Rosie's Bloom
I turned my face toward the forest, where the goddess’s silver still slept.
“You can keep your chosen, Ares,” I said to the wind. “But the world you built will burn before she wears your mark.”
Rain began, soft at first, then heavy. It hissed against the torches but couldn’t kill them. The flames only burned darker, red as the blood in my palms.
I closed my eyes and felt the heat climb through me until it reached my throat. The words came out low, steady, ancient:
“When mercy fails, judgment walks.”
Sikat na Kabanata