Chapter 7: Those Who Must Sin(Conclusion)
“Do you remember now?” Valor gently questions.
Hanging her head low, feeling emotions clashing deep within her. The god looking on as she grips his blade in her hand. Resolve deep within. Memories clashing inside of her, sorrow flowing ever so deep, making its way to the surface.
The edge of his blade cutting into her hand, blood seeping through. The maiden slowly removing the blade from her chest, blood slowly pouring out. Valor looking on in shock, malevolence beginning to brightly burn from her. The darkness changing into a pure white color. Blood gushing out of her chest even more.
“These memories...who...am I...?!”
Her voice painful, her eyes needing answer. Anger extending from them. The maiden removing the blade, taking a step back, dashing away from the god. Valor looking on, trying desperately to have her remember.
“Please...enough of this...!” Valor pleading.
Extending her blade, the maiden rushing at him once again. From deep inside, Valor yelling, wondering why things must always end in such a way. Hating himself for being unable to do anymore. Maria approaching him, moving her blade, swiftly striking at him. The god intercepting her assault in that instant, their eyes meeting once again. Sorrow clearly showing from his eyes. The force of the attack sending her weapon flying high. Maria looking above in shock. Valor appearing above her weapon, locking onto the hilt of the sword. His foot connecting into the hilt, sending it flying straight in her direction. Regret expressing deep in his eyes.
The maiden looking on in devastation. The weapon approaching, colliding through her chest. Maria’s eyes widening, trembling in shock. Everything crashing down all around her. To think this battle can end in such a way.
The maiden falling back upon the ground, laying with her eyes open in devastation. Valor landing on the ground. The deity turning from her, his hands shaking in frustration. Hanging his head low, grief expressing upon him.
“You are Cyra...a mother who tried to save her daughter...a woman who suffered her entire life. Under the rule of her Demon Tyrant father who arranged a marriage for her. A woman who knew the joys of life despite the ill fate bestowed upon her. A woman who became my best friend...” he speaks with a heavy heart.
“Right...I only wish this time, it would not have had to end like this...” he falls to his knees.
“I—It is okay, Valor...” she weakly speaks.
The god standing from the ground, turning in her direction. Valor walking up to her, feeling as if time is slowing down all around him. The god soon kneeling to her, looking down into her eyes. After so many years, he can finally see those eyes once more. Extending her hand to him, the deity holding her hand in his own. Dread clearly expressing from his eyes.
“I—I tried to save my daughter...but I...I...” there are tears in her eyes.
“I know...the process failed...and the end result was your very spirit being broken...” he looks away.
“Valor...can you...can you tell me that story one more time...?” she weakly questions.
The deity looking towards her with such painful eyes. Remembering the day he will tell her of such. Her curiosity with the many stories of the worlds. The many places there are. The god cannot deny a request of hers.
“Long ago...there were two beings of a different world. One of the high heavens, one of the world below. The two races would stand in opposition of each other, but then one day. That of the high heavens...would venture down in search of adventure, and they would meet the one of the world below. They would connect as soon as they met, and would travel far and wide. Time would go on, and their joy would seem to be an endless dream...yet all dreams would come to an end. That of the world below would have to say farewell to that of the high heavens. The one from the high heavens...would try and express their long held emotions, but it would do no good, and their words would go unsaid. The being from the world below in much disappointment would turn, and say farewell before leaving forever...” Valor depressingly recites.
“Ho—how funny huh...how our lives can mirror that of a mere story...” she weakly smiles
“Indeed...Cyra...” he agrees, tears beginning to fill the eyes of the maiden.
The god knowing that he has been foolish in the past. That at least he can try to make up for some of those wrongs. Looking towards his old friend, the maiden holding her index finger to his lips. Valor looking towards her in confusion. Cyra slowly nodding her head in refusal.
“It is a bit pointless to say...what was meant that night...after all...my time...is—”
The deity hearing her fading voice. Valor’s eyes widening in horror. The supreme god beginning to feel her hand growing cold. Tears starting to well within his eyes. Those nightmares becoming reality once again.
“—Over now...farewell...Val...I am...so happy...to have met you once again...” she weakly speaks.
Valor feeling her hand growing cold, the god feeling his stomach churning. Fear building from deep within him. The deity looking towards her, their eyes meeting once again. Sorrow clearly expressing from his own. Cyra smiling at him, his eyes widening more. Feeling her resistance fading away faster by the moment.
“Perhaps...in another life...things can be different, where we can say what we really meant...that night...” she speaks in her final breath. A tear falling from her eye as her head turns.
Valor looking on in devastation. The tear drop hitting the ground, the god quickly holding her in his arms. Desperation taking hold of him, that old friend trying to think of any way to keep her there. However, not even he can manipulate life and death.
“Cyra...! Cyra!!” he urgently shakes her. Tears clearly showing from his eyes.
“Cccyyyrrraaa!!!” he screams out, tears spilling from his eyes.
The deity reliving that very nightmare, watching her head turning to her side. Valor quietly sobbing. Those tears soon turning into a loud scream. Standing from the ground, looking down upon her. Agony deep in his eyes. The god extending his hand to Lævateinn, a negative energy refusing to allow him to take hold of the weapon. Valor pulling his hand away, distantly looking at the weapon.
“There is no point, she is long gone, at least let me take her back to that place...” he depressingly speaks
The god hearing the crying weapon. Lævateinn refusing to move. Valor can very well understand its pain, the god deciding to cooperate with it. Kneeling to the maiden, lifting her within his arms. The weapon keeping perfectly still as to not cause anymore damage. Valor turning away, walking onward, carrying the lifeless body. Time refusing to move onward. All he can do is think of one thing that will make her happy, and so, he returns to that place. Underneath the tree within those grassy plains. The beginning where they would first encounter. The light of the sun shining down upon them. Placing her body down underneath the tree, Lævateinn still refusing to budge. The deity standing up, painfully smiling down at her.
“Well...we’re back here...sorry it couldn’t be any sooner,” he slightly looks away.
His painful smile soon fading into complete anguish. Wondering what kind of sick joke this is. To live through her demise twice. Turning away from his old friend. Unable to bear the sight any longer.
The god walking onward, feeling the gentle breeze hitting against him. This memorable place. Valor knowing that this area will be of most preference to her. Perhaps they have come to this area once again, but not in the way he will ever imagine.
What kind of a sick game is this...? To lose her twice. Perhaps it would have been better if she was confused...but then...would she really have been happy...? Knowing her, she would welcome death than to live as a puppet. Still...why did it have to be by my hands...? I guess...this is where we truly part Cyra. Perhaps what was meant to be said that night was never meant to be at all. Was I simply fooling myself...? Heh...perhaps I was...screw these damned worlds...forget this...let it burn in Hell for all I care...it means nothing to me...
The fallen god walking away from the scene. Struggling with each step to move further and further away. Cyra laying there with her blade within her chest. There is a faint smile upon her face. One can say in her final moment, she has been happy. Even if it means death. To live as a puppet to one’s own mind will be no different than being a slave. To have no free will. Death is the outcome in the end. Rather than to continue living an illusion, she will have much prefer death, and her old friend knows this.
In the wake of turmoil, even if despair is all she has, she continues to fight valiantly, triumphing over her enemies, until the very end, even in the harshest of times. That is how the god remembers her, and that is how she has been all the way towards the end. Always remaining that softhearted person deep within.