Dialogue between Anatol and Mysova

„You've arrived“, Mysova said, her mouth still showing a faint smile.

 

“That I have”, Anatol responded. “And you know why I am here”. He, too, was perfectly calm, although his countenance was devoid of any warmth.

 

“I could give you what you desire”, the goddess said, “but you do not understand the price at which it comes”.

 

Anatol frowned, and his answer was accompanied by a dry laugh. “I am well aware of the price; the risks. But the gods seemingly protect their immortality very jealously”.

 

Although Mysova was still smiling, she suddenly appeared very tired. “You mistake immortality for something else”, she said. “I may be a goddess, yet I also can fade until I eventually cease to be”.

 

“Nonsense”, Anatol responded, while his anger turned his previously serene face into a grimace. “You have existed since life came to be, and you will exist until life ceases to be!”

 

“Until life ceases to be”, the goddess repeated. “Yet I myself  do not possess what you desire. Just as your body wilts once it loses its lifeblood, so I will wilt if the life on this world is quenched.”

 

“That comparison is absurd. Life itself will never fully cease to exist, and neither will you!”

 

“All things have an end,  Anatol. But the eventual death of the universe will only come long, long after my own one.”

 

“When all life ends?”

 

“Before that. A being does not have to lose all of its lifeblood to die. Even the loss of small amounts leads to weakness. If the bleeding does not stop, the victim first loses consciousness, and then enters the long walk.”

 

“Big words for someone that never had to feel, indeed never could feel, how the life is hemorrhaging out of you.”

 

For the fracture of a second, genuine wrath filled Mysova's eyes, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come. When she answered, her lips formed a sad smile; similar to that she had brandished before – the smile of a mother who had to explain life's ugly truths to a child.

 

“When the sleepers and their deadly dirge marched through the provinces of Medua, I felt every victim like a needle driven into my flesh. I felt like I was burning when the Brynn and the Sahai slaughtered each other with cannons and arcane fire. I was almost driven insane from the pain I went through when hundreds of thousands died during the War of Ascendance.

Do you understand now, Anatol? Over the course of millenia, I too had to bleed; had to suffer. More than one mortal could ever bear. More than it...should.”

 

Anatol did not answer. Despite of her youthful appearance, he suddenly realized how old Mysova was. What she had seen. What she had to hide behind the guise of an ever-cheerful young woman if she did not wish to transfer her own sorrows upon those that prayed to her.

 

He dropped his shield first, then his sword. Although he knew how pointless it was, how little of the weight he could lift from her shoulders, he moved towards the goddess and embraced her. He expected to be pushed back, to be burned to cinders for this transgression; but, to his own surprise, the ageless entity in his arms did not struggle. Instead, she also slung her arms around him, laid her head onto his shoulders, and let out a sigh that seemingly spanned over hundreds of human lifetimes. Then, with a voice that was barely audible, she said two words.

 

“....thank you.”