Distressed from almost being lynched and being publicly caught with visible emotions, Nico Paolo's despair deepened, his sobs subsiding into a heartfelt wish.
Suddenly, the air around him began to shimmer and shine as the stars in the sky flickered and pulsed as if beckoning forth a presence! Ultimately, a radiant light coalesced before him, taking the form of Constel, the premier Goddess of humanity, order, and stars! Her body, crafted from cream-colored marble, slowly solidified, its smooth surface glistening with an otherworldly sheen. The ornate gold and burgundy jalabiya She wore seemed to unfold from the light itself, its intricate details and flowing lines etched with an ethereal precision.
Lit white wax candles materialized around her, floating in mid-air! The stars in the sky continued to flash in and out of sight, synchronizing their twinkling rhythm with the soft dance of the candles' flames. The air was charged with an electric sense of divine authority as if the very fabric of reality had been reshaped to accommodate Her presence! Finally, Her reflective black onyx eyes flashed into being and cast an unsettling gaze upon Nico, drawing him in with an unsettling mix of beauty and menace!
"Your attempts to defy the natural process of senescence were hubris, a direct challenge to my domain over humanity and the natural order," She declared. "Furthermore, although I am empathetic, your efforts to save your parents only further disrupted the balance.”
Nico asked, possessed of audacity, “What, no formalità? What of the murder and mayhem? Non ti importa di…”
Constel responded flatly, "Your own hands, Nico, will soon be stained with the blood of innocents.”
“No.” He curtly interrupted!
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
“As Pinocchio, you will become an embodiment of terror.” She continued, slightly smiling in surprise at his continued hubris.
“Look, Lady! I already am an ‘embodiment of terror,’” he snapped saucily!
She genuinely laughed before continuing sternly, “Your silence will be a harbinger of doom, striking fear into the hearts of those who once knew you.”
He found he’d lost his voice! Possessed of great courage, he even tried to snarl at the Goddess–to no effect but the contortion of his face!
“You will be the monster that haunts the shadows, a dark reflection of your own deviant desires. Your nose will grow with each passing day you don't cause death in new ways or old ways."
Flabbergasted and panicking over his cursed silence yet also irritated that his question wasn't quite answered, the thirteen-year-old Italian boy initially failed to notice he was slowly transmogrifying into a living puppet of acacia and white oak! Every inch of his tickled skin, condensed flesh, and fractured bone was replaced with the precious hardwoods! A permanent, matching muzzle was affixed to his face, silencing his voice forever, completing his transmogrification!
Pinocchio's thoughts screamed in horror and rebellion as the Goddess began to fade away, "Why?! Why would you curse me to be such an abomination?! I punished the wealthy elite without harming innocents!"
Constel's response echoed in his mind, "Humanity needs culling now and then. The weak and the strong, the innocent and the guilty–all are equal in my eyes. And you've already crashed many economies, Puppet."
Envisioning the atrocities he could commit under the curse, il Giovane Incubo’s imagination recoiled in horror. He pictured himself stalking through shadows, leaving wanton death in his wake, and it chilled him to the core!
His mind cried out against the injustice as the Goddess faded, "But why must I harm those who are innocent?! Can't I just punish those who deserve it?" (He wouldn’t admit the imagined scenarios had begun to appeal to him.)
Despite Her surprise that the mortal could speak into Her mind from such a distance, Constel's remote response was unyielding and pedantic, "Your purpose is not to judge, Pinocchio, but to bring balance, and that requires sacrifice. Eventually, you, too, will be sacrificed. The shorter your nose stays, the longer you'll live. Kill too much too often, and you'll die without a nose. Oh, and leave babies alone from now on, lest you wish to incur my mother's wrath.”
“Che palle! More to grieve!” was Pinocchio's last thought before he blacked out!
“Piccolo stronzo coraggioso,” She swore laughingly as, mere seconds after departure, She watched him sleep from Antares' galaxy!