Morgana’s Exile - Drabble
Kayle dropped her helmet onto the ground after she delivered to the final rebel who challenged her. And she ended up like the rest, severely wounded, gasping for a breath of air as she bled. As Kayle looked to her sword, its fires were dying down to a low crackle and its light extinguishing. The blood staining it steamed, trying to heal a body that wasn’t there. Kayle had them taken away, being dragged off by her subordinates. The rebels would be dealt with accordingly, either exiled from the heavens where they would then be forced to rot on earth, or face the unyielding wrath of the Judicator. The last of Morgana’s rebels were dragged away as war prisoners, heads hung in indignity. Faces of those who fought looked as though they hadn’t seen peace in ten thousand years. It was a pathetic sight. In passing, Kayle stooped as low, her face muddied by dirt and blood in the reflection of the opposition’s armor. It was gifted to everyone who once fought in the purge of the unjust, but now only served as a cruel reminder of her sister’s damnation. Kayle sneered in disgust.
“You.. and the other rebels bring shame among us all. Morgana’s folly has lead to your exile. She--” Kayle was cut off as the rebel spit on her foot in response. Her patience was like a fast-burning wick, aimed to expire any second at the ignorance of her sister’s followers.
However, Kayle remained composed. One rebel follower with an alarming lack of foresight would not visibly shake her, no matter how incompetent in the face of defeat they were. But his sentiment wouldn’t go unpunished in front of his allies. He seemed like a perfect -victim- man to make an example out of.
Wiping off spit from her foot, she slapped the rebel she had just met across the face with the same hand. Compared the battle he just fought, along with the pain tolerance of being immortal, the slap was like a stiff breeze. Though it did catch the attention of followers of both Kayle and Morgana alike. Their heads jerked to look at Kayle as her head rose.
The stark contrast of her pride she held in her posture and the rebel before her lying in defeat emphasized who was truly in charge.
“By dusk, those who have disgraced us by wearing this armor will be gathered,” She paused, “And by morning those gathered will perish in the name of justice.”
Her word was absolute and none would argue with the victor of war.
Panic spread among rebels like plague, but Kayle continued to walk past, indifferent. There was one thing more important than any subordinate rebels.
Morgana still refused defeat as Kayle walked closer and closer. While the damned sister certainly created a hellacious war, she still fell to her adversary’s divine magic. Still, she brought herself to her feet once more, much to Kayle’s surprise.
“Morgana, enough of this. You caused us enough trouble. I’m giving you the chance to escape the fate of your followers. Take it as a sign of mercy.”
Those words stung. They were supposed to lead the strike against unjust. Holy sisters purging the world of an evil plague, only for one of them to fall to it herself. Kayle saw a near mirror of herself, lying in defeat. Long ago it was once her sister, but she refused to acknowledge the fallen angel as such anymore. This wasn’t her kin.
“Life among the mortals is just as merciless as living among you and your blind followers!”
In her rage Morgana lunged forward, casting a spell faster than Kayle could react. The black magic seared flesh on her face and Kayle shrieked in pain. No one would approach in fear of being caught in either sisters’ fury. The damned sister shrieked as well as shackles bound to her wrists, pulling her closer and closer to Morgana, threatening another blow. Resisting the pull, Kayle swung her sword and light enveloped her. The divine magic nullified the shackles that bound her but the damage of the prior attack had already been done. The taste of iron dripped into Kayle’s mouth, and pain still sizzled where the spell impacted.
It was the last straw and she’d shown enough mercy to her sister. She threw her gauntlet off and her eyes glowed white with power. All of her anger and pain manifested in her mind, only fueling the blind fury she had, and she wanted nothing more than to inflict it all on Morgana.
Pain grew in Morgana’s back as a heat spread through her shoulders and singed the nerves in her wings. Her white feathers burnt and fell to the ground in little more than a pile of ash, Morgana writhing in pain as Kayle destroyed her wings.
Blood dripped from Morgana’s back as she looked to Kayle, scowling and clenching her teeth through the pain. But there was no remorse in her sister’s eyes. No regret that she had permanently disfigured the wings of her own kin. The burning died down once Kayle was satisfied with her work.
“Just to ensure you never come back,” Her last few words exaggerated as Kayle demanded Morgana be taken away, “And should you ever decide to come back, may Mother help you that I don’t destroy more than I have today.”
“I look forward to the day I can make you eat those words. You may think you are making me suffer by exiling me, but I promise to return and make you regret not killing me here and now.” Morgana growled, though her words seemed to go unheeded by Kayle.
“Authority is either obeyed or overthrown,” Kayle spoke in a hushed voice through gritted teeth, “And you’ve failed at both.”
vaporwave
blakekathryn
2087
dailybridgerton
stormborns
