Sapientia Oromasdis 24: Papilio Charontis
You were never a good person.
Farasha rolled her eyes as she swept her burning spear through the grinning mimic. “No shit, Sherlock.”
You’re not worthy of your husband’s love.
“Wow. Really digging deep for that one, aren’t you?”
Another sweep of her spear, and another grinning visage was vanquished.
“Damn, do I really look that unhinged?” Farasha mused, setting her spear on her shoulder as she looked around the burning cinders of the battlefield. She grinned widely. “Because if I do, it’s totally working! Damn, no wonder people are afraid of me! I’m one scary, bad ass bitch! High five!”
The last Mimic tried to sneak up behind Farasha. Nahida can’t fix you.
Sighing, Farasha stabbed herself in the chest and burned the mimic to ash. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. Nahida did fix me. Mostly.”
There were only two mimics left, and both tried some tired old lines like You killed your mother and Your father blamed you for her death.
“Look, you people need to get some new material. This is seriously nothing I haven’t told myself already. Maybe you could drive someone to madness with this stuff, but want to hear a secret?”
Farasha suddenly turned into a swarm of burning blood, engulfing both of the Abyssal Mimics and reducing them to ashes.
I’M ALREADY FUCKING CRAZY.
After that, Farasha swept over the steppes, burning away the corruption and incinerating any Abyssal monsters.
Oh, and all the living things too. Quite a few people, actually. She probably should have felt bad that she was murdering several hundred people, but it really didn’t bother her. For one thing, she was mostly killing Russians. Who gave a fuck about them? They weren’t Americans, but they’d been dicking with Iraq and her people for years and years, so they 100% deserved this.
OK, OK, Farasha was supposed to give a rip now. She was trying. It was just sort of hard for her to feel bad about this, because she swept up the souls of the fallen and then spun them back out in new bodies, free of Abyssal corruption.
ALRIGHT YOU UGLY FUCKERS, Farasha said, forming into a great flaming face and looking down at the 658 naked people she’d formed bodies for at the edge of a small river bank. YOU ALL DIED. YOU CAN BLAME ME, YOU CAN BLAME THE ABYSS, YOU CAN BLAME ALLAH IF YOU’RE ESPECIALLY DUMB. BUT YOUR PHYSICAL FORMS WERE CORRUPTED, BLAH BLAH BLAH, I KILLED YOU, AND NOW YOU’RE REBORN. CONSIDER THIS YOUR SECOND CHANCE. BE GRATEFUL. MOST ASSHOLES DON’T GET ONE.
She wasn’t really sure what she expected after that. Maybe the screaming and the running and the crying in terror? That was pretty common when she showed up as a swarm of burning butterflies. Angry shouts and some pathetic attempts to kill her were also common. Though that would be especially silly right now. What were they going to do, spit on her or throw rocks? This wasn’t fucking Elemental Warfare, where you could kill her with a squirt gun or some bullshit.
Instead, most of the people prostrated themselves and started worshiping her.
HUH. THAT’S A NEW ONE, Farasha mused, looking down at humans that were weeping and wailing. Though it was more like “thank you O great and benevolent dragon” and not “save us Allah, it’s a dragon!”
Well, OK, not quite. There had been that whole thing in Indonesia. And those cults in Iraq. Alright, if she was being honest with herself, a lot of people in Kazakhstan had started worshiping her when she’d done the whole “reincarnate a whole battlefield’s worth of dead people” for a week or so.
The weirdest part was…she could feel their worship. And it felt…good. Not like drugs. Farasha had done drugs. All the drugs. Everything from enormous quantities of booze, to smoking weed or hashish, to acid and shrooms, to even medical grade heroin. It had, of course, done fuck all for her. Oh sure, she got a little buzz, then her body identified it as a poison and burned it away.
No, this was more like…like when Bashir hugged her before leaving for work. Or when little Salem suckled at her breast, and she could feel the life in him. Or when she read a bedtime story with Nahida. It felt like…love. They…loved her.
That was fucked up. She didn’t even love herself. How could these morons love her? She’d just killed them!
ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT. YOU WANT TO WORSHIP SOMEONE, WORSHIP MY DAUGHTER. SHE’S THE ARCHON, I’M JUST THE SCARY BUTTERFLY GIRL, Farasha said, feeling mildly embarrassed. Also, she wanted more. All of it. All the mortals to worship her. Forever. This was a high, a trip, it felt good.
Which was why it was both fucking dangerous and not what she deserved even slightly. She was the Butcher. The Burning Death. The Bitch of Baghdad. The one people feared almost as much as an Endbringer. Which was actually fucking hilarious because she’d killed way more people than Ziz ever had. Twins, too, though not for a lack of effort on their part.
“Holy dragon, may we build a church here, to commemorate your victory?” one of the men, a fucking Ruskie, asked.
I MEAN, WHATEVER. KNOCK YOURSELVES OUT. ACTUALLY, YOU KNOW WHAT? WE’RE TECHNICALLY IN RUSSIA RIGHT NOW, AREN’T WE? FUCKING DO IT AND TELL THE TSARITSA TO KISS MY FLAMING ASS.
Now this was actual comedy. The Tsaritsa was a major league bitch. Even bigger than Farasha was. The worst part was that everyone had just sort of forgotten that the Tsaritsa was the Ice Queen of Evil. Nahida and the other Archons just sort of acted like Bronya and her Harbingers were supposed to be a part of the club now.
Well, fuck that. Everyone else could join hands and sing “Give Peace a Chance.” Farasha had seen what happened to people who gave peace a chance. Usually, she killed them herself. Also, the ones who chose violence, but at least they went out with some balls.
I’m a fucking monster, worse than anything those Abyss idiots could ever call me.
After that, Farasha just left the naked idiots there to build her little shrine or whatever. She turned not into a swarm of little butterflies, but the big insect dragon thing she was now. Not to head right back to Baghdad, but to do another sweep of the steppes of Kazakhstan and Russia. The Abyss had leaked out in a major way, and from what she’d gathered before she’d jumped into battle with all six feet, it had happened globally.
She didn’t find more monsters, but she did detect more signs of lingering corruption. She burned that away in cleansing flames, scorching even rocks to slag. This Abyss stuff was fucked up, and deadly. Even more dangerous than she was. That done, she found a town that had decent wifi, and opened up her phone.
MadamButterfly: Just about wrapped this 1 up >:( Lot of these abyss fuckers how are things on u guys end?
AngyBirb: its fucking bad wut do u think!? theyre all over finland n s hit
ImNotEddie: still fighting, they’re all over the damn place.
you guys hear about sao luis? in south america.
MadamButterfly: more like i fucking felt it. Wtf even was that? Like the fucking Death Star destroyed Alderan
TideStar: That’s an apt metaphor. I’ve had to spend all day quelling tsunamis and preventing flooding. But Sao Luis Island and the city on it is gone.
MadamButterfly: Ziz wtf
AngyBirb: idk ok!?!? the avatar nd behemoth agreed i got to go next and this random mf showed up! hes not even a real endbringer hes that weird snake thing that attacked aleph
FlowerDragon: It wasn’t Apep. It was attacking Sao Luis with Abyssal monsters, yes, but the object that obliterated the island was infused with divine energy and was launched for LEO by Zion. Nahida says the weapon is similar in nature to a Divine Nail used by the Heavenly Principles of Teyvat. Basically, a Rod From God, but in an entirely literal sense.
MadamButterfly: Ok so how do we find this snake and kill its ass?
ImNotEddie: i can talk to the NEET shes still pissed as hell and her favorite way to deal with that is to kill something
FlowerDragon: It attacked South America, though. We’re explicitly forbidden from interfering there. I bent the rules enough just today. There was a massive attack via the telecommunications network. If Ajwa and I hadn’t maintained our ritual firewalls, we’d have millions and millions of people infected through the internet and phone lines.
TideStar: Oh wow, I didn’t even realize. How was the attack made?
FlowerDragon: Through direct taps on the hardlines within the city. I can’t tell if Apep did so deliberately, or if the Abyssal contamination in Sao Luis was just so bad that the network simply spread the memetic corrosion.
MadamButterfly: Your wrong about one thing tessa
FlowerDragon: What, did I miss something in one of my rituals?
MadamButterfly: The golden fucker gave the yankees north america. South america we can go kick their asses for. Im talking to the radish and see what she thinks but fuck me if im going to sit back on my ass and let millions die while we worry about fucking borders
Farasha tucked her phone back into her clothes and took off again, this time as a swarm of butterflies. Before, when she’d done this, she’d completely lost her mind, becoming just a fluttering mass of burning hunger and instinct. Now, it was like…like she was the butterflies. Somehow, her mind could process seeing the world through their eyes, and feel all the sensory input that the butterflies did.
Heck, even as she’d been texting on her phone in the group chat and eating the food she’d bought from a terrified street vendor, she’d had several hundred small butterflies fluttering around the step, sniffing for more signs of corruption. If they’d found anything, she’d have been there in seconds, the entire swarm coming down like a plague from the nastier parts of the Quran.
You did this to me, didn’t you, Papillio? Hu Tao asked a larger red butterfly, one that she kept as a vessel for someone else.
It was a part of unlocking your potential, Boatswoman.
Papillio was, of course, dead. Her little demon had died when he’d fully merged with her, and all that remained was an echo. However, as Hu Tao was apparently now the next worst thing to an evil god, that didn’t mean Papillio was gone. He just sort of squatted on her soul like a particularly obnoxious bum. Not that Farasha would ever kick him out. Curse her he surely had, but he’d also been how she’d managed to save Nahida, Bashir, and even little Qiqi.
So. The little demon got to leech off her soul. Not like it could get any eviler.
You know anything about what the Golden Fucker is up to? Farasha demanded.
I am disconnected from the network. My mass has been absorbed into you, having primarily been converted to energy. The only other Shard based lifeforms I am in contact with are those connected to Bright Tree’s network.
Is that why you’re not so shouty now? Farasha sniggered
Papillio was quiet for a minute, fluttering along with the rest of Farasha’s swarm. At last, he said, No. It is because I am now a person. I was not before. It is very odd. I am also dead. And yet, I am more alive than I was when I was not dead.
What the fuck? What do you mean ‘you’re a person now?’ You could talk and shit before.
Shards do not have a sense of self. Just as the cells of your body do not. However…connecting to humanity is…altering…us. We are becoming…aware. Gaining self. Elemental energy is accelerating this. The Warrior’s Avatar…he is no longer simply an Avatar. A manifestation of the Network. He is…himself.
Well, that’s disturbing as fuck. As if the golden fucker needed to be more powerful.
He is more powerful. Just as you are more powerful than I could have made any parahuman, or even wielded my own powers. But. He is also more limited. More…constrained. I think…I think he could die.
Well no shit, Sherlock. Everything dies if you kill it.
I do not express it properly. He is now an individual. An individual can be severed. Cut off. Killed. Previously, to stop the Warrior, you would have needed to break his network, similar to how the Thinker’s was. A near impossible task.
Uh huh. And how possible is it to kill the Golden Fucker, right now? Like if all the Archons and us dragons and everyone up and decided to fight him. How would that work out for us?
Farasha was actually curious to know the answer. After a few minutes of impatient waiting, Papilio answered, I cannot calculate this easily. However, my limited data indicates the Avatar would either triumph or destroy so much of this reality that his destruction would still result in your defeat.
Yeah that’s what I fucking thought. Gonna need all seven to even have a prayer, aren’t we?
Again, her little demon hesitated. And again, its reply was not what Farasha would have liked to ear. She appreciated that about Papillio. It said whatever the fuck it thought was the truth and didn’t care about your feelings. Uncertain. If the next two Archons are at the high end of the power curve, as the Lightning’s Glow is…victory becomes feasible. But only in limited scenarios.
Yeah, well, we’ll find a way to make the Golden Fucker burn and die. I’m pretty good at that.
Plus, it wasn’t like it was Farasha’s job to think her way out of this. She was the firepower. Nahida was the one who did the thinking. She was just a gun to be aimed.
It took her a few hours to fly back to Baghdad, to what had once been the Republican Palace. Now, it was generally referred to as the House of Wisdom. It was more of a forest than a house, the building itself now overgrown with massive cedars that were over 100 meters tall, with a canopy so broad it shaded most of the city. Entire buildings were nestled in the branches, and the roots held even more structures.
At the apex of the largest tree, a true monster at nearly 200 meters tall, was a large house that seemed to grow out of the trunk of the tree. Mostly because it did. Nahida had very carefully planned their family home to meet the diverse needs of the occupants, from the fact that Farasha herself needed somewhere to roost in giant insect form, to the fact that Bashir needed ramps and walkways accessible by wheelchair, or that Qiqi needed railings to prevent her from stepping somewhere dangerous.
Her swarm fluttered up to the wide landing pad, and Farasha coalesced herself back into her human form half a meter above the smooth wooden deck. She’d learned the trick of not losing her clothes about the time Papillio turned off her Manton limits. Which was also when she started being a dragon, come to think of it. Not that she really gave a shit about being naked, but the person rolling his chair to greet her would be embarrassed on her behalf.
“What’s up, Doc?” Farasha said, hurrying over to her husband, a bit of a skip in her step, her heart fluttering slightly. How did he manage to still do that to her, even after being married for almost two years now?
“I prayed constantly for your safe return, my heart,” Bashir said, and Farasha bent over to kiss him. She stroked the neatly trimmed green beard, letting her fingers trail through the bristly hairs. She liked it. Make him look both alien, and dignified, though his face was still too gaunt. Even with all her powers…there was nothing she could do to heal him. The damage that The Golden Fucker had done to the best thing in her life was such that not even her, Nahida, or Tessa working together could completely rebuild Bashir.
“Mmm, did he remember to eat, Baqa?” Farasha asked the white snake coiled about Bashir’s shoulders.
“He did not! I reminded him twicccce, but he still did not eat properly!” the little snake hissed, glowering at Bashir.
“I, well, yes, I was worried,” Bashir coughed. His gaze steadied, and he took Farasha’s hands. His own trembled slightly, but they still felt strong to her. “The…enemy. Was it bad?”
“Yes,” Farasha said. And she let the tears come. She didn’t let anyone else see. Not even Nahida if she could help it. But she let Bashir see. She knelt down, resting her head in his lap, and cried out all the tears and pain she felt. “I…I had to…had to burn…739. To ash. Some of them, they were just…like Saleem! Oh, gods, Bashir, I…I’m such a monster, I killed them all! It, it was just like…just like…”
“And how many did Allah restore to life?” Bashir asked gently. Farasha didn’t correct him. If her hubby wanted to continue to pretend that their daughter wasn’t a god, and that Farasha was a normal woman…well. Farasha was very ready to pretend exactly the same thing.
She didn’t want to be a god. Or a monster. She just…she wanted…peace. And here, with her love…that was the only time she found it.
“Six-hundred-fifty-eight,” Farasha whispered. She swallowed. “I…I’m normally not so good at math…but I couldn’t…eighty-one. Eighty-one were too corrupted. I…I tried to purify them, but…but I couldn’t. They…I destroyed them. Sent them to the afterlife. I felt…no, I helped them pass over. Guided them to the shore of the land I cannot cross. Just like the Aranara.”
“Then they are in the hands of Allah the Merciful, who will shelter them in the palm of his hand,” Bashir said, stroking Farasha’s head.
She sniffed. She’d talked to Nahida about this. The afterlife was real. That was…frightening. And comforting. Farasha had spent most of her life as an atheist who thumbed her nose at religion.
Now she was a god who guided people to the next life, and restored the dead to life. If that wasn’t proof that whoever had created the universe had a fucked up sense of humor, then you should just visit Australia. Or so Farasha had heard. But echidnas were pretty fucked up animals.
“Mommy is home. Yay.”
Farasha looked up, dashing away her tears as Qiqi came forward. She was eight years old, now, and was taller. But she was still the same Qiqi. She could read a little now, recognizing her own name, the word for “coconut” or “juice”, that sort of thing, but she didn’t act her age. She did look older than Nahida, overtopping her sister by a full head, as Nahida was the same size as the day Farasha had met her.
In Qiqi’s arms was a chubby little boy, with bright red eyes. He spied Farasha, and cried out, arms reaching for her, fingers grasping as he cried, “Ma ma ma ma!”
Nahida had said that most languages had “mama” and “dada” or similar words, as the name for a child’s parents was the sound every baby made as they grew. Farasha had decided that for once, her little radish wasn’t so smart. Hearing her son say mama…it did something to her.
She stopped being the Butcher. The Bitch. The Dragon. A monster. And she was just…mama.
She picked up Saleem, rubbed Qiqi’s head and kissed her, then blew a fart into Saleem’s stomach, making him squeal with delight. She also caught a whiff of something. “Hmmmm, someone’s a little stinker!”
Saleem babbled some more, while Bashir looked horrified, and Qiqi embarrassed. Her main job was to help take care of Saleem, but she wasn’t very good at changing diapers.
“It’s OK, you saved one just for mama,” Farasha laughed, and headed inside, Qiqi hurrying alongside her as Bashir used elemental energy to propel his chair after them. It was quick enough to put a fresh cloth diaper on Saleem, Nahida abhorred plastic disposable diapers, and put a little powder on him to keep him dry.
“And where’s my little radish?” Farasha asked, offering Saleem a breast, which he eagerly took to. Sometimes, she wondered just how safe it was to give her son her milk. It had to be some kind of crazy super dragon milk, right? He didn’t have a tail like Bailu did, but Chiyo had nursed her daughter, so it had to be OK, right?
Nahida would have said something if it wasn’t.
“Still in the Dream,” Bashir said with a shake of his head. “Qiqi saw Aranarakin, and told me that he said they are trying to protect this world from that serpent that destroyed Sao Luis. Allah preserve us. They say at least five million dead. That’s the worst Endbringer attack in history.”
Farasha nodded, her expression grim. “Yeah. And it won’t be the last one. Don’t worry. We’ll find a way to fight that thing off. We did with all the others. Though I am not letting Nahida make friends with this one and keep him in a jar or something.”
“That thing issss an evil viper, who givessss a bad name to all ssssnakessss!” Baqa huffed. “Sssslay him ssssswiftly!”
The rest of the day passed quickly enough, and for a little while, she was able to forget that she was Farasha, and just be mama, wife, and, just a little, happy. They had dinner, talked, played, and simply lived for a while. She lay in bed with Bashir, who was slowly falling asleep, his body exhausted after an excruciating day.
I don’t deserve this. Farasha thought, watching her husband’s eyelids droop, close, his breathing steady. I don’t deserve peace. And that’s not even the Abyss talking.
She closed her eyes and saw the true nightmare.
A mangled car, her mother’s body next to her in the driver’s seat. The licking flames. Screams of pain as her flesh began to cook and blacken. The smell of burnt hair and roasting meat, and her mother’s screams as she was consumed. Then, the endless void, and exploding stars, as Papillio connected with her, infused her with power. She used that power on her mother, even as the flames consumed them.
Hutah Taha had died that day. Killed herself and her mother. Her mother had been drunk. She’d been driving too fast. But her mother had been like her. She’d taught herself to drive against her own father’s wishes. Her husband was turning a blind eye to her driving herself and her daughter. Rima had been laughing, so had Farasha. Right up until her mother had lost control.
Then had come the screaming. The flames.
Hutah and Rima Taha had burned to death. It had been Farasha who had emerged from the flames. She had tried to save her mother. Instead, she’d just turned what was left of her into burning butterflies. Some people said she shouldn’t blame herself. She’d been 11. Her mother had been the adult, should have known better.
Those people were fucking morons.
There was a slight change in the air’s magical pressure, and Farasha opened her eyes. Quietly, she arose from her bed, leaving her husband behind, slipping on a robe and walked barefoot to Nahida’s room.
The Dendro Archon was sprawled on her own bed, silver hair a sweaty mess, breathing hard, eyes slightly unfocused. Farasha knelt beside her daughter, and checked her over for signs of corruption. Nothing. Just exhaustion. “Hey, radish. You look sleepy.”
“Still…still so much to do,” Nahida panted, sitting up and smiling at Farasha. “The Dream is safe, but the destruction, the death…I should have seen this coming. Should have been able to protect all those people.”
Farasha slowly shook her head. “Nah. I don’t think so. They’re half a world away, kid. You kept Iraq safe?”
“All of the Middle East, the Indian Subcontinent, and much of Malaysia and Indonesia,” Nahida admitted. “I worked with Tessa. The internet has a growing connection to the Dream, for it is a domain of knowledge and ideas. We were able to protect both, but the Forbidden Knowledge…it seeks to propagate itself, and use human communications to do so. We could simply remove the networks…but doing so would deprive humanity of so much knowledge.”
“Then you did good,” Farasha leaned over and kissed Nahida’s forehead, and gave her a hug. “Don’t worry about the ones you didn’t save. We’ll find a way to stop this Endbringer, like we did all the other ones.”
Nahida sniffled, clinging to Farasha and letting her tears fall. “But…but I didn’t…the King of Demons, he…he…”
“Yeah. I know,” Farasha said, squeezing Nahida tightly. “He’ll pay, one day. We’ll stop him too.”
“But, mom…” Farasha’s heart still fluttered when Nahida called her that, here in private, “He…he was right to do so. For once…he acted as the Sustainer of Heavenly Principles.”
Farasha slowly leaned back, studying Nahida’s anguished face. “What do you mean? You’re normally not one to ever think death is a good thing.”
“No, I hate it. But…a Divine Nail…their purpose is to contain and cleanse Abyssal Contamination. He…he used such a tool properly. That area would have been contaminated. I just, I fear…if he is dropping Divine Nails…if he has learned such techniques from the Gnosis… he is becoming a god.”
Nahida bit her lip, and glanced at where Farasha and Bashir’s bedroom was. “...do not tell father.”
“I won’t. Our little secret that his daughter is the god of radishes, and his wife is the god of fucking shit up,” Farasha said, and tweaked Nahida’s nose. A little swearing wouldn’t hurt the kid. Normally, it was the father’s job to introduce the kids to swear words, but Bashir only swore when he drove, and he didn’t do much of that these days.
So Farasha had taken it upon herself to expand Qiqi and Nahida’s vocabularies. Qiqi was pretty good! The other day, one of her classmates had spilled milk on Qiqi at school, and Qiqi had told him, “What the fuck is wrong with you.”
Little Qiqi had gotten her first detention! Farasha was so proud. She used to be in trouble all the time at school. Qiqi’s teacher was torn between horror and impressed that Qiqi had used the vocabulary perfectly in context.
Bashir and the teacher had scolded Farasha for swearing in front of Qiqi. Farasha had acted contrite…then bought a box of Coconut cookies to give Qiqi as a reward, and told her “Way to fucking go, kid.”
Nahida gave Farasha a sober stare. The kind that said she was done being Nahida, and was being Lord Buer. Gently, she took Farasha’s larger hands in her own tiny fingers, and squeezed. “I know you jest. But it is true. You are of War. Rebirth through the flames of trials and combat. War calls you. And it is to War you must go.
“Never forget, however, that the gods go to war as good men go to war. We go to war to save those we love. To protect family. Heritage. Culture. Joy. All good things. So in the many trials you must face, in the battles to come that you must lead as the Dragon of Fire and Rebirth, do not forget why you fight. Do not let the darkness consume you. Remember that I love you. That Bashir Saeed loves you. That Qiqi loves you. That Saleem loves you. That so many people love you now. You are no longer the evil dragon who destroys, but the noble warrior who protects.”
Farasha felt her breath catch, and found tears in her eyes. “You…you’re saying…I have to leave?”
Nahida nodded sadly. “You are not my dragon. You are my mother, and I will always love you. But…you are of War. Focalors has seen them. Her seer, Fortuna, has seen Haborym. She rides to war against this present darkness. Her time has not yet come. I have seen the long night ahead. There will be great darkness. We must pass through the Valley of the Shadow of Death.”
Farasha growled. “You mean that thing is coming back, and is gonna eat more cities? Well, fuck that!”
Nahida nodded slowly. “Yes. You must join the fight. Lead it. You will not be alone. You must find your greatest enemy, and make peace with them. The two of you must hold aloft a light in the darkness, while the Shadows attempt to consume the world.”
“Well, that’s not hard. I’m my own greatest enemy,” Farasha said, giving Nahida a crooked smile.
“No.” Nahida shook her head. “As much as you hate yourself…there is one other who hates you more. Beyond rationality. Beyond reason and logic. Your foe hates you with all the rage of anger and passion that you yourself feel. You must find them. You must forgive them. And you must extinguish the flames of hatred, and ignite the spark of hope. Only then will we persist through this night, and survive until the coming of the dawn.”
“Well can’t the Pyro Archon just hurry it the fuck up and show herself already?” Farasha said, feeling angry and exasperated. She hated these damn riddles.
“No. She comes as Death itself. The Shade of Death can arrive only in the land of the dead. Dawn can come only after night passes. We must make it through this night,” Nahida explained softly.
Farasha stood. She looked around, at Nahida’s room. A child’s room. With toys, and books, and games. Nahida had an office with the things of the Dendro Archon, but Farasha had very firmly told her that in her innermost sanctuary…it was OK to be the little girl she was at heart.
“Well. I know what I’m fighting for. It’s coming back soon?”
Nahida nodded mutely.
“Well. Give your father my love.”
Farasha turned, her clothes beginning to smolder, flames licking from her eyes. She didn’t bother to tamp down her rage. She would need it.
“Then they’re all going to burn. I’m going to South America. There will be more monsters. That Divine Nail won’t have killed everything. Time to burn it all down. There’s people I can save. Earn a little of that redemption.”
“No one earns redemption. It comes from grace, and mercy. Show a little of that to yourself, and to others, mother,” Nahida called
Farasha laughed, then shrugged. “Sounds like I need to find my biggest hater. Gonna be hard. I could look in Iran, Russia, America…shit, right here in some Kurdish village. Well, whatever. I don’t care if they hate me. But if we’re going to win…they’ll at least need to fight with me.”
Then she stepped out into the night, and transformed back into her true form. A swarm of blood. Of flames. Of death.
War? Yes. That felt right. She was war. She looked down at peaceful Baghdad. Green Babylon. A place of Wisdom. Not war.
Not my place. I knew I’d get kicked out, Farasha thought bitterly. Then she forced herself to turn away. No, not kicked out. But she had to leave this place behind. A warrior didn’t bring what she fought for with her into battle.
She turned the night sky bright with flames, and flew on through the night and darkness.
Towards war. Towards death. And, perhaps, Rebirth.