The Morrigan Pt. 4

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We fall slowly, as if the air tries to push us back to the cliff, back to safety. I watch my hair flutter above my body, then turn in the wind to see the quickly approaching ocean surface, which glimmers an inviting dark cerulean. When my skin first meets the icy water, it's a jolt that squeezes my soul. I suck in a sharp breath, and my lungs fill with salt, but pain does not accompany the cold.

Cormac lets go of my hand and floats upward, but I let myself hover in the twilight void for a moment longer, watching rays of light shatter and reconstruct beneath the shifting waves. At the surface, the boy paddles in patient circles.

"Is it what you imagined?" I ask, taking in the brisk air. He grins wildly.

"Even better. I've never done anything like that before."

I return his smile, but a flicker of apprehension burns at the base of my skull, and nausea creeps up my throat.

His time is soon; my heart tells me so.

"Care to watch the sunset?" I ask, guiding him to a patch of shore with soft sand instead of pebbles. If I can distract him, he won't even notice his withering tether to this planet.

We sit side by side, and I lean back on my hands with my legs outstretched toward the dying sun. Cormac remains cross-legged with his chin resting in his palm, and he stares out across the beryl-blue expanse. The view is spectacular, but I can't tear my gaze away from his poor, declining human body.

"I wish I could have stayed longer," he whispers, breaking the silence. "Or maybe not wasted so much time."

I know, I want to shout. I'm so sorry, I'm so, so sorry.

"You have not wasted anything," I assure him. "Mortality never suited you. I can see you were meant to last much longer than you have."

He glances at me, this time tearless. He is fortified, but with acceptance, not anger or resentment toward that which he cannot control.

"Morrigan," he murmurs, reaching for my hand. "I'm a little tired. Can I lay with you?"

I nod. He does not suspect a thing, of that much I am sure. I lay on my side, facing the burning sea, and he curls in front of me with his head resting on my arm. His breaths grow shallow as the minutes pass, as our shore dips into shadow, and I wrap my other arm around him to keep the chill at bay.

For years, I've allowed Mirage to exploit my power... I've allowed myself to be complicit. I am a god. Above all, I am allowed to connect with whomever I want.

"There is beauty in the end of every day," I say. "Much like the beginning."

The boy squeezes my hand.

"Dusk and dawn are not so different, Cormac... and the night will not last forever. There will always be another sunrise, you just have to be there to watch it."

His grip loosens, and the body in my arms falls limp. I sense his energy depart, leaving the shell behind, and a warmth hangs in the air just behind me.

"Thank you," he says, his voice holding a deep hum. "For staying with me. I'm ready to go now."

Cormac looks brighter as he stands, leaving no indent in the sand below his ever-so-slightly luminous feet. His cheeks are fuller, his eyes brighter... even his posture commands reverence, as if his courage and pride have finally returned.

He reminds me of my neighbors back home, of those who cannot die, except his smile is more true.

A dangerous thought crosses my mind... what if?

What if he could not die?

"I have only ever had one friend as lovely as you," I tell him. "And no other human has been such a privilege to meet... perhaps you and I could remain friends?"

Cormac tilts his head, and his brow furrows.

"Yeah, of course. Why wouldn't we?"

I shake my head, eyes downcast. He does not understand.

"I cannot find you, wherever you go," I say. "I can only guide you there, and that is the end. But perhaps... perhaps you could join me."

"Join you? Where?"

My feeble human heart pounds.

"On Mirage," I blurt, resting my hands on his shoulders. "You could be immortal, like me, like the rest of the deities. We could stay friends for the rest of time, and even when this world is gone, we may move on together."

I can tell he actually ponders this, because he refuses my gaze. The turmoil within his spirit hisses like a violent electricity, but he subdues it quickly. When his eyes return to mine, they carry only a bitter sweetness.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. "Believe me, that sounds amazing... but I just can't. I don't belong in Mirage, and you must know that. I have to be where my family is, as much as I want to be your friend... I'm so sorry."

For the first time in three and a half billion years, a hot, disgusting, human tear slides down my cheek. Cormac is right, but being correct doesn't take away the misery of losing him. I had hoped, if only for a moment, that I might have a soul who truly enjoyed my company.

And now the second one who ever did has to leave.

"I understand," I reply. "You belong with your people."

He nods, and reaches for my hand.

"I want to be with my mom."

Instantly, I see her: a beautiful woman, graying brown hair and magnificent green eyes. She sits in a sunny field, alone with nothing but a paperback book in her lap. She is waiting for her son; she's been waiting a long time. Her paradise is much like mine: a grassy hill, warm and sunny, but it is midday and all sorts of small furry creatures roam the field.

In a heartbeat, we're with her. A smile breaks across her face at the sight of her son, but she doesn't pay me any mind. I don't recognize her, either.

The two of them embrace, hugging for an eternity before Cormac turns to me. His grin fades.

Goodbye.

He mouths the word as if it's too agonizing to say out loud. I open my mouth to say it back, to bid my newest friend farewell, but his mother's paradise rejects my presence enough to spit me out before I get the chance.

Back in the void between our worlds, I shudder. He is gone.

I stare at the planet, its swirling greens and blues, its smudges of land and its dancing storms. Miles down, I know there are billions more souls, millions perhaps waiting their turn to take my hand.

A second tear, sharper than the other, pierces my skin in the cold, and my breath billows in a cloud of steam before me.

I cannot lose a friend like that again.

I cannot make a friend like that again.

For too long, Mirage has restricted my privilege while forcing me to do their evil work, the despicable acts none else are capable of doing. I am done playing a part I never chose.

A wave of energy rolls across my skin.

Levi picked his name based on an accurate depiction of his powers as a deity – I did not. None of the humans ever witnessed my power, because none ever remained to speak of it.

I am Death: in theory and in substance, I am the thief of Life.

And I am tired of taking it.

Tendrils of black smoke, darker than the thickest night and more fluid than the oceans of salt, snake between my trembling fingers. They grow in size until a shadow falls over the tiny planet, until I can hear the shrieks of the humans below and smell the terror in their souls.

I have been despised in two worlds since the beginning of time, and not once have I committed a single atrocity to deserve such hatred.

But now, I'll give the deities a reason to dislike me. The humans, they do not deserve the suffering I bring them, and I don't think I deserve the suffering either.

I told Cormac I was freeing him, not knowing I'd have to convince myself that's what I'm doing for the rest of them... How foolish of me to believe a statement like that would be anything but dangerous.

It helps me justify what comes next.

My suffocating smoke descends upon Earth, blasting craters and boring holes deep into the crust, past the magma below, to the planet's core. Its heat burns my face, its dizzying magnetism threatens to throw me off balance, but I steady my hands and plant my feet firmly in the energy that holds me in the void.

The core is millions of times more solid than the crust, but it is no match for a god.

I push harder, and the Death finally penetrates.

I watch the planet erupt in a massive ball of searing flame, and chunks of material whiz past my head, missing by inches.

Earth is no more.

When I return to Mirage, Levi is waiting for me on my hill, a frown across his face, but the rest of the deities stand behind him. He is the only one who approaches me.

"Morrigan..." he murmurs, taking my hand.

I say nothing, because there is no need to explain myself. We were all attached to the humans in our own ways, and now we simply are not.

Levi frowns, gives my hand a pitiful squeeze, and turns back to Mirage's devastated inhabitants. He takes a deep breath.

At the very least, I know he understands.

"Our time here is done," he says. "It is time to move on."

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