What if it was to keep you safe from the truth? whispers a traitorous voice somewhere in my mind, and I balk at the thought. Could this even be possible? Could my parents, all my siblings, have really disguised this from me for all these years? It doesn’t seem possible, but even as I reel at the idea, something about this rings true, deep down in my soul. It’s like finally solving a math problem you’ve been struggling with for hours, or putting the last piece into a jigsaw puzzle. The picture is taking shape, and there’s no turning back the clock. The truth is as unavoidable as it is unbelievable, and I friggin’ hate that. My head drops as I stare at the ground, my tears dropping from my cheeks onto the sand and stone beneath my feet, and I do nothing but count each one as I try to process everything. I hate that I’m crying. I hate that I’m standing before these gods, looking like a weak little girl, but at the moment, that’s how I feel. It’s like everything I’ve ever known has been pulled away from me, turned upside down and inside out and leaving me with nothing but this rotten, betrayed feeling.
The power I had in the prison was like nothing I’ve ever experienced in my life. It was strong and overwhelming...but it was me. I knew it then, and I know it now, as surely as I know my own name. And maybe some part of me has wondered, ever since I first conjured up that green lightning, whether or not this magic could point to some deeper truth. It might not have even been a conscious thing, but all those moments of speculation, all that fierce denial that this could have been anything other than an unfortunate accident… maybe deep down, I’ve never felt quite like I fit into the story I was told my whole life, and that thought scares me almost as much as the thought that I’m related to these bastards.
But there’s no denying it anymore, even as I clench my hands into fists at my sides and shut my eyes as if that will be enough to block out the world around me. There was no charm when I used that magic, and karma gods don’t have those kinds of powers. That’s the reason they’re not considered higher gods; the most they’re able to do is see a person’s sins or good deeds, but the rest is left to magical items, like my necklace. And that charm Mum gave me for my birthday...
My eyes shoot back open, my breath hitching in my chest as I remember what Jade said as she died, what Mum implied when she first gave me that medallion. The charm boosts power, it doesn’t create it. Whatever happened in that prison, it was all me.
I look up, and I feckin’ hate the smirk the red-haired man has on his face. Twins one and two are emotionless, but they keep watch, the feeling of their milky white eyes on me enough to send shivers up and down my spine. I have no doubt if I attacked this guy, as much as I might want to, then I’d be facing all three of them. I don’t have anyone to back me up. The only men that might have been able to are locked up, and family can’t help me fight the higher gods. They don’t have that kind of power. Hell, I don’t even know if I have that kind of power, and I might be one of them! What chance does an untrained, lost little girl have against the rulers of the supernatural world?
“You do believe me, my pretty little niece,” says the redhead, his smirk only growing as I snap my head up to look at him defiance. “It’s all right - I can see it in your eyes. No matter; I knew you would come around sooner or later.” He straightens up, his tone suddenly businesslike. “I suppose some introductions are in order,” he says, taking a step closer to me, and it takes everything I have not to make a break for it then and there. “My name is Xur, and I promise you are welcome in our family if you wish it.”
“And what if I don’t wish it?” I spit back, my tone biting.
He laughs. “I suppose I should rephrase that. I promise you are welcome in our family, whether you wish it or not. How’s that?” I don’t respond, only able to glare back at him as he chuckles at his own joke. “Now come here,” he says, and holds a hand out for me to take. The courtyard feels like it stretches infinitely on between us, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt so old and tired in my entire life. In this moment, staring down this man - Xur - who has torn my life apart at the seams, I promise myself I will never accept his hand. I don’t know who my parents are that gave me life, but I sure as heck know who brought me up. I know who my real family is, whether we’re related by blood or not. Those people - the ones who taught me how to walk, who taught me how to ride a bike, who picked me up when I fell down and cleaned up my skinned knees - those will always be my real family, and I realize that the instant I lose sight of that, then it’s all over. It doesn’t matter where I came from.
Besides, these are the higher gods, and if—and that’s a big if—I were actually related to them, then it would be nothing other than an embarrassment. They are murderers and coldhearted bastards. These are the tyrants who have made life miserable for lesser gods for hundreds of years, who throw innocent people in prison and never look back. It’s their fault that Jade is dead, that the twins might be too, that countless innocent people have lost their lives. I don’t want anything to do with their family or their offer to let me join.
“I have a family,” I tell him, raising my head up as my heart continues to pound out of my chest. “So thanks, but no thanks. If you’re not going to kill me, I have things to do.” I cross my arms, my eyebrows furrowing, and at this point, I feel like sarcasm is the only thing I have left. These people are never going to take away who I am. As if on cue, my hair falls around me, and the red curly waves just remind me of my Irish heritage. Everything I am is from who brought me up. I am nothing like these people, and I never will be.
Xur’s eyes seem to go even more red in that moment - if that’s even possible - and his expression darkens. I feel like a cornered animal in a cage, and can’t help but take a step back, in spite of my bravado.
“Are you rejecting me?” Xur growls, his voice low and dangerous, and my eyes widen as I watch him. Red lightning begins to flicker around his arms and chest, burning parts of the cloak away with its sheer power. Why is his lightning red and not green anymore, I wonder? Could it have something to do with his power level - or is it just the fact that he’s pure evil? My money’s on the second one, if I’m being honest.
Before I’m even aware of what’s happening, Xur has suddenly moved right in front of me. It’s practically like he teleported, although I think I caught a glimpse of his robe streaking into a black blur in the split second before he arrives. If he’s able to move so fast that he can’t be seen, there’s truly no escaping him.
I instinctively take another step back, eyes going wide, but before I can move any further, he grabs my arm. I notice far too late how sharp his nails are - inhumanly sharp, almost like claws, further solidifying his demonic appearance. Before I know what’s happening, he digs his first nail into my wrist and begins to drag a long line down my forearm, slicing open a vein and causing a rush of blood to come pouring out. My cry is more from being startled than from the pain itself, and if I didn’t have a goddess’ speedy healing, I would probably be in trouble from this alone.
My new powers begin flicker green lightning all around me, and I take the moment to try to get a hold on them, to figure out how I can harness them, but they’re still far too foreign and unstable for me to understand them yet. All I can do is let them explode out of me in a rush of magic that’s powered by fear, but even though the surge of power is reminiscent of the one from the prison, it still doesn’t do anything more than bounce off Xur. He glares down at me like it’s nothing more than an annoyance, though it does manage to burn his cloak and arm in places. As if in retribution, he digs his nail in further, and now it really is starting to hurt; I let out a pained cry and try to wrench my arm free of his grasp, but he has me in an iron grip.