the first sign of failure

There was a whole new world emerging from within the infant's violet eyes—bright enough to bring her oblivious mother down to her knees. Áine smiled at her eldest creation, basking in her now greatest accomplishment as she thought of her other offspring who were resting nearby. Their cribs were pretty, made of mahogany wood. The babies were successful—even born crying.

Their conception was a miracle to both mortals and immortals alike, and to some, a calamity. Such a dangerous feat was interpreted as a cataclysm by more than enough simply because they viewed it as being aberrant, and perhaps as a deed that would bring nothing but chaos to the future. Áine kept her project a secret from those who could have threatened to not only expunge her research but ban her from the assignment altogether. After the children were finally deemed prosperous, however, no one could bring themselves to morally eradicate them. And, although the children only shared DNA with each other, they were still connected to Áine through her blood, sweat, and tears that she used to bring their lives into existence. They were unlike most legacies—children of the divine—but that did not make them any less so in the eyes of the Gods. They brought great promise to Áine.

Áine unwrapped the blanket from the newborn's chest—suddenly wondering if the cashmere was too suffocating or restrictive. She grinned from one ear to the other, wide and commanding, as she watched her daughter flail her stubby arms out with an enthusiastic giggle. There was energy to her movements that indicated having the natural strength of a leader, a feature that she needed them all to gain at some point in time. Áine imagined how the child must have felt in that very moment, especially since she had watched her daughter spend most of her life forcibly locked into a fetal position as she grew. And, grew. And, grew. And, grew. The response was instantaneous, which proved that the child was ready to be introduced to the world that thrived outside of their little, hidden room. Áine pressed her full lips against her daughter's forehead, kindling a flare between the two souls.

This motherly feeling completely captivated Áine. With an addictive grasp, it devoured her purpose. Through a whisper against the soft skin of her daughter's face, she placed a promise onto her, "There will never be another quite like you, neither will there ever be someone who could best you in my heart and in my mind. If you stay by my side, then you and your siblings will be untouchable in this spiteful world—because, Kovina, you are the light of my life."

Áine slowly opened the door, and innocent shards of light filtered themselves into the dark room. The faces of the other children glowed.

"This is our domain, Kovina." She spoke to her daughter through a content hum that lulled the child into a silent state of bliss, and comfort, "Much like the beings that already reside here, you will also flourish and become prosperous as you become familiar with the land around us. There are many here who have been expecting you, who have been praying for your abilities to evolve, and have sending you well wishes from a distance. Kovina, this is where you will become the one you are destined to be—my saviour."

Kovina gurgled as her mother stepped further into the heat of the sun, increasing their shared warmth until it began to burn Kovina's delicate form. As they continued to venture into the light, Kovina's fingers began to itch with an immense pain, and an ache started to travel uncomfortably throughout her small body. She kept a piercing cry repressed in the back of her throat, fastened deep within her chest.

While Kovina's spirit withered, Áine thought about how the bundle in her arms felt so little compared to anything else she has ever carried. However, she did not seem minuscule in importance. She understood what it meant to cherish life's blessings, and even what it meant to create them, but nothing was ever like this. Áine has held large plants with vines that lingered and begged to touch the sky, beautiful flowers with frighteningly barbed stems, and petite trees that liked to tell stories. Yet, nothing felt as right as the body shaking in her arms—until she began to feel uneasy about it. She tucked a strand of her thick hair behind her ear as her nerves twitched and warned her to worry. She stilled as she felt Kovina start to make increasingly rough movements, jolting and turning.

"You must be excit-"

Áine's words fell flat as she finally glanced down at her suffering daughter, and caught a glimpse at her irritated form. They had been outside for only a moment, a couple of minutes, maybe even less. She traced her finger around the bright, red blotches on Kovina's stomach and stared as her daughter hissed in agony. The touch of her mother caused her to scream out in pain—igniting more sounds of quivering and sobbing.

Áine pulled the blanket back over her daughter, and cradled the body to her chest as she shook. Together, they crawled back into the hideout like hermits who have been forced to seclude themselves from their beloved societies. They were in the domain of the sun, but Áine had never felt so worthless. In that very moment, Áine felt shame, disappointment, and despair.

Although her heart begged her to stop her next series of actions—but she felt betrayed by her own findings, and ridiculed by her work that stole most of her time away from herself. She placed Kovina back into her crib, flinching at the coldness of it. Yet, Kovina took a frantic gulp of the familiar air and let herself sink into the cushion. Áine found herself loathing the sight of it all, but what annoyed her the most, was that she could see it coming. The happiness that came from her children and their affection for all that was dark now seemed like a direct insult to Áine.

One by one, she took each of her children outside. And, one by one, they were burned. Across their skin formed wretched boils and harrowing, scarlet marks that would forever linger in Áine's memory. The image has scarred itself into her mind, perhaps for an eternity or more knowing her cruel luck, just as their cries had imprinted themselves onto their mother.

Áine looked up to the sky before crashing into the unforgiving ground with a thud that sent waves across her cherished valleys, tall mountains, and wide hills. The sound echoed back to her, again and again, over and over. The land screamed at her to stop, to calm down, to settle. But, she continued as she allowed her body to shatter itself against the grass. And, she dug her fists into the dirt—crushing pebbles and weeds between her fingers with each fistful that she grabbed. She felt powerless as she pounded her fists into the ground, never ceasing her attack on what once mattered most to her.

She had failed. And, she hated it with a passion.

There was no coming back from this.

W O R D C O U N T : 1514

Hello!

I hope all is well with everyone! I'm a bit sick today, to be truthful, so this might be a rather chaotic chapter. I might even come back to edit it, but much of my writing and editing has been delayed, so who knows when that will actually be. And, although life has certainly been doing me a bit dirty, it is important to cherish the little things, such as writing.

You know, though, I think it is quite hilarious that I find myself writing extra updates like this. It's interesting because I don't usually read epilogues or anything similar to them, unless I'm really curious. And, that goes towards author notes, too. This experience has made me appreciate them a lot more, but it has also lifted a great amount of weight off my shoulders.

Through writing these extra scenes—that don't necessarily need to be here to understand the plot—I'm able to get my creative side moving, and actually producing without worrying about getting things exact. It feels different when compared to writing a full story, because it doesn't need to follow a specific timeline and it doesn't have to be about certain characters. It's very comforting that way.

While writing a story, I highly suggest having an option like this, or something similar at least. You could also create a personality quiz, especially since they're relatively short and you can design them however you like. I think they're really fun, to be honest. Although, I'm a bit biased because they're my newest fixation. Anyway, having something like this on the side gives you the room to choose—which is something I often need.

Until next time! All my love!

XO!