fabricated from nimble fingers
shear away flakes a calling
Aruma was too late.
Screams, roars, and cries filled the air. Dishonoreds he didn't recognize battled Heavens he had never met. Over-shot streaks of multicolored power exploded in the air. The usually still air was a small tornado in one area. A small group of Dishonoreds were charmed and fought their own comrades.
One deity manipulated a thick liquid, offering a decent show to anyone watching. Aruma yearned to fight that deity, as he did to anyone that could manipulate liquid. They did not stand a chance against his ice.
He debated going back down to the Heaven City. The Heavens there couldn't see what he was seeing. There seemed to be an illusion around the court.
When he first got here, he had been second-guessing himself and the information he had been given before he walked past the illusion.
Aruma decided not tell to the other Heavens. He owed them nothing.
It had been a few days since he was last in Verotz. He had escaped to the Dishonoreds's base in Khafsadh—where every mortal thought he was either a beast of Tenshuda or their savior sent by Shaidaro due to the paleness of his skin. It wasn't the first time he had been in Khafsadh—there were rarely any firsts for him now—but each and every time, his skin crawled under their eyes.
Although, he would get a similar reaction in any mortal nation. Even Morita probably thought he stood out when they first met.
It was another benefit of being in Verotz. No one stared at him for his appearance—minus the Dishonored uniform.
When he was in the Khafsadh base, he had noticed that it was mostly empty. At first, it suited him since he was there to relax and gather his thoughts anyway. But then a Dishonored there who had chosen to stay behind told him where everyone had gone. Under Corvid's command, they had been heading for Verotz, getting ready to ambush the Heaven Court.
The Worlds deity had let them in, as per usual. Who didn't like a bit of drama and action?
And the deity of Worlds certainly did. When Aruma tried to get back into Verotz, they did not cooperate. It had frustrated Aruma beyond anything. The hold was a fermata that seemed to drag on forever.
Perhaps Worlds was tired from the waves of Dishonoreds getting in. But deities did not tire, much less a deity like Worlds. Maybe Scioren had done something—perhaps it was part of the master plan. Except Aruma knew of the master plan and that had not been part of it.
YOU ARE READING
Silver As GlaceFantasy
They took her life, so she will destroy everything they have. Masquerades are dances of the night, ploys to cover identities as tricks are pulled behind the masks. As an outcast deemed freakish by her society, it's all 17-year-old Morita has ever w...