Memento Mori

The Gods of Death

Author note: the story is in rework. Name Eman is changed into Mason.

They say your life flashes before your eyes before you die.

It's true, it does.

And when you die, you review your life in random spikes of inspiration. All the things you've done wrong and right. Like you're collecting weight for scale, wondering which side will prevail.

Good and bad, then good and bad again. But who is to decide which action is bad and which is good? There's more to each action that has been done, there's nothing that could be called moral and immoral, justice; it differs.

"Humans are spoilt and filthy," says Ker, goddess of violent and cruel death.

"Humans can be good, but they will always turn corrupt and face their doom," comments Moros while he observes thousands of screaming souls, begging for redemption. "Some just die before that could of happen, it's just the matter of time," he sneers mockingly as Ker gives a chuckle of satisfaction, she abhors humanity.

"And when their time comes, I can rip souls out of their bodies," she takes a deep breath like she's trying to inhale all of the misery. "Listen to this beautiful music, crying of those who've died, violent and cruel death, predictable faith which none can escape."

"They are born pure, everyone fight for something, so each human deserves gentle, peaceful sleep," interferes beautiful god Thanatos, both Ker and Moros look at him and sneer roughly.

"Humans are pathetic," says Ker.

"Corrupt," adds Moros.

"No." Thanatos looks over the crowd of long-forgotten souls. "Humans are pure in its primary form," his voice gentle and low, his tranquil gaze fixed on crowd beneath them.

"ha!" Ker makes a loud chuckle. "Hearth of iron, an implacable soul of bronze," she turns to Thanatos and faces him directly. "Oh, brother!" Her lips expand into a wide smile.

"Let's make a bet." Ker got an idea, she throws back her strong dark hair and amused looks at Thanatos. "A game," she says cunningly, her voice going up.

"A game?" Thanatos glances at her, finding it suspicious.

"The winner walks free," Ker walks around him.

"No," replies Thanatos determinedly. "Their time is up, they can never return and walk again among the living." Thanatos looks at souls of the dead, which are chained in Hades.

"He holds forever the man he has taken," Ker describes Thanatos with words that humans used to describe him with. She expands her tongue, like a snake, her eyes trail over the abyss of death, finding unusual satisfaction in it. "Mortals call you beautiful death, yet you're so cruel and irremediable," she laughs. "How ugly and violent," she smirks. "You don't want to gift any soul a new life, or is it-." She pauses. "-That you believe no one is good and pure enough to earn life back?"

"Five, from each level of Hades, the ones, who shall die today, so their souls still have a sense of life, unlike those who are here for eternity, becoming dim shapes of person that they once were," says Thanatos coldly, he turns, his long cloak swirls with his movement.

"Smart, the soul, which won't be brought directly to the underworld," says Moros.

"This way Hades won't know, because they'll be still alive; mortals," Ker ends Moros sentence.

"You know how is Hades when it comes to stealing souls and cheating death." Moros gazes into the distance, "you still remember Sisyphus and Pirithous?" He pauses, "...the wrath of Hades can result in horrific punishments."

"Ha!" Ker looks down into the abyss. "Finally," she says excitedly. "Let's begin the game!" She turns to Thanatos. "Brother." Thanatos stops at Ker's words. "When I win, I want you to take life by ripping the soul out of the body."

"You shall risk that much?" Moros observes Thanatos, who's blessed face is unreadable.

"I risk nothing, I'll win," notes Thanatos then disappears into the darkness and Ker laughs loudly.

"He'll win huh?" Ker smirks, narrowing her eyes. "Now let's get those mortals" Ker expands her dark radiant wings then swings them and dives into the air.

"Yes- let's get them," murmurs Moros and at once he turns into smog, disappearing, leaving a trace of shining ashes, which fade into the air.