Post by TrinitySilph on Jul 17, 2022 13:32:44 GMT -7
The colt was born in the fall. For 10 miserable months, Mina had carried her perfect child despite the aches and pains and utter misery of her pregnancy, for how could any of her own bodily hurts matter at all when the result was to be her greatest pride? She maintained her standards of perfection, keeping herself perfectly groomed at all times, and felt no shame in demanding Calayo help when she could no longer groom herself so well.
”What a large foal it will be,” she said smugly as the darker mare groomed the slightest trace of dust from her barrel.
Calayo only grunted in response.
”Don’t be rude, darling,” Mina huffed back. ”This child’s blood is bluer than yours or mine.”
She giggled. ”So blue it must be positively black!” And she laughed aloud at her own silly joke. How could she be anything other than delighted, despite Calayo’s grumpiness? Mina had had one goal when she came to this land, and she had immediately fulfilled it ten times over! She had come to spread the word of darkness, to preach for Hell, and instead she had met the devil himself and been chosen to carry his spawn! Truly, she was the highest among her kin! Truly, she had reached the depths of darkness!
But… had she really? No, there was much more to do. This time was hers, to bask in his dark glow as his spawn grew within her, but when the child was born the real work would begin. She would train them to walk in both her hoofprints and their father’s, to bring darkness and truth wherever they went. She would train them to be the dark angel their father deserved. She would make them the pride of Darkness!
The sickness began in the summer. Already heavy and weary, she assumed it was the heat, at first. Mina began to seek out cool places - the shade of trees, the shore of the sea, deep caves - but none of them quelled the heat rising in her. Calayo fretted and worried in that anxious way she did, grumpily pretending she had not a care in the world, and all the while hovering over Mina like a mealy vulture.
”Go find another doorway to darken,” Mina snapped one day while Calayo stood over her in the depths of some forgotten cave. She was relatively cool here, with her cheek on the stone, despite the radical discomfort of the foal swelling her barrel. ”Get me a meal.”
Not that she particularly felt like eating, but if Calayo was gathering greens, she would not be hovering over Mina.
In late summer, the heat rose to a miserable crescendo. Small patches of skin started to dry out like fleshy bits of desert. She heard her Lord’s voice whispering to her from around each corner, and she rarely left the cave anymore. It was far too hot. Sometimes she didn’t notice Calayo’s hovering.
The colt came into the world at the same time as the year’s first frost. Mina’s fever went with him, and for a time she was herself, though she still heard Xerxes’ voice from somewhere beyond. Calayo was distant with the colt, but close to Mina herself, and Mina found herself scolding her friend more often than she would have liked.
”Honestly, Calayo,” she sniffed. ”You told me you were a follower of Darkness - this child, my Izamuel, is its heir. How can you call yourself Dark if you don’t follow its rulers?”
Calayo was, of course, highly skeptical of Mina’s assertions. The dark-coated mare had not been part of normal equine society since well before she met Mina, but nevertheless, it didn’t feel right to her that Mina’s colt was somehow the “heir to Darkness.” In spirit, maybe, but Calayo had never even seen the devil - if this was his heir, shouldn’t there have been more pomp and circumstance to his birth? No, Calayo was quite sure Mina had merely been used as a vessel - though she admitted this was likely something both parties considered an honour for her, if the father really had been the devil himself - and this colt was just another in a long line of many.
Izamuel, for his part, had no real thoughts one way or the other. He delighted in his mother’s company, and in playing with the swishing length of her tail, and Calayo’s. He learned to run quickly, despite Mina’s efforts to teach him to walk with grace and pride. He nursed greedily, and grew, and grew, and grew. The painted colt thought he might just have a perfect life, for he knew no other.
It didn’t take long for Mina’s sickness to return. The winter kept the fever at bay - a good roll in the snow usually kept her in good spirits - but when the snow melted and the frost ceased to dust the morning grass, it became harder and harder to keep the heat in check. The dry patches grew and spread, breaking into sores that made her look like she had been burned. She often shushed her sister and son so she could listen to her Lord’s voice. Time and time again, Calayo had to stop her from walking into danger when Mina thought she saw a path to the Underworld. Perhaps they were such paths - certainly, Mina would not have survived walking off a cliff or into a cave that smelled so strongly of bear. That was one way to get to Hell, Calayo supposed.
Finally, just after Izamuel was weaned, the seizures started. It was summer - it was too hot, and Mina was too heavy to be dragged to water to cool down. They were too far from any caves, but at least they had the shelter of the forest. Calayo trusted no one - she could not beg for a healer’s help. Once, when Mina insisted Calayo take Izamuel with her to find alfalfa, they came across a stranger who identified the colt as a cambion, source of miserable disease, and demanded Calayo take him away. Mina was too proud - in her moments of clarity, she insisted this was good and right, and that she would be with her beloved Lord soon. Izamuel’s whole world was falling apart.
Finally, the day came. It was the height of summer, and Mina’s last seizure had left her ruined. The disease that plagued her, born of her son and her wicked union, had taken all it could.
”Raise him until I return,” she muttered to Calayo. ”I’ll be back one day.”
”Of course, sister,” Calayo mumbled. Her head hung low - she knew better than to listen to the rambling of a dying mare. Calayo knew better than most that what was dead was gone - the dead do not return to the land of the living.
”Raise him as I would,” Mina insisted. ”He will bring you great glory. Find a herd - let him do as his father commands and lead them to Hell!”
She turned her glassy blue gaze on her son. ”Be brave, little darkling,” she told him. ”Be the herald of Darkness!”
Izamuel buried his face in her mane. ”I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to—!”
”Hush, boy. You mustn’t cry - never cry. It’s weak. Don’t be weak. I won’t tolerate weakness…”
And she was gone. Just like that - no fond goodbye, just a series of commands - and then a feral mare was left to raise an unwanted child alone.
”Come on,” Calayo snorted. ”Leave her - she’s gone.”
”B-but–” Izamuel stammered. ”We should bury her…”
”What for? So the wolves have to dig her up first? Waste of our time and theirs.”
She began to walk, and didn’t look back as Izamuel and his tears trailed behind her.
Just a little something to bring Mina, Calayo, and Izamuel up to date. Time to start catching up... >w>