Calamitous Birth

Bodies on a Cross

She bolted awake; how long had she been asleep for! She hastily packed her supplies and trotted off home, tripping on the odd rock here and there. As she approached the mountain she could sense something was not right. The energies told her that there had been a battle there, and that there had been death. A shiver went down her spine as she tentatively made herself up the pathway. She felt sick with worry, for her whole family. As she approached her cave, she smelt blood. there had been death here, without a doubt. She crept into the cave to investigate. She saw blood smears from the unmade beds, the remains of a fire, a book lying open on the ground.

But her family were not there.

She tiptoed out of the cave, looked up and screamed. What she saw, was a nightmarish sight. her mother, father and brothers strung up on crosses, dead. A burning rage filled her soul, a hatred for those who could think of doing such a thing. She spotted a trail of footsteps from the cave entrance, and followed them. The signs of the tribe responsible littered the slope; cattle dead, their heads on sticks; banners, skulls, everything they stood for. In the distance, she spotted smoke. A small campsite lay ahead, a temporary residence. She could hear music, laughter, the sounds of a victory. Abandoning all morals she once had, she ran into the campsite, scattering brimstone over the troops. She sprinted into the center, where a campfire lay. She jumped in, spread her arms wide and screamed. The skies opened, raining hellish flame onto all of the soldiers. The smell of burning filled her nostrils. She watched a soldier writhe on the ground, fully aflame. She watched in hatred, and anger as the last shreds of life left his body. She could sense the spirits trying to escape, but she would not let them. One by one she grasped the spirits from the sky, then warped them to the depths of the profaned crags, to burn for eternity; unable to extinguish themselves, unable to break free from the pain.