The ravens did not sing. Thanatos found himself shrinking slightly as he stepped into the confines of his chamber. It was exactly how he'd left it; the branches still swayed in the dead air, the candles flickered with withering light and the ravens… well, that was what bothered him. Everything was as it was, yet everything had changed. He padded to the center of the room and knelt. He didn't bother with the "formalities". The ravens seemed relieved.
"Demand."
Silence. He wasn't entirely surprised, but it irked him.
"Varys keri'stal. This was not the agreement. I was to come here on my own terms, by my own risks. You were to stay where you belonged."
The room kept its quiet. Thanatos only grew more enraged. Emotion was not his strong suit, but he did not care for any modesty now.
"What have you done?! My friends lay dead on the ground which I walk; their blood stains the air I breathe! Why must you interfere in these mortal matters, urkas'mer?" A sudden rage overcame him and forced his clenched fist into the ground.
It left him through his deep breaths as he stared into the catacombs below. Whispers from the entrance trailed into his ears. He quickly withdrew his hand and stood up. A shallow movement near the mocking walls disturbed the air and the sharp smell of candle smoke drifted into his nostrils.
"Demand. Reveal yourself, coward."
The walls hissed at him. Immediately he saw the familiar erratic dancing among the shadows. So it had finally decided to convenience him.
"You betrayed our Mistress when you took on your mortal form, Thanatos. Our laws do not apply to lifewalkers. What happened was merely Her will. Their names were spoken, and so it came to pass. There is nothing illogical or immoral of it." The voice appeared more relaxed in tone, but Thanatos found its forked tongue mocking him through those deceptively crafted words.
"Do not pretend to lecture me on such things, Arta'kas. I refuse to serve an order that kills the innocent." Thanatos boldly stepped forward to the entrance of the Hallways. The whispers grew ever so slightly louder.
"This is your mortal body, doing this to you. You don't realize what you are saying."
The bastard was trying to persuade him.
"Don't try to deter me from what I think. I am not some animal that you can drag by a rope into your slaughterhouse filled with fleeting lies. I have realized who I serve, what I serve. No more."
"You've lost your mind." The serpentine voice sounded… shocked.
"I wish to walk this plane, and to never return to it again. Leave my corpse to the ravens. They have served me better than you ever did."
No answer came. Thanatos looked to the ravens, who cocked their heads in confusion. He nodded, and they obeyed him. A cascading shower of black wings engulfed the candles like night swallowing the dwindling stars. When they swooped back up to their bare perches, the candles shone no more.
Three days had passed.
The solemn notes of a mellow flute still hummed in the back of Antheia's mind. The tune was simple, but elegant, a melody that caressed the ears and soothed the saturated grief that blotched her mind. The procession was a simple one; the Tenno were not known to be celebrators of death, and so brief words were said while tear stained faces watched the capsules close and be cast out, swallowed by the Void that created them.
Antheia sat in Orion's empty chamber. The bottle still had some alcohol inside, to about a third. She had drank a bit, but either out of the nauseating grief mixing with its bitter taste, or the heartbreaking memories she felt when she reluctantly gulped it down, she decided not to finish it. There was some immortal presence about it. She hated him. She hated that she hated him. It was a rabbit hole that she constantly tumbled through, looking this way and that, but she never found a way out. No amount of drinks in bottles would make let her shrink into nothingness, so that no one could see her. Yet here she was, sat at the makeshift bench made by his hands, where their only pleasant conversation as people took place, with a bottle in hand that said "Drink me."
All those years ago, when she was barely a woman, when she wept for days on end just to keep the pain appeased. She remembered it with stark detail, about every rotten procedure and horrific experience the void had given her while she had to grin and bear it. Then they expected her to come out normal, to be like every other Tenno in the Clan. She was a child of pity, but Orion had seen to that. Even though she still feared for her life when she went into the field, and even though she had to bear the painful responsibility as a leader in her initiation mission, Orion had seen to that too. She looked at herself now. What did she see? She saw the welcome yet alien sights of the Dojo, of a sudden break in her reality. A little girl crying her eyes out over trivial matters. Everything was as it was, yet everything had changed.
She took another swig of drink and stared down at the sword lying discarded among the other rubble. Its runes gave no light. She had never touched its handle, perhaps to preserve whatever touch Orion had when it was still gripped in his dead arms. She shook her head to dissipate the oppressing memories. She set the bottle down. Her gloved hand initially reached for its grip, but she held it there. After a brief moment of consideration, she willed the warframe to retreat its reach to expose her pearly white skin. She then took hold of the blade and studied it, one finger balancing the blade on its side and the other cradling the grip with the utmost gentleness.
"What the hell were you thinking, Orion?" She whispered meekly to herself.
Of you, Antheia.
Her hand just managed to cover a shriek, perhaps of joy or surprise, or a strange mixture of both.
"You're… still alive?" She whispered again, but this time someone listened.
Not entirely. But if anything, I think I won over Hek. At least that bastard won't be getting up again.
"I don't know what… I don't-"
Don't fret, Antheia. I'm not completely dead. I'm just not… here.
"Orion, it's so horrible, I don't know what we're going to do! The Dojo is destroyed, our Beacon is out, we may as well be dead in the eyes of the others."
Keep yourself together. You aren't going to die. It will be a while, but you'll be found. You can leave this place, start anew, maybe find a partner. There's someone for everyone, Antheia.
"I don't care about all that, Orion. Don't you get it? I-"
Don't waste your time on hope. It's dust, as far as I'm concerned. The time you have is precious, and it would do you good not to waste it with me.
"Stop it! You… you can't do this to me! Not again, not fucking again!" She swore, screaming at the sword that she hacked and sliced into splintered practice dummies and broken woodwork.
You're past this now, Antheia. You and I both know that this is folly. An existence like this is not what is meant for me.
"No…"
I was meant to die here, and I don't plan on changing Fate's plans anymore. Goodbye, Antheia, and say goodbye to Ilene too. Tell her she's done well, and that a mentor could not ask for a better student.
"Please…"
I'm sorry I couldn't finish that drink.
"Orion, don't…"
…
"Orion?"
No answer. She sighed.
"And you're gone, just like that."
She surprised herself with a small chuckle and a fading smile.
Her hands played with the blade, running her hands down its smooth grooves and feeling the miniscule bumps of its mysterious manuscripts. She angled it against the White Sun's mesmerizing light that pooled in front of her. It glinted so strangely, like the metal was sprinkled with the essence of the stars themselves.
"Antheia!" Ilene's ponytail dangled by her gleaming smile as she poked her head round the door. Antheia jumped slightly, broken from her trance.
"Oh, Ilene, it's… it's you. How can I help you? How are your legs?" She gazed into Ilene's lilac eyes as she approached. They were filled with a happiness that Antheia couldn't understand, given the events of the past few days.
"They're fine, thanks. I've been training a bit, you know, getting used to this thing. Pretty nifty, I'd say," she trotted over, yet her feet didn't hit the ground once. She was more like her sister than she realized. "Anyway, the Vauban's been working his backside off getting that Beacon in gear for the past few days, and he thinks he's got it! We can get out of this place, at long last!"
We're leaving?
"Oh! That's… that's excellent."
"I know, right?" Ilene bent over with a wider smile, but a closer look at Antheia's expression seemed to dampen her spirits. "What's up with y-" Ilene bit on her tongue when she saw the sword, cradled in Antheia's precious hands.
"He isn't coming back, Antheia."
She expected Ilene to say that. She had expected herself to say that, but out of some forlorn longing, she decided to cling onto false hope for a little while longer. But what was hope, if it was merely dust? Antheia sighed, but a small weight was lifted from her chest. Breathing came easier, and calmer, to her now. She looked up at Ilene and smiled. She wasn't sure why, but she smiled, and she felt glad.
"I know." Antheia stood up, took one last look at the blade, then sheathed it and set it against the bench.
"Did he, well, say anything?" Ilene obviously tried to sound sincere, but Antheia found the childish curiosity hidden under.
"Yes, he did, actually." Antheia walked with Ilene's footsteps. For once, she found herself not in a hurry. "You did well, he said, and that he… he was proud of you." Her thoughts and speech became entwined as she drifted into the memories of the past hour.
"I'm truly honored, I thought that he would be critical, or he wouldn't say something like that!" Ilene fiddled with her ponytail as the two approached the door.
"He was a good man, Ilene, even if he didn't sound like it. I heard it in his voice. He was at peace." Antheia mused as she forced aside the door stuck in the frame by a dislodged peace of rubble.
"That's good, I guess." Ilene stepped through before her, but stopped when she heard Antheia's footsteps not following hers.
The Saryn looked back into the chamber, taking in the all-too familiar sight of the splintered dummies, the perch near the westward wall, the makeshift bench to the right. Orion's Nikana hung in two red looping clothes tied to the scaffolding. The broken slant glinted in the shadows.
Her eyes finally settled on the bottle and the sword, sat next to each other, just like old friends. She gave a melancholy smile and turned into the doorway as the station covered the light and the chamber faded into darkness.
The two made their way through the damaged, crumbled and decimated remains of the Dojo's many walls and columns, but their conversation was surprisingly light-hearted. They spoke of possible futures, of the exciting prospect of a new beginning, and most of all, their fortune to have survived the slaughter. But after this came the inevitable hollow silence that followed when they recalled the horrific scenes of battle that were still fresh in their mind, despite the time that had passed. Too little time, for anyone's comfort.
Antheia led the way through a small maze of rubble blocking a hallway, grabbing the corner of a particularly big slab and heaving it out the way. It threw up dust into their face as they continued through. A few more tenacious climbs of stairways for Antheia, yet a literal breeze for the newly crowned Zephyr, and the Beacon's light shone warmly on their faces through the broken doorway. The observatory and the viewing gallery were miraculously undamaged. Upon closer notice, Antheia found that the area had been practically untouched; a lighthouse against the sea of destruction around it. And what a lighthouse it was, shining brighter than ever that bathed the approaching Tenno with an awe-inspiring white light.
"Ah, you're finally here!" The Vauban turned to the pair's arrival, red-faced and evidently more tired than usual. His gruff voice was a welcome one to hear.
"I hope we didn't make you wait too long, Vauban." Antheia still held him in high esteem, it appeared.
"No, no, of course! The Beacon has been repaired, as you can see, thanks to the assistance of the lovely Umbra here." He gestured to the Nyx with a curt smile, and then turned back to the mesmerizing spinning of the tuning dials circling round the beam.
"The pleasure was mine," She replied with a respectful nod, then turned to Antheia with a hint of a smile, which immediately dissipated when she saw Ilene. The two evidently would always find a reason to quarrel as siblings, no matter how much Antheia tried to intervene. She stifled a sigh and walked closer to the Beacon.
"It doesn't feel like three days. Are we really going to leave this all behind?" Antheia asked doubtfully. She began to walk towards the huge glass pane of the viewing gallery, the clacking of her heels echoing into the empty silence over the soft hum of the Beacon.
"I thought that this place was a bit dull, to be honest. Too much attention to royalty, and not enough flair. I think it's the colors." Umbra remarked. "In any case, I think three days has been quite enough for you to say your various goodbyes and whatever else you see fit. And although I appreciate that it's been a hard time for us all recently," she said, grabbing the attention over the conversation of the Trinity and Nekros, who were talking amongst themselves while observing the recurring damage reports on holographic screens. "I'm afraid to say that all the supplies we have are expended, since whatever we had were sent off with the escape shuttles. Do not worry, though, for the clan of Seven Willows has been so kind as to offer us temporary accommodation, or permanent for any who may want to leave," she noted with particular venom, "in return for us helping them know the fate of their prototypes at the Orokin Derelict."
"That's good to hear, Umbra." Antheia said dreamily as she came to a stop towards the edge of the screen and looked out to the Void.
"What's gotten into you?" asked Umbra, curious.
"Oh, it's nothing. Everything's fine, now."
Antheia truly smiled, then, for when she gazed at the pure, shimmering stars, she could see that their hunter had joined them once more.