Her name is Wrath

“No, I don’t think you fucking understand who and what that child is,” she screamed.

Nicolette took a few steps back, her face distorted with anger. Arison explained that Grace and Gypsy were bound to her, and if they die, so does all of civilization as they knew it. The clock started the day she saved the young blond from her fate, and as each month passed, the world shook with an anger that he could not control. The gods above unleashed a fury on the world, and Nicolette was the one to blame. When a name’s written, date of birth and date of death added. She altered the world the moment she brought Gypsy back to life. The doomsday clock had started, and the virus that plagued the world was just the beginning of the world as they knew it.

Fires, swarms of insects, plus the sickness that consumed so many.—all of these only a precursor to what could happen. When you change the fate of what’s to be, you must understand that nothing will ever be the same again.

Arison stood, looking at the slender teen. Nicolette’s beauty second to none, for the first time, he realized what he had in his possession, and he was scared.

Nicolette looked over, a smirk creasing her lips, was she off her rocker? Not even close.

“Sit down and shut up, Arison,” she laughed. As her voice boomed through the small room, she now took the stage. For 19 years, this man had ruled her life with an iron fist. His rules, his home, his possession. She was not his family. She was something he acquired in a transaction with the Devil.

Nicolette perched herself on the corner of the desk, the feel of the wood hard against her backside. For so many years, she would run around that very desk and giggle in hushed silence at the man who raised her. Arison didn’t allow this kind of play in his home, but above all, she was a child. One, he forced to grow too soon with his talks to the Gods coming to claim their due. She never knew until now what he meant.

“Last year should have warned you, but the world wrote that off as an accident—the cathedral’s fire. Arison, do you think that was an accident?” she laughed. In April of 2019, a fire raged through the Notre damn cathedral damaging a majority of the historic building. As the world watched it burn, only the right ones would know why. It was the beginning of the end, and no one saw this coming, and if they did, they silenced it as an irrational fear.

“Locust is swarming in record numbers this year. Locust, bees, ants, the world is being consumed from the core to the surface, and you fucking sit here saying I altered the world when I brought that child back to life? How fucking dare you blame this on me,” she growled.

“Are you going to blame me for the downed plane that claimed 176 lives? Or the placement of that shit that America calls their leader? Are you,” she said. Leaning in, her face alive with amusement, she watched as the fear grew on Arison’s face. For the first time in her young life, she noted concern in his face.

Nicolette was enjoying this far too much. For the first time, she was the one in charge of this situation. Arison never thought that her power would become what it was today, but he always knew there was that chance.

“You sent me to Los Angeles to find a package. I did, but didn’t you know that I was not picking up, but delivering?” she laughed. “When I stumbled upon that girl dying in the bathroom, was that by chance, or by divine grace?” she asked. Nicolette knew the truth, but did Arison? Did he know why he sent her there? Or was this a test of her loyalty to him or the darkness?

His head bowed, Arison now knew the chaos that had come from that night. As much as he tried to push it out of his mind, there it was, slapping him again.

“The only way to save the child was to give her what was rightfully hers,” she said. “I transferred the DNA from the dark to the light. God help anyone who takes that child from this earth. If you think the world as we now know it is bad, try and rid the world of the little one they call, Grace,” she whispered.

Arison tried to stand, but invisible hands met his shoulders, holding him down. He would no longer punish the young girl for her disobedience. He would now walk the earth in fear as the rest of the world already was.

Nicolette was satisfied for the moment, or was she? “You named me Nicolette the night I was born, but my father, my real father, calls me wrath. The Gods have spoken. Let the destruction begin,” she laughed, her eyes filled with a new life: one where she was no longer a child, but a woman to be feared by all.

As she left her keeper to wallow in his sins, sirens would fill the streets as they rushed to the Vatican. She told them she would destroy the walls where her mother was slaughtered. Did he not believe her? That was his last mistake.

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