MQ Our Red Star

Daeva stood in the shadows at the fork in the road. The muddy, dark mulch split into two paths at her void and golden hooves. She waited, camouflaged in the foliage with her shadowy coat pattern. Only the white of her chest, the gold of her horns and hooves and the thin, eerie ring of gold around her black eyes. The strong female stood at the apex of bad decisions, awaiting the fall of her victim so she could sweep them away in her darkness. Like a black window, she waited, fangs poised for her prey and smile curved with seduction to ensure their fate.

There were always those sitting on the fence - not wanting to believe that evil existed while facing down the monster in their own soul. The time was coming when sticking your head in the sand was no longer possible. It was the time when you couldn’t keep your head down and walk home when an omen of great triumph and great darkness hung over your head and cast your shadow in red. Disbelieving in the war of gods wasn’t possible when their likeness appeared before you in selfish splendor and vain intentions.

But wasn’t that all of us? Selfish motives and vanity?

The road was eerily quiet tonight as the red star hung low in the night sky. A wash of crimson highlighted her backmane and the large, curved horns on her head. Her prey must be unnerved by the red star, waiting to make their ill-fated decisions and sell their souls at a later date. Smart, really - considering the future was unknown. So few were smart these days, and it made her job oh-so boring. The mare let out a heavy sigh of foggy breath that glistened in the red light. She stepped out into her forked path and stretched out, nose touching the ground as her front limbs reached out in front.

“Relaxing on the job?”

A deep voice rumbled behind her, but she didn’t start and didn’t stop her stretch. She knew that voice well. Corson. Her counterpart. While she was a cross-roads demon, waiting to help her victims choose darkness, he was the one who ferried the souls to the afterlife… or well… an afterlife of sorts. Metaphysics was never her strong suit. And in a world of gods and monsters, what made sense anyway? She ignored him for a moment to finish her stretch, feeling her back pop a little and then straightened up. Daeva turned to face the familiar monster with the large, hooked horns and raised a brow.

“Might as well. No one is out tonight - not with this red sky,” she said, looking over his tall, imposing form. Hannibal was fearsome, but Corson was close to being just as overwhelming. Daeva yawned pointedly and tossed her long, black mane onto one side of her neck.

Corson stood and watched, amused by her flippant behavior. She always had such an attitude of disinterest, but she got the job done. He wasn’t one to judge when the results spoke for themselves. He looked up at the sky as well, one golden eye staring into the void of existence and the other in the present. He and Daeva were a well-matched but reluctant pair. Neither were willing to “give up” to be an item. Both were far too autonomous throughout the centuries to submit emotion or soul to the other.

“Hannibal, making a move, I suppose,” he rumbled, deep voice disturbing the otherwise peaceful night in her domain.

She shrugged. “That was my guess. It’s rather…” she trailed off and smirked a little. “Well it’s definitely a specific message - and one that’s been hanging around for a while now. A red star isn’t avoidable. Maybe Ares is calling her following to the hunt,” she offered an alternative.

Corson tilted his head to the side as he weighed her idea, mulling it over in the sometimes bright brain between a helmet of bullish horns. He shifted his gaze from the sky to his beautiful counterpart and hummed. “Perhaps, but I feel something more,” he said slowly. “Aether is ignoring this - treating it like it doesn’t exist. The false god is still hosting festivities for his own glory, and I don’t think he’d do that if it was Ares on the hunt.”

Daeva didn’t argue. He was right and could be wrong. There was no way to tell until this entire story unfolded.

A presence - suffocating like smoke that tickled the hairs on the back of her neck and shoulders caused both of them to turn around. They were surprised and caught off guard to see their lord glowing from the inside out approach from over a distant hill. He was a skeletal light in the inky black and red and the pair dipped their heads respectfully when he stopped a meter or so from where they stood side by side.

“Musing over the star?” He asked, a slight smirk on his velvet lips. Even that smirk revealed the points of predator’s teeth.

“Know something we don’t?” Corson asked with a sanguine smile.

“Perhaps, but you’ll have to wait and see like everyone else,” he teased.

“Even with all we do for you...in your name…” Daeva shook her head and snorted. “Why am I not surprised, Lord Hannibal.”

“Even close followers deserve to be surprised sometimes, hm?” He suggested, chuckling at the pair. “Even two of my most diligent followers.”

Diligent. Was diligent a word she’d use to describe herself? Daeva didn’t know. Corson seemed even less diligent than she was, but they got work done.

“If you’re supposed to be warning everyone of some coming doom,” Corson began, speaking slowly, “you’re achieving your goal. Everyone is thoroughly unnerved.”

“Except Aether,” Daeva chimed in. “He’s all too happy to celebrate himself.”

“Aether,” Hannibal spat, pulling his lips away from his fearsome teeth. “That vainglorious asshole wouldn’t postpone his party even if the world was ending. His followers could all be exhaling their last, and he’d still revel in his own self righteous shit.”

The pair nodded in agreement, but they had nothing to offer to their lord except words. “We follow you. If you need us, let us know.” Corson stated the words, but both he and Daeva would do anything he asked. The three of them stood for a time, staring up at the star and basking in the uncertainty of the future. It was humbling and exciting to know that they faced the onset of a new era - that they were the heralds of an unknown future. The status quo was interrupted and it felt good to be alive.