Chapter Text
Prologue Part 1: Out With The Old...
(POV ???)
The end of the world began on a Tuesday.
After all, Tuesday’s were- as far as all things were concerned- the best day for the worst things to happen.
Monday’s were miserable, yes, but they still held the lingering aftertaste of the weekend. Wednesday’s were a midway point, still unlikable, but far more bearable as freedom could be seen in the distance; much in the same way that even the most harrowed explorer becomes reinvigorated upon reaching the top of a large hill and seeing the bottom on the other side of the peak. Thursday’s and Friday’s moved fast, racing towards the weekend with a fervent energy that could easily provide the needed motivation to persevere.
No, it had to be a Tuesday, the day when the weekend vitality had worn off significantly enough for the more mundane routine of life to overshadow the joys of living, a day that was not even halfway towards the next break from the endless normality.
This particular Tuesday was one of the most unpleasant in a while, with storm clouds swirling overhead, threatening to unload their closely held secrets to the earth, the grey underbellies sagging and fit to burst but not yet doing so. The wind was cold and gusting at unexpected moments, forcing women to grasp at flailing scarves and men to grip billowing winter coats with white-knuckled hands.
Yes, it was a perfect day to die.
The day was late, the morning sun just starting to sink lower in the sky despite the fact that it’s brilliant golden rays had yet to penetrate the thick slew of cumulus all morning. Valencia Street was particularly empty as it was not yet time for the bars to receive their normal nightly stream of customers. A few people made their way down the mostly vacant avenue; a young couple pressed tightly together, an older man leaning heavily on his cane as a particularly strong gust threatened to bowl him over, a man with a guitar case strapped across his back pushed his way towards one of the tavern doors, his brown eyes darting up every now and again to check the clouds.
Of the handful of people traversing the paved walkways, only one seemed impartial towards the weather. She strode down the lane with surefooted steps, a destination fixed in her mind. The wind tore at her as if to blow her off course, sending fine strands of ebony hair whipping into the air and about her face, billowing the unfastened folds of a forest green parka to either side of her slim frame. But where most would shiver and pull their clothes tighter, she merely brushed aside the stray strands with a casual hand.
There was movement in the pushed back hood of the parka however, as a narrow, short-haired creature shifted, curling closer around the curve of her neck and burrowing slightly in the jacket’s faux fur lining. Charcoal eyes glanced at the marbled polecat, a brief flash of sympathy lighting their depths.
“Almost there.” She said quietly, the words soft and reassuring. “Just a bit further.”
In response, the polecat nodded. It was a very human action, and had anyone seen they would’ve said they were imagining the motion, or that the creature was merely responding to the sound of her voice. But the streets were mostly empty so no one saw, and no one wondered why a girl would be talking to an animal that was draped across her shoulders.
It wasn’t long before she stopped in front of one of the bars, sharp eyes roving over the peeling maroon paint and the rusting hinges. The normally propped open door was closed against the wind, but even still she could hear the faint trill of music eeking out from the cracks and crevices.
Standing there, she let out a long breath, closing her eyes and reaching up to wrap her hand around a pendant that hung from a fraying chord around her neck. The wind calmed as she stood there, perhaps sensing the moment for what it was, or perhaps simply preceding the oncoming storm as is so often the case.
Regardless of the reason, the newfound silence seemed to help ease the tension in the girls shoulders, and each of her three subsequent breaths became deeper, more controlled and steady. Eventually the polecat nudged against her neck with it’s nose, chittering lowly. The girl opened her eyes and lowered her hand to brush against a spot on her upper arm that was covered by the parka.
“ Akyró .” The word was barely a whisper. Her hand then moved to rest on the handle of the door and she paused to look down at her furred companion. “Here we go.”
It was warm inside. In contrast to the chill of the winter evening air, the bar was pleasantly toasty, the coat rack by the door already playing host to a pair of winter coats. She moved past it without a glance, heading for the heavily polished oak counter that stretched across the length of the left side and sliding into a well worn wooden stool. There was no one manning the bar station so while she waited she looked towards the stage at the far end where the riffs of music originated.
The man on the raised platform was strumming idly on an acoustic guitar, the notes pulling at a double harmony in a uniquely arabian style. It rang through the rafters, filling the small space and making every strum seem grander than a pipe organ in a church. The few other customers present sat heavily in their chairs, leaning forward on braced elbows towards the music, drinks and food forgotten. The musicians eyes were closed halfway, as if mesmerized by his own melody, but then they raised slowly to meet the attention of his audience, lips upturning just enough to reveal he had merely been weaving his melodic spell over those listening. He opened his mouth to add lyrics to the accompaniment, goatee bobbing up and down as his lips produced the words.
Mother, O Mother,
Lend me a dream,
One bright as the stars in your eye.
Father, dear Father,
Please strengthen my will,
For today is the day I shall die.
The song was slow and sorrowful, a haunting tune that spoke to grief and heartache and despair. It stirred something deep within the girls chest, and she felt her lungs seize when next she tried to draw breath. She found she couldn’t look away and the performer met her gaze, surprise briefly flickering in them before his stage presence returned and he held her to him with every word, dark jade eyes gleaming under the dimmed lighting. When he sang the next verse, it was like he was singing to her soul, a deep baritone dissonantly harmonizing with the delicate chords.
I go now, to freedom,
I go now, to peace,
I’ll follow the path bathed in light.
Fear not, my lover,
Fear not, my friends,
I’ll save you a spot by my side.
This day is over,
An end just for me,
Come morning the sun will not rise.
The world will keep turning,
The stars will still shine,
Yes today is the day I shall die.
The final note rang into silence, the sound soaking into the stone walls and the timber ceiling beams, becoming part of the very building itself. Then the man on stage smiled, and it was like a spell breaking it’s hold, the other patrons clapping and sniffling while the musician took a regal bow, bending low at the waist with his hand spread out to the side.
A cold nose pressed again into the side of her neck and the girl jerked slightly, blinking and raising a hand to press against her now wet cheek. Ducking her head she swiped at moist eyes, hastily scrubbing away at tear tracks she hadn’t felt forming. The polecat chittered again, and this time the girl responded to the animal. “I’m fine, Gale. Thanks.”
“Don’t be embarrassed,” A baritone voice spoke up with a carefree lilt to the words. “That song always moves people to tears. Well, the right people, in any case.”
Looking up, the girl found herself face to face with the musician. He was standing easily behind the bar, looking very much like he belonged there. There was now a nametag pinned to his collared shirt, but she didn’t waste time reading what was probably another new name for the man she had known for the better part of six years.
“I wouldn’t imagine anyone could resist the call of your music.” Her tone turned wistful. “I haven’t heard you sing in a while, Ihy.”
The minor god shrugged a shoulder. “You haven’t been around for a while, Half-pint. I take to the stage once every couple of months,” he winked, “gives those young and upcoming maestros something to aspire towards.”
The old nickname pulled a smile from her lips, despite the seriousness of her visit. “Big shoes to fill.” She said conversationally.
“One day they all outgrow them.” Ihy said, his eyes roving over her with a hint of sorrow to their shine. Then he smiled at her, and it was as warm as the absent sun. “So- what can I get for an old friend? I’ve got a fresh shipment of Rose Gold apple cider, one of your favorites if memory serves. Hah- if memory serves, get it?” The god laughed at his own joke.
She waited for him to compose himself before speaking. “I’m afraid I’m not here for a drink. I’ve come to call in a favor.”
The mirth faded from the man’s eyes, his small grin falling as he studied the girl again. His crystalline depths seemed to look into her, through her, seeing what was unable to be seen. Ihy’s eyes lingered on the marbled creature perched on her shoulder for a long moment, before his posture slumped slightly, a hand reaching up to smooth his waxed back hair.
“ Nubu'at alfitna .” He cursed softly. “I had a feeling it was about that time. The moon’s gone dark long ago.”
If the girl was confused by what the god had said she did a good job of masking it, her gaze steady as stone and lips pressed in a grim line. She said nothing though, and after another moment of silence between them Ihy spoke again.
“I don’t suppose there is anything I could do to convince you not to go through with this?” It was less a question and more of a resigned statement.
The girl shook her head, straight hair swaying back and forth with the motion like a shimmering veil of darkness. “You could try,” She admitted honestly, a note of guilt entering her words. “You could use all of the words in your vast vocabulary, but you would be unable to string together any sentence I haven’t already told myself. You could try to stop me with magic or by force, but it wouldn’t work.” Her tone turned regretful as she pulled up the sleeve of her parka just enough to reveal the dark lines and symbols inked into her skin. One of them was glowing faintly, the same one she’d activated before entering the enchanted building. At the sight of it, the god’s eyes widened, face paling slightly. She pulled the sleeve back down, covering the marks. “I’d stop you before you could hurt me. I wouldn’t want to, but I would.”
“Oh, Half-pint.” Ihy’s voice was a sigh, full of regret and sorrow as he reached out a hand to cover hers gently. “You would go to such lengths? Why? If Amal were here he’d-”
“If Amal were here he would tell me I’m looking for the stars while being blinded by the moon. He would say to live as the wind and dance with the tides. He would weave a thousand words in my ear to try and convince me otherwise.” She pulled her hand out from under his and off the table, tone sharpening like glass; easily fractured but dangerous once broken. “But Amal is dead. He has no say in what I do now, no words left to tell me.”
“I’m sorry, Ihy.” Her voice retreated from that fragile state, hardening with resolve. “But Amal isn’t coming back from the afterlife. I’ve learned many names since that day but none can change the past, and none can prevent the future. Believe me when I say I looked for them.” Her eyes slipped to the grain of the countertop and she took a breath. “This is something I must do.”
There was silence between them for a long moment, one filled only by the tension that came with knowledge of what was to come without any way of preventing it. “Well then,” The gods voice was strained when he spoke. “I see you’ve already laid the first stone of your temple.”
“I can’t sit idly by anymore.” She spoke with a tinge of desperation, as if willing him to understand. “I won’t . How can I? When I can see the despair wrought by their hands. When they continue to sit idly by and do nothing- ” Her words were cut off by the creature on her shoulders, the polecat nuzzling her neck gently and bringing her out of her rant. The gods eyes lingered on the animal as the girl took a steadying breath. “I won’t let them bring this world to ruin.”
Ihy tore his attention from the polecat, nodding and letting out a long sigh as he looked out over the rundown bar with a faraway longing to his gaze. Eventually he sighed again, the sound more brief, like he'd made up his mind about something and he reached out a hand. It slipped into nothing, disappearing into the veil between worlds for a brief moment. When it emerged the god was holding a device shaped like a rattle; with a long stem and three metal bands with beads circling the upper portion. It was a well worn thing, the wood smooth from decades of care and polish. Ihy placed it in the space between them, his hand lingering on the wood for a long time, and when he finally removed it it appeared as though his energy had gone with it, the slump to his shoulders more pronounced, the light in his eyes dimmer than they had been moments before.
Even his voice seemed heavy as he said, “Part of me had hoped you’d forgotten about this method.”
She didn’t look at him, eyes glued to the instrument. “I never forgot.”
“I know. Still I’d hoped. When will you do it?” He asked, curiosity getting the better of him as she tucked the gift away safely in an inner coat pocket. The brief reveal of the skin around her neck and shoulders displayed more of the symbols, these half hidden behind the folds of her clothing.
“Moonrise. Tonight.”
“Ahh, an auspicious time.” He was smiling again, but it was forced, strained at the edges. “In that case I’d better close early tonight. Perhaps I’ll play one more song. It may be a while before I’m able to again.” When she said nothing, Ihy reached out, grasping her shoulder and forcing the girl to meet his gaze. “Promise me, you won’t forget who you are.”
“I promise.”
“I’m serious , Shani.” And the use of her real name garnered her full attention, though not the kind he’d expected, the girls’ eyes, formerly alight with staunch determination, now clouded over. She closed them so he could not look into their depths, could not see the truth of what she had already done in preparation for this night.
“I promise on the River Styx.” She said, assuaging his worries and feeling his hand release her from its grasp. A brief flare of pain clutched at her chest upon making the trans-magical vow, but it was a trifle thing to her, protection sigils lighting beneath her jacket to spare her the worst of it.
The presence of the creature around her neck was a tangible reminder that she couldn’t afford to have any reservations. So she schooled her expression before looking back at the god. Ihy was frowning, perhaps some part of him realizing something was off, but she spoke before he had a chance to think on it for more than a few seconds. “Thank you, Ihy. You are a god of your word and for that I am sorry for the chaos I am about to unleash. I never meant for you- for anyone to get caught in the crossfire, however inevitable it may be.”
Wooden floorboards creaked beneath her feet as she stood, taking a step away from the bar, head dipping in a respectful bow. “Take care, my friend.”
“Farewell, Shani Najima. May our paths cross again.”
She didn't correct him on what he'd said, unwilling to admit to what she'd done, what she'd become in preparation. So she instead turned, leaving the bar in favor of the cold winter streets, hearing the soft lullaby being hummed casually by the god behind her as the door swung shut. The magical wardings pulled at her, the spells attempting to rewrite her memories of the bar, but the sigil she’d activated earlier flared in response, countering the attempt and leaving her breathing heavily from the toll of resisting such powerful magic.
It took a long moment for her to compose herself, standing against the worn brick wall taking measured breaths, listening to the gentle sounds of the wind and feeling the cold kiss of snowflakes on her cheeks. From inside, a familiar melody began to play, a slow Gaelic ballad, both sad and hopeful. Even through the walls she could hear the gods voice as he sang, and it sounded as if the very air itself was carrying the lyrics to her ears and her ears only.
That old wind has come again,
It says things only my heart can hear,
I have known, that someday I would leave.
I’ve heard that song many times before,
I am strong enough now to endure,
I am ready, o’ wind take me home.
Her lips mirrored the chorus, silently harmonizing with Ihy on a chorus that she knew better than the back of her hand, better than the names of the planets and the stars in their celestial realm.
Come lift me to the skies,
Breathe life into my heart again,
O’ wind take me back through time,
To the place where I’ve never been: Home.
She was not naive enough to imagine it to be a coincidence. That his final song would be the one she’d first sang for him all those years ago, when life was an adventure waiting to be lived. As the god began to pluck at the instrumental bridge, she pushed away from the wall and began making her way down the street, back the way she came. The gods music trailed behind her like a mournful procession, slowly fading as the distance grew.
All was not ready just yet, she still had one more stop to make.
The girl ducked into a crevice between two of the buildings, out of sight regardless of the fact that there were few mortals around to bear witness. Reaching out her hand, she parted the veil between worlds, siphoning the energy from each layer until she found what she was looking for. Grasping her objective, she retracted the appendage, and to any not well versed in magical sight, it would’ve looked like she had just materialized a small stone obelisk from nothing. The carving was scarcely a foot tall, and on each side Greek symbols had been carefully etched on the rock face.
Wordlessly, she placed it on the uneven, snow-touched ground. Taking a step back, the girl with ebony hair closed her eyes, concentrating. There was a sharp flash of royal purple, the space above the monolith crackling as an ovular doorway swirled into existence. A scent of bay leaves mixed with the white quartz sand that filled the space, and soon the portal was large enough for a person to traverse easily. Showing none of the same hesitation from earlier, the girl opened her eyes and strode through.
The moment her back foot had fully crossed the sandy plane, the magic fell; portal vanishing in a crack of energy. Had anyone been around to look closer, they would’ve noticed that the stone obelisk was now split cleanly down the center, it’s two equal halves toppled to lay on the alley concrete. They may have wondered what something so artistic was doing in a backstreet. They may have marveled at the straightness of the cut. But as it were, none but the wind and the clouds were present to bear witness, and the snow slowly covered what remained, hiding it from the world as if it was never there to begin with.