It was a two day climb, entirely uphill, from Eithne's hovel. In that time, I had heard the horrible truth about the blades I sought. Long ago, there had been another guardian of time. A man now nameless. He had come from Caledonia, the son of a nearby shepherd. It was during the time of great danger that he had been chosen.
While there had been no Saeculum for him, it seemed that time itself had intervened and chosen him to save his people from sure destruction. The Scythes of Memoriae, a name the Romans had given them upon hearing the legend, were gifted to him. With their power, he was able to vanquish the enemy. Yet, there was a trace of darkness within him and he found he could not bear to separate himself from their power.
Overcome with greed, he held onto the scythes; an act that would prove to be his undoing. Day by day, he grew more power mad until, finally, he lost his mind entirely. One dark day, he had arisen, scythes in hand to destroy a village. They had gifted him with the ability to feed on time energy, all the things that could have been but never were. It was too tempting, to delicious to resist. And so it was that he devoured his neighbors, friends, foes, even his family. It was as he consumed the very essence of his own son that time intervened once more. There was blast of golden light and the man was destroyed, the particles of his body all that remained.
Upon hearing such a tale, a clear warning that Eithne sought to share, I considered myself. I had never particularly desired power. But if power had been his desire, what was mine? Surely, if he had fallen to temptation, I too would be put to the test. What was it, more than anything, that I desired, craved even? Power? No. Vengeance? Perhaps, save only for my family. No, the thing I desired above all others was love. Love would be my temptation, of that I was certain.
In and of itself, love was beautiful, something to aspire to. Yet, when it is withheld, it can warp the mind and emotions. It was what had happened to Loki. And it was what had happened to me. Even with one another, we were never entirely sentimental. There was a yearning to love and be loved, yet we lacked the knowledge of fully knowing how. It was rare that he told me that he loved me and I him. And while it was true that we spent plenty of time with one another, it was only occasionally that we would speak. It seemed the only time we touched was in an escalated state of desire, or passion, or fear. While I was willing to risk everything for him, for Sarah, I couldn't help but feel as if it wouldn't be enough.
But how could any of that provide a temptation? We had stopped at the top of a mountain, a craggy cave descending into the rock. "This is it, Muirgheal." Eithne stated warily.
"The scythes are inside? Are you sure?"
"Definitely."
I exhaled slowly, trepidatiously entering its mouth. Eithne didn't follow. "This is as far as I go." She stated firmly, casting a fearful glance in my direction.
I wished it weren't the case. Her skills as a huntress and warrior made me feel far safer. I took one last look at her, her fingers gripping her bow tightly. "Thank you." I muttered quietly.
"I'll wait for you a little while longer. You'll find me down that ledge," She pointed in the direction from which we had just come. "If you make it out alive."
"Thanks." She nodded shortly and I watched as she shot me a sympathetic, last look. Eithne was entirely convinced it was the last time she'd ever see me. I couldn't help but wonder that myself.
Steeling my reserve, I took a step deeper. The sound of my feet against the cave floor echoed around me. I heard the faint dripping of water from somewhere near me. A dim, golden light glowed in front of me, no larger than a ping pong ball. On I continued, each breath sounding like a gale force. At long last, I reached the end of the tunnel, the golden light illuminating everything around me.
The Romans had called the blades scythes, I called them sickles. They were at least two feet in length, the blades shaped like crescent moons. A golden, ornately carved handle extended from the base of the blade. I noted the intricately carved knots that wrapped around in tiers. They seemed to glow, a great power emanating from each of them. I took a nervous glance around the small cavern in search of hidden foes.
I found nothing and so it was that there was only one thing left to do. I closed my eyes in hope. My hands extended forward to grip the handles. Nothing happened. No thunder from above or shaking from below. I failed to disappear or be destroyed by fireballs. My eyes flew open in surprise, only to discover that my fingers gripped the handles. Well, that was anticlimactic. I thought with bemusement.
As I removed them, the blades seemed to sing in the stillness. I motioned ever so slightly with my right hand, extending the sickle outward. As it passed, I quickly discovered a tear in the space where the blade had traveled. It crackled and sparked with energy and one look inside revealed the time vortex that I was so familiar with. The sight alarmed me and I quickly sought to repair the torn fragment.
As soon as it was finished, I swallowed hard. Looking at the weapon in my hand. "This cannot be happening." I muttered with disbelief, my mind finding my situation unthinkable. I had become the most powerful person in the universe, of that I was completely aware. I could pass through time and space untouched, I could rewrite history, rewrite time itself; not only that, but I had the ability to take time from others, to remove whatever energy remained in their lives. The power floored me and I wanted to scream. It wasn't tempting, it was horrifying.
The knowledge that any decision I made would carry such weight frightened me. Was it fair, was it right for me to subject Hel, a creature I hated passionately, to such punishment? To be energized by her future eternity that would never come? The thought of it sickened me and I felt a pressing need to toss the blades to the ground. Drop them and run as far and as fast as I could. Yet, I knew I couldn't. My family, my friends, my entire manner of life was depending on me to do it. How could I allow the world, Loki, Sarah, the few precious friends I had plunge into the darkness of Hel?
No, I couldn't. I wouldn't. If I had to become a monster for their sakes, i could. I could feed on the witch if it was necessary. My mind had been decided in that moment and I gripped the scythes firmly. This was war. This was chess. And I had every intention of winning.