The Death of Time

Lost in...

…On the road to reclamation or ruin

Despite herself, Ananke had somehow achieved the neigh impossible and helped repair the first Pillar of Time. Chronos hadn’t warned the mortal woman of the seeming impossibility of their task, and yet she had succeeded when he expected complete failure. So he decided to keep to himself the fact that this had been the easiest challenge to confront. The other three Pillars were in foreign Pantheons where he had no authority or allies. Then again, he also had no enemies to thwart them either. But they weren’t quite done with his own Pantheon yet, because Chronos was now more determined than ever to take this woman to Mnemosyne and get to the heart of her mystery. If she could handle the pain, fear and risks of this Pillar without balking, certainly she could master her own memories again.

The other thing Chronos kept from the mortal was the fact that he could feel his control over her body strengthening. It wasn’t yet at the point where he could wrest complete control from her, or even command her body properly yet, but since he’d removed some of the barriers between them and burrowed deeper into her psyche, he could feel more of her body. The rush of blood in those mortal veins was infuriatingly distracting, a constant thrum and flow of movement. Her heartbeat felt like a wild bird trying to break through the prison of her ribcage. But what Chronos liked the most about experiencing this mortal’s senses, was the taste of every inhale she took. The air was flavoured and rich in a way that Chronos hadn’t experienced for himself in eons. There was a sensation swirling in Ananke’s belly that he wasn’t enjoying though. It had started when Ananke had heard the wail of Metis’ son, the rebirth of the Pillar. It hadn’t faded since, although the fragmented pieces of ‘nake’s thoughts that Chronos could hear indicated that she wasn’t even aware of the ball of tension in her own gut.

There is no Time for hollow celebrations. We go to Mnemosyne to undo what Thanatos and the waters of Lethe have done. Chronos declared into Ananke’s mind.

If you say so. I don’t pretend to understand this demand of yours, but you seem rather insistent on it. So what, exactly, can I expect from this? Ananke asked in return, actually sounding a little tired.

The mortal who’s body he was sharing was formidable and remarkably driven, but she was still a fragile human enduring some rather epic events. It was taking a toll on her body, a fact that made Chronos momentarily hesitate. But his need to get to the heart of Ananke’s eerie numbness drove him onwards. Despite the vision he had seen of the oncoming pain Ananke would likely endure Chronos kept silent on it, suspecting that despite his initial assessments if this woman, she could handle the agony. I do not know which process Mnemosyne will use to return your stolen moments. But I do know that Thanatos bathed your spirit in the waters of forgetting to achieve those memory gaps. It won’t likely be an easy task to return them to you. But it is necessary. Chronos found the warning slipping out despite his intent to hide it from her. He expected the mortal to fight against the need to remember, against even more struggle and effort.

There are many things I could choose to forget. Remove the pain and memories that harvest it. But then I would lose those few precious moments as well. So let’s go retrieve my lost recollections. And maybe one day I’ll be able to ask this Thanatos of yours why he needed to take them. Ananke seemed to have an almost inhuman acceptance to her that made Chronos slightly marvel. He had known Gods and Fates with less practicality than this mortal. She was turning out to be a suitable tool after all.

Herald was silently waiting for Ananke, seeming to realize she was conversing with the incorporeal God inside her head. The immortal man looked awed and disturbed by what he had witnessed in the Olympian throne room, and by mortal woman who had survived the gauntlet to save them all. Around them, the ostentatious throne room had been converted into something much more organic, and somehow more magnificent. It touched all the senses, the richness of the rain dampened air no longer carried the dust of marble but instead was infused with the freshness of a morning meadow. The light that shone in the now roofless amphitheatre held no trace of the storm that had passed mere moments ago, it was vibrant and caressed the skin with silken tendrils that even Chronos could feel start to rejuvenate them all. There was a taste of life, a strange sense that sunk into the skin and felt full of potential, the exhausted stagnation of the Pantheon had fallen away. As Herald followed Ananke out, climbing over soft mossy knolls that were reclaiming the jagged stone and twisted metal, it was impossible not to see and hear the little critters that had long ago been banished returning. And Chronos was realizing just what had happened here.