This is the second installment of a fantasy story that I am posting here. You can find the first installment here. 

This is the first part of a fantasy story I'm working on that is of an as yet undetermined length. It may become novel length, or it may just be a long short story. I've decided to publish as I go, with a view to publishing an installment each week...

PROLOGUE

Vynos, Kalambra

Andra pulled on the iron shackles, testing them, but it was no use. Her strength was gone, and the manacles were fitted so tightly she had no hope of slipping her hands from them unless she meant to cut them off.

“Well this is quite a quandary, is it not my little Andra?”

Andra turned her head towards the sound of Ylla’s voice and saw her; beautiful and perfect as always, her black hair somehow gleaming and her pale skin luminous even in the dimness of the cell.

“Where’s Mailani?” she yelled. “What have you done with my dragon?”

She averted her gaze as blinding white light filled the dungeon, radiating from where Ylla stood. The goddess caught her chin in an iron grip and forced Andra to look at her, her blazing eyes burning into Andra’s own. “Your dragon?” she raged, her voice as cold and hard as steel. “Your dragon, you ungrateful wretch? You are both mine! I chose you! Above all my priestesses! Above all those loyal to me! I chose you to raise above the rest!”

Andra drew her head back as far as she could manage and spat in the goddess’ face. “You chose me because I was a warrior. All you gave me was the dragon and now she is gone. I owe you nothing!”

The force of Ylla hit her hard, knocking her off her feet and throwing her head against the rough stone wall, but she barely felt it because her blood was boiling inside her, her every nerve on fire. She tried not to cringe as Ylla bent down to her, but couldn’t help herself, her body betraying her in its reflexive need to escape from further pain. Ylla laughed and planted her smiling lips against Andra, kissing her gently but purposefully, making her ownership absolutely clear. “Tomorrow you die, my dearest Andra.”

Andra smiled against the pain, darting her head forward to return the kiss with no hint of gentleness. “I’ll be back,” she said.

Ylla cupped her face, her smooth white palm soft against Andra’s cheek. “Oh child,” she said. “Do you really think you can kill a god?”

“Yes,” Andra told her softly. “I do.”

What it Means

Should I feed the earth (and take up space)?
Or let my ashes scatter in the wind?
I wish I could grow flowers on my skin
But I can only paint them
And dream the needle carves petals on my soul.

There is nothing beautiful in this world
That we cannot destroy.
There is no pain
That ever truly ends.

I can be both.

Should I choose to be something?
And kill all else I could be?
I am already everything.
In everything I am nothing.

Chaos shapes me
But I claim myself
I make myself mine.

Does it hurt?
Doesn't everything?