Creative Writing Belonging
Deicide
The crusted cliff top sighed empathetically in the burning embers of his fiery wake. He sat there, gazing upon the gentle planet that the deity’s society had named Earth. Lonely, he began to conjure a wheel of fire with his fingers to play with. Behind, hiding in the dry trees stood a human-like figure with blue eminence from its eyes. The place he lived in was Valhalla, the realm of the Gods, an intense dimension that was fashioned for the prosperity of higher beings. This forlorn god sitting alone, intriguing himself with a few flames; is the Prince of Blazes, Fenrir.
Fenrir was clad in flames stemming from the rear of his legs to the talon-like wrists of his arms with red armor-like gear spawning from his chest and limbs. All gods have their forms derived into animals on planets where they have formed life. For Fenrir, he had the face of a lethal wolf and of the many deities he had approached in his time, there was only one who did not fear him. Even his own father Fenix, the spirit of fire, was unable to come to terms with him.
There were many reasons for Fenrir’s isolation and relentless assaults from other gods. The main one was, however, that the flames which flowed through his body created continuous infernos around him that he had not yet learned how to control. Every step he took would leave a mark of ash in where he had been. All the divinities that he tried to converse with would always end up being burned. Even the calm goddess of tidal wasn’t able to remain unscathed by the incinerations.
Fenrir grew sick of the countless nights he spent alone in his coveted mansion. All he wished for was a being that could withstand his own stature, that would play with him. The only deity capable of creating other gods was Zero, the Herald of Perfection. So in one sunlight evening, he devised the plan that would grant him the one thing he longed for. An existence that would be able to breakthrough his coat of blazes and erase his presence forever. In
The crusted cliff top sighed empathetically in the burning embers of his fiery wake. He sat there, gazing upon the gentle planet that the deity’s society had named Earth. Lonely, he began to conjure a wheel of fire with his fingers to play with. Behind, hiding in the dry trees stood a human-like figure with blue eminence from its eyes. The place he lived in was Valhalla, the realm of the Gods, an intense dimension that was fashioned for the prosperity of higher beings. This forlorn god sitting alone, intriguing himself with a few flames; is the Prince of Blazes, Fenrir.
Fenrir was clad in flames stemming from the rear of his legs to the talon-like wrists of his arms with red armor-like gear spawning from his chest and limbs. All gods have their forms derived into animals on planets where they have formed life. For Fenrir, he had the face of a lethal wolf and of the many deities he had approached in his time, there was only one who did not fear him. Even his own father Fenix, the spirit of fire, was unable to come to terms with him.
There were many reasons for Fenrir’s isolation and relentless assaults from other gods. The main one was, however, that the flames which flowed through his body created continuous infernos around him that he had not yet learned how to control. Every step he took would leave a mark of ash in where he had been. All the divinities that he tried to converse with would always end up being burned. Even the calm goddess of tidal wasn’t able to remain unscathed by the incinerations.
Fenrir grew sick of the countless nights he spent alone in his coveted mansion. All he wished for was a being that could withstand his own stature, that would play with him. The only deity capable of creating other gods was Zero, the Herald of Perfection. So in one sunlight evening, he devised the plan that would grant him the one thing he longed for. An existence that would be able to breakthrough his coat of blazes and erase his presence forever. In