M E L I T A
The planting became an abstract thing, out of sight, out of mind, a series of routine efforts while her mind raced and plunged with all of the strangest occurrences building and brewing through her head. They’d lived such parallel lives; yet never met in the confines of either Helovia or the Rift. The worlds had been massive and ever-expanding, and they’d survived, and somehow, this was right, this was just…
Somewhere in the light, she wanted to cry, she wanted to laugh, she wanted to break and fall apart at the edges, but her strength and might held her fast. She smiled instead for things that could never be again, things that had been beacons of hope and reigning particles of power for those dire moments, for those unrelenting foes, for the shades and shadows, for the Stygian warfare, for the trickery and deceit of enmity. “Zero!” The youth proclaimed, her eyes threatening to water at the sound of the man’s name. “He took us all in.” Her grin wouldn’t fade though, not for the kind, caring, compassionate beast, barely an adult himself, who’d tucked them into his arms and didn’t let go, didn’t let them see the pain and anguish in the collapse, upon the threshold, of his own losses and devastation.
Then, there was a turn – because Kiada had supported the false god, the cause, the creator, of the entire realm of chaos. For a moment or two, Melita settled along the confines of disbelief; she must’ve heard wrong, or misunderstood. But the more the other girl explained, the more a sudden rage, a blistering, simmering sensation emerged through her limbs, staring at her fingers, curling through her veins. “What was there to understand?” Her ferocity slipped into her words, into her tone, across her features in a furrowed brow, in a vanished smile, and she stared down at the pot of soil, hands ready to smash it to a million pieces. He’d been Kaos, orchestrator, manipulator, of so much mayhem, disaster, death, and terror, that she couldn’t believe or fathom why anyone would want to support such a damned, demonic, evil creature. “You lost everyone because of him.” Couldn’t she see that? Couldn’t she understand it? Hadn’t she seen them all tricked and deceived, rising atop all of his lies, all of his torments, eager to grab and hold rewards – Melita had been so young, so stupid, so ignorant – had done nothing in the time he’d breathed terror and upheaval into their lives, until he’d destroyed everything they’d ever cherished.
The wrath, the contempt, didn’t stop. She wanted it to go, to flee, but it was still bubbling, still brewing, in the lengths of her heart; because she’d always had someone to blame – Kisamoa, impetus of destruction – but never once believed there’d be a creature who upheld his beliefs. Impulse and wrath fueled her, incited her, until she reclined from her kneeling position, stood straight and tall - seethed.
