“Why?”

  So, had Socia asked her Lady.

  “Why does he want to fight… you?”

  “Does he wish to hurt God through… you?”

  Her Lady turned and stopped walking down the slope.

  “In him my father’s blood burns as it does in all his kind, by ambition achieved his strength will grow.”

  “By besting me, his goal closer to achieve, he will be.”

  Her gaze again fell to the valley below — shielded by mountains high on both sides, clad in snow and ice — a ring for them to fight.

  A duel for no one to see, but for Socia. Her Lady’s Socia, and her hotshot’s starlet she was, beloved by both, yet she had not been enough.

  There he waited, down below, on the valley floor, simmering with strength, as the Lady approached, step by step, uncannily composed.

  His power so grand it could now be seen even by mortal eyes, his skin gleamed with a golden light, his eyes shone with solar light.

  Face to face. Eye to eye.

  A few paces apart.

  Then a blow, faster than sound.

  It was as if lightning had struck, such was his might.

  The ground cracked below their feet, torn up by the speed.

  But the strike didn’t land.

  She had blocked it.

  But a step back she had to take, adjust her stance, dance with her feet.

  She struck then back with such fearsome might and velocity it was a blur even to Socia.

  He took the blow and rolled with it, welcomed the pain, as he searched for an opening.

  So, they fought.

  With power and grace.

  It was such brutal violence, such power unleashed, that the snow and ice; it came down from the mountain tops as a rumbling avalanche.

  Socia slipped from it, quick and nimble as she was, to a safer spot.

  It came crashing down on the shining star, and the raging fire, and with them clashed, but it didn’t faze either of them, since the snow and ice, due to her heat and his fire, turned to steam and evaporated.

  Her Lady’s light grew ever stronger, until Socia could no longer see, neither her nor her man.

  The perfect man.

  Amid that light a brilliant star now fought a storm of fire, they had set the world ablaze, an inferno made.

  Then her Lady spoke.

  “ENOUGH!”

  Socia could not see, but she could hear.

  Wings that fluttered, and her man scream.

  The inferno ended.

  Her man on his knees. Cut a hundred ways, his blood boiling from his wounds, it did not fall to the ground but rose to the sky.

  Her Lady was a most fearsome sight, made of brass, two blades in her hands, a perfect statue, a masterwork.

  “Yield!” she said.

  She was victorious, but in her voice, there was no victory, only defeat.

  Her man he rose, and his wounds they closed, one by one.

  He turned away, but her Lady would not let him go.

  “Please. Stop,” her Lady said

  But he walked on, unfazed by the glowing ground, red and hot as it was.

  “If not for me, for her,” she said.

  But he did not stop.

  And her Lady fell on her knees, and hid her eyes, so deep and dark, with her palms.

  Socia rushed after her man.

  Like a gale she came to him.

  As a wave she fell upon him.

  A rock in his way.

  So, he couldn’t go away

  “Let me pass, girl,” he said.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  I am not your baby anymore.

  He saw the hurt in her eyes and lowered his gaze.

  “I’m sorry…” he said.

  Baby.

  But that word did not escape his lips, for Socia’s finger on them blocked it.

  Then she gently took him by the chin and guided his face back towards her.

  “It’s over,” she said.

  It will never be over.

  “Walk away,” she said.

  “I cannot stop you.”

  “I am not your baby anymore… but I will always be your girl… your Socia.”

  She caught him in an embrace, even if it did hurt, but she was no longer a mortal debutante, a fledgling godling, she was Socia.

  His arms they hesitated, as if he feared he couldn’t leave, walk away, if he her would hold with them.

  “In the sea there is a man, a tattooed man, he will teach you of the tides, and how it connects all,” she said.

  “In the endless white there is a god who once was a man, he will teach you to fly in the sky, and where to find old gods who do not bend the knee to the one you hate,” she said.

  “Listen. Learn. Become the man, the perfect man, and strike him down, that piece of shit,” she said.

  His hands they now did touch her back, though they did not linger.

  Then her embrace lost its strength, and her man he slipped away.

  Away from her, into the world he went.

  To find a way to best God.

  To become the…

  Perfect man.

  Socia returned to Liberty, her Lady at her side, she even braided her Lady’s hair and looked her in the eyes afterward.

  His apartment, he had abandoned, and in there Socia found things that belonged not to him, but to his mother. So, she did what was right and took a cab, and went to her, to give her what was hers.

  As they drank tea together, in her house in the countryside, by a lake it was.

  She was beautiful of the mortal kind, and age had only given her a few silver hairs, for she bore him when she was very young.

  “Are you my boy’s fiancé? The one he writes about, and talks about when he comes, he even gave me a picture of you,” she said.

  It was picture of her as she blushed, bit her lip and looked away.

  A perfect shot.

  By one who once was her man.

  She smiled and touched the photo with a fingertip as it lay on the table.

  “I am his girl, that I am,” Socia said.

  A lie and the truth.

  They spoke of many things, but mostly about him. How he was a good man to Socia, and how he always had been her mother’s perfect son, her beloved boy.

  No men had she in her life, for their touch repelled, their gaze despite intent on her too heavy was to bear.

  Her son’s father had thrown her away, even marred her beauty when he cast her away, scarred her face with a blade, so no one else could enjoy it.

  To hear such things hurt Socia’s heart, but it also confused her.

  “No scars I can see on you?” she said.

  Her mans mother smiled, and her eyes grew wide, as tears in them welled up.

  “A daughter of God came to me, and healed my scars, for my son had asked,” her man’s mother said.

  She was very devout, in the house there were many icons, of the Ambition, of her Lady and a few more of her sisters.

  “Every night I prayed to God, my babe to keep safe… that my boy would grow up sheltered from harm… that he would lend me the strength to make it so… and so he did.”

  Socia finished her tea, and as she left, she even kissed the mother’s cheek.

  And as she sat in the cab, heading back to Liberty, there were words that stayed with her.

  “I prayed to God that my son would always remain what he was.”

  “And my prayers did he hear.”

  “For is he not.”

  “Perfect.”

  A year they had spent in Liberty, and so much had happened to Socia.

  She learned to see It.

  From a man.

  That she fell in love with.

  And for a while it was.

  Perfect.

  And then he broke her heart.

  And walked away.

  But she would always be his Socia.

  The sun hit her eyes, as they drove away from Liberty, on the highway they were in a car, a most fashionable and sleek, of brass and silver with some golden tint.

  Her Lady she drove the car, her hands steady on the wheel.

  They passed many signs that flashed by.

  One of them caught Socia’s eye.

  “Be Socia with luscious Rose Lips,” the sign said.

  And in the sign, she did bite her lip, so red from lipstick.

  It made her think of the one who once was her man, and what he was to her, and to her Lady.

  “Who was he to you? Was he your lover too?” she said.

  Her Lady, so chic and composed, her mask perfect.

  “In this life, no,” her Lady said.

  Socia could not see her eyes, hidden as they were, behind shades of the latest fashion, quite ahead of its time.

  “But once he was in another life and he will always be my gallant knight.”

  And so, as they drove past sign after sign, she told the tale of the most gallant knight that ever walked the world.

  Once there was a gallant knight — oh, such a gallant knight — skilled with the blade and strong of heart, brave and kind, of such might, that people said, “Surely this man could cut down even God himself.”

  Born from a mortal maid of beauty near divine, and of a father of noble blood — the Scion kind.

  Her Lady’s hands held onto the car’s wheel. Her grip on it grew tighter.

  She showed the babe to the lord, and he laughed — scarred — and cast her away, made her raise the child among evil men, there to suffer their vile ways, all so her babe might be kept from harm’s way.

  Oh, such a dutiful maid.

  Her son, she kept safe, and he grew into a gallant knight — oh, such a gallant knight.

  Socia saw as in her Lady’s mask a crack appeared.

  So, gallant he was, he caught the eyes of a daughter of God, stole her heart, and his Lady she became. And they lived happily — knight and lady — until from her lips he learned the truth of her father’s cruelty, and so he swore to slay God, for he was such a gallant knight — oh, such a gallant knight.

  Another crack appeared, and her Lady reached out with her hand, and what could Socia do but to hold onto it.

  So, he rode out to slay God, though the daughter of God fell to her knees and pleaded, “Your quest is doomed, but our love is true — please, stop.”

  But he was such a gallant knight — oh, such a gallant knight — and could not stop. He rode away and left her there in tears.

  And so, he found God and fought him through one night — he even made him shed a single drop of blood — yet when the sun rose, God struck him down.

  Socia felt her Lady’s grip tighten.

  Such sorrow took his mother that, in distress, she cast herself from a cliff to join her son, her gallant knight — oh, such a gallant knight.

  Oh, such a dutiful mother she was.

  And in death God judged them to live again, for they had pleased him so: in ambition and in sorrow, their tragedy so beautiful, he decreed it forever to repeat.

  Her Lady’s lips now moved with such fervor, words unleashed, memories revealed.

  So, her mother was reborn — beautiful — used by a noble lord and cast away into shame and misery, to give birth once more to a knight — oh, such a gallant knight — who would always find a love so true, yet never again the daughter of God, but another.

  And the truth he would learn by some other road and a vow he would swear and then be struck down — again — and his love would live on in sorrow, and his mother would end her life in distress.

  Again.

  For all of eternity.

  For that is the fate of the gallant knight — oh, such a gallant knight.

  The Lady’s mask it finally cracked, and from under her shade a tear did appear, rolling down her cheek.

  Shades were lifted. Her eyes, revealed.

  “And this fate he would have accepted, for he is our gallant knight, my Socia,” she said.

  Socia knew what her Lady would tell, for he knew his heart, his gallant heart.

  “But his mother’s fate he cannot accept.”

  “From the hands of vile men.”

  “He will always protect.”

  “Her.”

  She shifted gear, made the engine roar, and together they sped away from…

  Liberty.