Mother of Monsters

Shackles

In the oldest myths and legends, dragons don't exist.

No golden-fire breathing monsters charred lands into deserts, nor did malicious beasts kidnap innocent twin brothers, luring them with promises of love and friendship and fake smiles.

You told me you miss your brother.

The myths and legends do speak of how these living cataclysms came to exist. You do not know if the stories are true.

You overlook the hill's incredible panorama. You overlook the blue sky, although it's wider than you've ever witnessed. You overlook the seething dirt warming the sole of your feet through your boot, the pine trees growing sparser and sparser, in favor of your thoughts.

You are walking under glaring sunshine that drips warnings onto your forehead. You don't care. You try not to trip. You try to go on, although you are tired. You have to keep walking.

You need the Mother of Monsters.

You don't know what it looks like. You only know a legend, an old tale your caretaker whispered to your twin and you to put you both to sleep. You can still recount her words. You told me both your brother and you love these stories.

Once the Night Goddess had no children who could live together. Her creations lived forever, but they had no need for others.

Once the Day God had many children who lived only short lives, and he could not afford to get attached to them. So his creations lived for each other.

Seeking the creation of a perfect species, they sought to work together, but it was fruitless to do so. Dejected, they left each other's side.

You and I both feel a little bad for her, although she is a goddess, and you say that makes her not really a person.

The Divine Night eyed her counterpart's creatures, which he disdained; and one night she stole Man away, sealing some in her domain, and twisting them into powerful immortals.

Thus were Vampires created; but the Day God, furious to see his creations altered, cursed them to burst into golden flames should he glance at them.

You have never met Vampires. You told me you live in a respectable-sized coastal town populated by Werewolves and Humans. You have seen Merfolk from the Cities Under a few times, but never true vampires. You only know they have red eyes and a fierce air that hints at the fact that they are a force of nature.

...but the tale doesn't stop there. The Night Goddess didn't give up, and once more she stole Man for her own devices. This time, she dropped Man in a golden cauldron of Magic. She dropped the innocents in a mixture together with other creations of the Diurnal Divinity; thus were shape-shifters born, Man able to transform into Animal. They did not live longer than Man, but they were hers. She hid them away.

They say she was happy. You believe them. I think I believe them, too. You couldn't tell me if her subjects were.

You almost trip when you realize the vague path up the hill disappears. Confused, you consult the map. You bought it with the money you stole from your Father's study. It's a vague map that doesn't include your destination.

Anything to save your kidnapped twin, you say. The split of your soul, your other you who is more you than you are. You think any and all punitions are worth taking him back.

The path is gone. You're almost there. I don't know you yet.

You pursue your ascension. Do you remember the rest of our story?