Cera
_{I'm an angel with a shotgun, fighting till the war's won, and I don't care if heaven won't take me back}

He has been here since the Gods gave him form and life, breathed a spark into his ribcage and let the embers crackle him to life. He has been a stalwart Prince of the Dragon's Throat, the clay and sands and ocean brine that even now clings to his hide like a second skin. Armor against the darkness that pervades, that crushes, that steals away the light from the only world he has ever known. 

Cera stands, a guardian of memory and time, in frozen uselessness as the heavens shake and the screams of deities and damned alike rise in shivering harmony to the tune of defeat. Ilaria is screaming in his head, a cacophony of noise and emotion, but it batters uselessly against the numb silence of his own mind. Green eyes reflect the lightning that sparks across the sky, watching as Gods rise against Titan, the original. The creator. The one they had felled as their compatriots had in the legends of old, seizing the throne with bloodied hands and a sense of righteousness. But the beast, Kaos - Kronos - is not so easily disposed of. 

Battle cries ring forth, screaming LIBERTY OR DEATH! But this is the God of Gods, the ruler of the creatures they had slain in the past. Cera cannot speak past the knot in his throat, limbs locked tight. Cowardly. Useless. Until he sees them, riding like valkyries into the shadows, their faith on their shoulders that crumple like broken dolls beneath the easy might of the Reaper. Their struggles are futile, and they burn incandescently in their deaths. Beautiful stars that burn themselves out in the light of their own passion. 

Cera moves to join them, to lift his wings to the turbulent skies, to deface the black altar that sucks in every soul that gathers nervous and sheeplike before it. He has nothing but the strength of his own body, has no magic or might to spear into the belly of the demon. 

Aithniel. Ilios. Matheo.

A scream bubbles in his throat as he sees the beautiful boy vanish, the last bit of Gaucho Cera ever had left. Eyes wild he races across the marsh, muck splattering against his pristine hide, frantic and shouting commands he doesn't even recognize as they cross his tongue in foreign spurts. Get the foals out first. Don't fight it, don't fight it, wait for the Gods, they wouldn't abandon us. You're a liar, a liar, they're coming, they'll save us. His faith is unwavering, burning bright past the tears that cling to pale lashes. 

Until he sees Sohalia and Ampere, gripped tight by the darkness, shattered into oblivion with a thoughtless motion. The scream bubbles free, shredding his throat with the viciousness of his own emotion. Knees crumple into the earth, nearly dislodging Ilaria who clings tight to his mane. They're gone, gone, gone. Everyone he has ever loved, everyone he had left from the days of old when war was the only monster on the horizon that threatened to spirit away loved ones from your side. They slip from his clenching grasp like sand, drifting away in the wind, and no matter how hard he clings to them, they leave him. Grief washes over him, capsizing him, destroying the vessel of hope he clings to. That maybe this time, just fucking once, his family will be spared. But Helovia had cursed him from birth, from the moment his mother left him abandoned on the sands of the Throat. They will always leave you Cera. You will always have to bear witness to their deaths. You will be the last one standing, forever, until you are so shattered there is nothing left to save.

In a lunging motion of desperation he finds his hooves, only to gaze to the sky as the Gods come streaking down, celestial and brilliant. Cera dares to hope, sending his prayers in thoughtless, faithful, unending streams. His God, his Lord, the one who had lifted him time and again from the pits of despair, the one who had blessed him with family and home. The God of the Sun. He streaks across the sky, cloaked in fire and light so bright Cera can hardly bare to witness it. Too late does he realize what is happening, that this isn't the first strike of battle. This is martyrdom. This is a sacrifice. 

The scream that comes this time shatters every bone in his body as it drags itself from Cera's soul. It is formless. Perhaps he begs for forgiveness, for salvation, for death. He can't discern his own words in the tempest of loss he feels. His God, gone. The only thing he'd always had, without fail. Snuffed out from the earth and the heavens above in one fell swoop, heroic even in his misunderstood existence. 

And a sacrifice it is, as child and parent alike gather in the skies to face the cackling demon that drives them onward like a snapping dog, divine parentage only sealing their fates as sacrificial lambs. Until the Earth God uses the last of his waning strength to let his voice boom across the marshes, securing a passage through the portal. And Cera kneels in the muck and mud, a man of faith brought low by the reality of godlessness, more willing to die in the mire of his shattered world than fight onward for life. What had life ever given him in return?

GET UP GET UP GET UP GET UP GET UP - !!!

Ilaria finally breaks through, screaming into the void of his terror and loss. Forever his guiding light, his pillar, his soulmate. Cera lurches to his hooves, swaying, battered by the winds of his loss. Ilaria clings to the vestiges of his sanity, his attention, and digs into it like a savage dog, wresting Cera's consciousness to the fore of his broken mind. 

GO! GET BELLA AND GO! WE WILL NOT DIE HERE!

Her commands light fire beneath his feet, scalding and burning wherever it touches. But it's enough. Cera would rather have laid down to die, but he can't. Not when it will kill Ilaria too. Not when he still has loved ones to protect, to live for even when the Prince cannot live for himself. 

Not today. Not today. I will find you in the afterlife, but not today. He lets that prayer escape his bloodied, broken fingers. Sends it to Gaucho, Sohalia, Ampere, Midas, Hototo. Everyone he'd ever lost. He can see them, standing all around him as he watches the world go to ruin. They would welcome him home to their sides if he were to make that choice. But he can't. Not yet. 

So he runs. Faster than he ever has before, wings hauling him higher and eyes scanning desperately across the graveyard the marshes had become. Looking for the most familiar of bodies, the angel of his own flesh and blood, his little sun. His daughter. Bella. 

When he catches sight of her he dives, ignoring the sharp ache that resonates through his ankles as he lands hard, immediately shoving into her hips to crowd her forward.

"GO! GO! I'M RIGHT BEHIND YOU!" Cera bellows, shoving her forward. There is nothing but death and destruction awaiting them in the shadows that had funneled them to this battlefield. But he trusts the God of the Earth, with what little faith he has left in the wake of their deaths. They have to try. And Cera will spend whatever time left he has on this earth - be it mere moments like Sohalia and Ampere, or undetermined years - ensuring that his daughter lives. That no matter where this portal takes them, he will sacrifice everything if it means her continued existence. Emerald eyes catch a glimpse of black and gold - Ranjiri - and his heart heaves with senseless gratitude. Prays that she and her flock will make it out of this alive as well. 

I love you, Cera, Ilaria whispers in his head as his wings come forth to envelope Bellanaris, ushering her forward into the void. She wraps herself around his neck, and Cera tucks her beneath his chin, tears falling freely. If these are to be his last words, he will choose them wisely. He will mean them with every broken fiber of his golden soul. I love you too.

Everything goes dark.