I. The Beginning
Welcome to the world, Tempest.
Author's Notes
... Isolated within the crater, the day Solemn finally opens her eyes and can see normally, cannot hear the painful wailing and crying any longer, the world looks nothing like the wasteland in which they fought. Their magic, having been undisturbed and let run wild intheir pseudo-slumber-like state, has turned the wasteland into a beautiful, lush land. Between the pair another creature has appeared, tiny in comparison.
It glitters with a golden, metallic shimmer. Curiously, Somber reaches out, unsure of what they’ve done. She’d only been focused on taking away Solemn’s pain this whole time; was this some sort of a byproduct of her efforts?
Solemn is gentle as she scoops the creature up from its spot and places it down, curious. In all of their time together, they’d never *created* something alive, not like this. Plants were one thing, but a creature much like themselves? Perhaps it wasn’t their power alone, perhaps it was the lingering sentiment of their kind that had clung to Solemn in their escape?
(written by peachcelica)
Tears drip down the creature’s face as it stares up at the two beings, the first two living creatures it has ever seen. Confusion, fear, pain, and horror wash over its body all at once, causing it to stumble backwards. It lets out a croak, a pain-stricken sound new to all three beings. It grasps at the grass below it, its body shaking and its heart racing.
Solemn once again reaches out towards the creature, her breath catching as it flinches away from her, shielding its eyes with an arm. She picks it up, bringing it closer to her chest and nestles next to Somber. Their three hearts beat in unison. Somber feels no fear, Solemn feels no pain. And yet, they know that this is all that this creature feels. The creature turns its body to look its creators in the eyes, its gold shimmering in the sunlight. Its fear subsides, yet all it can feel now is sorrow. It has nothing to be sad for, nothing to feel pity for, yet it feels pity for Solemn and Somber. Its creators, its mothers. They made it, and for what purpose?
Solemn attempts to console the creature, reaching a paw out to wipe away the tears that have yet to stop falling. She rubs its back, feeling four very small wings sprouting from behind it. “You are like me,” she says in a thousand voices, all her own yet none her own. Somber stares at the creature, the idea of what they have done slowly melding together. She runs a finger along its side, caressing it gently like a new born child. “Tempest,” she says to no one but herself. “You were born of storm.” She takes Tempest into her paws as gently as she can. “You are also like me,” she says as she touches the metallic horns, lifting a finger to its paw pads, a trail of gold dust left behind. The two look at each other, and the realization hits. At the same time they speak; “You are like us. And for that, we are sorry.”
Tempest hears not a single word of what they have spoken to it, its mind filled with images of what was once before. A seething rage chasing them, instilling fear in them and destroying everything in its wake. It sees what they saw, what they heard, and what they felt. That is all it can feel. It begins to sob, a chest-heaving sob felt to the core of its being. This is what I am here for. This is why I am here. The two seraphim attempt to console their creation, but it is fruitless. There is no consolation for what they have done and what they have created. Tempest kicks at their paws, desperate to get away. It lands onto the mossy ground below them with a thud but immediately rolls onto its back to stare up at them once more. “Why have you done this?” Its voice sounds so far away, like an echo in a cave or a memory bygone, but it is right there.
The two seraphim know what they must do. They survey the new world around them, as vast as any dragon has ever known, and nod in unison. They scoop up the creation in each of their paws, cupping over the creature's body. It kicks and it wails, never losing the sound of its voice or the tears to cry. “We are sorry, little one. It must be done.” They once again speak in unison and place their foreheads together. A soft light begins to glow from the cracks of their paws. They hum together, drowning out the sound the creature makes in their hands, and in their hearts. This is their fault, but truly there is nothing to be done. To forget is the only way. All at once yet eons pass, and the creature is within their grasp no more. They open their paws, and there is only gold dust to be had. They look at each other once again.
Regret.