Blood And Stone

Epilogue

Grey-blue eyes stared off into a distance that no one else could see. The wisdom that ran through them was slowly replaced by the sad sparkle of anguish as tears formed. They crested over the soft pale eyelids to roll down equally soft cheeks. The pink color that ran across the cheekbones only added to the look of distress that etched itself into Spirit's face.

She had known that it would not be easy to watch Peace go. She knew it would hurt. She knew. She always knew. Didn't she? She was supposed to know. Despite her lack of a specialty, she was always supposed to know the outcome. Then why hadn't she foreseen War betraying them?

Her tears spilled over again as the long groan fell from her throat. The pain that tore through her chest was like dragon fire, melting everything it touched. Her stomach cramped, pulling inward and threatening to expel the contents of her stomach, if there had been anything in her stomach to reject. Her hands shook as she brought them to her face. The tears came faster, harder, dribbling down her cheeks in a constant stream of regret and pain.

Logically, Spirit knew that she couldn't have warned War. If she had given her even an inkling of suspicion, she would have captured Peace and locked her away. Sitharu, though it was nothing more than a mere tangle of streets and debris of the homes that stood there only hours before, would have completely fallen. The Sithaurian Four would have been erased. Hope would have vanished from the realm. Hyboné and the mortals would have ceased to exist. She knew that but she never suspected that her sister would turn on them.

Spirit's forehead rested on the cool stone floor beneath her. She bowed at the feet of the last remaining statue depicting the God of the Skies Above. Her father. The Father and creator of the Winged Council. She reached a trembling hand out to run it over the smooth stone of his calf. "Why, Father? Why have you talked me with such heavy burdens? I am to fight for the existence and well-being of the mortals, I know but, why must it come at such a cost?" Her voice came as a shuddering, deep cry.

Spirit waited for an answer. Any answer. A sign. Any minute little detail that would show her that he was listening. When no answer came, she rose to her feet and slammed her fists against his thick, stone chest. The statue cracked beneath the force but nothing fell from the statue. Her scream of anger was enough to have awakened any slumbering beast of old yet, she found no response. Just the echo of her pain, sliding back to her ears. She crumbled back to the floor, her legs unable to sustain her.

As her tears continued to fall, a gentle whisper caressed her cheek. The fluttering of delicate yellow and black wings fanned at her face, cooling her reddened skin. Spirit lifted her head and looked at the butterfly. Its blue antenna tickled softly at her cheek before the creature landed on her sleeve. It stared at her.

"Oh, sweet Peace." She cried, her tears falling impossibly harder. "We have lost her. We have lost War."

The butterfly responded with another soft tickle against her cheek. A few strands of her long golden hair tumbled in front of her face. As she stared at the butterfly, the sun rose, making her hair sparkle brighter than Peace's magic. A wave of sorrow coursed through her again but the butterfly was not allowing this. It fluttered its wings in her face before slipping down to land gracefully on Spirit's hand. The creature bit down, a red welt rising just below Spirit's index finger. She exclaimed with surprise and shook her hand as though the pain would fly away as swiftly as the butterfly.

"Come now, do not bite me while I grieve."

The butterfly nibbled gently at her hand again. Spirit frowned at it and decided to see what it was it was trying to tell her. She watched as the yellow and black critter crawled over the back of her hand, biting and nibbling in a strange pattern. It bounced off of her hand and onto the floor, tilting its head and wagging its antenna at her again.

The shape that rose on the back of her hand was one familiar to her. From the stories of old, a creature had lurked beneath the surface of the place where the Sacred Tree now stood. It was an evil presence. A monster so heinous that it made the Vantorak seem like a mere puppy. She blinked down at the symbol. The shape of the man with a tail protruding from his hindquarters rose on her skin. It was a warning.

"Odius." The name floated through her mind as soft as a summer breeze. Her face twisted in realization and sadness. "Animus." The word fell from her lips with the last of her despair.

The butterfly took to the air once again, dropping another tickle on Spirit's neck. Her long thin fingers ran over her reddened cheeks, wiping the tears away. She rose to her feet, looking up at the statue of their father. Without another word, she turned on her heel, making her way to the clouds below. With one simple crack of golden light, her white wisp broke through the clouds and she made her way back to her children. Hyboné needed her now, more than ever.