had lost too much, a simple hollow shell remaining to show how much they were lacking. She had seen how anxiety destroyed them inside out.

   She had heard the screams, saw the faces, watched the injuries, almost heard the heartbreaks, yet she still longed to know how it would be to feel, even such a painful feeling.

   She just wanted to know.

   The touch of the sand underneath her nonexistent feet, the cold hug of the wind on her nonexistent arms, the warm kiss of the sun on her nonexistent cheeks.

   She just wanted to know.

   The chill down her nonexistent spine, the heart-stopping drop of her nonexistent stomach, the salty water dripping down from her nonexistent eyes.

   The soft caress of someone on her nonexistent neck, the warm touch of the blankets over her nonexistent body, the rough feeling of a worn-out book on her nonexistent hands...

   She just wanted to know.

   And she had heard the phrase be careful with what you wish for many times over her watch, knowing most of the wished things who had become true had been twisted and bent into a way that made people regret to have wished them.

   Yet she insisted.

   She just wanted to know.

   So as she fell, as she was carelessly thrown into the planet where she came from, as she was given a body, an identity, an actual soul, Lyra could do nothing else but scream.

   She wanted to know, and her dream was becoming reality. She was going to know. She was knowing it.

   But only the worst part.

   All she felt was pain, her new lungs feeling like fire, her new arms feeling as if someone was carving circles with a knife on them, her new eyes rediscovering the world she had left behing so many years ago. It was all painful, but it was worth it.

   Lyra felt. And that was enough to make her want to never do it again.

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( but gifts can never be returned. )