Expositor of the Serpent

Expositor of the Serpent

by Pandi Silverpaw

I walked away from two bloodlines.
I chose death over the poison of mistrust.
There was a dream once—
fragile, sacred—
and I watched it wither in my hands.

I entered my rest believing that was the end.

But the dead do not always sleep forever.

She returned to me—
one once lost—
and spoke of a people she believed I would fit among.
So I went.
I stood before the Harbingers.
I took their number—
yet did not give my soul.

Not then.

The night of Liberum Corda changed everything.
A meeting.
A choice.
Sanctuary sought in a place no one would have expected—
least of all me.
That was the night my small family of three
was forever altered.
That was the night I truly joined.

It is almost cruel in its poetry—
that after my life shattered,
I finally found the beginning of my path.

Along the way, I found a Mama—
who gave me room to grow,
who offered safety instead of chains.
From that freedom came an Angel.
From that Angel came love.
From that love came breaking.
And from that breaking—
the Harbingers.

Each time I believed I had become
who I was meant to be,
another mirror cracked.

It began with a question:

“Would you study to become a priestess?”

I did not understand the weight of those words.
I do not take the honor lightly.

I have learned this—
when you kneel among the pieces of yourself,
when you allow the false image to shatter,
what remains is truth.
The fragments that survive
are the bones of who you are.

Each shattering has stripped away
who I was told to be.
Who I was shamed to be.
Who I tried to be.

And every time, those broken masks
fall at my feet.

But the good—
the sacred—
remains.

Mama.
Angel.
The Harbingers of Blood.
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[3:13 AM]Wednesday, February 25, 2026 3:13 AM
The weavers of my fate knew something I did not:
that I would crawl through the wreckage
again and again,
and each time emerge
closer to myself.

Am I finished shattering?

No.

But now I understand—
the breaking is not destruction.
It is refinement.

And I stand here—
Expositor of the Serpent—
not as the image I was handed,
but as the truth forged in ruin.

And I cannot wait
to see what is yet to come…
and to meet even more
of the true me.