ABH - CH 24.5 - Prologue - Discord

A/N: I knowwwww, it's short, but it's action packed <3

Prologue

Discord

Time Unknown

In a Domain between earth and sky, a woman stood. The furrow of her brow looked unnatural on her paper-white skin, so much like porcelain that the rolling skin was out of place. The woman’s straw-colored hair flowed around her in a frenzy, the wind whipping it around in a mess. Her white robes flew in the wind as well. Her name was Frill, and above all else, she was angry.

Across from her in the void was a woman with pale blue skin and flowing white hair. 

“You dare to interfere?” Frill said, her voice melodious, soft, as if it understood. As though her Divinity was not rolling off her in homicidal waves.

“I am not the one who altered the Tydes of Fate.” The other woman said, disdain and irritation mixed together. 

“No, you are the one who took Fate into your own hands and decided to mold Gargantua to what you believe is the path forward.” Frill took a step closer to the other woman. “What gives you the right, Scylla?”

Scylla stood her ground, the sound of rushing waves at her back. 

“What allows you to torture one of mine?” Frill demanded, a bean of yellow light wrapping around her body. Another step forward, and the winds grew ever more vicious. 

“One to whom I have granted my Compassion?” As Frill took another step forward, Scylla raised her hand and reached outward. 

Water poured from a non-existent spout mid-air and pooled within Scylla’s palm. As soon as the spout appeared, it was gone. And the water began to take on a new shape —a scythe made up of the waving water formed within Scylla’s hands. 

“What allows me, the Keeper of Fate, to maintain it? Is that your question?” Scylla ground out.

Frill’s laugh was like bells resounding, “Oh, you poor unfortunate soul. Do you still live in the past —even now? Even after the millennia pass?”

Scylla’s whirlpool eyes raged, “How dar—”

“Easily.” And Frill went from miles away to right upon Scylla, and before the blue Goddess could react, Frill had swung the back of her hand out.

The hit resounded, the slap echoing into the aether surrounding the two Goddesses. 

Scylla gripped her cheek with her free hand. A breath passed, and Scylla pulled her hand away to see several slow-beading drops of golden blood reflected in her palm. Frill had broken skin with a single backhand. 

“Who else is willing to keep the chaos at bay?” Scylla said, ice filling her voice, “Grel would love it, what you have done. But Brel and Mera are just as guilty. They at least had the decency to allow me to set Gargantua back on track. Yet, you would deny me that right?”

Frill stood up straight, nearly twice the size of Scylla —who was diminished without her Domain surrounding her. Frill was not so weak. Her Domain followed her everywhere, it was in every action she performed, permeated every cell in her body. 

“You have no rights anymore. You are not an Ancient, for you lack the power to maintain your Domain. You are not a Sovereign because you cannot control your Domain without aid from your siblings. You are lesser. You are the least of us. And so no. I will not allow you to ruin the soul I plucked myself. The soul which I promised a new life—a better life, to.”

“How?” Scylla cried, crystalline tears flowing down her face as she screamed at Frill. “How can you claim to be the Lady of Compassion when you treat me so?”

Frill leaned down, becoming eye level with Scylla, and one could not say that Frill felt pity for her. But were she another, she could understand feeling empathy for the other Goddess. So, Frill gripped Scylla’s chin with two fingers, tilting her head up. 

“I am not simply the Lady of Compassion—I haven't been for ages. I am the Goddess of Compassion, Sovereign of Gales, Lady of Heart. And sometimes, Heart means to be tough. It means to put one in their place.” 

Frill paused, searching Scylla’s eyes. For what, she did not know. But it left her wanting.  

“Sometimes, it means breaking the weak so they understand their limits.”

And then Frill pushed. With her Divinity, with her Wind, with her Heart. Scylla’s neck turned with such speed, such finesse, that Frill knew it was turned at exactly ninety degrees to the right. Such was her control. 

Scylla crumbled to the ground, a pile of limbs at Frill’s feet. 

“One day,” Frill sighed, “You will thank me for this.”

Behind the Goddess of Compassion several tears in reality manifested. 

To her left, out stepped her allies. 

Morloch. Xanth. Ital. Yllium. Evali. 

To her right, out stepped her enemies.

Mera. Mace. Greta. Kroston. Horus. 

Greta, with her braids that reached her feet, looked at Scylla, laying lifeless, and howled. Lunged for Frill, her lance aimed for the other Goddess’ throat. 

Before the blade made contact, golden blood flooded from Morloch’s wounds, forming a shield between Frill and Greta. 

The eleven Divines were still.

“You are outnumbered,” Morloch stated simply. 

“We will not forget this,” Greta, Goddess of Patience, growled, “Our sister is misguided, but she is ours.”

“Then, take her and go,” Xanth, God of Hope,  commanded. “And when she returns to herself, remind her of her place.”

“Do you think you can take on three war Gods? Even outnumbered, we have spilled a thousand times more blood,” Mera, Goddess of Perseverance,  hissed, her pink hair curling into the shapes of blades.

“Don’t be foolish,” Morloch called. “You are strong, but you are allowing your emotions to rule you. Must we spill even more blood to sate your rage?”

They stood, sending barbs back and forth, outside of time and space, long enough for a day to pass. None needed sleep nor sustenance. Thus, a week went by, with Scylla crumbled at the feet of Frill. 

It wasn’t until Ital, the God of Hospitality, spoke, that everyone finally paused their incessant bickering. 

“Enough,” Ital said, “This has gone on for too long. There will not be another Divine Revolution today. Not over this. Begone.”

Silently, but not without glowering, Greta turned and scooped up her sister. 

“We agree on one thing, then.”

And then they all returned to their Domains. 

All but two. 

Morloch, God of Self-Improvement and Sacrifice, stood beside Frill, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. 

“Did I do the wrong thing?” Frill asked quietly.

“For you? Or for Scylla? Or for the soul? Who here was hurt?” Morloch sighed, “I cannot say one way or the other. But I trust in you. So it is not wrong to me.”