It is a story as old as time, Demons and Angels, monsters and heroic knights, the corruption of evil, and the purification of good. However, stories by their nature, are biased, told by the victors, build around the morals of whoever is telling them. Truly, is there anything less objective, than morality?
Golden hair, blue eyes, he fields the weapon of light, the heroic knight of pure, warrior of the righteous… he was a hero, or so the white feline believed, why wouldn’t he be, he was made for it, just look at him, the knight in shining armor, his holy light burning the impure like a hot knife.
While not invulnerable, he was unkillable, no blade could cut him, and while he would be shattered in pieces when hit hard enough, he could always pick himself back together. His insides were not made of blood and flesh, but golden crystal as pure as his white fur.
What more do you need? What is there to question? Clearly he’s a hero, soul as pure as his creation…
Separated from his sister at young age, he was made for this job, trained by the righteous church in name of justice, turned into a holy warrior of the creator….or so he says.
The truth is, there’s nothing heroic about him, he is arrogant, narcissistic and unempathetic, anything and anyone he doesn’t like is immoral and impure, yet whatever he does is righteous and pure. He is hypocrisy embodied, an agent of self-interest.
He is undying, capable of creating weaponized light, yet, he’s an average fighter at best, after all, why learn when you can’t die? Sure it is painful to shatter, but what is pain but a motivator? But all beings have a weakness, and he is not an exception, for there is two things that can slay him, himself, and someone pure of heart.
He had been given everything he could have ever wanted, yet he always wanted more, he was never satisfied.
But what about his sister?
Mia didn’t remember much of her past, only small flashes, faces with no detail, unfamiliar places that felt familiar, her earliest clear memory was waking up like this, surrounded by hooded figures, chanting in language she didn’t know. She remembered she hadn’t always been like this, she remembered she had been scared, she knew those figures did this to her, she knew they had betrayed her trust.
She collapsed on her knees in the water with a cry of pain, since that day she had only known unhappiness, since that day she had been alone. She had tried to be friendly, she had begged, she had bribed, but it always ended up like this.
She watched as dark tendrils wrapped around the sword sticking out of her chest, it had barely missed her heart, this was going to hurt. She held tears in as the weapon was pulled out of her, she dug her claws into her thighs as she fought the desire to scream.
She threw the sword to the side, feeling as her body fixed itself, she had been stabbed, burned and decapitated, she had been attacked so many times she had lost count, yet she always regenerated, and it always hurt.
She looked down at the water, staring at the monster that looked back, she couldn’t remember what she used to look like, was Mia her real name? Had she done something wrong? Did she deserve this? Was this just?
No, it couldn’t be just, she was not evil, she didn’t want to hurt anyone, it was self defense, she didn’t want any of it, yet, she couldn't deny, she was a monster.