The Storm Goddess

She drew another breath deep into lungs wanting only to cease. She burned to her core and past, into places she did not know she had. The woman waited on the peak, watching night fall, the stars grudgingly come out to shine on her mirror bound to her belt, and the moon roused from her tousled bed.

The goddess spat as her eyes fell down, envisioning the life-giving water landing squarely on the reason for the steady leak of energy from her heart. The claws of her feet gripped the stone beneath her, preventing the wind from blowing her away. Not so her clothes though, which she removed and discarded. Where they danced she cared not. They no longer mattered.

Her name she offered to the winds next, welcoming the numbness that welled up.

Her mirror, guarded for untold eons as she flitted from body to body, fell. A grim smile spread as the silver shattered, the cold of the top of the world matching that which protected and killed her heart. The formerly purple scales faded to white, while the blues tarnished black. Her feathers fell from her six wings, and those that clung to the pink flesh stretched from bone to bone were blizzard white shot with blood red. Her tail thrashed as she tossed her horns.

The winds ate the teal greedily, pulling the feathers to pieces just as they had done her siblings so long ago. The last. Tainted by man.

The clouds gathered and blacked, filling with her hurt and malice sacrificed. Her laugh echoed over the land. “So be it then.”

The crash of thunder. The flash of Heaven’s Fire, now black and purple as she gave up her ties to the material. A shimmering version stood where the physical disintegrated, and then another flash, this time of darkness, and four shards flew to the corners of the world.

The clouds opened. Once more, the world would drown. This time none would remain. There was no one left to cease this kind of rain.