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War had always been her purpose.
From her first breath, Kishh had simply known that it would be her path. There would be no changing this. No force in all the farthest reaches of uncharted space could alter her very being. She was stubborn. And more importantly, she was happy. She was content to carry on pillaging the cities of filth, purging the galaxy of its worst parts to make room for the wronged to flourish once more.
At least… She had been. Until her sister had introduced her to that boy.
Caiyeiath had found him, half dead, when he'd just happened to appear on Re'vel's doorstep one day. How he had ended up there in the first place had been a mystery. As had become customary in Clan Re'vel, they took the boy in despite the questionable circumstance. While Caiyeiath poured herself into finding out where the child had come from, the task of nursing him back to health fell to the rest of the clan. His injuries had been so severe that even the esteemed doctor had been skeptical about his ability to pull through. At the suggestion of their recently inducted shaman, the whole clan had been tasked with seeing him through this plight. 'Spiritual medicine', as one of the less enthusiastic clan members had grumbled under their breath.
A stranger— a mostly dead stranger— had become the focal point of Kishh's clan when she'd returned home with, what she'd thought in the moment, awful timing. It had been confusing to see, mildly infuriating to see how they'd simply stopped nearly all business to fuss over a pup who would surely be dead within the coming days. Death was not something anyone could just will away. No amount of saying encouraging words to an almost-corpse would mend the damage done to him, she'd told her compatriots. They would not be taking part in such a ridiculous waste of time.
But the shaman had convinced her to just sit with him, at least once. With much reluctance, she'd agreed. And to her surprise, the boy had finally awoken under her watch. The change in her perception of him had shifted within hours. Though he had not spoken many words since he'd woken, she knew that this boy wasn't just some stupid kid facing consequences or failed prey-bait. He was… just a boy. Afraid, in agony, wanted his mother.
Kishh was not his mother, but she had tried to fill that void. She'd held his hand while Caiyeiath whispered the details of what had truly happened to him. She sat with him, day in and day out until he was able to sit up on his own, then stand, and eventually, she personally took him on short walks to distract him from the mental and physical pain he was in.
For a long time since meeting him, Kishh had wanted more than anything to seek vengeance on his behalf. To make those who had done this to him pay. And she would have, had her family and her wives not stopped her. Zayub, she'd eventually learned his name was when he had gained the will to give it to her, deserved justice for what had been done to him. But she was not the one to enact it. She would just be labeled 'bad blood', just as Zayub's parents had been.
War had always been her purpose. And she was sure it always would be. But she could not ignore the possibility of her enemies using her son against her.
Her little Zayub, who had become all the sweetness and mercy in her heart, could be snatched from her at any moment. For nothing but the sake of cruelty at the hands of anyone who saw her as a threat— and Kishh was a threat to all. She'd tried to reassure herself during long nights wakeful with encroaching nightmares, that she would always protect him, that no one could ever do him harm so long as she she was living.
But war had taught her that there were no certainties. There were no promises she could keep, if she stayed on this path. He would never truly be safe until she gave it up.
So, she would. For Zayub. For his safety. For his happiness. For his peace.
She could not alter what had been done to him. No matter how badly she wished that she could, no matter how often she looked out at him and willed him to forget all the pain he'd endured. Vengeance would not take that away. But she could give him a better future, one free of unending bloodshed and death and war.
For her conquests could not fill her home with warmth. The beckon of the battlefields would never hold a candle to the call of her pup's voice when she emerged, blood-soaked and grinning from them. Glory and bounty could not embrace her with the same gratitude and unwavering love as Zayub.
Her gaze fell to the sleeping boy beside her, one hand protectively place on his back. An arm belonging to Ay'jir was draped gently over him as well, just as protective as Kishh. The steady beat of his heart reassured her that she was making the right decision. Though hanging everything up on the mantle wouldn't go without heartache, she couldn't risk the heartbreak of anything happening to this boy. His sleepy little face and the tiny twitch of his one remaining upper mandible brought a smile to her.
Leaning close to his head, she pressed her tusks affectionately to his crown.
Satisfied with her choice, Kishh felt she might finally get some sleep tonight. There would be complaints and fights to deal with in the morning, when she would inevitably have to tell her clan about this, but she would deal with that when the morning came. For now, all that mattered was her baby, sleeping peacefully beside her.
War was no longer her purpose.
Zayub was her purpose.
Her wives were her purpose.
Her family was her purpose.
As sleep clouded her mind at last, the warmth of tender resolve filled her heart.