Part One: Those who fail…

*****

Looking back, she knew it all came down to this day…if only things had been different. If only time could be reversed.

If only…

Ophiuchus Morrigan loomed above the quivering child, every last tendril of her straight black hair in perfect place. Nothing betrayed the fact that she had just beaten the young girl at her feet to a bloody pulp. The girl in question; Shaina, attempted to stand up, but swayed and crashed to skinned knees, the knee guards having once more given way under the harsh ministrations of her teacher.

Morrigan snorted derisively, the silver mask gleaming in the morning sun. These were the creatures they gave her to teach. It was not yet ten in the morning but the group already looked fatigued, and the Italian girl, Shaina…goddess.

She turned to the others; the five girls were scattered among the dusty arena, some looking embarrassed for their comrade and some not. Their gray, listless training clothes were torn, livid bruises covered their skin but the girls took no comfort in each other standing as far apart as they could. Save for one, the girls were all afraid. They were ages 6-12 and one of them would be her successor.

She regarded the children with a steely gaze.

The little one from India looked frightened and still cried long into the night for the mother who sold her for a bit of rice and bread. She was the youngest at 6 and too fragile to survive. Morrigan had learned to ignore her. She was marked for death.

Then there was Gabrielle, the French tomboy; strong and independent, the girl had an unnerving taste for blood. How old was she? Ten? It didn't matter; violence and hatred had already corrupted her young soul. She was the tallest of them and physically the strongest, and Morrigan might have been tempted to name her as her successor if it had not been for the fact that the girl seemed not to grasp the idea of Cosmo. Another out.

Melissa, the American… and that were all there was of remarkable about the girl. Pretty, blonde, blue-eyed, and bright but not overly intelligent and much too perky for one in her position. This child knew all there was to know about Greece and the Goddess, apparently having once been the child of some sort of professor. Despite her enthusiasm, Melissa was weak.

Discarded.

Marin…now, she was promising, indeed, but not for Ophiuchus…no, never for Ophiuchus. The young redhead was Japanese, the gods only know how, intelligent, obedient and powerful she was: the perfect student. She never complained and executed each and every move in perfection. If only she wouldn’t channel her Cosmo through another constellation…she was by far Morrigan’s favorite. Damn.

Amparo, the Spanish girl, the "mother" of the group, she was the one who sat with the little Indian girl when the child cried, the one who cleansed the wounds of the others. Perfect patience. It occurred to Morrigan that Amparo’s taste for medicine might have been a hold on the Ophiuchus. Only she knew it wasn't. Still Amparo would have been a good healer. Her medical skills, rudimentary as they were, were quite effective. Yet…Amparo was not saint material, she was too averse to the actual idea of harming another, to kind and frightened to be a saint.

Last of all there was Shaina. Morrigan cocked her head and stared at the girl, studying her curiously as she often did, if the girl was uncomfortable, she refused to show it.

Blinking her green eyes rapidly, Shaina mustered her strength and stood carefully, wobbled and let out a short gasp expecting to fall, only she didn't.

Morrigan sighed.

Shaina pressed her lips together and stood straighter before her Sensei accepting whatever punishment might come.

Shaina alone might have had potential…if she didn't give up or give in…

Morrigan walked away. The girls stood frozen in a nervous matter. Surely they would all be punished for their lack of preparation.

Such was the way of Morrigan.

Some twenty yards away, Morrigan turned to her pupils. The little one was now snotty at Amparo’s feet. Morrigan counted to ten, trying to keep her rage in.

Damn them! Damn them for giving away their little girls!

Ophiuchus was the thirteenth: it deserved more!

Keeping her voice calm, Morrigan related her instructions, "You will follow the routine till sundown."

The girls groaned in protest. Morrigan steeled herself, stupid children, they should know by now how dangerous she was in such moods. They should know better! She bit her lip welcoming the taste of sweet blood.

Yes, blood… good. The blood would keep her from killing them. Killing the little children.

"There will be no lunch, no breaks."

It might have been different, if only they had been quiet. If only Amparo had stopped the little one from crying. If only…they had been worthy.

The little one was crying. "It is no fair! I want Mama! MAMA! MAMA! No fair, no fair." Amparo rushed to her side, dropping to her knees before the child. The others turned to her hopeful, that she might be persuaded to the needs of the small one.

Morrigan clenched her fist, black talons cutting into her skin. She was filled with rage. Scum. Nothing but scum: useless.

Pathetic. Control yourself.

"Teacher, she must eat! You cannot deny her just a bit of food." Amparo pleaded.

"Hai, hai. We’ll only eat bread and drink some water. Food fit for prisoners." The cheerful American, "You always want bread and water." Gabrielle. They giggled.

They were laughing! They were laughing at her! Morrigan closed her eyes; the red haze was there. She buried her face in her hands.

Please just give me a cigarette.

"Marin, help me get her under the shade."

Morrigan looked up, it was too much. Now they undermined her authority. Too fucking much.

"No. You will do as I said."

They should have known.

"Maestra…" said Shaina, in her timid Italian voice.

Damn them…it was all of their faults. All…

The little one looked up, large brown eyes rimmed with tears; anger twisting the little lips white with rage.

"Stupid, UGLY woman! You are worst than a woman! You are a devil that nips at the feet of Buddha!"

Worst than a woman… She had never wanted to be a woman. Too much pain…the pain of deception, of childbirth, of groveling at a man’s foot. Humiliation.

Morrigan had never wanted any of these. In becoming a saint she had taught herself beyond it, beyond roles of sexuality.

But no…Ophiuchus was just a silver cloth. Just silver. Gold was for men.

It sucked; she had been the best of all of them.

"STUPID, STUPID, I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!"

Amparo tried her best to shut the little one up…

"STUPID, UGLY WOMAN!"

"Amparo, get that girl to shut the fuck up!" Gabrielle.

PATHETIC! UNWORTHY!

Morrigan reeled, tried to steady herself and heard the voices rise in commotion.

"Can’t you just be QUIET?"

"Hush, baby."

"She’s going to get mad."

‘‘Oh, fuck."

"Marin, help."

"Please, stop this!"

"We’re going to be in so much trouble."

"I HATE HER!"

"I’m so tired. Ouch! That hurts."

"Serves you right, you got us in trouble in the first place."

"HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE THAT WOMAN!"

Just a woman…and the red haze covering all she could see. Morrigan doubled in pain, clutching her stomach. Pain of

Childbirth?

But she gave birth so long ago…

Damn them!

They had always underestimated her. Always.

"UGLY! UGLY WOMAN!" The child’s sobs were hysterical.

It was too much; too many voices in her head. Release, she needed to release.

"ENOUGH!" Morrigan heard herself scream as she unleashed all of her venom.

The unleashing of a Cosmo can be a dangerous thing. But in the end all things caged must be set free.

It was a beautiful spectacle; pity about the child.

The force of the impact was tremendous; the girls were knocked down onto the ground instantly, their shrieks dying as they hit solid stone. The wind swirled up rocks and dirt…a sandstorm: so beautifully violent.

Morrigan felt herself relaxing. The haze had been lifted. The children had paid the price.

But it wasn’t her fault. No, they should have known better.

The stunned children lifted themselves over the rubble, bloody hands and faces searching and frightened. But the mark was still.

Gabrielle, Marin, Shaina, Melissa and…Amparo.

But the little one…what was her name…

Amparo lifted the small body.

You should know the names…  of the children you kill.

Amparo screamed.

*****

Morrigan kneeled before the Kyoko. The man seemed a bit disturbed, drumming the arm of his throne with well tailored fingernails.

"What was her name?"

Morrigan smiled behind the mask. "Fatima was her name, my lord."

"Should I ask you how this happened?" Morrigan looked up staring at the Kyoko’s mask as if she might burn it with her gaze.

"She died in training…" Ophiuchus paused and bowed her head in what hopefully looked like a sign of deep respect and humility.

"…My lord."

The Kyoko shifted uncomfortably.

"I’m sure."

"The children. They are not fit for the cloth."

"They are what you have, Ophiuchus Morrigan. I pray you can learn to shape them."

"My lord, shape them?"

He was quiet and Morrigan wondered if there had ever been a woman to sit on his throne, to watch upon Athena’s saints and condemn them as they deserved. She wanted that position. Pity. She would have been good, too.

The Kyoko was in doubt. Morrigan smiled, he knew. She understood the dilemma. A saint murdered a child before the Sanctuary and the eyes of her pupils. It was against all morals, against all they stood for. She should be punished.

Yet…she was Ophiuchus Silver Saint. So very powerful and useful to Sanctuary and it’s Kyoko.

They needed her.

And the child… Who would weep for her? Who would bring flowers to her grave?

The mother who abandoned her? The father who never knew he had sired her? The teacher who became her murderer, or the other children, her peers, who had learnt to ignore her for being so very weak?

How could her meaningless life equal the one of a Silver Saint?

Apparently that was the Kyoko’s conclusion.

"It will not happen again, is that clear, Ophiuchus?"

See…that’s why she would have been a great Priestess. She would have had herself killed. She had taken the life of a child, just a child.

"Yes, my lord."

The Kyoko nodded, pleased with himself.

"Aquila Alexander, step forward."

Morrigan turned to see the Aquila Saint coming to stand beside her and kneeling before the Kyoko. She wondered what he was doing here.

"Ophiuchus, we understand you are teaching a girl…Marin?"

"Yes, my lord. Marin is one of my better students."

"Marin will be warded to Aquila Alexander, and she will begin to train with him. I hope that is not too much of an…inconvenience."

So Marin would train for the Aquila cloth. Good.

"No, it will be as you wish, my lord."

"You serve your Goddess well, Ophiuchus."

"Thank you, my lord."

*****

Their room was bare; while it certainly didn’t look sterile it did not have the comfy feeling of the children that lived inside.

The concrete walls were bare; two sets of bunk beds stood opposite each other, the cotton sheets were of a color the girls called "vomit gray." Their meager belongings were collected inside two identical eight-drawer chests. The girls’ boots stood in a row beside the door, dusty but organized.

"Fatima is the lucky one." Melissa plopped on the upper level of the bed she shared with Gabrielle, pulling a brush ritualistically through her dark gold mane. Shaina, on the upper level of the opposite bed, watched for a moment mesmerized by the shininess of those locks.

"You should not say that." She frowned, feeling cold the girl wrapped her arms around her body, pulling her knees beneath her chin. It had been two months since the Fatima’s death and Marin’s departure.

"She’ll probably kill all of us, you know." Melissa nodded with all of the wisdom of her eleven years. "Well, at least I’ll get to meet

Hades."

"Shut the fuck up." A recently washed up Gabrielle stormed into the tiny room the four ‘survivors’, as they had titled themselves, shared. "She might have fucking heard you!" Melissa rolled her eyes.

"You should fucking learn new vocabulary." She giggled imitating the tall girl’s deep voice perfectly.

The American was gifted with the ability of mimicking other’s rather well, a very annoying ability.

"You are a waste of my time, pathetic children, now…you WILL pay!" Melissa smirked when her friend gasped at the flat mockery of Morrigan.

"She heard you…"

Shaina looked away, and climbed down to where Amparo laid asleep, the dark-haired girl’s face filled with pain. She had been sick on and off since Fatima’s death.

Shaina laid beside her in one fluid move. Gently she ran her hand through the girl’s wavy brown hair. Amparo did not wake up; she dropped her hand. She had never liked Amparo, had she? Maybe she had felt glad for her healing skills. She had never hated her…but had never loved her either.

Maybe she should have loved her now that she was dying. It was sad, wasn’t it, to die without being loved? Wasn’t it? Wasn’t that what people sang about?

"Maybe she just needs to get laid!"

Shaina sat up at Gabrielle’s explosive "What??".

"Hm." Melissa nodded. "Morrigan. Maybe she needs to lay with a man."

Shaina frowned, "What do you know about that?"

"Disgusting. Really Disgusting, you don’t know anything about that, moron." Gabrielle snorted derisively.

"Maybe not, but I’m willing to find out, one day. It could be good."

"Or really gross." Gabrielle wrinkled her nose.

Melissa shrugged, "If you love him…besides, how else will you get babies?"

Shaina frowned darkly. "You want babies, Melissa?"

The American shrugged again.

Gabrielle snorted, "Amparo does."

"What do you think makes women want babies, Melissa?" Shaina looked down into the face of the sleeping Spaniard.

"I don’t know. Goddess! Shaina. What’s your problem?"

"I honestly want to know. It seems to me that too much is given and none received. Why would you want that?"

"Are you talking about the babies or sex?" Gabrielle laughed hoarsely.

"Both, probably."

Melissa humped, then brightened up, lying on her belly, with her elbows supporting her upper body, legs kicking lazily behind her.

"Oh, but wouldn’t it be beautiful to love and be loved! I think I’d like that, wouldn’t you?"

Shaina sighed. Amparo’s breath was coming raggedly, "I think I’d rather not love anyone."

"Yeah." Gabrielle agreed as she fluffed up her pillow to her heart’s desire. Melissa frowned at her, putty lips twisted unfavorably.

"Very eloquent, aren’t you? No, seriously, Shaina, why not?"

The Italian girl smiled, "My mother loved my father once."

"And wasn’t that wonderful? Imagine, you might not have been here."

"You should both just shut up and go to sleep. All this blabbing isn’t going to get anyone anywhere." The tomboy turned her back to them to, presumably, sleep.

Shaina petted Amparo’s forehead.

"How is she?" Melissa inquired softly, blue eyes narrowing in concentration when she found a knot in her long blonde hair.

Shaina watched as Melissa’s nimble fingers worked the knot.

"She’s very feverish. Do you care about how your hair looks? I have no energy to waste my time on that; we’re only a bunch of girls."

"Hm, that’s bad. And yes, I guess I do care."

Shaina smiled sardonically, "For boys?"

"No, for me. I brush my hair for me. Because it’s mine and it’s pretty. My last right, I guess."

"Hm, I see."

Melissa smiled, prettily, "Do you want me to braid your hair?"

Shaina shook her head, "It would make no difference." She looked down, ashamed to meet the American's eyes. I don’t want your touch; I don’t want your pity because it would feel wrong.

"It’ll just get free and tangled by morning…it always does." It sounded lame even to her. Pretty blue eyes narrowed for a moment in which the blonde child smiled and resumed the task of brushing her long curly locks.

Amparo went into a coughing fit. Shaina petted her companion’s back gingerly while Melissa hopped out of bed and came to squat next to Shaina.

"She’s not going to last much longer, is she?"

"I think she wants to…"

"Yeah, kind of ironic. She took care of all of us and now…the healer is dying of a flu."

"Will the two of you shut the hell up?" Gabrielle’s aimed pillow hit Shaina in the face and Melissa burst into giggles.

"All right, you freak, we’ll go to sleep! For crying out loud."

Shaina jumped up to grab her pillow and blanket.

"Shaina…you shouldn’t." Melissa held their little candle in her hands, preparing to put it out. In the candlelight her blue orbs took an odd shine, making Melissa look as if she had been crying. "Oh, hell, forget it. If we were going to catch anything it would have already happened. Ready?"

Shaina climbed into the bed and Melissa blew out the candle.

"Melissa?" Shaina heard the bed creek under Melissa’s small weight and waited for an answer after a bit of rustling…

"Yes?"

"What if…you love so much that you die?" She bit her lip, this was important, wasn’t it?

"What do you mean?"

"You loose your soul and your sense to be and all there is…is pain."

"That would be beautiful."

*****

Morrigan sat on a slab of rock outside of the hut she and the girls shared. They were preparing for bed and she knew that her presence would have made them uncomfortable.

They needed their heaven and she needed hers, in the form of cigarettes and night watching.

If you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you

She had read that somewhere, somewhere…who had said it? She couldn’t remember, she was 45 years old and an aged woman, at least mentally.

She had given the goddess 37 years of her life and what had the Goddess given her but pain and torment?

Because she was only a woman: her life meant nothing: not even a noble sacrifice!

*****

Darkness. Why did she hate the darkness? Empty inside, that’s how she felt, and the fear…

The Italian girl lay still in her bed listening to her companion’s raspy breathing. She would have liked to hold Amparo’s hand, to feel something human in the darkness of the night.

She slipped in her course beige pajamas; concerned eyes scanned the room, the door to their room opened before Gabrielle’s bed. Morrigan, she knew, would soon come to check upon them. Soon. She wondered what Morrigan would do if she would see her lying next to Amparo.

Green eyes fixed upon the closed door in waiting anticipation. She wondered where her teacher was and what the older woman was doing.

Why did she wonder such things? Why did she care?

Ophiuchus Saint was a murderer.

How many people had she hurt? How many lives had she marred?

But then…maybe when you were a saint, you just didn’t care anymore.

She would have liked not to care. She wanted to be like those almighty powerful saints that looked down upon humanity with a power they couldn’t possibly understand.

"Shaina?"

But she did care…still.

"Yes, Amparo." The girl looked into the face of her sick companion. Amparo’s dark almond eyes gazed back at her with a feverish shine that lit them.

"Why…are you here?"

"Do you feel better?" Shaina choose to ignore the question. Amparo’s lips pulled into a caricature of a grin.

"No."

"I’m sorry."

"Apparently. But don’t be…"

"Hm." Shaina angled her face so that it was only a few inches from Amparo’s. "Don’t think this means I like you, I don’t."

"Oh? I already knew that…it doesn’t matter."

"People are supposed to want to be liked…. This room smells like sweat." Shaina pulled away from Amparo, wrinkling her nose.

If Shaina had looked then at the girl she would have seen her smile, deep eyes taking a cynical sheen to them.

"Blood."

Shaina frowned, eyes narrowing, "What did you say?"

"It smells like blood. You should get used to it, if you plan on following her footsteps and of course, you do and will." Amparo coughed a bit, "Sorry."

Shaina rolled her eyes, "Don’t apologize, I have nothing I wish to forgive you for. And why shouldn’t I want to follow her steps? To have such power!"

Amparo chuckled.

"Oh, yeah, power, the goal our lives revolve around. Well, whatever, I’m not here to judge you, it doesn’t matter to me anymore… but, and just out of curiosity, mind you, is that all you live for? "

"I live for the goddess Athena!"

"Noble words…" despite herself, the Italian girl flinched. Amparo’s eyes were too brilliant for one so sick… but her words spoken through clenched teeth were what Shaina would remember later. "A goddess of war, Shaina? Is that what we serve?

And whatever for? What does it bring but death?"

She would have liked to have a readied answer for that, some smart remark to snap back at the Spanish disbeliever and yet…all she mustered sounded pathetic even to her.

"If she fights then…it’s not for her, see. Athena fights for humanity and to make us better."

"Pah! That sounds stupid even to the sick girl, Shaina. How does war make things better?"

"The other gods…"

"Other gods, indeed, I’d like to see one of them have a go, at least once." The Spanish girl chuckled softly, covering her face just a bit to muffle the sound, brown eyes dancing at Shaina. "Do you really believe that…crap? Shaina no one can be that stupid, power yes, but for Athena?"

The slap startled both of them. Shaina looked at her own hand for a moment, dazed by the absolute strength of the slap.

"Oh." Amparo’s deep brown eyes slowly filled with tears as the young girl caressed her brutalized cheek. Shaina climbed over the stunned girl yanking her blanket and pillow harshly.

"The Kyoko would kill you for what you said!" Quickly she climbed up to her bed, lying down with a huff.

"He doesn’t have to…"

"Shut up, shut the hell up." Bright green eyes closed tightly, small fists clenching the bed covers. If only she hadn’t said that…mocking the Goddess…actually mocking her.

"Shaina, I wonder if when I am going to be gone you will remember the rabbits…I wonder if anyone will."

The rabbits? Oh, yes: Amparo’s silly obsession with small animals. But that wasn’t what she was asking was it? Did Amparo want to be remembered? Why?

Anger was a motivation. And she, Shaina, was full of motivation.

She closed her eyes and recalled once when as a child she watched a frog swallow a small bird. So fast and the silly little bird was gone.

"Who remembers those who fail?"

Words spoken in anger, yet they held truth, didn’t they? They did, surely they did.

She might have been kinder but pride got in the way. And there was that ache again…where her heart should be. She closed her eyes tightly over the brimming tears.

Sleep, sleep now and talk tomorrow, you can apologize then.

*****

Amparo died in the morning.

Gabrielle, to her misfortune was the one to find her. The tomboy had come in carrying a tray of broth when she found the Spaniard very, very dead.

There was a shrill scream followed by the clanking sound of dishes.

Outside, a horrified Melissa stopped mid-stance, hands poised for the attack: "Teacher!"

But the silver saint had already gained the door, casually throwing over her shoulder a "continue." by means of instruction for her two duelists.

Shaina flinched at the words, this was wrong Amparo was dead; there was a sickening finality to that. She had expected it

Only…

She had not expected to feel so much compassion…Amparo, Goddess! She felt…sorry. And deeply disgusted: how could she have been so…cruel?!

Melissa stared at her from across the training field; even from the distance Shaina could see the tears, the bottom lip quivering.

"What do we do?"

Amparo: the last night of her life and she had been so cruel.

"Who remembers those who fall?"

Shaina wanted to scream and the sickening feeling spread through her, she might need to vomit.

Instead she slipped into her fighting stance, hands poised before her, claws ready to rip.

"We train." And she lunged for Melissa.

Amparo was buried that afternoon. No one came for the body; the Sanctuary claimed Amparo was an orphan. Amparo had never said anything…so it must have been true. She was taken to a plot left for trainees and unceremoniously buried by her teacher and the three girls who had shared her life.

When the last shovel of dirt was thrown over the casket, Morrigan came to stand by the plot, her heels digging into the dirt as she pointed below.

"This will be you if you fail to succeed." She looked at her three charges. " This is failure! There is no glory in it. It is simply death. Worthless." She turned and stalked off like the predator that she was, leaving the three to decipher the unspoken message:

Only one of them could survive. The others would be disposed off; there was glory for only one.

Gabrielle was the first to leave shortly after Melissa followed her. Shaina was left alone. She knelt by the tomb, if they could call the slab of stone a tomb, and fingered the fresh dirt.

"I’m sorry. But…you did fail. Still, I am sorry I wasn’t…kinder."

She smiled and bit her lip, drawing just a bit of blood. Blood was good, it was real pain not like the kind that riddled her heart.

"I hope you are at peace."

"It just was never meant for her, Shaina."

A shadow fell upon the girl and Shaina turned on her hunches violently, loosing her balance in the process and almost cascading upon the grave.

"Marin!"

Marin smiled softly, looking upon the grave with infinitely sad eyes.

"I needed to say good-bye to her…and thank her for being so good."

"She failed, didn’t she?" Shaina stood and walked a few paces away, facing the setting sun.

"In a way, yes. But that is only a point of view." Marin smiled "For Amparo to love was the most important in life and the existence we choose is far from love isn’t it, Shaina?"

"Aren’t we supposed to be fighting for love?" Shaina felt exhausted, it was too much.

"Oh, yes, certainly. For the love of the Goddess, yes, for love of humanity yes, for love of duty and love in fraternity. But in the end, we are warriors. Warriors kill and destroy: we are war. Personal feelings have little place in our lives."

Shaina grinned mirthlessly and turned to face Marin, green eyes dark. "You make it sound like they were all monsters. So

Amparo was an angel among devils?"

Marin laughed. "All I’m saying is that she was different and could never be like us."

Shaina nodded, true enough, Amparo the healer, Amparo who loved the baby rabbits, Amparo the girl who sat beside her comrades caring for them selflessly even when they caused her pain. Poor Amparo.

"So, she did fail." And the words brought tears to her eyes.

"If you want to think of it that way." Shaina heard Marin’s sigh, heard her boots upon the soft ground as the girl walked away from her.

She felt lost and she didn’t know why.

"Who remembers those who fail?"

Millerna

August 10, 2001