Amaterasu

DISEMBOWELED BY CAT SIDHE

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Ko'lhamana

DID NOT HAND IN

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Yemeya

Day 7. "You really should get some sleep." It was Nyx...again. "What are you doing up there anyways?" Yemeya had found a spot much to her liking on the roof of...well, wherever it was they were. Camazotz (not to mention the Fates) wouldn't be pleased, but even out in the open, exposed to an entire sky of stars, there was no way to know where she was...let alone escape. She could tell by their alignment that they were in the northeast corner of America, but miles of evergreens was the only clue as to their location. Besides, she hadn't ventured outside to escape literally, just figuratively. What were they going to do, kill her? Seal her fate the quick and easy way rather than cruelly drag out her inevitable undoing? I'll take my chances...
"Hello...?" Nyx was still trying to get through to her.
"I'm sorry, I'm... thinking"
"Well, thinking won't help you with the next task. Sleeping will!"
Yemeya sighed. Nyx had accepted this way of life, embraced it almost. "Nyx. Come look at the stars." They were quite beautiful. There had been days when she felt one with the night sky, like the flickering worlds above were just at her finger tips...within her grasp... "Why don't you come up and look at this? Then I'll come to..." but Nyx had left. She watched the stars dance above her. Some had died years ago. What she was seeing was merely a ghost, a scar of light, a visible echo separated forever from its birthplace. No one could hold on to it. Nothing could stop it from...fading out if existence...and into...an eternity...of...darkness...
The birth of a miracle is a painful process. The woman screamed. Hold on. Her husband wiped the angry sweat from her forehead before it could stream down her painfully contorted face. You're almost done, sweetie, one more push. The woman's throat tore open with a horrible cry. The husband cringed at the sound, and the blood. Something is wrong. "Someone get help! Get some water!" I know you can do this... "Please! We need some water!!" His neck craned, trying to force his voice farther out of the tent. He couldn't leave her side. One more, sweetie... "Water!!" The skies began to rain. Beautiful clear, clean water. "Outside. It's raining, come outside. You're okay. You're okay. Take my hand. Come on. You're okay." The woman screamed. She fell to the ground. The rain had already washed the sweat away and soaked her coarse hair. Please... She screamed. ...Be strong... men came running ...let the water heal you... "We have to go. They're coming!"...Breathe... "I can't leave her!" The husband screamed...One..."I'm sorry...we have to leave!" The men left. The woman screamed ...more... The husband held her ...Push! The child screamed. The woman was silent. The husband wept.
Sometimes...they must die. She had done all she could. It was the woman's time. Part of her could feel that, but she was always there. It was worth the pain...to help bring new life into the world. Yes, it was even worth the death. If the rain didn't help...there was nothing else you could do...it was her time. Sleep now...your suffering is over. The woman was at peace. The husband wept. The child screamed. The rain stopped. Tend to your babe. The last few drops whispered to the husband. He needs you now. The man stopped. In the tent lay the blanket the woman had made for her unborn child. The husband approached the helpless babe as if it frightened him. He wrapped the blanket around him. His mouth tried to utter the name, but his lips trembled. "My son..." There was shouting. Men with spears and painted faces charged towards the almost empty village like an angry, unstoppable wave. The man clung to his child. Sorrowfully, he embraced his wife with his eyes for one last time. He ran. He waded through the small river easily, holding the baby to his chest, but his pursuers were slowed by the suddenly raging current. He muttered a "Praise Yemeya! Thank you!" and continued to run. The men chased him, and were in turn chased by the river. They threw their knives and spears, but muddy water circled and swallowed them. They retreated. The man laughed. Then, he fell to his knees. The spear was deep. The child was safe. The man smiled. The child was safe. The man died. Yemeya wept.
Okoth - 'born during the rains'. She rocked the tiny thing in her arms, the ebbing and flowing of her gentle embrace soon lulled him to sleep. Why must they fight? Why must they kill? Why...why must they die? She knew the answer: it was the natural way, it's what made them mortal. She couldn't save them all. Sometimes...they must die. She looked at the precious, pitiful child in her arms. The birth of a miracle is a painful process.
He was her son. He knew what he was, and what she was. He knew how he came into this world, and how he must someday leave it, but he was still her son. He was strong and stubborn, much like she was. She couldn't be with him all the time, her people needed her, but she raised him. She raised him to be a leader, a warrior, a teacher. He brought her so much joy, and she loved him, she cherished him above all her people. He loved her as well. He was a prophet, a bridge from Yemeya to her people. He helped them in ways she sometimes couldn't, he helped them understand things they normally wouldn't.
Yemeya had known what mortals were capable of long before the white men arrived. They had killed, captured, enslaved, tortured one another since the beginning of time. No, that wasn't it. That wasn't what appalled her. It was the sheer ease in which these unforgivable actions were being carried out of late. They had justified, even glorified their brutality. It was this idea of Progress. They spoke as if it were something wonderful, something beautiful, but in truth, it was a disease. It spread rapidly, instilling discontentedness and hatred everywhere it went. It distracted them from what would truly make them happy with dazzling promises, forever just out of their reach. One by one, it infected them, and she could only watch. She could only watch as her people turned against each other, used each other, sold each other. She could only watch as Okoth grew restless. She could feel him slipping through her fingers along with the rest of her people.
She did everything she could. There was never a drought, even after they stopped bringing her offerings. The rains were always gentle, the moon always lit their paths at night. She healed even the slightest cold, and brought many back with nothing short of a miracle, but was rarely thanked, or even mentioned. Okoth still tried convincing the people of her presence, but as time went on, they dismissed him as crazy, and a tone of shame crept guiltily into his voice each time he mentioned her. The children were the only ones she could reach, through their dreams, but their parents were swift in suffocating their imagination and drawing strict lined between reality and fantasy. A horrible feeling began to possess her. There was nothing she could do. She turned to Okoth, he was the only mortal left who acknowledged her, who heard her. Why won't they let me help them? They won't listen to me! The rain drizzled on Okoth's head. It was sent as a blessing, yet he received it as a curse. His words shook her so deeply, she could still feel them rippling through her as she remembered that hopeless hour. "They don't want your help any more, Yemeya." Not 'mother'...not one hint of compassion in her name. "Don't you get it?! They don't need you anymore. Why beg you to do something they can do themselves, on their own terms?" He sighed, revealing only briefly any regret. "Don't you understand? They've outgrown you." He stared at the wet ground. It was pouring now. He went inside, out of the rain.
Okoth Monyaak was considered a man ahead of his times. A man of progress. He had sold enough of his own people to purchase the white man's false respect. They told him he had 'great potential' and set him up with a nice house in the northern part of the country. Yemeya never left his side. Whether he knew it or not, she was always with him, even when it would have been easier to turn away. She watched as he took everything she had given him and used it to destroy the world she had known and loved so dearly. She was with him even to the end. She saw the regret in his eyes as he submitted to death. He may not have been sorry, but he wasn't happy. He had tortured, and lived a life of torture. So much pain... The end of his suffering was only the beginning of hers. I can save them... Her people screamed. Why won't they listen to me? The child died. Why? Anger began to eat away at her stomach. I could help them, if only... She couldn't move. If only... She was trapped within herself. I could... She screamed. No sound. Why won't they... She struggled. Nothing. Why...why...why...?
She woke up.
"I told you to come inside. Thank the gods it's not too sunny, you're no good to me dehydrated." ...Nyx...
She had never forgotten, but the dream picked at a scab she was hoping would heal in time. "I'm sorry, I'm coming." They walked back into the white abyss of hallways.
Day 8. The birth of a miracle is a painful process...

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Jade

Wen stands in front of a crowd. He is giving a speech, rallying troops. For years now, he has helped Di Xin, the Shang king, with his conquests. But now, Xin fears Wen. Wen has too much power. And so, as a large crowd of his faithful watch, Wen is imprisoned by the troops of Di Xin. I watch on, and witness the fall of my favored warrior. But I do nothing, because to act is to reveal myself. I watch Wen fall to a greater power, and it is in that second that the rage of the Zhou people is felt. Screams of outrage pierce the air. All caution has been thrown to the wind. War is coming.

~

Wen has been released. But tensions between the Shang and Zhou people are still high. And I have become Wen’s right-hand woman, as well as his lover. Posing as Jiang Ziya, I am poised to lead him to victory. Wen, my chosen one, will rule the world. We stand at the top of a beautiful building, and look out over his army, which is about to attack one of the smaller city-states loyal to the Shang. The art of war is a difficult art to perfect, and Wen and I, it seems, are master painters.

~

It is only when I stand at his deathbed that I accept the possibility that godly power alone cannot save him. Wen is dying, of a deadly poison given to a Shang warrior that even a god can’t cure. How he got a hold of it, I have no idea. The only thing I am sure of is that vengeance will be mine. And the Zhou people will stand with me. For I am a goddess, even if they don’t know it.

~

Wen is dead. He has a funeral fit for a king, seeing as he is one. And as I help lower the lid of his ornate casket, I say a final farewell to my warrior and lover. I will not be able to take him into his tomb. But I can still do this for him. And I can still fulfill his dying wish, which I plan to do at any cost.

~

Five years later, the Zhou Empire is in place. They have grown in power, and are now ready to conquer the Shang dynasty and take over. All thanks to me. I promised revenge over my love’s dead body, and now that’s what I’m getting. Revenge is something completely earthly, but now I understand the thrill it brings to humans. I will kill Di Xin, and bring justice to the murder of Wen.

I charge into the battle like any other soldier. My weapon of choice is a claymore, too hefty for most women, and even some men to carry. But I am neither. I am a goddess, and I do not accept defeat. I am stronger than others. I am the Jade Queen, and I am a force to be reckoned with. My fury is unmatched. And so are my skills on the battlefield.

I do not use magic outright, but instead keep some burning inside me, ready to be called upon. I have torn my way through the left flank of the Shang defense, leading a group of about fifteen men with me. Together, we topple many fierce warriors without much afterthought. I use a small amount of my battle magic to keep my men strong and furious, for rage is the only thing that keeps them going this strong. And it is rage that I have become an expert at. So when we reach the wall of the city, I let it all consume me, everything I have been keeping carefully controlled. All my meticulous mental preparation has led to this point. Today is the day where I kill Di Xin, and retribution will be brought down like a storm onto the Shang. Their wrongs are unforgiveable. And I am here to judge.

The magic overtakes me. This is a new feeling, the feeling of absolute power. Complete and total strength. I can do anything. I have become legend, the monster most have only heard whispers of. I have become the Jade Dragon.

It has been years since the Dragon was last seen, so for most the mere sight of my serpentine body soaring over the wall petrifies them. But my men, after witnessing this incredible, unexpected feat, attack the surrounding Shang warriors with a renowned vigor. They have taken down four before a single one fights back. It is like I have mesmerized the whole battlefield and they are just now realizing that there is still a war going on.

I fly high above the city, general pandemonium created wherever my shadow is cast. But the worst is the castle. Guards on the walls struggle to get their weapons and prepare to fight. As I land, my claws scratch off pieces of the walls, bricks plummeting to the ground and hitting terrified citizens. The guards standing near me swing their swords at me, and shoot arrows off my thick scales. I block some of the haphazard strikes, whereas others just ricochet away. The nerve some people have, to think that they can beat a goddess. They clearly can’t. So why would they try? It would have been a lot easier for all of us if they just gave up. But they don’t. So I spend a good ten minutes plowing through rows upon rows of soldiers sent to kill me. And it is only when there are piles of dead bodies, some covered in blood and some burning, that I change back into my normal form. And then I am off to kill Di Xin.

It is easier to work my way through the palace once I am inside. I am only contested by a few people, who I take down quite easily, typically with one blow. After a few of the bodies pile up, the other guards take the hint. And it doesn’t hurt that I have an aura of power rolling off of me in waves. So I strut through the halls, until I finally reach the quarters of Di Xin.

I throw open the doors to watch him down a deep purple liquid from a champagne glass. He smiles over at me when he notices that I have entered. His teeth are stained that same purple, and soon his smile withers away into a grimace. He is clearly in pain. Which means he must have drank some sort of poison.

“No.” I refuse to accept this. My fury clouds my judgement, and all I can see is red. This is not okay. I was supposed to kill him. He deserved so much worse than an easy death. He deserved pain, like that he made me go through. In my anger, I don’t notice the fact that my sword is glowing. I’ve lost control of my magic. But instead of trying to wrangle with it more, I let it all out. And then, before I know it, the castle is on fire.

I wake up in a cold sweat. For a second, I am not sure where I am, and then I remember all that I’ve been through. And I thought that the pain back then was the worst I’d have to go through. No, remembering is worse. All the feelings I had back then, they are brought back to the surface. It’s like picking at a scab, you think it’s healed, but when you remember it, it’s like ripping that scab off, leaving you with that same open wound. And this one is both the best and the worst. It’s why I woke up in tears, and it’s the reason for the empty void in my heart. Some days I wish I had died back then, clean and simple. Then I could be with my love, and away from these earthly problems. But now that I’m stuck here, I need to fight to make this world a better place. Because losing the one you love is the worst pain anyone could go through. And if I win, I know I will do my best to make sure that doesn’t happen ever again.