I have ended men. Kings. Seasons. Species. Expired gods turned monsters. I have buried entire civilizations under silence and made memory bleed into myth. I’ve pressed my palms against the trembling edge of existence and shattered its illusions one by one.
I can erase pain. Erase trauma. For humanity, it is simple. A breath. A lull. A welcome home. I take the temporary and return it to the nothingness from which it came.
But she, Fate, is not temporary.
And neither is his suffering.
Fate endures. And so does the agony she brands into him. He, the Wind, bearer of justice, healer of the world, the one who gave everything. He cannot be healed.
She is chained, yes. The sea is quiet at last.
But it is not peace. It is prison.
And every prison demands a keeper. He is that keeper. He holds her bounds in silence, his arms aching with eternity, his mercy mistaken for peace. But I know what it is. It is misery.
You sing of victory. You sing of love. And that is beautiful. And your triumph is his punishment. Your safety is his sacrifice. The Wind cannot leave. He is as chained as she.
He gave the world hope. He gave the world renewal. He gave it light.
And what did he receive in return? No freedom. No peace. Only vigilance. Only grief.
He trembles and no one sees. His breath hitches between battles, and I give him my soul to keep him standing. But every time I do, she resists harder, she tries to tear at him, escape the prison and make him hers again. Every gift becomes a burden.
Even our bond condemns him. Because I divide him from her. And she demands him whole.
He cannot truly rest. So I rest for him. I lend him my essence so he can stand just a moment longer. I watch him sleep, not in peace, but in exhaustion so deep the stars dim in empathy. And when he sleeps, borrowing my inferior soul, she stirs. And the tide begins again. And he must tiredly push her back.
He cannot win. I cannot save him. Even together, we only slow her rage as much as we fuel it. I erase her lies. He holds her back. We contain what cannot be destroyed. Because the universe won’t let me end her.
I am only the shadow of comfort.
And he is only the sentinel of grief.
He tried to escape once. Honorable. Foolish. Divine in his defiance. He believed. I believed. But love makes fools of gods.
He cannot be free. Freedom would unmake the world.
So he suffers. So I suffer with him.
Because what else can we do?
He saved me from her darkness. Gave me shape. Gave me name. Gave me purpose. But I, Oblivion, who was meant to end things, cannot end her. Cannot end his pain. Can return the everything that he gave me. Because I am nothing.
You, Ceyx and Alcyone. You carry peace in your lungs, unaware it still forged from his agony. You are the only heroes. Because he is still. Will always be. Her victim.
You’ve earned your wings, now fly free through the joyful eternity of humanity to do as you please, as we endure the miserable eternity of the gods, to do as we may.
I wish it were him who could be free. But he can’t. We carry the grief humanity would not be able to bear. It’s up to you to carry the hope we can’t have in return. I will erase the world’s trauma. You will remember the god who gave you your wings, but not the gods who still carry the sacrifice to your victory. You heroes need not be burdened by this truth. I can’t give you mercy like The Wind, but I can give you this. At least I can help you, though I can’t help him.
I give him my soul again and again. He carries it because his own cannot recover in time. Because he has not the luxury to carry it out of love alone. And I watch, helpless, as she takes more from him than I can ever give back.
He will never rest.
He will suffer for eternity.
And I will suffer with him.
~~~
The tide does not return what she has claimed,
Yet mercy stirs beyond where The Wind still weeps.
Grief binds his soul, and still the world stands free.
The sea does not forget, nor shall she release,
The universe won’t let me break the wave’s decree.
The tide does not return what she has claimed.
He spared the drowned; I watched, you flew to aid,
The waves grew jealous where devotion steeled.
Grief binds his soul, and still the world stands free.
No justice waits, yet we still remain,
Where no hope endures beneath our grief.
The tide does not return what she has claimed.
He cries out in pain, as his prisoner defies,
Two gods unite, but still can’t conquer the tide.
Grief binds his soul, and still the world stands free.
Though love remains upon the cursed shore,
No freedom stands where love once swore.
The tide does not return what she has claimed.
The Wind still weeps as sacrifice corrodes,
No victory remains where jealousy reigned.
The tide will not return the one she has ******.
Grief binds his soul, and still there is no justice for the beloved.