Matilda Kalita - Aged 12

The great being of creation itself rests among the pillars of star; pillars of life and birth themselves. Nothing disturbs the eternal flow of life. The Angelus Prehenderat, Siderum Possessor. The Destroyer of Universes; only few marked by the Claw of regeneration. The entity resides with the stars, a weaving string like the lace of a shoe; a lace with no end, forever winding through loopholes of life. Its eyes watch everywhere, overseeing its resting place.

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‘T winds a pretty bow around the troubles of mortal existence, shielding the mind from realisation. ‘The greatest manipulation is to convince others they are in control, when in fact, you are the puppet master pulling the strings.’

 

A local star shifts; ‘Deus legum et ordinis’ - the 2nd pillar of supreme creation. Claws curling like the branch of a wise elder tree, possessing the power of a thousand Moonae, it crosses paths with the Angel Catcher. Like a knot untied, a cage unlocked, an incandescence cutting through the beings, a cloyingly sweet feeling of security yet fear instilled in Kaindria, The God Of Law And Order, as it raises its head, the godly decorousness fading as battle sets in.

Kaindria origin: ‘ETERNAL JUSTICE.’ The Angelus Prehenderat, with the flick of a claw, embodies the being of true meaning; a meaning yet to be achieved by Kaindria. It overpowers all truth to justice; and yet, unfair to the tight law binding God-likes to their origin, it snaps. Just like all orders would eventually, since, although nobody enjoys it, go into an immiscible discord.

 

Life has never been fair - the Angel Catcher is no different. A raining clash of star stabbing through the tight bond of law, collapsing that wise elder tree that once stay rooted into the soil, now left an anguished mess of what it once was, mourning perpetually. Yet life carried on, like it did, like it does, and like it will, shoving and pushing it anything in its way - it’s depressing, and welds scar into flesh which once remained clean.

 

The small trickle of crimson blood staining a pure flank of fur, forever dirtying it. A shameful mark to bear in a society of ignorant freaks. ‘’I ask you, dear Kaindria, why you disturb life? Your flesh now bears the scar of failure, and is stained with the forever mourning of your glory, snapped away like a weak twig from a much stronger branch. Your shame is equal to your… incompetence.’’

 

“Kaindria. You're not good enough.’’

 

It’s like a spark. Then a flame. Then a wildfire, burning down all hope that once peacefully flourished in the wild mind of an endless being, slicing down the thick vines that once held up, the meadows-worth of knowledge and waterfalls of optimism. It all fades for a few words.

Why, a god like me? I’m a god. Not a wimp. I have to keep up. Not even the other pillars would compare to me; not nePtune, Khayna, or Harmony. I hate this. I hate you. I hate you to hell and back.

 

‘’You’ve never lived the life of a mortal, and have subsequently never learned to appreciate the stupid little spark of joy they have, despite enduring scars so deep no god could cut. Live a life as a mortal, Kaindria, and you will see how it is. See how it dooms Waronios just because their leader wasn’t good enough. See how mortal souls have to endure real war, without a throne to sit upon and lick their lips of powdered gold while they watch a desperate mob of puppets, strings mixed and tangled, never being able to find joy. Leave the ranks for an eternity, and learn. No knowledge is too much.’’

 

The day an ‘angel’ lost its wings. The great god of law and order fading from the ranks, causing uproar among the remaining four deities who question the moral of using a supreme being’s abilities against them.