The Loneliest Traid

  • by
  • Rating:
  • Published: 2 Apr 2017
  • Updated: 13 May 2017
  • Status: Complete
Love and death and war and Gods and blood and magic and dancing and rest and revenge and kings and fate.
Don't worry, within these three stories you'll know yourself,
And I will put you back together again.


16. Ask if I Die Before I Do

Can Gods die?

    Do the deities you call all-knowing see their death in mirrors haunted by ghosts, and do they watch their murder knowing very well there is little they can do?  Do they watch their friends hang from the clouds like pendulums, and watch the order of balance spin out of control?  What do you think?  Do we die?  

    And if we do, if the Goddess of War is stabbed is her place taken before arms are at ease, if the God of Love dies do we all die too, for who can live alone without the strongest of hopes both brave and insane.

    I watched Eros die.  It was an accident on part, and planned for most.  They say that as he fell to his knees the entire world went dark, and a hero fell to pieces just moments after the murder.  All great things are connected, and that is why your luck grows and the life of those you know does.  That is why Ichais let Estha lie on her chest for her final moments that would go on far longer than expected by many, why Chene let little Noom follow him to the ends of the world after the war, and why Jinmi stayed for so long without Daphne in both pain and bliss in the arms of another.

    That’s why no one truly dies.  Because when your body gives in, your stories and deeds form something so much bigger than either yourself, your life or even that of the Gods.  You become a string in the web of time, and the more you venture the stronger that thread becomes.  Without you, there would be no path, a hole, a weakness.

    So that when Eros died a length was added to the web of life, one that lead to the day where a hero found the lost treasure of the Gods and saved and killed with its magic.  Not only that, but his death led to a shift in the universe that you know well, but I would hate to say it, because to tell you I must bring myself to repeat a question.

    Because if the God of Love dies do we all die too?


    “Hello, stranger,” the siren sang, “Lost?”

    Jinmi smiled to her, a weak stretch of lips, he stumble growing cautious.  He hadn’t used his magic in weeks and it was taking its toll on his body, not to mention the forgone sleep.  He was ordered to head back to find the lake bed, the only water source of the river that wrapped around Mavros like a starving snake, but he couldn’t find it.  His horse, a wild red beasts as tall as some trees who answered only to Ruby, could no longer even hold his weight, so they shared the bags between them and Jinmi walked to one side.  His legs called for a bed, but they had gotten too far into the woods for much to be seen but heavy foliage and the dim navy glow of the enchanted Mavros sky.  He thought that they were close, since the air was getting almost too cold to be breathable, both their breaths puffs of smoke as white as ice.  He draped the horse in all the thick blankets he carried, hoping it would be enough, and he himself wore two thick coats over his clothes hoping that the numb of his fingers and toes was reversible.

    But the siren sat in nothing but long sailor trousers, her long blonde hair covering herself with nothing more.  Her bare feet curled in the snow as if it were a rug, her cheeks flushed rose red and that the only sign of cold.

    “Yes, very much so,” he said, teeth chattering like a hornet’s nest.

    “Would you like a hand with that?”

    “Do you know the way?”

    She looked up at him, perhaps through him with seeing gold eyes.  She laughed silently, and curled back over the rock she rested on, pulled the hair behind her like an ocean of loose, everchanging, sun yellow chains.  Her back arched away from the rock, the snow beneath melted with the warmth of her touch and reveled teal blue grass coated in tiny heart shaped flowers.

    His eyebrows furrowed, “I’m in the fantasy forest.  But then-”

    She snapped up fluidly as if underwater, hair falling back like curtains, her smile drawing, alluring, shaming, “Then you are nowhere near where you thought that you were meant to be, are you?”

    “How would you know where I’m supposed to be?”

    “I know all sorts of things,” she sang.

    “Of course you do,” he stepped closer, the horse neighing and pulling on the reigns, but he was set, “And if I may say you are far from home yourself.”

    She shrugged, “I come and go as I please, my legs are strong enough, see?”

    Jinmi pushed them back away from his waist, “Lead me to it?”


    “Your home.”

    “Oh,” she said, lying back against the stone, her breath unnaturally hot against his face, “Oh.”

    “Is it close?”

    She laughed at that, and took his hand, “Don’t allow your heart to be lead astray, boy.”

    “Your tricks only ever go so far, don’t worry.”

    The siren ran her claws over his face, pricking his skin, a general sign of care.  He felt the anesthetic and ecstasy flood his body from the cut in his cheeks.  He went almost limp under her touch as she began singing, Ruby thrashing but her efforts to call him back going unnoticed.

    “It’s not my tricks that you have to fear,” she hummed, “It’s the tricks that await you, and the roses more thorn than leaf, more rot than red,”

    She stood him up, and lead him backwards, through the snow paths.  It grew warmer, sweltering nearly, steam rising around them and draping the enchantress in a canopy of choking mist.  He breathed deeply, drowning before he was even submerged, his coats slipping from his shoulders, the siren pulling at his buttons and buckles.

    Standing at attention like guardsmen to each side of their path were others, sirens just like her, their colours blinding and running in the dense smog.  Red hair, toffee skin, white eyes, blue teeth, black nails.  They were almost distracting, their odes to fishermen they had consumed as sweet as honeypots, but she sang loudest, pulling him forward, a hand under his chin to keep all of him focused on her.

    “Take my end, tie to ships and to trees,” she sang, the words not quite sinking into his ears, just reminding him of something he once knew long before now, “Tear yourself open to let yourself free.”

    “Thank you,” he whispered, and for what he couldn’t understand in his state.

    The sirens’ once curled lips widened, stretching up into high cheekbones, their teeth aimed at his siren’s arms and where they held her catch.  They pulled at their beautiful hair, their eyes ablaze in rage, and Jinmi didn’t even notice, and didn’t even notice when they eventually lost interest in him.

“And if at the end, you still miss me, then follow the line, still death do we meet,” she finished, leading him into the lake, down across the rocky bay, down until his waist, where her legs were stitched together by scales, her tail made of a million looping, joining jewelled crowns.  Her head drifted beneath gently lapping waves, her lips just below the surface, and as Jinmi reached down to her, Ruby pushed him forward, toppling him headfirst into the water.

He stood up, spitting and spluttering.  The water was cold enough to prop his sultry eyes open, and he splashed for a minute to keep himself both warm and afloat.  He looked around wildly, but the siren was gone, her song already gone from his mind, the salt water stinging his cuts and sealing them over.

He looked up, at Ruby who held his two coats and shirt in her teeth.  She seemed to sigh.

“Don’t act up, I knew who it was all along,” he said, wadding into shore, “She was just helping me to pass the sirens, is all.”

Ruby spat his clothes into his soaking arms, and nodded her head.

“Shut it, horse,” he spat, his cheeks glowing hot.


He set up a fire in an alcove the other side of the forest which he had come from, drying himself off, and using spots of magic to speed it up without giving away their location.  His dark magic gave off an obvious colourless glow that swallowed light, and if clever enough, a hunter would be able to spot the fade in sun around their hiding place.  But Jinmi was no idiot, and had spent his life hiding away with Daphne, and as well as that he doubted there were more than sirens and sea hags out at these parts of the woods.

The forest was a magic one, one where creatures usually shunned took refuge, so he supposed that he must be close to whatever it was that he was looking for.  He threw a coat over his knees, his eyes shutting with each final flicker of heat.  

He did not wonder about Daphne, and think for her safety again.  He couldn’t put himself through that sort of pain each time the sun set.  So instead he turned to one side and shut his eyes, sleeping once more, wondering what it was that the giant and siren had lead him all that way to.


That night, in his dreams, Samhain saw the sirens that had wanted so badly to make meal of his flesh, but between the pillars of gorgeous half women whose faces unraveled to reveal monsters, Samhain could see him, a man he knew well.  His golden eyes were unmistakable, and the song he sang was one that only few could know.  Samhain felt a twinge of fear for the mortal who now had the words engraved in their memory.

“Take my end, tie to ships and to trees.  Tear yourself open to let yourself free.  And if at the end, you still miss me, then follow the line, still death do we meet.”

In the morning he was already wide awake, his heart beating hard, his hands balled.  He had to find that wizard who knew too much, if only the first verse, because Samhain was no fool, and it wouldn’t be long before Philotes’ Ballad was stolen from the second realm, and the judge of the dreamer’s character would either mean peace for all who hears the songs first playing, or it would cause wars greater than any started by those magic or fantasy, and mean death to every last God and soul in each of the four realms.

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...