Grieving

They gathered a small bit of nourishment from the tower, and fastened a few replacement pouches of water. Ysmerath, in his hoarding, had rerouted a stream from its flow that had once fed farmland, sending it directly to his sanctuary. When the four of them were ready, they made their way to the lower levels, with Grief and Sol carrying the sisters in their quiet reflection as they mourned their tribe and the lives they never had.

Finality hung in the air as thick as the fog that had risen swiftly from the ruptures in the earth. Eerie disruption now blocked their view. Instead of being able to somewhat discern the ruination of the world within the darkness, now a blanket of cold greyish blue haze had drowned out definition, leaving them only able to see a moderate way ahead of them.

It was simultaneously comforting and terrifying to not be able to view what awaited them as the world continued to unmake itself. On occasion, a rogue star fall would suddenly illuminate the sky near them and Sol would quickly cover the three of them to shield the little ones from the corruption of the broken soul fragments. The two gods were impervious to the effect, but it didn’t make it any less stressful as they walked with their focus equally divided between the unsafe soil and the unsafe sky.

Animals no longer called to one another. There were no leaves to rustle in the arid winds that pulled dust across their faces with a force that steadily peeled at their skin. Few words were spoken between them, yet they held one another and braced for nothingness.

Burden was faring the worst. They’d found a bright spot in that moment when they discussed goodness and happiness, but she stopped eating after the first meal from the tower. Anything that was ingested was immediately rejected and sprayed outward in a foamy yellowish clump. White had bled from the edges of her eyes, replaced with a glassy, dulled yellow that seemed to hint at a sickness that went beyond the mortal realm.

Try as she did to be strong, she was broken, and if too much time passed, she would die from malnutrition. Grief could feel her weakening in her hand as they walked, but she did not know what to do. Sol could feel Wretch silently panicking every time she looked at her sister, but neither of them knew what to do.

So they walked.

Across the once pink and purple hills that were dotted with tall, thin cylinders that had conjured pleasant sounds in the olden rain.

Through the vines and dense foliage of the forest that was so old, it seemed to breathe on its own, filling the air with an enriched, dense moisture that lingered in the nostrils.

Over the stretches of broken firmament and soil, now hanging together only by the vinelike roots of ancient trees that were now reduced to gangways and crossing ropes. Holding onto them gave no sensation of life. Sol told the little ones to close their eyes when they first made their way over an expanse where nothing but nothingness and eternal fire waited below.

They cried.

It would come without warning, without trigger or introduction. One moment, they would be surviving. Not fine, but surviving. Then, something would shift, and they would weep. Even Grief found herself mourning it all. For the first time, she allowed herself to grieve the world that was broken and the life she’d never gotten. Being divine had spared her from some of the cruelty that came with finite existence, but living had not been gentle to her either. Only now, here, at the end of all things, had she ever found any manner of comfort and company. Those three souls that were in her hand and holding her hand had become more precious to her than anything that had come before.

Sol no longer cried. It wasn’t that he was stifling the emotion; there was simply nothing left in him to release. The beast was dormant, uninterested in the trials of traversing the broken world and seemingly acceptive that Sol had finally overpowered it. So Sol moved quietly and pensively, occasionally recalling the wonders once held in these lands he’d known so long ago.

The earth was no longer soft for them. Maybe it hadn’t been for some time, but now, as the funnels pulled the realm to pieces and the fires spread and the stars rained down, the earth itself became too tired of it all as well. Soil turned jagged and hard. Beyond dry. Angry. It cut at the pads of Sol’s feet and chipped at Grief’s hooves. It drank the stray smears of blistered, bloody footprints they left behind, and it waited for its turn to disintegrate.

Sol apologized to it as well, but he wasn’t sure the soil or stone or trees heard him anymore. He wondered if they judged him and blamed the same way the mortals did.

Burden’s breathing began to lighten.

They were getting closer. Every sleep and wake told Sol the edge of everything was near. If one ventured far enough, the realm simply faded. Currents of ether would rise like reversed waterfalls, blocking out the chunks of existence that had yet to be created in the mystery of life. That was where they were going.

At the place the silver and sapphire fields ended, a single bridge of multicolored light stood alone and strong. No pillars held it up. No cables suspended it. It was only a single, solitary beam of incandescent truth that spanned from the mortal plane, outward to a simple rounded portal made of polished, shimmering stone.

Many of the gods had frequented it when dear friends were lost. They would lead their followers to carry the bound soul from its death point to the origin point, celebrating the life they’d lived. Then, the soul would be released to the Star Stream. Sol had never seen anyone enter the portal. Only exit. He prayed to whatever had made them all that Wretch’s plan would work. Ancient texts had warned that touching the portal would erase one from existence, killing them instantly and removing their soul from the Star Stream’s flow. Whether or not that was true or just a way to keep curious minds at bay, he did not know.

Soon, they would find out.

Eventually, when they reached a point that was near the end of the world, Grief found herself concerned for the little ones. Both were now gaunt and weak from the lack of nutrition, sunlight, or hope. Death and nothingness were close, but she did not want them to meet it in this state.

“Little ones?” she whispered softly as her finger carefully ran along their backs.

They stirred, barely able to articulate something more than a grunt.

“Little ones, we are getting close now. I… I do not want you to meet your ends with broken hearts.”

Sol slowed his walk so that Grief could focus. The two sisters looked up at the god of grief, unsure of what she meant.

Sol understood. Grief wanted to perform a ritual. Gods were able to guide mortals through rituals that helped them process whatever emotion they were made from. Grief was wanting to help the little ones grieve.

She hesitated, uncertain, then continued.

“I can help you move through the grief of your hearts if you’d like. I would like to do that for you and with you. That way you do not have to carry such heaviness into death.”

Wretch worked it over in her mind.

“But, won’t that make us more vulnerable to being happy?” she asked as she protectively covered Burden.

Grief smiled and shook her head.

“No. Being at peace with grief doesn’t mean one is automatically happy.”

“How?” Burden whispered as she struggled to open her eyes.

Grief struggled to explain the process, so Sol stepped in.

“It is not too different from how we saved you in the temple, only much slower, and more gentle. Grief will let herself seep into you and move through you. When you are calm and at peace with her presence, you will slowly allow it to be released, letting it drain from you, back to her.”

Grief squeezed his hand once again in appreciation for his assistance.

Burden slowly pulled herself to her sister and nuzzled against her ribs, as though afraid of the effort.

“I… I don’t think we are strong enough. Thank you, though,” Wretch declined.

Sol lifted the two of them to be even with his face.

“You are strong enough, Wretch. Both of you. My hands can hold you and allow you to do nothing more than sit with my sister. She will be kind to you. We have a little more time. And she is right. I cannot undo what has been done to you, but this ritual, it could soothe your spirit. It could be good.”

“I don’t know what good is,” Wretch whimpered.

“It’s never too late to find out. Trust us. Let Grief give you a bit of tranquility. It will not harm you, I promise.”

Sol was grateful that Grief had thought of such a thing. A lifetime of misery had broken the little ones and turned their spirits into knotted, weathered, guarded walls. If the two of them could help them move through that and find some manner of peace, not joy, then he would do everything he could to support that.

“Acceptance is not dangerous, beautiful cabbit. I will keep you safe,” Grief agreed.

“Can- can I take my shard off if I do it?” Burden whispered.

“Yes,” Grief replied.

There was so little left for them to do, the risk of them feeling joy was all but gone. If nothing else, they could not be in agony at the very end.

Wretch was nervous as always, forever cautious and concerned. But Sol held his thumb up for her to settle against.

“I’m afraid,” she whispered.

“We will be with you. You don’t have to hurt or be strong anymore. You can rest. We will keep you safe, and we will get you to the end. Let us do this for you, please,” Grief asked.

Winds moved around them, carrying remnant petals from Grief’s somber footsteps. They drifted in a ring around the foursome, hanging in the fog like slow moving brushstrokes of faded color. Wretch watched them and found them beautiful, and she felt the shard still digging into her brow. Beside her, Burden was as weak as she’d ever been.

She didn’t want to call her Burden anymore.

“Sayane,” she whispered.

Her sister’s ears attempted to rise, and she wanted to smile at the familiar motion of the oversized fluffy ends tensing from effort. Atrophy had already started to seize Sayane’s bent leg.

“Sayane. I only want to call you Sayane from now on.”

“I’d like that, Dawn.”

Wretch whimpered at the word.

“Dawn?” she repeated.

“It’s what I’ve… always… called you. In my mind. Because… you’re always up first. I never saw a sunrise, but I always saw you. And that is enough.”

Wretch almost broke as she allowed herself to become Dawn. She pulled Sayane to her chest and they cried together as Sayane looked up at Grief.

“I have a… name for you too, if you want.”

“Ohhh, ohh, beautiful mortal,” Grief sniffed.

She had never been named. Most gods were given names beyond the emotions they were defined by. Sol had been named numerous times. No one had ever bothered to give her such a blessing. Until now.

“Yumi,” Sayane said as her eyes closed.

“Yumi,” Sol repeated with a smile.

“Yumi,” Dawn agreed.

“Yumi,” said the one once known only as Grief, as she welcomed the moment with as much gratitude as she could safely afford.

Accepting that the first bout might be the most severe, even if it was as gentle as possible, Yumi and Sol decided to stop for that session. A nearby cave offered them a bit of reprieve from the winds, and they dared to take refuge in its arched safety. Faint echoes of water drops falling along the walls gave them rhythmic guidance, and soon Sol was holding the two sisters in his hand while Yumi placed her own palm over them, settling them in a cocoon of gentle sadness.

From that point on, Sol watched Yumi hold her first ritual as she moved with as much nurturing care as she could. Within his palm, he could feel the two little ones remove their shards from their heads, then soften and sob as they slowly let go of all the things that had happened and would never come to be.