Interlude – End.
The Death Lord's smile
"Welcome."
A calm, muffled voice. But laden with an abiding vitality unusual for what was a dark shadow moving among the gloom of the dark night.
"Don't be afraid ... I won't hurt you," as if reading my thoughts, the God of Death approached me, the soundlessness of his footsteps creeping into my mind. "Why are you here?" He asked, moved by genuine curiosity, almost childlike in its candor.
I thought about what to answer, realizing that there was no simple way out of that situation. Yet there was no agitation.
"I...," The hood of the robe he wore slipped off, a creepy face whose decaying, worn skin showed the horror of an unknown fear, ready to drag me with it into an astral world beyond the stars where reason gave way to madness.
I begged my legs to stay still, but it was like asking a river to stop flowing. For a star to stop shining. For the sun to cease the emission of heat. Unthinkable.
"Excuse me," The God who brings an end to all things concealed his features again under his robes, now only a pair of twinkling red eyes crackled beyond the dimness. "Sometimes I forget the effect my appearance has on ordinary people. Or maybe I am simply hopeful that one day I can say goodbye to these clothes that hide me from the outside world."
An unpleasant feeling gripped my heart. Guilt. For letting my weaknesses bring sadness to the one who was my savior. My guardian.
"No, I'm the one who should apologize," my head lowered, remembering the respect due. I prayed -to whom, if my God was there with me? - that my insult would be forgiven. That time would rewind and we would return to the beginning, erasing my mistake forever. "Forgive the insolence of this wretched woman. If your wrath must be appeased, I am ready to accept my punishment."
"Get up," I felt something caress my shoulders. Skeletal fingers that had paused just as they were about to touch me, then quickly retracted with a rush of shame. "You don't need to apologize."
There was warmth in his voice, an unwarranted affection for an inferior being. I was relieved.
An unexpected nostalgia was growing in me. The image of my father, whom I thought I had forgotten after long years had buried the memory of him in a deep well I dare not to open, began to appear in my mind.
"This humble servant thanks her lord for the generosity shown," only now that my figure assumed a straight position did my robe attract the attention of the Immortal God.
"You are one of them," he noted. "What do you call yourselves? Cardinals?"
"That is correct, my lord," in my pride, I had thought that my position was known to those I worshiped. He imparted to me a lesson in humility that I would not forget as long as I lived. "We are the voice of the Gods. When you whisper, we shout. The vessel through which your teachings are not lost or forgotten. When you command, we sacrifice. Our life is only a tool with which to accomplish your purposes. When you are sad, we weep. May our tears connect us so as to alleviate the suffering you feel for having been banished in this world."
I recited my mantra, my strength, to the one who had infused it with meaning.
He turned away, as if unbearable pain crushed him on the spot, and then signaled for me to follow him.
We began to move around the room, the memories of the other Gods were watching us as judges waiting to deliver their verdict. I had fabricated a story, where they had ascended to a plane we mortals could not comprehend, yet part of me believed they were still there, unseen, ready to end every injustice that plagued their nation.
Hope? Or delusion?
"Look," he pointed to a window, from which it was possible to lay eyes on the outside world. "What do you see?"
The streets, deserted, held nothing remarkable to my imagination. Taken by despondency, I believed that this was evidence of which I could not glimpse the concealed meaning.
"I see nothing, my lord," the truth was the only option left. Pleading that my foolishness would not be mistaken for irreverence, I returned the focus of my gaze to my God. "Why do you ask me this?"
"What do you think I see?" How could I answer that question? There were no right answers. Blasphemy, just venturing to believe that I was able to grasp a pinch of what were the enigmas of a thought that shaped the universe.
"The future," I tried to answer. "The infinite possibilities unfolding before us. A dream cloaked in hope for the well-being of the Theocracy." He did not sound very convinced. "Or the past. The goal achieved after years of bleeding sacrifices."
"That's certainly an answer," a light laugh, as pleasant as the sound of calm waves in the morning. "But it does not correspond to the truth."
Unfazed by my mistake, I trudged out a sincere apology.
"I see what you see. No more, no less," another test to pass? Confusion increased. "First you couldn't answer, but then you found the courage to speak. Do you know why?"
I shook my head, embarrassed by my ignorance.
"You humans cannot unleash your potential unless you are sure there is some higher entity watching you," he had turned away from the window and returned to the center of the room to sit on a worn chair. "Now that your Gods are gone you have found some stratagem to preserve the normalcy you have so strenuously achieved, lest your castle collapse like sand dunes during the desert storm."
"We are not left alone. You stayed with us, my lord."
"Yes," there was an all too human loneliness in that voice, broken by weaknesses and precariousness not befitting a superior being. Not befitting him. "At least for the time being..."
That he also intended to leave us? To rejoin his comrades?
The God of Death, the lord of darkness and the bringer of the end to all things, was just a tired man who missed his affections. So mundane as to be profound. Or perhaps my impressions were distorted by preconceptions from which I could not detach myself.
Left alone in that tower that had been built around him, raised so high as to touch the sky. However, for his captive was only an empty tomb, in which the only hope was to rot in eternity.
"Please," seeing him so sad made me sad, too. I could not refrain from voicing my thoughts. "Don't abandon us!"
Was it selfishness on my part? How could a pathetic human like me dare to plead with a God? Unmindful of my sin, I knew I would pay for my mistake. But at that moment it didn't matter.
"What is your name?" The expectations of eternal torment that I thought would be imposed on me were unfulfilled. Instead, I found myself having to respond to something unexpected.
"Elisa," my name had nothing special, common to so many others. What it meant; I didn't know. "This is not the first time we have met. Although I was only a child at the time."
"Oh," no wonder he didn't recognize me. My now adult and wrinkled body showed signs of an old woman. The stupid child of the time was no more, replaced by weariness and regrets. "I can't say I remember you."
A pang in my chest. I was aware that he did not remember me. Yet I could not hold back that gloom that dampened my soul.
"I'm not surprised," I tried to remain calm and impassive. Ah, what a shame if a woman of my age had externalized such childish emotions. "My lord, do you remember an uncultivated expanse and beastly men chasing refugees? I was there at the time."
A light illuminated his face. "Yes, I think I remember. You are the child of that day."
Only then did I realize how long I had been waiting for that encounter. A clarifying realization dispelled my uncertainties.
That day, I was saved. Not only from earthly death but also from spiritual one.
Surshana, the God of Death, had given meaning to my pathetic life. By providing me with a purpose, he had brought hope to a little lost child, rekindling the spark of life in me.
"I'm glad you remembered me," something moist brushed my cheeks. Tears. Foolishly, I looked pathetic. I wanted to hide, not to show him my weaknesses.
"There's no need to cry," he approached me again. This time I did not let my fears get the better of me. I allowed his rangy fingers to wipe away my tears. There was a strange warmth in them, almost paternal. For a moment I thought that my father himself had come back to life, so that he could protect me once again.
In writing these words, I wonder if mine were not crazy impressions, but inexplicable truths. We did not know where the Gods had come from, after so many years it remains an inscrutable mystery. Perhaps my father and others had found a way to ascend to powers that were precluded to ordinary mortals. Or perhaps I still remained that frightened child who wanted nothing more than to hug her father one last time.
A sweet lie I was telling myself to cope with a pain I had never accepted.
Now that I am about to cross the last threshold, I can say that I prefer to believe in that sweet lie. The truth is more bitter.
We stayed together for a few more minutes, until a voice familiar to me woke us from our warmth.
"Master, is this human disturbing you?" The speaker had been the First Disciple, spokesman for the will of the God in those years. Seeing them side by side, I realized how striking their similarity was.
"No, Rufus. No need for you to worry," they looked like father and son. One, upright and solemn. The other, hanging on his lips, waiting for an order. "Cardinal Elisa had only decided to keep me company on this starless night."
"I see," Rufus looked at me as intensely as one looks at a hated enemy. I felt crushed by that overwhelming pressure; had it not been for Surshana's presence I would have begun to fear for my own safety. "But the hour has grown late. Don't you think it's time to retire, Cardinal?"
He did not give me time to answer. Rufus began to escort me out of the room. If Surshana's touch was unexpectedly gentle and warm, his disciple's was cold and ghostly. Perhaps the appellation God of Death would have been more appropriate for Rufus than for Surshana.
"Before I leave, let me pay my respects," having arrived at the door, my body stretched out on my knees to show its devotion. "If I could be of service, do not hesitate to request my services."
"I will," an enigmatic expression peeped out on his rarefied face. Call me stupid, but I like to believe it was a smile, however barely discernible. "Now go, my child."
Those were the last words I heard him utter, at least until this moment.
Thus ended my second and final encounter with the God of Death.
Life continued with its natural course. It didn't take long for my body to reach its limit. I left my duties to a new generation, younger and more promising than I had ever been.
My strength is beginning to leave me, but I do not tremble at the end. For I know that when the time comes, I can meet him again, one last time.