do you think God stays in his heaven because he, too, lives in fear of what he has created?
Ghaul was born for the fight. From the moment he ripped himself free from his mother’s womb, he worshipped the taste of blood and death across his tongue. And today, he watched his father leave him to his own devices until the splotch of red was lost in a sea of blue. He wanted to cry and scream and curse him for leaving, but he merely stood in place and didn’t even try to chase him down. Now, as the woman’s call echoes across his home, he turns his head and his bares his little teeth in rage. How could she claim what is his? Where is his surrogate mother?
The fledgling sinks his talons into the dirt and feels a growl rumble down in his throat before he skitters closer to the forming group. He watches the blur of their heat signatures come together, some stranger than others, and he comes to boldly stand before the woman who would be queen. Ghaul spreads his wings wide, the spines growing down his back standing on edge as his talons grip the dirt beneath him. Who was she to rip his fever dreams of war and conquest and strength beyond measure from him?
He snorts and grits all his crooked fangs.
“I am Ghaul, son of Litotes and heir of Pangea. I will devour empires,” he says, little flames licking up between his teeth and over his scaled lips. The stars at the base of his horns and the high points of his cheeks glimmer beautifully despite the ugly way he presents himself. Were he a few years older and his muscles more filled out, he might actually be a fearsome thing to behold. But for now he is still new to this world. His ambitions dwarf his might and his proclamations are only promises of what may come to pass.
did someone order a tiny drama queen?