*
AKUL HAD NOT returned so Eris held Daya's funeral alone.
She dug the grave beneath the oak tree, where Daya had climbed and sat in its branches, drawing things she saw, and knew, and others she had only heard. It took until sun down. Afterwards, Eris went to the field to pick daisies. She wove their stems and blossoms into a crown of sunlight.
Eris prepared the body, wiping down her daughter's arms and legs, cleaning the blood from her chest and face. She dressed Daya in petal-pink, her favorite color, and ran citrus oil through her hair, smoothing the strands until they laid flat along her back. Outside, the world was dark.
She placed the crown of daisies on Daya's head and wrapped bedsheets around her as a makeshift shroud before lowering her body into the grave. Eris collapsed next to the hole and bawled until it was morning. Then, long after Eris's tears had dried up, and her fingers were numb with cold, she tossed dirt on top of Daya's body.
Eris had buried her daughter with flowers; she had buried her mama and papa without. She had buried a hundred and six friends and neighbors in twelve years, and sadness, that overwhelming, crushing sadness, returned.
She went to bed hungry, and hoped to never wake again.
*
Each day after, Akul returned to their hut, never daring to step inside. But he left a basket of fruit and vegetables and left it on the porch. Occasionally, Eris heard him speak:
"You need to eat."
"At least drink."
"I will not let you waste away."
And every time, Akul spoke, Eris scoffed. For he had taken her heart and with it all the love she had for him, and he'd left her emptied. She was already a husk long before the lack of food shrunk her muscle and sagged her skin, and the thirst left her mouth burnt and dry.
Two moons had passed and Akul had come again, delivering food and water on her doorstep. Eris hadn't gone outside since Daya's death. She slept in Daya's bed, curled beneath Daya's sheets and clung to the last of Daya's scent. She sobbed every morning, and hurt every night.
She stared at Daya's drawings, tracing and re-tracing Daya's lines until her fingers were smudged with charcoal.
She'd thrown her vials into the fire pit and watched as the glass shattered. What use were they, these ingredients that could heal and sooth and calm, if they had failed her in her time of greatest need.
Eris wanted death, was hungry for it. For Akul to walk through the door and extend his hand, and she, like a starving carrion, would snap it up, and feast.
She'd be with Daya then in the Greenworld. And that's what mattered.
More moons passed. And Eris paced the hut, visiting Daya's room, rummaging through her clothes, staring at Daya's drawings.
Another moon came and went. Eris moved through the house, a specter, disturbing nothing, watching as dust gathered on Daya's bed, on her table, her clothes. She held a scrap of petal-pink fabric to her heart always.
She stared at the ceiling and remembered: dark hair, muted brown skin, her eyes, but rimmed with gold, his gold. Round face. Smiling. Always smiling.
Mama! A bug!
Mama! A flower!
Mama! I drew a waterfall just like you described.
Soft hands, small fingers. Warmth. So much warmth. And then Eris would crash onto the bed, and sob anew.
She barely ate, and wretched whatever she had forced into her stomach. The food had no taste, the world had no color, and Eris's life had no meaning.
Why hadn't Akul crossed the threshold and taken her hand?
*
She was angry when she heard Akul's footsteps on the porch, the scuffling of his shoes, and the thud of the basket placed before the door. Eris ripped it open, but he was already gone.
She glanced at the basket filled with oranges and wheat, a few potatoes, and a handful of greens. She kicked the basket over, watching as the oranges rolled and their peels got coated in dirt.
"Akul!" Eris screamed, her voice hoarse. "Akul! Take me to her!"
She stormed down the steps. "Akul!" Eris knew he heard her; he always had.
"Akul!" In a huff a rage, she tore through the wildflower field, all the brittleness of her bones giving way to the strength of her resolve. "Akul! Take me to Daya!"
She tripped and hit the ground. Her head throbbed, and she saw a figure come toward her. She closed her eyes and exhaled. Akul had come for her. He'd take her to Daya and she would be rid of this world for good.
When she opened her eyes, a hand was outstretched before her. She took it, only it wasn't Akul's.
Blue eyes in a pale face stared back at her instead. And he grinned.
Eris got to her feet. The stranger watched her intently. He wore robes like Akul's but blue and white. His hair was short. There was a dagger stashed in his waistband. An earring of a silver moon, dangled from his earlobe.
She dusted herself off. "And you are?"
His smile grew and she understood. He radiated coldness, and his skin shone with white luster. Very much a moon given shape. Not a man then, a god.
He gave no signal that he would answer her, so Eris whipped around, heading back to their hut. She would search for Akul again at daybreak, and hunt him down the day after, and the next day, if need be. Whatever it took.
"It's a shame about Daya," the man said and Eris froze.
A breeze blew between them, flowers battering Eris's shins as she stared the god down.
Though he conveyed sympathy, his eyes sparkled with delight.
"You're A'Cubei then," she said. "God of misery. Come to revel in my tragedy." She spun on him again, seeking to hold no court with any god beside Akul. Only Akul could give her what she wanted.
"My brother speaks of me." Eris heard the breaking of flower stems, knew A'Cubei was following her, but saw no need to turn around. She'd slam her door on him soon enough. "I wonder what kind of picture he paints with his words."
"A pathetic one," Eris hissed. She could make out their hut, and Daya's oak tree in the distance.
A'Cubei chuckled. "Then you and I are the same, dear sister."
Eris's fingers curled into fists. She rounded on him. "I am not–" He was right behind her, grinning. Around him, the flowers had withered, and the path he'd made through the field was black and winding.
He leaned forward, meeting Eris's gaze. "You are what, sister? Tell me. I'm eager to listen." Scales glistened along A'Cubei's forehead.
She recoiled, his very presence suffocating. "I'm furious."
"Of course you are. And why wouldn't you be? Brother had the power to save the girl," Eris's eyes settled on A'Cubei's face, "yet he didn't."
"He could have–" Eris started, the words flat, her tongue thick.
"Oh yes. Brother can stop death whenever he wants. So is his right."
Tears burned hot in Eris's eyes. "Then he didn't for her."
"And he won't do for you what you want him to you," A'Cubei added. "You will continue living without." He swept his arms in an upward arch, as if showcasing Eris's suffering.
Eris's stomach churned. Sourness filled her throat and A'Cubei questioned, "What if no one knew death?"
The wind carried his words to Eris's ears, where they lodged themselves deep, and made nests in her brain.
"Could such a thing be done?"
A'Cubei pulled the dagger from his waist. A golden serpent-shaped handle coiled around a black blade. "Everything can be made prey." He held it out. "A weapon capable of killing a god."
Eris took a step toward him, reached out, ran her fingers over the blade. It thrummed, calling out to her blood, screaming in her head. Blood for blood. Plunge me into a god's chest, rend a god's heart open, watch him bleed out, immortal made mortal and brought cowering, to his knees!
She yanked her hand away, stumbled back. Her breaths were heavy, her heart racing. Her eyes flicked up to A'Cubei's. He only grinned as he stood, offering her a dagger. "Kill Akul?" The words fell out of her mouth, steeped in astonishment and disbelief. She could kill him, end death for all? Live in a world without him in it?
She bit her lower lip, considering. Akul, the father of her daughter. Her husband. A man she loved. A god who ruthlessly and callously ripped Daya from this world, and fed her to Greenworld. A god who had betrayed her and left her empty.
"Brother lives in your heart still?" asked A'Cubei.
Eris hesitantly nodded, hating the truth.
"But sister," A'Cubei said, sidling up beside her. He pulled darkness to him, just as Akul had drawn the light, "you have no heart because Akul has destroyed it." The head of the serpent hilt raised. It released a hiss, its emerald eyes on Eris.
"Take it," he implored. "Carve for yourself a world without death."
Eris reached out, grabbed the dagger. The hilt still in her hand, and the serpent cooed.
"Consider this a gift." He raised her free hand, and planted a kiss on her knuckles. "End your suffering."
He was gone before she blinked. Only the dagger remained.
*
Akul came at daybreak, a basket over his arm, a waterskin on his back, and Eris was waiting. She jumped from the branch of the oak tree and landed on his back. Akul fell forward, the basket crushed beneath his weight. She leveled the dagger at his throat, the snake snapping its jaws, the blade hissing at her to carve Akul to pieces.
Her hand trembled. Tears poured from her eyes, leaving stains on his robe. "You took her away from me."
Akul turned his head, his eyes registering the blade. His expression turned cold. He glanced up at Eris's face. "A'Cubei." The other god's name fell from his lips like curse, damning them both.
Eris brought the dagger closer, piercing Akul's flesh. Red burst across his skin.
Lightning fast, Akul moved, grabbing Eris's wrist, tossing her aside. She hit the porch, the dagger falling from her fingers. Akul stood and snarled. "You plotted with A'Cubei?"
Eris scrambled for the dagger, but Akul kicked it away. He leaned over, and grabbed her shoulders.
"You took her away!" she screamed, writhing beneath his touch. No longer was it warm and inviting but scolding. Her flesh began to blister.
"And for that, I am sorry," he bellowed, his fingers tensing around her flesh. A sob broke between her teeth, and Eris felt miserable. She slumped forward.
"What was I supposed to do?" She placed her head in her hands. "There's nothing left." Raising her head, she planted a palm over her heart, "Nothing in here." Her gaze spread out over the wildflowers, over the patch of Greenworld Akul had brought them, so his family could live in a thriving world, "Nothing out there. I am nothing, so let me be nothing." Trembling, she reached up and offered him her hand. "Let me die."
Sorrow flashed in Akul's eyes, but his jaw was set, his mouth a fine thread.
"Eris Oslow," he said slowly, sitting on his heels, meeting her eyes, "what is it you wish for most?"
She blinked, her mouth agape. Akul waited patiently for her answer, when finally she gave it. "To live in a world without you in it."
Something passed over Akul's face, his lips pursing for only a second, before he reached out, took A'Cubei's dagger and plunged it in Eris's gut. "It is as you wish then."
Her blood turned molten, and she gasped for breaths. Akul ripped the blade out, blood erupting in the air. Eris screamed, her vision swam. With a hand covered in Eris's blood, he reached out and grabbed hers.
The ground shook and Greenworld appeared.
Eris stood knee-deep in flowers. The air tasted salty on her tongue and in the distance she heard the call of waves, softly lapping against the shore. The sun was lovely and bright, warm but not hot. She was no longer in agony, no longer ripped open and bleeding on the porch of her home, in front of the tree where she had buried her daughter. The flowers bowed to the breezes, and Eris strolled through them, fingers grazing petals. A bee flew in front of her eyes, before landing on a nearby daisy.
Then, she saw that familiar head of brown hair, bent over a flower. Eris reached out, started toward her. "Daya!" she called and the little head peeked up through the flowers, grinning.
"Mama!"
"Daya!" Eris picked up speed, pushing her legs forward. Soon she would embrace Daya, soon she could forget about the moons spent without her. Soon, she would be full.
Akul grabbed her wrist and yanked her back. With eyes as black as night, he told her, "No." The finality in his voice struck like a second dagger to the gut.
Eris fell back, through the wildflowers, until her back hit something hard. She breathed in and fire blazed through her lungs. She smelled the decay, the scent of a dying world. Turning over, she spat blood and bile. She groaned, splinters cutting into her palms. Her blood had soaked the wood. She lifted her shirt. There was no wound, no scar.
She had been rejected from Greenworld, spurned by Akul. Denied Daya and A'Cubei's dagger was gone. Eris was alone again, back in her colorless world, having witnessed death, and how truly cruel he could be.
Author's note (more like author's question): was this chapter emotionally devastating? Because I want it to be. I want the entire back half of this story to be heart-wrenching.