From The Depths Of Dreams

The little ones were alive. Shortly after they had been cleansed of the filth from the blood lake, they fell into a deep sleep. Sol tore a small segment from his tattered garments and laid it over them to cover their naked bodies as their own clothing dried from its cleaning.

His hand was still glowing when he placed the fabric over their shoulders and hips. Its steady pulses of golden light continued to course through the cracks and chunks of missing skin, revealing the shining ethereal spirit beneath. It was weak, but it was there.

Sol sat there, analyzing his slowly returning self. For a moment, his mind calmed. In the absence of chaotic thoughts, he turned his head upwards and placed his palms over his eyes, doing his best to mimic closing them for the first time in ages. Wetness still lined his cheeks as he pulled steady, patient breaths into his lungs. As he did, he felt a long-forgotten warmth begin to spread across his body.

It was his.

For the first time since his defeat, he was able to feel a slight measure of relief and gratitude. Grief had helped him save them, and now he could at least look at those two small, vulnerable creatures and not feel absolute shame.

His warmth trickled across his stomach and arms.

Bit by bit, his glow returned.

Bit by bit, his soul awakened.

Rings of light gathered beneath his legs at the point where his body met the stony floor. They spooled around him in rippling quiet, and he remembered that once, all those lifetimes ago, he was so radiant and so splendid his mere presence would make people feel joy.

Wretch moaned softly.

Horror struck him like a blade, and he yelped in fear at what he was doing.

Those golden waves had almost touched the little ones. Grief awoke from her rest when she heard him tumbling and frantically crawling away from the sisters as he whimpered in concern.

“Grief! Make them feel your misery!!” Sol pleaded.

By now, the girls were stirring from their vast dreams. Grief herself seemed confused at first, but then began to understand. Slowly, the golden light faded, leaving Sol heaving in fear of himself. To his great relief, nothing happened to the girls. They had not been touched by his temporary return to his old self.

“Sol, it is not what you fear. Your soul current did not touch them.”

He tried to speak but the words were simply shaken spasms from his throat. After everything, he’d almost sent them to damnation by merely existing. Tremors returned to his hands and his palms pressed to his skull in panic. There was no way for him to control how his spirit radiated. It was the divine gift of his formation.

When he felt like himself, he made others around him also feel that splendor. Most of the other gods had to conjure that ability, but in the scope of emotional connection, joy was infectious.

“My… my… my ability. I’d forgotten a-a-about it…” he gasped.

“It’s b-been so loooong since I’ve felt it, I didn’t even think about it. I-I almost made them feel it. That would have… That would have…”

Panic raged within him as his mind spiraled down the dark pit of considering what could have been. Grief reached him with a scrape and knelt in front of him without touching him.

“It did not happen, brother. They are safe. They were not corrupted.”

“I could have made them m-monsters. After all that, I could have… I could have failed them again.”

“But you didn’t,” Grief sternly whispered.

“They are safe. And that is because of you. Remember that as well. You did not fail them moments ago when you came up with a solution. You did not fail them when you burned their disease away. Now they sleep and dream because of you.”

Her words almost calmed him. Almost.

He wanted the screaming to return. If a clear, well mind meant that he would be a danger to them and anyone else in his proximity, then he did not want to be well. Being well enough would have to suffice. So he pulled the memories of the mutilations and screaming into his mind. He thought of the bodies being flayed alive before him every day for years. He focused on the agony from the nailed clamps around his eyelids. He focused on the stench of perpetual rot.

Every horrific detail of his failure and the current state of the world was recalled so that he could banish the relief and gladness from his heart.

Grief watched in quiet woe as his skin turned matte once again and the light in his body faded to a dulled pale white. When it had all but extinguished, Sol exhaled and lowered his hands.

Grief frowned and slowly reached for him. To her relief, he let her touch him. Frail, clawed fingers met his face just beneath the spot where all of his flesh was gone. Bent, chipped teeth and damaged gums hung exposed to her touch as she slid her palm to his jaw and gently raised his head so that he would look at her.

“It’s m-my fault. All my fault. Allllll my… fault,” he cried.

Energy coursed through her spirit as she devoured the offering of grief he gave her, and she knew he was falling into complete self-loathing. Still, she held his gaze in her loving hand as she looked at the ruins of the one she had longed for and loved since the dawn of souls.

“It is not just you who is solely to blame, radiant one. It is Fear, above all. You cannot carry this guilt as your only true thought. Fear was the one who started the war and slaughtered so many. Fear was the one who broke the world.”

Her voice was soft and labored, but set in its conviction. Sol allowed himself to sink ever so slightly into her palm as he felt the colossal weight of his mistakes settle on his shoulders like frost on grass in the early winter mornings.

“Is it truly too late? Did he break everything? Did I fail so absolutely that the world is now destined for oblivion?” he asked.

The subtle hesitation in her answer was all he needed for confirmation.