#kurue

never leave your children lovers unsupervised

unless you have a caretaker for them

bpyfriends

alt vers under the cut

ashes to ashes, leaving behind a trail of tears, satisfaction, ashes to ashes

a gift, parasite,

contaminated , abomination of the abundance

amidst the converging paths, the reminders of my existence begin to light up my skin , roses, golden,

the desire to journey across the stars and explore far and wide, from the past to the present, remains the starting point for everything

converge, evolve, infect, beauty

“Kneel before me, Kurue,” drolls the banal voice of a self-important man. He is an important man, to his kind, but to none more than himself.

The worst kind of man.

Ambitious, with a foothold in a powerful mortal family. I’ve known ambitious mortals before. They whispered my name in methodical ways, with plans and logic torn open and thought about from all directions. But that was before Bright Itempas went mad. Before Nahadoth’s heart broke into a pool of pitch, never to be mended. When Enefa was more than a weapon, handed to the powerful Arameri family by mad Itempas.

We are the Enefadeh, those who remember Enefa: The balance between light and dark, the goddess of life and death. And we are prisoners to my bright fathers’s favorite mortal pets.

The Lord Arameri, the mortal family head that thinks himself a god, has been pruning his two arrogant whelps as his short life is in its last stage. If possible it has only made them crueler.

Rison Arameri, all sleek and angles, blond hair trussed up and official looking, sneers down at me. He favors himself the victor of his power struggle with his sister, Tahlan, though he has not yet been declared the winner. Another heir, another head passing down power, none is new.

Though, Rison takes particular pleasure in expanding his empire and delivering cruelty. Mortals tend to not be able to help themselves when it comes to delighting in cruelty. Enefa put a little of our dark father in them, just as much as she put the dayfather in them; she was balance and she made her creatures with the same notion.

Rison’s light has gone mad as Itempas. Bound by invisible chains to obey his every command, I kneel before him. It is one of his few commands that he can make me obey. Wisdom gave me strength for eons, no mere mortal can order me around. Language is full of loopholes, any language except for the gods words. It has been one of the few pleasures of my imprisonment to ignore commands that are not well thought out and loophole free.

It’s the third day of his pleading. I am to design a palace for him and his future whelps, a place from where he will control a hundred thousand kingdoms. His seat of power that his family has used the Enefadeh to arrest for him. I refused every offer, much to his chagrin.

His voice is Arameri sharp. A curt, emotionless sound that is supposed to mirror logic. It fails. “Kurue, I must admit that I’ve reached my limit.” He said, his voice still stoic.

“Then may I suggest you don’t embarrass yourself today, Lord Rison, at least not in front of your court.” It’s important to take any victory from the Arameri when you can. They certainly will take theirs.

“They say in a time before the matriarch, the mighty Kurue had massive wings, and each tiny part of the wing carried a piece of the universe. They say the people worshipped you for all your knowledge.” He entertained his bleak court in the commons of his private apartments. On top of a stone dais, horrendously positioned by what I’m sure was a mortal doing their best, he stood several degrees off center of the poorly designed Arameri compound. His apartments were utterly wretched in design, as if the architect designed it while half drunk and angry. The walls made the skin of my mortal shell crawl.

I knelt in front of him, my downcast eyes watching his feet. I can’t stand another look at his smug face.

“Everything you have just said, according to the laws of The Bright, is heresy.” I told him, my voice as smooth as his, true calm and actual logic steadying my voice.

With every passing generation, our power, our names, become facts stricken from records, and given to myth. Itempas has imposed his rule on us all, even those who did not fight in the war. No godling, save for the Enefadeh in our imprisonment, is allowed on this plane. We are forbidden from speaking about the gods realm, and our power. Itempas’s fanatical mortals believe they serve him by snuffing out heresy, and any worship beyond Itempas is considered heresy. Anything other than complete and total devotion to Bright Itempas, The Dayfather is expressly forbidden. Only he is allowed worshippers, though we never needed them, they were…nice sometime.

Rison’s calm, in charge, expression melted from his face. In its place was a spiteful, malicious boy the likes of Sieh would have admired if our circumstances were different.

“That crime is for lesser men,” he boldly stated, a hint of anger in that smooth stone of a voice.

“Tread carefully, Lord Rison, absolute power has tempted greater beings than you.” I retorted.

“With many thanks to the Dayfather, I have absolute power,” he spat. His haughty voice becoming bratty.

“Save for the newly formed Consortium, Lord Rison.”

“It has yet to form, you very wise tool.”

“Yet to form, will form,” I shrugged. “Are you boasting that you are the king the Consortium never agreed upon?” That earned me a slap. My face did not move. The force carried with his hand slithered through me, the result of Itempas’ invisible chains. Rison’s hand fell away, and I met his hateful eyes full on, the fire of my soul starting to burn silver and tug against my chains.

“Kurue,” Rison said, audibly wrestling with his voice for calm. “Show me your wings.”

“My wings are part of my bound power, you would have to release me from your service for my wings to appear.” I said, proud of myself for not ripping him apart where he stands. It would do no good anyway, it would only get someone I loved gravely injured or killed.

“Dimarn, my notes, please,” Rison gestured to his personal scrivener. Scriveners are mortals way of feeling powerful, like they can actually wrap their tiny minds around the full bodied tongue of the gods.

They study what I can plainly see. My father created the laws and rules that grind and blow upon each other to create the world in which mortals live. One feather of my silver wings holds more knowledge that all of the scriveners this planet has to offer. Like they could ever understand the dust off Enefa’s fingers creating galaxies. How large sun’s are and their great pull toward lesser bodies. How Sieh can pluck one and put it in his pocket. Mortals can never understand the important stuff, just their simple, lowly mortal ambitions.

Dimarn, one who I would assume was vying for more than First Scrivener in Rison’s court, but also bed warmer, stepped forward. He was typically Amn, much like Rison. Dark hair, light eyes, short planes, and sharp angles. If Rison cared about anything other than becoming the family head, he still wouldn’t care about Dimarn. Rison had an aversion to all things romantic and sexual. Dimarn passed Rison his notes and quickly fell back in the milling crowd.

Stretching the folded paper open Rison read, “Kurue, I allow you, by the power of Bright Itempas, to bear one quarter of your true form, your wings, for presentation and inspection of power to your masters.”

It wasn’t airtight but it met all my criteria for valid order. I took my time milling over possible loopholes. Dimarn strode behind, with his long purposeful gait labeling him different from the rest. He touched something cold between my shoulder blades and drew a fire hot sigil there. My entire form rocked with pain. Without my consent, my silver wings sprouted from my back. I collapsed to the foot of the dais, panting and hating Dimarn as much as Rison.

“Dimarn has discovered a new sigil for force obedience,” Rison drawled victoriously. “I knew if it’d work on you, the others should be no problem.” He stayed where he stood, poised and confident. “Now, Kurue, I ask you once again. Design a palace for me, one far and high away from any threat that could come against the family. Oh, and before you answer,” he motioned out to the crowd of onlookers. “Zhakkarn, present yourself.”

My sister, all seven feet of her, stepped through the crowd that parted for her. She kept her eyes on me, sad and sorry, most unusual for her. She knew something that I did not, trying to tell me with her sad eyes.

“You may be able to talk yourself out of a command, Kurue, but can your huge friend here?”

Zhakkarn bite her lip, not looking at Rison on purpose.

“If you refuse, Zhakkarn will cut your wings off,” Rison coldly said.

The air slide out of my lungs, this body reacts terribly to trauma. My wings are who I am. I keep them tucked close to me, a physical manifestation of my soul. He simply cannot!

“You-” I started, my full anger in my throat.

“Zhakkarn, remove Kurue’s left wing with your pike,” Rison said, malice and excitement peppering his voice.

“I am sorry sister, I must obey,” Zhakkarn said, a silver pike materializing in her hands.

“Zhakkarn, please, I’m your sister,” I begged, tears dripping down my cheeks. I’ve seen what she can do with her pike, we fought a war together.

“Forgive me,” she said as she raised it over her head and brought it down, quickly and smoothly.

“Zhakkarn, stop,” Rison’s voice was growing hot with excitement.

Zhakkarn’s pike was already halfway through my wing. I couldn’t think, occasionally forgetting to breathe in my mortal body. Pain seared through me like I’d never felt! I went to war with Itempas and even he, the righteous jerk he is, never dared to cut off my wing!

“Zhakkarn, lean on your pike, don’t slice it all the way through, just put pressure on it.” Rison ordered. Blood throbbed out of the wound. My screams echoed around the terrible outdoor courtyard. “Will you design my new palace for me, Kurue, do you need the design instructions again?”

“No, please, I’ll do it,” I said so quickly I wasn’t sure I did it. “Please, stop this, I’ll do whatever you want.” I pleaded. This is nothing I can bear, I can feel it killing me. The taking away of my knowledge. My body convulses under the pain, twitching at the foot of Rison’s dais, he laughs at me.

“Was that all it took, Kurue?” He laughed manically, the sound mingling with my groans of pain. “Zhakkarn, take off the rest and the other one.”

Rison watches closely as Zhakkarn expertly hacks at my sobbing form. Two quick cuts, that wounded my soul. A pain that will never dull down. Rison walked out after having his eyeful, dismissing his court.

Softly, Zhakkarn lifted me, blood staining her front and carried me half dead to the servants quarters that housed us. “This is a subtle war we fight,” Zhakkarn said, the fire of battle in her voice, “we will have our vengeance.”

“No,” I was able to weakly whisper, “he’s mine.”

Zhakkarn smiled. The war in her was bound by those invisible chains, but I could still feel her power emanating off of her in waves. Her blessing was there. She and Sieh stayed with me as I healed. My wings would possibly grow back I assured myself, they had to.

I saw Nahadoth. The pool of him only bubbled a bit when he saw what had happened to my wings. I needed him, like I did during the war, but this time he didn’t answer my call. The dark shroud of him only lazily fluttered in his breeze. That was his biggest reaction. My anger flared silver as I left him. The nubs of my wings moved, rustling wings that weren’t there.

The feet of my mortal body moved me, freely and carelessly. I wandered through the expansive compound, Arameri snidely chuckling at my misfortune. I bumped into a frail form. Whoever it was had my height and I looked up to meet their eyes, what more harm could they possibly bring me?

“Be careful of-” she started.

“Lady Tahlan,” I said, without thinking, a far cry from who I used to be. “I must say I was always rooting for you, and congratulations.”

“Speak plainly, Kurue, I don’t have time for riddles today.” Tahlan snapped, obviously stressed about the upcoming passing of the family head.

“Oh, I thought you heard. Rison cut off my wings. The whole story is far too heretical to recount, but the Lord Amrameri has taken his sin into account.” Tahlan took the bait. Her eyes bulged just the slightest. Even if she did not believe me, my quickly made up ploy is enough get her in the right direction.

“Rison? Heresy?” Tahlan said, getting back to the Arameri business tone.

“We Enefadeh are still very new creatures to you Arameri, and you don’t bother to study who we were,” I stated confidently. “I am a daughter of Itempas, even if he’s imprisoned me, harming me is not his way.”

Doubt started to cloud Tahlan’s face. “Itempas gave you to us, for the matriarch’s devotion and her descendants. Itempas struck you down for a reason.”

“Oh yes, Tahlan, many reasons, but we are gods. Mortals will never understand our relationships. No matter how much he hates us right now, he’ll always love us more than mortal kind.” Tahlan became serious, taking in what I said. She’s easily fooled, a terrible trait for the family head, but I don’t care about that. This family can come crashing down and I would go mad from joy. “Be careful how you serve him, Tahlan, it could mean your life.”

I walked away, leaving Tahlan to her swirling thoughts. I could almost see them bouncing around her fragile head. All Tahlan needs to fight for her inheritance is a sliver of hope that she still can win. I expect the Arameri cruelness to do the rest. She’ll attack Rison somehow, maybe even publicly confront him, doing her research first. There is even a possibility that she can make my accusation stick. I’ve done my part. If I can’t be Kurue, I’ll be a little of everyone around me. A touch of Nahadoth, a little of Sieh, Zhakkarn’s war. I can feel all their dark elements mixing inside my light body within my mortal shell.

—-

The news of Rison’s death reached me a month later. Dropped from the side of a cliff for spreading forbidden information. Lady Tahlan became the heir apparent, her proud father unable to hide just how much he enjoyed her cruelty. I’ve agreed to go ahead with designing the palace, for Tahlan removing Rison from my way. But she’s more dangerous than he ever was.