Location unknown, date unknown
I’m in a quaint little coastal town that father wants gone, the people are nice, the weather is quaint, and their screams fill me as I cut loose. Most fall as quickly as their feeble buildings made of ground up rocks and metal. Men with guns come and try to stop me, their bullets can’t even touch me as I brush them aside, then their Defenders come. One tries to assail me with fire, feeble flames lick at my lightning as I strike him down, another is not as feeble as the rest of them as he attempts to strike me but he is incinerated before he can even land a blow. Another tries to invade my mind, his is the most foolish gambit as he is forced to bear witness to the glory of Arcadia. His mundane little mind shatters at the bright brilliance of that realm as he’s left a dry husk drooling on himself as I continue my work. I flatten their buildings and homes with ease making a game to offset how dull it all is, then I awake and look at my hand, “where did this come from” I wonder as I stare at the substance covering it. Father praises me for a job well done, his hand warm as it strokes my head. It matters little as I skip happily through the halls of his secret chambers eager to find new toys to play with.

Wildling belongs to  gurlow
art by  grimrippy