Prayers

With nothing left of their home warren and no possessions to salvage, the cabbits had set out with Sol and Grief shortly afterwards. Dozens of small bodies climbed onto the shoulders, heads, and hands of the two somewhat bemused deities. Their long legs would cover ground with a swiftness that none of the small beings could sustain, so this became their funeral procession. They’d walked for a while, side by side, adorned with furry life, past the jade totem and over the peaks of turquoise stone. When the littlest ones began to slump from drowsiness, they knew it was time to stop and camp.

Small holes were swiftly dug into the soil, though it was bricklike and stiff from drought. When all of them were nuzzled in the embrace of the ground, Sol laid down over them to partially hide them, intent on collecting some manner of rest for himself as well. Grief lay onto her back beside him, letting her soft shoulder meet his back as he lay on his side. He felt her hand nervously rest on his hip as though seeking some way to remind herself that she was no longer alone as she drifted into the world beyond dreaming. Eventually, her hand slid off of his body and landed onto the hard soil with a light thud, and he knew that she was asleep.

Dreams came in fits for him, but as he slumbered in the heaviness of exhaustion, he dreamt of the world before it had all gone wrong. Half-remembered imagery smeared and danced through his psyche, but it was never clear, as though he was trying to catch fog in his hands. When he had been full of life and peace, the glade would shine and twinkle. Blooms made of light and ethereal crystal would sway with the sounds of laughter, and drink came hearty but never left them sick upon waking.

He recalled the faces of friends, faithful, and passing guests who would sit with him for a brief stay, then never return. All was good and unsustainable as they clamored for his company and ignored so many others. In the dream, the laughter began to bend like an instrument chord slowly being detuned. Shadows began to bleed out from their correct positions, spreading across the green grass and turning it to ash.

Corruption consumed the glade, and suddenly all of the guests were nothing more than ruined shadows, clawing at him with ravenous, vacant eyes and slacked jaws that laughed and screamed together. Fingers latched to his skin, burning him and peeling him alive, and he cried out in pain as the noise of the corruption grew to the volume of a great and powerful storm.

Sol “woke” with a flinch, pulling himself from the open-eyed rest as he realized it was only a nightmare. His eyes focused as reality returned. Vibrancy from the sleeping hallucinations made way for the matte, dulled darkness of the eternal night, and the sounds of light breathing drifted up from beneath him. Something shifted against his sternum, and he glanced down to see Wretch there, nuzzled to his ribs.

Soft trembles in her shoulders told him that she was crying.

He started to speak, then stopped himself and merely lowered his hand slowly to cover her without touching her in any way.

The trembles continued for a few more minutes, never making a sound beyond the occasional swift, faint inhale through her nostrils. Star falls in the distance turned the sky orange and sickly pink, littering the quiet with far-off thuds. Then the darkness returned and she slowly exhaled, but he kept her shielded under his hand.

“Does it hurt? Your shards?” she whispered.

“Yes,” he replied.

Her legs shifted and she scooted closer against him.

“Good.”

She frowned at herself. Being hurtful and mean-spirited was all she was familiar with. So much of it was true towards him, but she found herself softening to the titan that had already so drastically thrown himself into harm and suffering’s way for their sake.

Sol was unbothered by her word, somewhat knowing she meant it as much as she didn’t.

“Don’t read into this. I… I was just cold, and I had a nightmare about being buried in the hole,” she stammered under her breath as she forced a jagged tone.

Sol might have smirked if he could. A kindness moved through him, mixing with the suffering and sitting in his ribs as he felt her breath on his palm. Within the safety of his hand’s shielding, Wretch relaxed ever so slightly. It was safe and warm, and she watched the strange veins in his fingers carry trickles of light like a pulse. If she listened carefully, she could hear them hum with energy as they streaked by her.

Her paw reached out and dared to settle against his middle finger, and she almost began to cry once more.

“You’ll keep us safe? You’ll get us there?” she pleaded.

“I swear it. I will not let you down again.”

“No matter what happens to me- get her there. I don’t want her to become one of them. They say dying and changing damages your soul, and you can never find peace. And if one of them turns you, your soul is trapped forever. Please,” she begged.

“Wretch, I promise you. I will get you both there.”

She closed her eyes and almost trusted him. She had never prayed to a god before, but this was quite close. All she could do was put her faith in him.

“Why are you doing this for us?” she asked.

Sol thought it over and wrestled with his words. Grief stirred beside him and moved to press her head to his back. When she settled, he spoke low, trying to keep the vibrations from his chest from waking her.

“I… I want to try to make amends. For everything. I know I can’t. But I can at least not let you down any more than I already have.”

She wiped her eyes and nodded.

“I never wanted this,” she whimpered.

There was a new brokenness to her that surprised both of them, as though the finality of officially starting their steady march towards death had pulled all of her misery and disappointment to the forefront of her mind, blinding everything else, even rage. She suddenly felt very small and vulnerable. His hand rotated slightly, and he paused for permission. Wretch realized what he was offering, and she could no longer turn him down out of pure spite.

She lifted herself to crawl into his hand, and he settled it on the soil as she unballed her body and allowed her spirit to unmake itself in misery. There was a subtle bit of movement behind him, and a few moments later, Grief’s hand appeared over his shoulder, carrying the still-sleeping body of Burden.

The two gods cupped them both and passed the littlest one into Sol’s hand to join her sister, who received her with gratitude, and they both pulled themselves tightly to his body as Grief let her own hand rest along his wrist, where her thumb slowly studied the topography of his veins that snaked around the shard.

They lay there quietly for the rest of the slumbering pause, eventually each returning to the world of dreams, all while the stars fell above them like slow, illuminated rain.