Death of a goddess

It had been ten years. Serafina and Neite had taken place at the head of the kingdom of man, the goddess and her guardian, assisting the king and queen. Leading the armies of humans as generals in their own right, alongside their armies of angels. It was never what she wanted. Sara sat on top of a statue outside in the castle gardens, her legs dangling over the side of the stone horse's back as she watched the sun go down. A pensive look occupying her face as she studied the dusk drawn sky. She didn't want to become involved in any human conflict. She knew, no man deserved to face the likes of beings beyond their comprehension. Humans did nothing to earn the hoards of demons that Marchosias threw at them.

It had started with her. She felt responsible for this war, this vengance that the man she'd used to consider like a brother to her. He was keen on destroying everything in his path, and all because she rejected him. Rejected his heart and rejected his declarations of love. For she did not love him, she couldn't. Her heart belonged elsewhere, and she would not lie to him. And this infuriated him. The other god befouled her name, and declared her an enemy, and since then the war had dragged on.

She was getting tired. The people were tired. With every battle more and more hope was lost. The hopes that his anger would subside were vanishing. And the death toll was rising. As the death toll rose... more and more people lost their faith in her. Their deaths only contributed to the army of hellbeasts bent on causing destruction.

But still they fought, for they had no other choice. Perhaps, she wondered, she could have done more. She could have used her full strength, expended all of the power she could utilize in the void to put an abrupt and final stop to it. She knew that no army of demons could truly stand up to her, if she did, but she didn't want to do that.

She was afraid. Afraid of the void. Something she had never told anyone. For as much power as she possessed, it was but a fraction of the swirling dark, a place wrought with terrible ability to do great good, or great evil. She had some good to her heart, she wanted to create, and love her creations. But her brothers... She had watched them be consumed by the dark. Watched them give in to their greed and ambitions. She'd seen the power corrupt them. And she knew, that so long as she still stood as some beacon of light, she could not risk something as such befalling herself. If she were to do that, then who would protect mortal life? The world she had created? As much power as the void could offer her, she did not view it as the answer. It was too dangerous, too uncontrollable. She would instead accept it.

This war was only exemplary of that. She could sense her other 'brother' behind it all. Egging on their third's anger, roiling him into a rage that made him want to crush all in his path. She knew he was hurting others to hurt her. And she could sense, somewhere in her mind, that it was coming to an end. There simply wasn't enough army left. She'd sent the mortals away, sent them to take refuge in a nearby kingdom. At least, the ones that were still alive. She'd insisted she, and her army of angelic spirits would protect their homes, the castle, they would stop the line of demons then and there. They had to.

She knew, somewhere in the back of her mind, all along that it was not meant to be. But still, she would fight. She would fight even the inevitability she foresaw with clarity, because regardless of fate she was aware of the decision she had to go down with dignity and strength instead of trying to flee or show cowardice in the face of the disaster she could sense. She could not see the specifics, and because of that, she still had hope. Hope that they could win, even if it cost her greatly. But something else weighed on her mind.

"Sara" Neite called to her from below, already in his armor. He practically lived in it, she was half certain he slept in it. "The west armies say they'll be here by mid-evening." he told her formally. She nodded to him. She could not tell him what was coming even if she wanted to. Surely, if she did, he'd send her away.

"Thank you." she answered him, moving to slide off of the statue she would have dropped to her feet but he reached his arms to catch her, his hands resting on her hips as he set her down on her feet gracefully. She had little doubt he would. "Are you ready to face them? We will be heavily outnumbered..." She asked him.

He let her go and regarded her "Of course I am." he answered her confidently. She was not surprised, he always had such strong drive and belief in their cause, even when she struggled.

"I'm sorry to have asked." she chuckled quietly as she reached a hand up to touch a finger lightly to his forehead. Just a small gesture, something she did occasionally. It was a magical ward, an extra benefit to his abilities of perception, a gift for the upcoming fight. But it was more than that. Within his thoughts she'd hidden something, a message for him. A message for him to read upon her death, one he could not see until it came.

She had great hope that he would survive, he had to. He was a strong warrior, the one who would never fall. Even through the hardships of war he stood strong and tall and confident against every threat that his creator had thrown at them. And more importantly, she loved him. She loved him enough to suffer her own death and its consequences, to give herself over to the opposing army if she had to. If it meant ending this war and saving him that sorrow.

She knew that if she died, she would return to the world someday. But if he did....would he? She was too mortified to consider the answer to that question . But she was more afraid of him never knowing the truth. "Neite I...." she tried to tell him as she moved her hand away. Tried to push her voice to say what her heart felt. Despite her superficial strength, she felt weak. She felt powerless to face the possibility of his rejecting her. She wanted him to know... but she didn't want to spend the next hundreds of years with a broken heart either.

"What is it Sara?" he asked her earnestly. Oblivious to the turmoil in her mind. He read it as simple worry, anxiety for the battle to come.

"I...." she tried again, but followed her effort with a deep sigh "...Do not worry of it... I'm just... Nervous." she said simply. "Will you be at the front lines?" she asked him. To her slight surprise he shook his head.

"No, I will stay with you. We are cornered here, this place is defended on three sides but it means we are trapped in here when they come." he explained. "I will not leave you alone when our army is at its weakest, Sara." he affirmed to her, bowing slightly.

She looked to him again, her eyes studying his movements, he was always so genuine in his actions,his loyalty. "Neite.... I fear this will not end well... we may.. lose this post." she said to him. She knew more than she was letting on but it was not necessarily a lie. "You should be ready to retreat if things go poorly, have you gotten the underground routes?" she asked him.

He answered her question with another nod "Of course, we are not novices, Sara. We have prepared all means of escape and retaliation possible. You worry too much." he said to her. Offering the faintest of smiles. He seemed to find it amusing how fretful she could be over every little thing, not because he thought her worry to be funny, but perhaps because she worried more for others than herself when he saw her as the one he was meant to protect, not them.

She reached a hand to move a few stray strands of hair out of her face and over her shoulder "Yes.... Perhaps I do worry too much. But I have good reason. Just... remember to retreat if things take a turn for the worst." she hoped the words would stick, that he would remember them when he needed to the most, that he'd listen to her.

A sinking feeling in her heart told her he wouldn't.

He only gave her a salute. Agknowledging her words, but it was not at all the promise she was looking for. She could not tell if his evasion was intent or consequence, but she only watched as he turned to walk away. She looked again to the sky as the deep blue of night took over.

She followed him into the castle, past the angel soldiers building up the barricades. She was to remain in the throne room, the center and safest point of the castle. It had been ideal for her presence to not be there at all, Neite had tried to talk her away from it but she'd refused. Her stubborn nature made her hard to argue with once she'd put her mind to something and the best he could do in return was to stay with her to keep her safe.

She could damage the enemy army without much hassle from the safety of the castle, using her potent magical abilities it was possible to keep that distance between them. If she had it her way she'd have reverted to her god form, the natural form of her body, and been at the castle gates to rip apart anyone who dared step in her path. Neite had quickly shut down that idea, for that invited too much risk of injury.

For as much hassle as he gave her for her fears, he worried just the same. Maybe not about everything, but about her and her safety. She was always touched by it, even if it was occasionally frustrating. Neite separated from her in the hall, an unspoken agreement between them to meet up later. He had his final rounds to make before the onslaught would begin. She made her way to the throne room where she'd spend what she knew to be her final hours. She looked around the room, casting her eyes on the tiles, the seat of the king. She felt tears welling in her eyes. "Will they forgive me..?" she wondered aloud. She didn't have it in her to cry, not fully.

She walked to the throne and sat upon it to rest. Perhaps in another world it would be disrespectful, but in such a circumstance and given her status she doubted the king would mind. She curled her legs close to her, her white gown draping down the slick metal surface of the seat. She didn't want any of this.

She'd created life to live, not to fight all the time, not to suffer such miseries. She didn't hate Marchosias, she never wanted to denounce him as someone who mattered to her. She only made the mistake of not loving him. And now it had come to this.

She was lost in her thoughts for hours, just running through possibilities in her mind, trying to drill out fears. Trying to make it make sense in her head. Trying to remove the regrets she had, or rationalize them to something she could cope with. To mentally prepare for the disaster to come.

It came too soon. The distant horn of a battle cry, piercing the tension filled night. She opened her eyes. He was already there. Neite stood at the bottom of the stairs to the throne before her, his armor gleaming in the moonlight filtering through the stained glass windows, reflecting color like starlight in the darkness of the room. He wasn't looking at her, his gaze was fixated on the front door. Waiting for the first opponent to make the mistake of opening it.

She knew he would not remove his focus from there, not willingly at least. She stood slowly. Walking over to him. She knew he could sense her there and moving closer because he instinctively reached a hand to her without moving his steadied gaze. Even if he'd be waiting for some time, his thoughts were focused on the battle at hand and relaying telepathic orders to his troops. She would not distract him with words.

She took his hand in hers, and moved forward fluidly, instead of only holding onto his gloved hand she moved to his chest to hug him, wrapping her arms over his shoulders and armor and hiding against him. He intuitively wrapped his arm around her as he followed the movement of her body against his. "Sara what are you doing?" he asked her, without moving his eyes.

"I'm afraid." she answered him honestly. She had nothing of it to hide. She had assumptions he knew that anyway. He did not answer her audibly, he just pulled her tighter against his chest.

"I'm tired of being afraid. Tonight we end this." He answered her after a few moments of lingering silence.

She closed her eyes, she'd expect nothing less of him. She remained silent, as the howls of demons and clash of angel's blades tore through the silence of what should have been a peaceful night.