Cyn : Black Goddess

Chapter 1 Tear Garden

Authors Note: So, I think I have lost my beta reader, I am trying to do this best I can until I have to find a new one? She really hasn't been in contact with me. I'm not quite sure what time period I want this story to be, which is why I haven't specified, I'm making it up as I go along I think I am going to make an outline for it this weekend. Also, this chapter one has gone through a major revamp. So~ Sorry to those who have read it already.

The storm outside her window had been brewing for weeks, and had finally arrived.

Our raven-haired beauty sat in a clef footed porcelain bathtub, sunk to the small of her back, chin barely above water. Hair floating like sea weed atop the ocean waves, she hummed and blew water away from rosy lips. She sighed, watching her skin turn a brilliant red. This happened eighty percent of the time, she made the bath water to hot and boiled herself like a lobster. She was more sweaty than comfortable, but wanted nothing more than a relaxing night away from her peers.

Sitting on a side table farther from the tub was a flickering candle, the room's only source of light.

"Cyn?" A voice echoed down the long hall way of her home. Lightning cracked outside her window, she lived for these nights; idly watching trees fight with the rain, much like her warriors fought enemies.

Go away.

She selfishly thought, she wanted nothing more than to be left alone, if not the lesser part of an hour would be a refreshing change of pace. "Cyn?" if she did not respond she knew a search party would be called, and that was unnecessary, though bones tingled in her body, of having a search party called in her favor when she was only soaking in the bath tub.

She stood, a cave of water swooshed beneath her; along with an angry sea, as she always imagined it. Taking a step out of the ravenous waters of her porcelain tub, placing a graceful foot on gold carpet, and reaching for a silk robe that hung on an ornate coat rack, "Yes?" She called slipping into her favorite robe and finding her favorite hair tie.

Her messenger stood on the other side of the door, timid to release what news he had from the other side. After making her self appear decent, she grabbed the brass knob and pulled the door with caution.

Upon seeing a familiar face she let a gentle smile creep across snake like lips.

"Wyld." she greeted the battered looking messenger, and was unsure of what to make of his facial expression. Hidden partially under soaked midnight black hair, though his green eyes were filled to the brim with turmoil.

"I-" He could only hand her the gold envelope he held in his hand, knowing the news that it carried would devastate his lady, and their entire home. He took his bow and then left her with the envelope, which inside held a letter from the other side.


We are pleased to inform you that we have him in our custody, if you wish to have him back we would be obliged if you would repay us with three hundred pounds of gold. Promptly, by noon Thursday or he will be beheaded in front of a public audience.

Yours Truly,


Anger coursed through her veins, her beloved had become a prisoner of war, the letter was crumpled into delicate but mighty fingers. The candle that had lit the room dimly in the corner had been doomed to a draft of the half opened door, the light that had been dancing on her face was no more; now only shadows reside and reflected her insides.

Three hundred pounds of gold was a ridiculous figure to request from her; though she could afford it, did not mean she wanted to pay it. She would obtain her love through different means. Means of destruction, she was the black Goddess of the age, though beautiful with esthetics, her tactics were cruel and considered unusual.

She was not one to challenge, she had grown to her power by taking it. It was highly unusual for women to be head of any household, she was looked down upon by outsiders, allies had her as such for her assets.

Something would have to be done, and quickly. In one complete transaction, noon Thursday was not to far away, as today was Tuesday, "Gills!" She hollered down the hall way, an older man approached with haste.

"Call every one to the war table." She demanded, with a gleam of hate in her eyes that was like none other.

The man who she called Gills, bowed respectfully, and disappeared down the hall way once more in the opposite direction. Gills was a long time comrade of the lands fair lady, a dwarf in size and stature, he was still a fierce chess piece to deal with.

His hair was mangy and his eyes were sunken, his beard was white and his knuckles were knotted, she noticed all of these things as she watched him run down the hall way at her command. It was time she re-asses who she kept around her, and who served her in the war room. She put slender fingers to her rose colored lips to lessen the quivering.

She retreated to her room to properly dress her self, though not for an evening dinner, not for a walk in her home garden but for a meeting. She put on her thick tweed pants, that were black in color and a green military coat, she sat at an ornate vanity slightly glancing at the swirling detail carved into the wood.

She sat straight up in the chair, perfect posture was a must for professionalism, and scoffed as she picked up a silver hair brush. "Three hundred pounds of gold," she said thinking of ways to avenge her love, that would only end in bloodshed.

The sun had set; but the sky was a blaze with lightning, rain fell upon the earth as if God had turned on a powerful faucet. It was a storm that would cut one to the bone. Luckily these bones of love were protected by cell walls.

Love sat in a dank corner, Love had surrendered to the enemy; though wept no tears of sadness, felt no shame, love was a warrior. Her warrior. A legend amongst men.

"Ah; look at him~" A voice cooed. "It's like a fairy tale story," Divisderou mused delightfully at his auburn haired warrior, who sat in the darkest of corners. "A caged bird~."

He walked right up to the bird cage, and with his own silver eyes, sent bullets of hatred into love. For he, was full of jealousy, green with envy and ruby red with anger. A beautiful aura that left a daunting feeling.

"I'm sure she is throwing such a fit right now!" he cackled, and then scowled when he received no response from his capture. "Well, say something!" He banged his hands on

the cell bars, it echoed through out the narrow hall way that ended into a rusted spiral stair case.

Love responded with wit, "What is there to say to a fool?" a calming voice asked, the troubled man who stood before him.

"And who is a fool?" Divisderou growled at such questionable content.

"Need I say more?" Is all love would say, he knew he was not doomed in this cage, though the time he would spend there was anything less than pleasant.
Divisderou had messed with the wrong lady this time. He would get everything that was coming to him.

"Jacquin!" Divisderou shouted, "You've got two days to live, I hope you enjoy them; until the moments of your last breath, I will enjoy it as well."

Jacquin looked at the other with eyes of longing, and smiled faintly at an understanding that would never come to either of them. "Are you comfortable in that skin?" He asked the familiar face, "Would the end be hollow, if I didn't exist?"

All were quizzical questions, that Divisderou chose to ignore, "No matter," His fist clenched as he lent against the bars that held love captive, as it always was. Just out of arms reach. "It is the end," Lightning struck, as Divisderou made his exit, down the narrow hallway, disappearing. Only the faint echo of his foot steps could be heard on the corroded spiral stair case.

A feeling of emptiness filled Jacquin, it always did when someone left the room, he smiled faintly with thin lips over pearly white teeth. He had become grimy from sitting in stagnant water, to his dismay, it didn't appear his circumstance would improve in a quickening rate.

"Like hands that are stuck together, you may as well pray forever." He murmured to himself,

She knelt on the ground at a large round table as she awaited her knights and allies,

the paper walls let in natural light, a flickering candle on the other side gave the room an orange hue; casting Cyn in a silhouette.

The pocket door slid open, and back into the wall, dark eyes looked to the door way where a handsome man stood. "Gills called us, and said it was urgent?" His tone sounded questionable; Vile was always the first to arrive. He was the closets of her allies.

"Enter." She said, ignoring his questioning tone, she would get to that later. She hated that Vile was always first to arrive. They never really got along, unless in groups though contracts between their towns, forced them in situations as such.

The dark haired warrior sighed, closing the door behind him, and took a seat opposite

Cyn. As far away from her as he could get on a round table. He was half fearful that she would reach out and pluck out his eyes, as the tale goes; every one now knew to sit at arms length from Cyn.

The anger that boiled inside her on a constant level, was not something to tamper with.

Both sat in silence, and in darkness, waiting for the others to arrive. Though a tough skin on the outside, Cyn's worry was giving her anxiety.