to die by your side.

Afterbirth was still marred upon her skin. Happiness and terror reigned through her as she followed the crowd with her daughter in tow to the Marsh. Upon arrival, Kaos’ words reached her ears, humming and booming all the same. Suddenly, as she looked around, pale pupiless eyes growing wide as she noticed those who defied his orders began to fall. But the darkness of the pit the Helovian’s were walking into was possibly more frightening than death itself. Her bones froze, scarred muzzle reaching down to try and prevent her daughter from wandering aimlessly into a battlefield. Not that she didn’t trust the child, just that she was so young and her own flesh and blood. Kaos’ voice boomed behind them and around them, and Glasgow was uncertain of what to do. If they went, would they die?

If they stayed to fight, they would die too.

Frantic eyes searched for Cassius, to help guide her with the correct decision, but darkness clouded her judgement as she stared upon the demon of a portal, so eerily reminiscent of the very wormhole of demons that had given her the scars upon her brow – that had killed her beloved, narcistic sister. Then suddenly she refused, her mind twisting in what could happen if they didn’t. Quietly, yet quickly, she reached behind Noelle, bumping her rump with her scarred nose to press her forward toward the center where perhaps they’d get a better view of Cassius. He had to be here.

Pale ears flattened, she looked back to her daughter with sympathetic, clouded eyes. “Your father will be here soon, I hope. If you lose me, follow them into the portal, I will find you on the other side.” Her voice was stern, but soft as it could be considering the battlefield they found themselves in. And with that, she retreated slightly, to search for Cassius and to try and figure out what they could do. Could it be avoided? Was there a way to get around them?

When Kaos continued the killing, rage boiled in her old, exhausted, tired bones. And suddenly, she couldn’t help herself. She conjured the magic he had gifted her, creating wisps of ghosts to cloud her as she tried to decide what was the best way of attack.

But it was too late.

Kaos must have known.

Just as she lifted her head, to call him out on his terror and reign, a dark green light overcame her, smoke clouded her eyes and her nose, and she suddenly couldn’t breathe. A muffled cry escaped her lips as she dropped, her body crashing to the ground with such a force that she couldn’t have tried to soften the fall. And before she knew it, the light leached from her, took the light from her clouded eyes, stole her last breath. And all she saw was black as the demons won in the end, and life was no longer within her.

"Talk."

is such a—

heavenly way to die.

Glasgow