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Emet-Selch, third seat of the Convocation of Fourteen, flinched as one of their members slammed her hands down on her wooden desk and stood up with such force that her chair fell to the ground with a resounding thud. All eyes– unmasked with cowls down due to the grave nature of the topic– turned to stare, falling silent. While they were well used to this particular member’s interruptions, they were not usually this volatile. She was actually trembling with fury now that the vote had been called.
“We cannot,” she said in a tight voice that mimicked the tremble of her body, “seriously be considering this path.”
Azem, fourteenth seat of the Convocation of Fourteen, had disagreed often with her comrades of the Convocation, and today was no different. Usually, though, with charm and well thought out arguments, she could sway a few key votes to her cause, allowing for a delay long enough for her to leave and attempt to solve the problem herself.
Not this time. This time, all remaining thirteen members voted in favour of the plan Azem so opposed.
No few of their number looked away in the face of Azem’s anger, as if ashamed. A few were resolute. Emet-Selch himself found that he, too, was unable to meet her eyes, and dropped his gaze when she passed over him. He heard her sharp intake of breath from across the room.
“So be it.”
He raised his head to see that Azem had brought a shaking hand to her mask. “If the Convocation cannot be dissuaded from this path…”
With a hard yank, she pulled her mask from the front of her robes and tossed it into the centre of the room where it bounced and skidded with a clatter amidst their gasps.
Azem stood tall, resolute. “I hereby renounce my position of the seat of Azem,” she declared in a clear voice. “I haven’t the stomach for it.”
She turned sharply on her heel and marched from the chamber.
He immediately stood and followed, ignoring the yells from various other Convocation members.
Her pace quickened once in the hall, forcing him to jog to keep up. “Azem!” He shouted after as they rushed past startled Capitol workers. “Wait! Azem–!”
The doors to the Capitol Gardens flung open at her approach. “Not my title anymore, oh most honourable Emet-Selch!” She jumped the small staircase and thumped onto the grass.
He hesitated in the doorway before shouting, “Persephone!”
Her name bade her to stop, but she did not turn to face him, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.
“Persephone, please,” he panted as he followed her down the steps. “Be reasonable. We cannot–”
“Reasonable?” She spun to face him, her eyes shining with tears. “Reasonable?! What about sacrificing so many of us is reasonable?!”
“When not doing so will result in the deaths of us all, and the very star!” He stopped in front of her and tried to reach for her hand, but she pulled back. He shook his head with a low growl in the back of his throat. “Fandaniel’s knowledge of the celestial currents has allowed us to predict the disasters, but not prevent them. They are spreading, and we have a duty.”
“And Elidibus?” Persephone’s tears began to fall. “You’re at ease with sacrificing little Elidibus and countless others, condemning their souls to never return to the Star? Shutting them out of the cycle, forever?”
Emet-Selch clenched a fist. “Of course not! But there is no other choice. Elidibus gladly volunteered when told he would be the best soul to form the heart.”
She threw her arms into the air. “Of course he would! You know how eager he is to prove himself to the star– to us!” She shook her head. “No; no, I refuse to believe that there’s no other way.” She pointed an accusing finger at him. “I will find the path of lesser tragedy. You see if I don’t!”
With a wave of her hand, curling her fingers in towards her palm, Persephone summoned her feathered, bipedal mount, and immediately placed one foot in the stirrup.
“I will stall for time as long as I am able.”
Emet-Selch watched as his words gave her pause, and she turned to face him without anger in her face for the first time in hours, slowly lowering her leg back to the ground.
“For as long as I am able,” he continued, hand pressed to his chest over his mask, “I will slow the summoning of Zodiark, to grant you as much time as possible to find another solution.”
Peresephone’s face softened as she stepped back to him, and reached up to place a hand on his face. “Hades…” she murmured softly.
He placed his hand over hers, trapping it against his cheek. “I cannot wait forever,” he whispered, turning his head to press a kiss to her palm. “Nor can I, in good consciousness, not begin preparations.” He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. “But I will wait. And pray for your timely return.”
Fresh tears pricked the corners of her eyes. “Thank you,” she choked. “I won’t fail you, I promise.”
Emet-Selch slipped his free hand around her waist and lifted just enough to encourage her onto her toes as he bent down to capture her mouth in a kiss. “I know,” he whispered against her lips when they parted. “I have faith in you, dear heart. Be swift.”
They stood like that for a time, foreheads pressed together, both steeling themselves for the hardships to come. Finally, she pressed a quick kiss to his mouth, then pulled back to rush to her mount.
“Watch the skies for me!” She pleaded.
“Every hour of every day.” He promised.
And he watched the skies as the Final Days spread over Etheirys.
He watched as the skies above Amourot began to burn.
He watched the skies after Hythlodaeus walked away from him, begging for her return to stop their mutual love’s self sacrifice.
He watched, tears streaming down his face, as the final magics were woven.
He watched the skies, searching for her, even as Zodiark’s will wrapped around his heart, and drowned out all else.
— — —
It had been a month since the Final Days had been averted. Three since Peresephone left. Two weeks since a half of their remaining population sacrificed themselves unto Zodiark to restore their star. Now, Emet-Selch stood alone in a comfortable apartment made for three.
Hythlodaeus was… gone. Persephone had yet to return, assuming that she still had the ability to do so. Being here was painful, but if she were to return, surely it would be here, to their home.
He hadn’t been here since the summoning. Everything was as they had left it. Dishes in the drying rack, bed unmade, the notes of whatever Hythlodaeus had been working on scattered across the dining table… Even knowing that the Final Days were encroaching on Amourot, when the sky turned it still seemed to come on without warning. He had spent hours searching for Hythlodaeus, and when he finally found him…
Emet-Selch closed his eyes against the pain. Soon, it would all be in the past. Soon, the new life flourishing on the star would be enough to give Zodiark, and He would restore their lost brethren to them.
And perhaps… If Persephone were truly gone, could He restore her too? Surely plucking a single soul from the Underworld would be a trivial task for his Lord?
Yes… Yes, just a little longer, then–
The door opened with a violent bang, and something stumbled through, followed by a clattering crash.
Emet-Selch’s eyes flew open and he dashed for the front hall. What he saw both raised his spirits and made his mouth run dry.
Persephone was leaning heavily against a side table that stood by the door, having knocked everything on its surface to the ground. She looked up at his approach, eyes hollow and haunted.
“Hades…”
She looked awful. Her hair, normally soft and wavy, was matted in several chunks. Her robes, torn and burned, were soiled with grime. Heavy bags hung under her eyes, further adding to her haunted expression.
She tried to push off the table, but her legs immediately began to shake. Seeing she was about to stumble and possibly fall, Emet-Selch ran to catch her, and she melted into his arms with a cry.
“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…!” She gasped.
“Shh, it’s fine, you’re fine,” he hushed her gently, rocking on the spot. “You’re safe…”
“N-no…!” She clung to the front of his robes and buried her face into his shoulder. “I failed everyone; I failed you…!”
Taking on more of her weight, he used his foot to push the door closed and began to guide her further inside. “You did no such thing, dear heart,” he murmured into her hair, uncaring of how she smelled. She was home.
“You summoned Him… Zodiark…” She hiccuped, still hiding her face against him. “I couldn’t… I looked everywhere, and…!”
“We both knew this was the most likely outcome,” he said as he rubbed soothing circles on her back. “I’m just glad you’re here…”
She hiccuped again and continued to cling to him. “When the sky returned to normal, I… I just–!” Even through his robes, her fingernails threatened to bite into his skin. “A-and then, just recently, life blossomed all around me and–!” She whimpered softly. “How… how did the star heal so quickly…?”
Knowing the answer would upset her, he held onto her a little firmer. “No small number of our remaining brethren gave themselves to Zodiark so that He might have the aether required to revitalize our star.”
As he thought, Persephone gave a keening whimper. “Oh, star,” she breathed, her form beginning to shake. He pressed firm kisses to the crown of her head, once again gently soothing her.
Once her breathing had settled, she pulled back just enough to look up at him. “Wh-where’s Hythlodaeus,” she hiccuped, still fisting his robes. “I w-want him here, too.”
This he was unable to answer immediately, his eyes leaving hers.
She clutched him tighter. “Hades?” She asked in a voice that was already on the edge of breaking. “Where’s Hythlodaeus?”
Emet-Selch briefly closed his eyes. “He was part of the first wave who gave life, aether, and soul that Zodiark could rise and deliver us from the Final Days,” he whispered.
Horror slowly seeped into her eyes. “No…” Persephone whispered. “That can’t…” Her face crumpled, and tears began anew. “No!”
With a loud, anguished noise, more animal than man, her body collapsed and were it not for his arms around her she surely would have fallen. He guided them both to the floor, pulling Persephone into his lap where she pressed her face into the crook of his neck, wailing with sobs that shook her much smaller form against his. As he tried to soothe her, running his hand over her tangled hair, he felt his own tears begin to fall, his heart breaking for her.
He did not know how long he held her as they cried; only that the sun had begun to set, turning the sky a hauntingly familiar hue. When her tears finally abated and she sank against him as exhaustion set in, he pulled back, smiling softly as he looked down at her weary form, to share with her the solution that the Convocation had been preparing.
She won’t approve! A buried part of him screamed from beneath Zodiark’s will.
“We have a way to bring them back,” he whispered as he cradled the back of her head in his hand. “Hythlodaeus, and all the others.”
She will abhor the loss of life!
She looked up at him, eyes red and puffy and full of hope, mouth falling open. “Really?” She weakly whispered back. “How?”
He gently brushed her hair from her eyes. “We shall allow this new life of our star to flourish,” he explained, “and once it is in excess, we shall give it to Zodiark in exchange for the return of our brethren.”
Emet-Selch watched the light of hope die in Persephone’s eyes. “What…?”
He tightened his grip around her even as he cradled her. “Zodiark requires the aether to continue shielding us from any further effects of the Final Days,” he said patiently, placing his hand on her cheek. “He shall protect us, and we shall return to our days of peace.”
She began to struggle in his hold, shaking her head and forcing him to drop his hand. “Hades– Hades, no–”
He allowed her to pull back, but otherwise used his hold to keep her in his lap. “Persephone,” he begged softly, “please…”
“No!” She repeated, voice stronger. “Hades, how long will this cycle of sacrifice continue?” She met his eyes again, questioning, hurting.
He felt his resolve, his utter faith in Zodiark, harden. “We have a duty to our brethren, Persephone.”
“What of our duty to the star?” She weakly thumped his chest with her fist. “I’ve seen this new life out there, Hades. It’s different, but no less beautiful. Does it not deserve a chance at life?”
“Our brethren–”
“Volunteered,” she cried. “Their loss wounds me deeply, Hythlodaeus most of all, but they chose. If you do this thing our star will be barren once more!”
“Lord Zodiark,” he said, resolute, “will guide us in shepherding this star. Through Him, we shall reclaim what we have lost.”
Persephone stared, face contorting in concern. “Something is… wrong. With you.” She brought her hand up to his face, cupping his cheek. “Your aether, it–” she flinched. “You’re unbalanced. Frighteningly so!” Her eyes flickered between his. “What happened when you created Zodiark?”
The life of Darkness coursing through him the all encompassing will smothering his heart Elidibus trusting him to do what is right
Emet-Selch leaned into her hand, though that buried part of him felt as if he had lost the right to her gentle touch. “We were shown the new path our star will take,” he murmured. “And instructed on what we must do to restore our way of life.”
Hesitantly, he turned his head to kiss her palm.
She recoiled from him and once more tried to extract herself from his hold.
He could keep her there. Easily so, in fact. She was exhausted from the trials of her journey and her emotional drop. He already had her pressed against him. How easily could he hold her there, keep her there, overpower her, make her stay with him, make her understand–!
No!
No… he’d… he had never done such a thing to her. Would never do such a thing to her. He knew the joy of sending her on her own path. Of waiting patiently for her return, full of stories and wonder.
What had he–?
He let go of her as if burned.
She fell backwards out of his lap and managed to scramble to her feet, away from him, using a wall as support. She clutched at the front of her robes, staring at him, equal parts bereaved and horrified.
He stood with her but did not approach, afraid of pushing her away further. As if he wasn’t already aware that he had lost her, too.
“Persephone?” He said weakly.
She took a step backwards, shaking her head. “I’m… sorry, Hades,” she whispered. “But I can’t watch you do this.”
He reached for her.
She took another step back.
Their eyes met for the final time.
She turned away.
Stumbled down the hall.
The door opened.
Closed.
And Emet-Selch was alone.