She was a child of the gods, sworn to defeat the monstrous of the world. And yet, she could not destroy this. Her eyes raked over the beast: the writhing tentacles, the spiraling horns, the patchy fur. Its head was blunt, its eyes burned with fear and fury. And yet, she could not destroy it. She watched as it tore through cities, as it decimated civilizations. The beauty in its destruction filled her with awe. It exuded a raw, primeval energy, something that she itched to tame, but wondered if she could. She feared it, and she loved it; she could not destroy it.
Inspired by a writing prompt from Writing Prompt Generator.
© The Lightning Tower, 2020