Wrathea

God as my father and nature as my mother

Born on the Hawaiian volcano of Whawhowhahe.

With a fiery shadow following my lead, I trained

To be a warrior for my people. We had our warriors, but

Something was missing. A Battle. Our lives were nothing

But peace; but everything changed when the fire nation attacked.

My people ran with flaming arrows nipping at their Achilles’ heels.

I of only seventeen grabbed my extended arm of iron to raise the devil himself from hell.

Bloody screams were muted with the slice of my sword and men fell to their knees before me,

Begging for mercy from their new ridiculing ruler, but I showed none.

I showed the true strength behind the gavel that falls.

Their lips quivered as the blade struck. Word spread of my triumph,

But also my name had lost any innocence it might have once held.

The name Wrathea was turned into the most venomous thing on the planet.

My people cheered at first then grew afraid themselves.

“How could we have created such a monster,” they said.

So I left them in peace. I traveled along in silence with no words to speak,

Listening to the wind in my ear as I continued to walk on. Past life, past society, past civilization.

Never speaking to anything but myself. I have no friend, no family, no one I love.

I am alone with nothing to lose. I have no weakness.