Complications of Mortality | Druig x OC

XV | Mortality

Thena's power was being removed from her—taken from her. The tendrils stuck into the flesh at her neck, forcing their way down her throat as it began to steal the very thing that made her, her. Her wrists pressed apart, managing the materialization of a golden dagger. It sliced through the tentacles keeping her at bay, allowing her enough movement to bring her arms up. She didn't waste time, she couldn't.

And for that second, she felt Gilgamesh with her.

Kro had given her that, at least. She felt his power in him, the strength of her partner radiating from the creature in waves. But it wasn't him. Gilgamesh never tried to fix her, never tried to change her, and certainly didn't try and rip away the power she had been blessed with. The stroke against her cheek was fleeting. And her arms swung down with an effort she had never displayed before. It was greater than anything she had ever done.

Because it was revenge, refined into something palpable.

Her dual blades sliced through the deviant Kro. The gold cut through his blue flesh like a stained glass window. It split him into pieces, each part falling into the ground of the shadow-cast cave with heavy thuds.

Her feet hit the floor and she took a deep breath, body involuntarily shuddering as the strength fleeted. Cosmic energy dissipated into the air and she let the feeling call her. It drew her out, like a signal alerting her that Sersi needed help.

And when it was over—when the cave stopped shaking from the forceful volcanic eruptions—the goddess of war emerged.

The wind whistled around the protruding fingertips of Tiamut's left hand, caressing each space carved out for his watching eyes, and aided the ocean in washing away the remnants of the sandy beach. The volcano had been brought to a halt, molten interior melting back and being thrown into pause. The landscape around her had settled and become silent.

The sun shone on the Earth once again.

—but it did not touch the body of Akiva Auvergne.

White fabric moved around black volcanic rock that had become embedded in the sand. It billowed in the wind, each gust picking it up and trying to carry it in the opposite direction of each of her footsteps. She swallowed hard, pieces of blonde hair blowing away from her face so she could get a better view. Thena stepped over a protruding stone, her foot barely catching her on the other side.

Life was fragile. It could pass away with time alone, years clicking by like the minute hand of a pocket watch. It could be easy, everything shutting down until the brain fell asleep. It could be controlled, substances causing the body to give up. It could be quick, a bright light welcoming the human mind and consuming it within seconds.

The air was cold as she inhaled sharply, turning her eyes up to the water. It was so blue, so vibrant and full. Thena didn't need to touch her heartbeat to see if it was beating. She didn't need to hold something under her nose to catch the exhales to confirm there was still someone there. She held her breath, closing her eyes as she tried to subdue the emotions.

She ignored the way the bracelet had been thrown away from her body completely. Akiva could use it, she told herself. She forced herself to try and believe that she was able to use Ajak's regeneration and heal herself. She'd be back up in a minute. She'll be running across the beach into Druig's arms and melt with the feeling that they actually did it—the one thing she was willing to sacrifice herself for. She'll beam at Thena, her bright smile triumphant and celebratory over the way they fought together so dynamically. She'll be able to find a home for the first time in her life.

Because Akiva was adaptable. That was seen in the way she channeled the celestial energy. Thena sucked in a breath at the thought.

She was the goddess of war. Of careful, skillful, and thought-out war. She was a strategist, looking at war in the lens of something mechanical. But this wasn't composed. This wasn't a chessboard where she was moving pawns forward with ease. Or a gentle passing of acceptance. This was raw, unbridled anger.