Following the death of God, war breaks out between the pantheons, leaving violence and politics to determine who will take the title "King of Kings"
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God Complex plays on the interesting similarities and differences from the wor...
The phrase loses some impact every time Ana hears Fea say it. Gone is the intrigue that once surrounded their shared name. Does she believe Fea's boast? Had Ana ever doubted her in the first place?
By now Ana has seen Fea conquer over a dozen settlements. Each time Fea's rustling feathers have made amiable opponents bloodthirsty. These victories always yield Fea with fealty and credence to the moniker she proudly bears.
Ana wanted to believe a conciliatory approach could work, but she can't argue with Fea's results. Were there any benefits to Jesus' methods? If he was wrong in this regard then what else had he been off about?
Maybe Jesus was mistaken when he told Ana she was Morrigan? Though thinking back on it Ana can see a resemblance beyond the physical. There was a time where her eyes were even more like Fea's than they are now.
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She was cold, naked and hobbled over in the corner of a stone hut. The room was dim, with the only light coming from cracks in the wall. It reeked of fresh blood that clung to her hair, nails and clawed feet. She tasted iron in her mouth and felt freshly torn.
"Hello, is anyone home?"
Back then Jesus' voice was unfamiliar. She can't remember how it felt to look at him as a stranger.
He approached her in a way she hadn't known. There was no aggression in his slow deliberate pace.
"Ah, there you are."
When he reached her he took the sash from around his neck and draped it over her.
"Everything is going to be okay now," He cooed a whisper. "The war is over and I have a feeling the good guys won."
She felt his hand on her shoulder. Instinct drove her to pin the boy. There was no time for him to react.
Most would've feared for their life but not him. He smiled at her. He looked at her as though there was no way she could hurt a fly let alone take his life.
"You're a lot friendlier than I expected." He chuckled up until she pressed her claws against his neck. "Okay, maybe not."
Instead of being concerned about his own well-being, he worried about her. His eyes climbed up from her claws, past her eyes and to the one horn that protruded from the side of her head.
"Are you hurt?"
With his words came a touch. His fingers ran along the opposite side of her head, where another horn should've been.
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