Believe

For those who did this to her, the ones that reduced her tribesmen to nothingness with a single move from them, those that condemned her and her tribe simply based on what they worship!

She will make them pay. All of them, she will make them wraith in pain as they did to her.

Their loved ones, their treasured ones, their families and friends, she will slaughter every single one of them before their eyes, and only after she is done, will she deliver unto them, their retribution for what they did to her tribe.

Getha's eyes bled out blood as she bit her upper lip in anguish.

To achieve her goal, she needs power, she needs strength, and might.

The only reason why the righteous believers are the persecutors while they are the persecuted is because they have more power at their disposal than the forbidden believers do.

The forbidden believers are the minority of this world, and the righteous believers are the majority.

In a world like that, what the majority says is final, while all the minority has to do, is follow in the steps of the majority against their will.

Getha vowed that from now henceforth, she will no longer be a member of the minority.

She will rise above the ranks to become a majority. And once she is that, she will unleash unto them, an eternal form of despair.

Getha forced her worn-out body to rise from its slumber, grunting at the throbbing pain on her shoulder as she forces herself to be positioned before the statue of her tribe's God.

She had her head raised, looking at the statue in the eye, not minding that the raging fire was slowly gaining in on her.

Even though she had always kneeled before the statue, she has never for once prayed dutifully to it as her tribesmen did.

Getha was not a keen believer of God, because her thoughts concerning it, is that if her tribesmen were not so intent on worshipping this God and going against the orders of the righteous believers, then perhaps she could have had a normal life like those in the town she always gaze at from the mountain top.

Getha stared fervently at the statue with her wet eyes starting to get puffy, and her body getting dried up from being exposed to the fire's intense heat.

She blames this statue and views it as the harbinger of her parents' demise, and so for one last time, for once since she has known about the existence of the statue, Getha, today, wants to try believing in it.

Her father, her mother, and her tribe, all gave their lives worshipping this statue, despite knowing the repercussions that would befall them.

They did not for once relent on their belief as they gave their all to it, even going as far as living in a cave.

They all had miserable lives because of this very statue, but still yet, they did not stop believing in it, nor did they ever for once blame it as the cause of their misfortuned life.

If she wants to avenge her tribesmen and bring her enemies down to their knees, Getha had to survive her current condition.

She is powerless, helpless as she is, but no matter. She was ready to stake it all on this statue.

She will try believing in the power this statue holds, and for the first time, pray dutifully to it.

Getha wants to stake it all. A bet you can say. If truly the God of destruction exists, if truly the root of her tribesmen's belief is in the right direction, then she will survive her condition.

The raging fire that is burning all that stood in its path and slowly making it's way down to her, the throbbing pain on her left shoulder that is slowly whisking away at her health.

If truly their God exists, Getha believes that she will survive it all. The fire's rage will be quenched by the might of her God, and the throbbing pain will be appeased by the blessings of her God.

"God Of Destruction, I your faithful servant and believer, bow my head in submission of your holy name, as I seek to be blessed by your eternal grace!!!".

Getha bowed her head deeply, causing the blood to trickle from her eyes to the ground, dying it in red.

"OH great and mighty God Of Destruction. I, Getha, the last living Goblin of the Azu tribe, ask for your mercy and grace over my life!!".

When she was done praying to it, Getha raised her head, and her face was covered in blood gotten from the ones shedding down from her eyes.

She stayed silent, her gaze upon the statue for a reaction, but she got none. Getha did not fall into despair, nor did she start to have her mind waver over it.

Her tribesmen have been praying to the statue for as long as they lived, and not even they have once gotten a reply from it.

Who is to say that she who only decided to unwaveringly pray to the statue because she was pushed into a corner, gets an instant reply from it?

Getha once again, bowed her head before the statue, and recited the prayer lines again to it, this time making her voice even clearer than before.

When she was done, she looked at the statue again and still got no reply from it.

"I should have known it wasn't going to work. How is God supposed to listen to me, the one who had stayed unbelieving to it all my life".

Getha had given up hope, but not her newfound fate In the God that her tribe desperately believed in.

The fire was now close to her body, and in a matter of seconds, it will eventually burn her along with the rest of her dead tribe's body.

She slowly picks herself up from the ground and turned her front over to where the fire was coming from.

This is the end for her and the Azu tribe, and she, wanted to go fittingly. A way that demonstrated how fearless she looked before the raging fire that devoured all that was within sight.

With her eyes closed, Getha stood in front of the fire and spread her hands apart, enduring the pain from her shoulder as she silently waits for the fire to swallow her whole.