Sacrifice knew little about what it meant to raise a child. Indeed, even now, she did not think of the mare she had raised as a daughter. No. Ritual was more than a mere child–she was meant for something greater. Sacrifice herself had been raised knowing exactly what she was meant for. An angel of death, bestowing the gift of death upon those in need in order to alleviate their suffering. Those chosen to receive the gift did not always realize how badly they required it, but Sacrifice did not hold their ignorance against them. It was her duty, and she carried it out with calm, relentless zealotry. When she discovered that the child she had birthed had been blessed with six wings, Sacrifice knew at once that the tiny creature would be the savior of the world. Indeed, Sacrifice was no mother–she was merely an honored vessel.
Perhaps that was why she was completely and utterly puzzled by Ritual’s utter lack of interest in initiative to complete her destiny.
Ritual was no longer a weak and tiny filly, vulnerable to any stray predator that might be wandering by. The once spindly and awkward wings were now strong and easily capable of carrying her aloft. There was no doubt that she was strong enough to do what it needed to be done—indeed, there was a streak of cruelty in Ritual that was even enough to give her mother pause. More than that, her charge was… passionate. Her temper was wild, and she was prone to complaining and snarling when things did not go exactly how she wanted them. The emotion was something that she simply couldn’t understand. Why wouldn’t she embrace her calling?
Sacrifice had decided to get to the bottom of things, one way or another.
As she headed towards a small clearing where the black mare lingered. She appeared to be lounging, though that was hardly a surprise. “Ritual,” She named the mare as she approached, as calm and expressionless as always. “Why do you delay? Why have you not set out as you ought to do?”
The day had been fine enough until now, though she found herself bored by the relative quiet in the forest. As though right on cue, she heard her name, and barely suppressed a growl of irritation. Ritual flattened her ears, fixing a narrowed, baleful stare upon her mother. Not that she ever called her that, of course. No, Sacrifice had never shown any interest in being paternal. Even calling her mom had always earned a strange look, and Ritual had quickly learned to merely refer to her by name. There were no cuddles, no tender affection. Sacrifice was always harping on and on about this savior business. Not, mind you, that she’d ever once elaborated on why they did it or why she should even care. Her mother killed people to ‘save’ them from suffering… even if they seemed perfectly healthy to her. Questions had only seemed to bewilder Sacrifice, and Ritual had learned to simply nod and pretend she knew exactly what her mother was going on about. “Do you have so little faith?” She asked sweetly, giving her tail a violent lash. “Do you not trust that I know what to do and when to do it?”
She didn’t, of course, but it was the one real advantage she could hold above Sacrifice’s head. Any mention of questioning the ‘faith’ that her mother held such stock in was usually more than enough to get her to shut up and go away. What she didn’t expect, of course, was for the older mare to keep pressing.
“I am beginning to doubt.” Sacrifice said flatly, no anger coloring her tone. Just… disappointment. “You sired spawn, insisting they were necessary, and they have abandoned you. You continue wallow here, hardly lifting a hoof unless it aids you in some way. You do nothing to aid this corrupted world even when it so desperately needs you.” Not for the first time, Sacrifice felt her heart clench. Had she been mistaken? Did the mark of the Fallen mean nothing after all?
Her eyes widened with disbelief and rage at the mention of her own children, and Ritual stamped her hooves aggressively. “They were weak!” She snarled, feeling the sting of humiliation. It had seemed so simple at the time! She would find a strong stallion and mate, and then the children would grow strong in turn and serve her as needed. They had been timid, pathetic, and worthless instead—and then they'd had the audacity to leave. She wanted to scream at her mother and ask just what she wanted her to do… but that would mean admitting that she had no earthly idea what Sacrifice wanted from her. Pretending had gotten her this far, and it was all she knew.
Sacrifice was already shaking her head, dissatisfied. “You let your emotions rule you. How can you judge when you willingly blind yourself?” She didn’t understand. Rather than accepting the wisdom of her words, Ritual only seemed to grow more incensed.
”Enough!” She roared, and if she didn’t know that Sacrifice could rip her throat out with ease, she would have struck her with her hooves. “Maybe you’re the one who’s been blinded! How dare you question me?!” She hated Sacrifice. Hated her the way she always stared and judged, hated the way that cold façade never cracked. She hated that nothing was ever enough. Even now, rather than lash back out at her, she could see Sacrifice mulling over what she had said. It made her want to scream.
There was certainly some grains of truth in what had been said. Perhaps Sacrifice had been blinded. There was nothing more she could do for Ritual. Either she would come into her own and do what she must, or she would die and wither away as nothing more than a fleeting memory. Sacrifice would continue to serve faithfully as she had always done, and if that meant her actions now would damn her, so be it. Sacrifice dipped her head in acknowledgement, her mind made up, and turned to go. “So be it.”
What? Taken aback, Ritual only stared as her mother departed. Where was she going? What was that supposed to mean? And yet, somehow, she knew that Sacrifice wasn’t coming back again. “Yes, run away!” She spat at the mare’s retreating back, feeling both desperate and furious at once. How dare she. How dare she! Once the sound of hoofbeats faded into the distance, Ritual thrashed and reared, tearing up the earth with her hooves and a shriek of rage. Only when she’d exhausted herself did she stand there, panting and trembling. Fine! If Sacrifice thought she was going to hang around and hope she would come back like some frightened foal, then she would be sorely disappointed… as usual.
Twigs snapped underfoot as the black mare shoved her way through the underbrush, teeth bared with frustration and disdain as stray branches snatched at her mane and scraped alongside her wings. She would make her way to new lands, far away from where she’d been born. Once she was clear of the forests, she took to the air, forcing herself to keep going long after she found herself tired. Rage was a powerful motivator.
It was only when the sun began to fall that the mare wearily allowed herself to land. She was exhausted, and she needed to find a place to sleep. As though the spirits wanted to make sure this was the worst day ever, she could hear a rumble in the distance that signaled thunder on the horizon. Before she could find proper shelter, the skies opened up, and Ritual found herself wet, bedraggled, and cold. A scraggly copse of trees kept the worst of the rain off, but not nearly enough of it. Shivering her hide miserably to try and get off most of the water, the mare sagged down onto her knees to finally lay down.
Tired as she was, she just couldn’t sleep. Her mind replayed the scenario over and over again. Was there something she could have done differently? –No. She refused to even consider it. She certainly hadn’t been the problem, and she refused to admit otherwise. The more she thought, the more she convinced she became that she’d been right all along. It was hardly her fault that her mother was terrible and demanding and unreasonable!
She would show Sacrifice! She would start again—find a stronger, better stallion this time. And when she had foals, she’d make them love her. Need her. Then they would never leave. No one would leave her ever again unless she chose to drive them out. With strong allies on her side, she could easily get rid of anyone who even looked at her sideways. Simmering and stewing over thoughts of revenge all while denying her heart was bruised, Ritual finally tucked her head under her wings and sulked.
