The Book of Revelations

[The Fanged God]

From a distance, their bodies looked like a pyre awaiting a torch. Half a dozen forms huddled beneath the scant shelter of a rock overhang, with piles of ash and pitiful scraps of moss for their pillows. They shifted and stirred in their slumber, dreaming of the fires that had driven them from their homes and made vagrants of them all. The once proud, independent clans of Dathomir, now reduced to clinging to each other for warmth.

He crouched like a gargoyle on the overhang above them, white eyes luminous in the darkness.

[Megaera]

In the darkness most everyone was asleep, finally giving into their bodies need to rest. They would need every moment of the reprieve to regain their energy. Soon enough they would have to keep moving, they could not stay here, but for now they were safe. Or so she had thought. Megaera did not sleep. Every time she closed her eyes she saw burning flesh. Tasted it in her throat. So she lay there with her back against Tristan's chest, and her head on his shoulder, holding onto one of his arms fighting sleep for as long as she could. She convinced herself it was enough that she rest her body.

She began to feel...watched. There was nothing at all to imply imminent danger, just a sudden awareness that something was different. Slowly, her green eyes swept across the opening of their shelter. She saw nothing. Perhaps it was just her mind giving into the stress of the situation, or the paranoia no doubt due to accompany her lack of sleep. Sooner or later she would have to give in.

Not yet..

After taking care not to wake Tristan, Megaera out slipped out from under his arm. She was only going to walk a little, just far enough to wake herself up and move her limbs, not even from his sight should he wake. She just wanted to get out from under the overhang and try to see the moons through the near constant haze, needing their clarity. When Megaera turned her face upward though it was not the luminescence she thought to find that she saw. There was a shadow, and it's white eyes stared back at her.

Megaera froze, unable to move. Unable to speak.

[The Fanged God]

The eyes didn't move, didn't blink.

“Ssspeak, child,” the shadow whispered into her mind.

[Megaera]

The sudden voice in her mind made Megaera want to press her hands to her ears and cringe, it seemed to scrape through her mind like claws. At the same time, she could feel magic in the presence in her head. The same kind of sensation associated with the Spirits. Maybe she was already dreaming. Or maybe not. Here was a spirit..and the one meant to serve it's voice.

Her head lowered respectfully in the presence of a divine aspect.. briefly.

Lifting her chin, there was anger in Megaera's green eyes. "Was this your will, spirit? For us to all burn together?"

[The Fanged God]

The shadow slipped down from its perch, landing without a sound between Megaera and her flock. If they sensed or heard anything, the sleeping forms beneath the overhang did not move.

“It was my will that you ssshould not burn.”

[Megaera]

Confronted with the shade before her now, a greater sense of humility came over the witch. Her anger and her grief were making her blind to ell else, and the spirit was right. She was alive. Tristan was alive. If she had nothing else, it would be enough . She should be more grateful, but she did not understand.

"Why? Why burn so many and not me?"

[The Fanged God]

“Do you mourn them?”

The shadow drew closer and as it did, it began to take solid shape and form. It was humanoid, its white eyes set into a face that was all taut flesh pulled over sharp, angular bones.

“I look inssside you, Megaera,” it – he – said, reaching out to almost touch claws to where he would feel her heart beating beneath her chest, “...and I sssee no grief.”

[Megaera]

Megaera was at once repelled by, and drawn to, the spirit. She had to force herself not to shudder. She had listened to the Mist since she had been a little girl, and encountered many spirits, but she had never seen anything like him before. She wanted to look away but found herself compelled to meet his white eyes. Her own were red-rimmed from the stinging smoke they could not seem to escape, but tear tracks still ran down her cheeks, like pale warpaint on her dirty face. Evidence of the horrors she had seen, and the loss she had experienced. No one should watch their family burn. But how many rival clans had the Burning Mists set to the torch over the years? Justice some would say..

And she had not lost everything.

Her green eyes betrayed her, shifting to what or rather who was just beyond the spirit for the briefest of glances. Megaera did grieve for her mother and her siblings, for her clan and their home, but she had not sucumbed to that grief, because of Tristan. The spirit spoke the truth.

Shifting her eyes back to the clawed form before her, Megaera considered what it had said. It had kept her alive, but it had not yet told her why. She had no choice but to continue to seek it's favor and wisdom, for the lives of all of those nearby, and of all those still missing.

"Tell me what I should do."

[The Fanged God]

Behind the shadow, Tristan Alastor stirred in his sleep, his brow furrowed. The shadow paused before speaking, turning just enough to look back over his shoulder at the sleeping Nightbrother.

The white eyes narrowed.

“Tell me what you intend to do.”

[Megaera]

Squaring her shoulders, as if by so doing they could bear the weight of the responsibility before her, she answered him. "I'm going to take what we have left and defend it. Make it stronger. I'm going to honor my mother's Mother's by surviving."

Asherah would have been better suited to the task ahead. She was physically stronger and had more respect as a warrior. Their paths had been different. The path of the Shaman had chosen Megaera, not the other way around. It was just who she was.

He had looked inside her and had seen no grief.

"When you look inside me, what do you see?", she whispered softly, as to not wake the others.

[The Fanged God]

“Ambition... hunger.”

Though the lower-half of his face was concealed behind a cloak, there was a smile in the spirit's voice. Megaera had his full attention once more.

“You have the potential to become more than you are, ssshaman. To ssshepard your people into an era of unprecedented ssstrength and power.”

[Megaera]

Megaera wanted to believe him, but she had not been strong enough to save her own family. How could she, who had failed so utterly, lead what was left of them to strength and power? Right now she could see no path forward through the ash, let alone a way to empower those left alive.

At the same time.. the Spirits of Dathomir were with her, had saved her. If they told her she was to become strong for her people, that was what she would do.

Making her sluggish limbs cooperate, Megaera dropped to a knee, kicking up puffs of filthy ashes in a circle around her. Bowing her head she prayed to the spirit before her.

"There is no one left alive to teach me, my lord. Show me the way."

[The Fanged God]

“Get up,” the spirit said, speaking slowly and with a low menace to his voice.

“Your first lesssson: you do not kneel.. and you do not bow your head.”

[Megaera]

Pushing up from her bent knee, where knelt in the thick carpet of ashes, Megaera lifted her chin and did as she was bade, meeting the penetrating white eyes of the spirit before her. Already she was determined to displease him? No, she would not lose the favor of this spirit. She would do as commanded. She would not kneel. She would not bow. As those words became part of her, she realized the truth of them. Matier would never have seen her become humbled, to bow or bend the knee to anyone. She must become more like her mother now, and bid farewell to the favored child she had been.

"You will not see me do so again.", she vowed, silently.

[The Fanged God]

“Good.” There was pleasure in the shadow's voice.

“Now, tell me...” the spirit turned, white gaze passing over the sleeping remains of the witch-kin.

“Who are the ssstrongest among you?”

[Megaera]

Megaera observed the spirit as the eerie white of his eyes settled on each of the huddled forms lying about. While there was nothing malevolent about his manner, still she was tempted to step between the spirit and those so vulnerably asleep. To put her arms out in some kind of protective gesture that would not help her, only offend or anger the spirit. They had been through much, it was only natural that she would feel protective of those who remained. Not all of them were of her former clan. Many were stragglers that had come to join them along their weary path through the ash. Some of them, she felt, had been meant to find them.

Maintaining her position, she let her eyes fall on each sleeping face. "Chrysothemis, daughter from the Red Hills clan, sister of the Burning Mists. Hers has been a life of struggle, she is strong. So strong. All mettle and determination. Her path is that of the beastwarden. "

"Anjali, of the Lavender Rift too,..", Meg's green eyes shifted. ".. is a voice for the domain of beasts, she came to us from another clan, but she brings their wisdom with her. With both of them we will be able to find what is left of the herds, start a new life cycle of rancor."

"And Tristan....he is a Nightbrother now, tested and selected. I believe I can teach him our ways, spirit. He is not only a proven warrior, but he can manipulate the mists. In time, and with proper training, he could master the ways of a shaman."

[The Fanged God]

The shadow listened and seemed to chew over each name, his focus still moving from one sleeping form to another. With something like the languid stroll of a feline, the spirit moved towards the shape of Tristan Alastor.

“And would they be lead by you? Would they sss-ubmit to yourrr rrrule?”

[Megaera]

Once again, Megaera's green eyes alighted on each of the familiar sleeping faces. Chrysa. Anjali. Tristan.

Considering what it was the spirit was asking her. She shook her filthy, blonde head in denial. "I am not my mother."

Turning to the spirit, she elaborated on that point. "I do not want to rule them. Only to save them. Guide them to a new home and see them rebuild our ways, better, stronger..."