MELITA
Delah might’ve found a contradiction there, if Melita let her see enough – but Kaos, thus far, was not in these woods, in these haunted halls, in these painted galleries of canopies and light. She’d have to find different avenues and concepts, tilt her head and examine further; a mistrust in divinities because of a singular blight from the past. Her Sun God had been a decadent, powerful, blistering soul, and she’d been enamored with his prowess and aspirations. Kisamoa had been a combination of everyone’s weaknesses, frailties, and flaws, the defects in a moral compass, the human nature crudely defined: greed, potency, desire for anything and everything. He’d promised them the world and they all clamored to it – while little things like Melita and Clementine, babes nestled between meadows, thistles, and moss, couldn’t have done anything to cease and desist the clatter of chaos and its ringing dirge; worlds swept away in the blink of an eye. Even their own cosmic beings had been taken in, absorbed, destroyed, and that was when the honeybee youth learned of the stretch of power – and that there would always be someone, somewhere, better, stronger, and ready to take on the world. So she smiled at Delah, taking her staff back into her hand, features entangled in bliss and stalwart guises, while underneath, she simmered and scalded, waiting for a chance. “Whatever they require of me.”See I've come to burn your kingdom down
