Your Touch Before Oblivion

Metus knew their destination. Sol grimaced and his body tingled. The beast began to growl at the veiled threat. The enemy had figured out the plan. And just like Sol, he likely knew where the portal was.

“Hoping to end your suffering?”

Sol shook his head.

“Not for me. I am trying to save two little ones. Trying to… to make up for all that I’ve… we’ve caused.”

Metus chuckled a hateful sound as he looked away.

“I will be there, then. We will see each other again soon.”

Sol roared in rage and stepped close to Metus even though he knew neither could hurt one another in this realm.

“Why, Metus?! Why? Is this not enough?! Has your selfish rage and hate not caused enough damage? And for what? After everything, EVERYTHING, you are still alone. Alone and miserable. You are feared but not loved, and there is a great difference. Let these little ones escape in peace, I beg you.”

The wounded god was too unwell to understand. It was impossible to know how much of his outlook was carved from the isolation he’d endured, or if the fearful fragments of his spirit were truly too vulnerable ever to comprehend mercy and compassion. Sol had learned that his own self was made of so much more than simple joy, but he could not be sure if such complexity were true for every god. Still, he prayed for Metus to stop. But the god of fear looked back at him with cold, spiteful eyes, and he knew that would not happen.

“It will never be enough,” Metus replied.

Sol stepped back and sighed. Metus could not destroy the soul portal, so he was not concerned with that. For a moment, he debated waking himself and immediately beginning to run with his sister and the cabbits. There was a small, almost unrealistic possibility that they could beat Metus. But it would mean cutting the grieving process short for the cabbits, sending them into the nothingness with wounded, pained hearts. If they continued to take their time, the girls could heal themselves and Yumi could complete her first ritual with them, but it would mean Metus would catch them.

“Then, if you are waiting for us when we reach the end of the world, mark my words, I will kill you if you try to stop us. I am not the one I was all those years ago. Please, Metus, let me shepherd these two little ones. Our eternal conflict can resume after that.”

Metus shook his head, and Sol closed his eyes in rage. For the first time in over a century, his lids fully closed there in that dream, and he waited one more moment in the hopes that Metus might change his answer. But when he opened his eyes, Metus was gone.

Reality returned to Sol, and he awoke with Grief, or Yumi as she was now called, softly touching his back with one hand while she safely cradled the little ones in the other.

“I was singing to them while you slept. But you became fitful,” she whispered.

Sol exhaled slowly and turned to face them. In the darkness, the light from his eyes cast a soft glow onto her pale face that reflected onto his own. She was beautiful in a somber, simple way. The painted makeup she’d so nervously applied was all but gone now, leaving her natural face exposed. Fur along her brow and the bridge of her nose rose up to the antlers, still dark and thick, but her skin was thin and marbled with a face closer to a hume or elf. Her eyes were concerned and patient as she watched Sol observing her.

“What?” she asked softly.

“We are all cursed, beautiful things, aren’t we? Divine and lost.”

Yumi smiled and nodded. His hand rose to her face, and his knuckle slowly moved along her cheekbone, causing her lips to part ever so slightly. Her own hand rose to his jaw and began to trace along the ruined edges of his lips and the curved scars that ran across his cheeks. They studied one another in silence for a few moments, and Sol continued to debate making a last desperate dash for the portal so that he could throw them in with haste and know that they were finally safe. But in that moment they were safe and sleeping soundly, and she was holding them and at peace.

“You seem unsettled,” she whispered.

He dared to be honest.

“I spoke with Metus in the dream realm. It’s never happened before, but I am sure it was him. He knows where we are going. He will likely beat us there.”

Yumi processed the answer, and her lips pursed as she worked towards words.

“Can he break the portal?” she asked.

Sol shook his head.

“No. It’s a power beyond any of us.”

“So the little ones can still make it?”

He nodded.

It was as though Yumi understood, and a slow sadness came over her as her thumb came to rest on the center of his lip.

“Is it too far for us to rush to?” she asked.

“Yes,” Sol replied as he looked to her hand that was holding the sleeping sisters.

“Also, I want you to be able to complete the ritual with them before they end. I want them, and you, to… to… to be at peace,” he added.

Yumi smiled then frowned as she closed her glowing eyes.

“You… You’re not going through, are you?” she asked.

“No. I will face Metus if he is there, and I will do whatever I have to to make sure the three of you are safe. Please, carry their beautiful souls into the nothingness and forget any of this misery ever happened,” Sol said.

Yumi breathed slowly as she accepted that his answer was likely final. Her thumb felt the vestiges of softness in his skin that was once so cherished and admired. There was a calmness to him in that moment. Even though it meant more struggle and pain for him, he was willing to give the three of them space and time to mend and work towards healing. Part of her wanted to disagree and sprint towards the portal, but as she felt the slumbering breaths of the little ones in her palm, she wanted most of all to give them something kind at the end of all things. So she nodded and agreed.

“It wasn’t all misery,” she replied with a faint smile.

“This moment is good.”

Sol nodded and their eyes met. She held his gaze as her hand nervously slid from his jaw to the edge of his neck. Subtle movements pulled her closer to him without disturbing the little ones, and soon they were near. She never looked away, allowing him every opportunity to stop her.

But he didn’t.

When she was brave enough, she leaned her head towards him, and their lips met softly and silently as one of his hands joined her to hold the sisters in their care and the other came to rest on the exposed, cold skin of her lower back.