Chapter Text
There he went.
Clutching the bloodstained sword in his hand, he advanced with slow, strangely graceful steps.
His path led directly to a woman of ethereal presence.
She possessed pale, porcelain skin and long, floor-length white hair. Her yellow eyes, holding diamond-shaped pupils, fixed upon him. She wore an elegant, billowing white dress with long sleeves and a wide, imposing collar. On her chest gleamed a yellow teardrop gemstone, complementing the white witch’s hat resting upon her hair.
In her hand, she held a stylised, gold baking whisk, masterfully fashioned into a magical sceptre. At its apex, the looping wires framed a large, glowing golden teardrop gemstone.
She was the powerful Witch of Light. One of their Mother Goddesses. His Mother.
Her amber eyes brimmed with pity and profound sadness as she gazed down at her beloved son. Yet, it was a son she scarcely recognised anymore. His once-bright, vibrant colours were entirely gone.
He halted a few paces before her. He let his sword, once a brilliant, sky-blue blade, now caked in a thick, bloody crimson, slip from his fingers and fall to the ground.
He sank to his knees, tilting his face up towards his Mother.
At that moment, First Cream’s eyes widened in sheer horror.
The butterfly’s once-sapphire eyes had turned as red as rubies. His face was splattered with gore, and from his eyes, jet-black tears traced dark paths down his stained cheeks.
"Mother..." he whispered, his voice like a fragile prayer.
"Is this the meaning of my creation?"