An Abandoned Son-Forever Isn’t a Very Long Time

Family. She had always wanted one. At least, that was the lie she told herself, millennia later. It dulled the edges of the sharp choices she had made in that forgotten era. Flames reflected off her wet eyes.

For the one’s I love, I do this.

She had raised them in her image, human males and females, twisted ever so slightly into the lupine featured warriors and sorcerers that they would become.

Bred to hunt. Bred to kill.

But the others, her real brothers and sisters, her real family, they had been enraged. She had tipped the scales. Her children, she had taught them the kind of hidden knowledge that was hidden for good reason. Her children, they had flourished under her tutelage.

Learned to hunt. Learned to kill.

Unable to reign in the children and the empire they raised in her name, her siblings had given her an ultimatum. Put the children into an eternal slumber, or they would strike her down, a punishment that they had only issued once before. Grief stricken and with a heavy heart she acquiesced. The children would never know of what she had done. She abandoned them.

Tears now fell freely down her face, sprinkling the ground.

For the one’s I love, I do this.

She covered her face with her hands, sobbing uncontrollably. She felt the waves of terrible power flowing through the dense forest towards her from all sides. The campfire had been snuffed by a sudden gust of arctic air. The smokey embers wafted subtle hints of burnt rosewood. The quiet murmurings of the night had gone silent.

The thing about eternal is that it is never quite long enough.

The mother looked up, her subtle makeup marred by streaks down her flushed cheeks. Attempting to command her breathing, she slowly turned to regard the nine pairs of dully shining eyes surrounding her.

The hunters. The killers.

The thing about children is that, sooner or later, they learn the truth about their parents.

She hadn’t heard him approach her from behind, but she felt his blade hovering above the nape of her neck. The frigid radiance could only have come from her youngest son’s rime encrusted sword. She closed her eyes.

The cold should have comforted her.

Should have.

His voice cracked from disuse.

“Mother, why?”

How many times can a heart break?

An Abandoned Son-Hell Hath No Fury.

Sorry about going silent. Essays, work, exams, repeat. This be something else I’ve been working on…funny how something so short can sometimes take a while to get kind of right. I’ll probably put up a couple small pieces of it up in the next posts. Feel free to let me know if its something people are interested in reading more of.


Snow lightly fell at an angle upon the frozen ground. The stink of evacuated bowels and the taste of spilled blood dominated the senses. Thousands of corpses littered a giant circle around two figures facing each other. The first was a tall black skinned man, his overly muscled physique naked except for blood and a loincloth. His shaven head glistened with a light sheen of sweat, chest rising and falling slowly, breath curling as he exhaled. Bright amber cat like eyes glared down at the short woman across from him. The crown of her silver haired head reached no higher than his stomach. He leveled the gore drenched tip of his spear at the diminutive woman’s pale throat.

“Move, witch.”

“Witch…” she whispered, then glanced at the prone body behind her. Her violet lips thinned. The corner of her left eye twitched. She folded her petite hands in front of her mid drift. The falling snowflakes slowed then stopped as she turned to face the towering warrior.

When she spoke, her melodic voice was sharply edged.

“You use that word as if it is demeaning…” The icy wind disappeared abruptly. Any of the minimal warmth left in the air disappeared. Her tone rose higher.

“As if it has been stripped of all it’s power…” The would-be predator standing across from her began to find it difficult to breathe as the air thinned.

“As if one and all had not knelt before me in awe and fear…” The onyx skinned warrior fell to his knees, dropping his weapon, and grasping his throat, choking, suffocating.

“Do you know who you attempt to challenge?” The woman’s cold, blue eyes had begun to glow with an azure flame.

“Does your Patron forget who I am?” she shrieked.

On the edge of consciousness, the warrior had fallen upon his face, his oxygen deprived brain shutting down.

The angered woman took a step forward, raising her thin arms, fists alight with indigo fire.

The man’s body jolted up, a discarded marionette suddenly pulled upright by its strings. His almond shaped eyes burst open, pupils swiveling in all directions, terrified. A bestial roar erupted from his slack mouth. The woman recognized the essence of the Patron that had entered the man’s body and was unimpressed. An enormous sable furred hunting cat had blurred then solidified, taking the warrior’s place.

She waited for it to address her. Instead the feline wasted no time in fleeing swiftly southeast, loping its way across the empty tundra landscape.

The blaze had died in her slanted eyes and quenched from her hand.

She flashed her pearl white teeth in a feral, hungry grin.

“I am the Witch.”