The Twelve

Very few alive now know of the days before the Council of the Twelve. The days when Ophiuchus was the thirteenth Zodiac. Though he is now associated with medicine in mythos, he was a terror in reality. A snake charmer, he would often leave baskets of asps at the doorsteps of his enemies or distil poisons from the very serpents he kept cloistered in his robes.

In the early days, the Zodiac’s worshippers shunned him for his cruelty. Each Zodiac of the Twelve were gifted with a Court to rule over, enriching their subjects with their own godly characteristics. This allowed for Ophiuchus to be banished along with his evil followers.

As many ages passed and bloodlines of the courts interconnected through families, the Zodiac noticed that their original connection with their followers were being muddled down and traits were not passed on naturally as they should be. From this time, the courts were disbanded into cities and each of the Twelve were denoted a timeframe in the year’s wheel to rule over. Any child born during this time would be connected with their Zodiac through their Solis Aevum. They then moved from their scattered sacred courts into a singular temple settled into the peak of a vast mountain.

The Twelve have ruled over their subjects for aeons with Ophiucus long since forgotten. That is until the day that the world ended with both a bang and a whimper.

The Twelve were seated together in their expansive workspace holding a forum discussing the effects that some of their gifted qualities had. The room sat at the edge of their mountaintop home, situated into the stone so that it was suspended over the edge. Glass encased the walls and ceiling of the space, giving way to the bright afternoon light.

Capricorn cleared her throat proudly, brushing away strands of hair that had slipped from her polished bun behind the elegantly backward-sloped goats horns sprouting from her head. “Through my research this quarter, I have noticed a much sharper increase in love matches between polarities than we have seen previously,” she spoke in a fervent voice, her deep chestnut eyes seeming to spark with excitement, as a small smile quirked her lips.

The remaining eleven Zodiac leaned forward to look at the data and graphs she presented when a metallic clattering noise filled the room. As they collectively turned to look for the source of the sound, a loud bang rocked the room and noxious purple dust filled the room, making them cough - the air in their lungs feeling like sandpaper.

Several of the Zodiac fell to their knees or writhed on the ground, clutching at their chests. Aries, Sagittarius, Leo, Cancer, and Scorpio withstood the pain, settling into a fighting stance as best they could around the others, silver clinging to their lashes with an effort to keep their eyes open. Aries had drawn his swords, Sagittarius - his bow. Leo had his claws and fangs bared; Cancer’s robust pincers clicked readily; Scorpios stinger stood poised, waiting. They did not know where this threat was coming from or what would emerge through the thick cloud still lingering in the air.

Suddenly, through the powdery fog shot several large snakes, hoods flared over their triangular heads, mouths gaping and fangs glistening with venom. The serpent that landed on Aries’ gray furred bicep was quickly relieved of its head by the ram horned Zodiac. Cancer and Scorpio’s chitinous exoskeletons saved them from vicious bites. Unfortunately, Sagittarius was not as lucky. The fiercely muscled centaur still had his bow raised and did not have time to move before the viper latched onto his forearm, piercing through his skin. Aries rushed to Sagittarius and hastily pulled the serpent from his arm, crushing it in his grip before tossing it aside. Though the venom would not kill the Zodiac, it would slow him down detrimentally during whatever battle was to come.

It was then that Ophiuchus paraded through the smoke, his snake-like eyes gleaming in the light of the room. In the centuries since anyone had seen him, it was expected that he would be frail and feeble, if alive. But he stood tall; leanly muscled; healthy. His scales shone a vibrant golden-green as he strode through the smoke, showing no sign of irritation at the noxious powder. He smirked down at those on the ground still gasping for breath, showing his viper’s grin, long fangs protruding.

His eyes flashed with glee as he stepped right up to the towering Sagittarius, who now swayed, and gripped his neck. He bit out “You took everything from me. Now I will take everything from you,” just loudly enough for all of the Twelve to hear.

He pawed at the pockets of his suit jacket, feeling for one of the capped syringes inside. He quickly pulled one out and stuck it into Sagittarius’ arm right above the wound from the serpent’s bite, pressed the plunger and tossed it off to the side before he could fight back, all with that same smirk lighting his too wide serpent’s lips. Within seconds, the already stumbling centaur collapsed beneath his own weight, unconscious. Aries, who moments before had been by Sagittarius’ side, clenched his fists in rage.

Ophiuchus called over his shoulder “Cetus! Help me secure these fools before one of them does something stupid,” he looked back toward the group of Zodiac and sneered, “We wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt now would we?”

A giant boulder of a man with that same reptilian mouth came barreling through the smoke. There was something strange about him. Where the scales of his head met his neck, his skin turned gray and smooth, only to have scales of a different kind emerge on his almost fin-like lower half. He was at least a foot taller than Cancer or Scorpio and incapacitated them with his strength and speed in what seemed like seconds. He deftly chained them up in the corner of the room.

While the golden maned Leo and goat headed Aries focused their attention on Cetus, Ophiuchus snuck behind them and inserted another needle into Aries neck. Like Sagittarius, he swayed and collapsed, his large body falling to the floor with a loud thud. As Leo and Cetus slowly circled each other, the bull horned Taurus was finally able to pull himself to stand. With a fire of fury in his mossy green eyes, he lunged at Ophiuchus with a roar, only to be apprehended by Ophiuchus’ alarmingly tight grip. With Taurus still so weak and struggling for breath, Ophiuchus was able to subdue him easily, throwing him through the air like he was a rag doll. Taurus landed with a hard thud, his bovine head hitting one of the large stone pillars holding the glass ceiling up. Blood leaked from his head and he did not stand back up.

With so many of the Twelve rendered immobile or unable to fight, Ophiuchus began to gloat. Gliding across the floor, he relished in their agony; watching them as he drawled with an almost giddiness in his voice, “You know, I thought it would be a lot harder to take you all down. I prepared that poison bomb especially to hurt you. I tested it on myself and Cetus so many times that it no longer bothers us. I know the agony you’re feeling and I am going to enjoy every second of this.”

As Ophiuchus indulged himself, he reached down to stroke the sweat off of Virgo’s brow, smugly grinning as she whimpered, writhing on the floor in agony. Though the purple color had faded from the air, the powder had begun to fall on the Twelve, causing their agony to double as the poison coated their skin and eyes. Cetus had snuck over to those that still curled on the floor in the center of the room while Ophiuchus was distracted. He reached down and grabbed a barely conscious Pisces by her now tangled seaweed-like hair. Her opalescent, scaled blue skin was covered in a sheen of sweat, her chest rising in shallow breaths.

Though Virgo’s eyes were almost crusted together, she saw Cetus when Ophiuchus didn’t and opened her mouth to scream for him to stop. No words came out, her vocal cords rubbed raw. She sobbed in a small squeak when she saw Cetus withdraw a conical dagger from his vest pocket. Cetus’ forked tongue flicked out to taste the air as he turned his head to survey the rest of them. He smiled seeing Virgo’s tears. Through the binds in their mouths, Cancer and Scorpio screamed and sobbed from across the room.

As Cetus raised the blade, Virgo tried to pull away from Ophiucus’ grasp and launch her way across the large enclosure toward him. Taurus, who was coming back to consciousness, blood crusted around his brow and eye, struggled to his elbows to see the state of their battle. He saw Cetus’ movement at the same time that Virgo tried to launch herself toward him and tried to claw his way across the floor to reach Cetus before he drove the dagger home.

It was then that Ophiuchus’ eyes were drawn first toward Taurus, and then seeing that he was looking in the same direction as Virgo’s wide eyes, he turned in time to see Cetus’ downward swing. Ophiuchus shot an arm out in an attempt to stop the momentum of his arms but it was already too late. Pisces’ eyes shot wide as the dagger plunged into her chest, her lips forming an “O” as she gasped in a breath at the pain. Ophiuchus’ hand had just encircled Cetus’ as the dagger was thrust into Pisces chest, but Cetus tried to yank his hand away causing the dagger to twist inside Pisces who could do nothing but whimper. Her brows pinched together as she stared down in disbelief at the handle of the dagger, now sticking out from her chest at an odd angle. Blood coated both Cetus and Ophiuchus’ hands and began to spill onto the floor. Ophiuchus backed away, a surprising line of silver at the rim of his snake eyes.

A sound like a strangled sob left him. He yelled, “None of them were supposed to die today! You knew that! What are you doing?”

Cetus only grinned down at Pisces and spoke in a fervent whisper as she panted her last shallow breaths. “I knew I wouldn’t be able to kill Aries who stole my followers, but you were weaker so I will take yours.”

Ophiuchus looked stricken. “What have you done?” he whispered almost to himself.

There was a resonant groaning sound from deep within the earth, as if the earth itself were crying out for Pisces.

Cetus stood looking pompously down at Ophiuchus, shaking with excitement. With an ardent boom to his deep voice, he said, “Don’t you see, you blithering fool? I was here before any of you. I deserve this more than any of you! I will have them all.”

It was then that Virgo, with a strained sob and a roar, threw herself at Cetus, knowing he would not budge at her attack, but wanting to pummel him anyway. He flicked her to the side like she was no more than a mere annoyance. But they had been too close to the wall of windows. As Virgo slammed into the glass, it shattered around her. She tried to grapple for anything to catch herself, but there was nothing but air. The Zodiac who were still able to move tried to reach for her, but she fell through the clouds with an earth splintering scream.

“But I loved them,” Ophiuchus whispered to himself through a sob. “I was just so angry. I didn’t mean for it to happen like this.”

He stared at the blood on his hands.

As Virgo fell, the world splintered, shifted off balance at the loss of Pisces.

As the world broke Ophiuchus did too.