"It will be a difficult road you will walk, coming to terms with your emotions, but it will be a road worth walking. Sadness stifled turns into resentment. You are young. Do not waste away in the memory of your mother. Cherish her, but also see that she would have wanted you to live a life. Not merely coast by the days, but to truly live," Mother Rhoyne spoke with tenderness.
My tears had stopped, but the heaviness in my chest was still there, only it had lightened. I nodded. "How do I do that? Live. You have seen so many tragedies in your lifetime. How did you accept and move past them?"
She gave a saddened look, shaking her head. "I never moved past them, child. They became a part of me. All the tragedies of my time shaped me, and their memory continues to shape me even now. I did not bury them, nor did I wallow in them. Suffering gives life meaning. The knowledge that the world is not how you want it to be gives you the impetus to strive for betterment. Until my last breath, I too shall strive to make circumstances just a little better. Be that for myself, or for those that come after."
It was layered in understanding and truths that would likely take me a lifetime to truly appreciate, but I took solace in the fact that even after thousands of years, after all her children's deaths, she still held hope in her eyes that it would get better.
I bowed to her out of respect. "Mother Rhoyne's kindness truly knows no bounds. Thank you for helping me."
"It is a blessing that I will depart this world having done a kindness, rather than the sin of killing my children as my last act. Tell me your name, child."
"Hermione. My name is Hermione," I spoke softly. She smiled after hearing it.
"It is a beautiful name."
Just as we finished speaking father strode into the ruins.
The roars of the Stone Men echoing from the plaza were a grim reminder of our rapidly dwindling time.
"Hermione," Father said, his voice a grounding anchor amid the chaos.
I quickly wiped my cheeks with the back of my sleeve, my posture straightening as I turned to face him. "I am all set, Father."
"Take your position at the central node," he instructed, his tone shifting into the uncompromising cadence of a commander. "The moment I strike, the Taint will violently lash out. You must be prepared to flood the runic circle with your mana to contain the mist."
I gave a firm nod, stepping to the edge of the blood-laced runes and raising my wand. Even a minor misstep during the purification could lead to massive consequences. The backlash alone could kill me and leave father severely wounded.
Father turned his intense, glowing emerald gaze toward the bound goddess. The black corruption had crept higher up her chest, fiercely battling the fading golden light. "Are you ready?" he asked.
Mother Rhoyne did not flinch. She looked past his blade and into his eyes, giving a single, resolute nod. "End it, Hadrian."
Father extended his right hand. With a sharp hum that vibrated through the ruined temple and rattled in my chest, his heavy goblin-steel broadsword materialized in his grasp. Almost immediately, the ancient metal began to resonate with his core, radiating a blinding emerald hue that cast long, eerie shadows against the pillars.
He adjusted his grip, his expression hardening into cold detachment.
"Mors Prope," Father chanted, his voice dropping into a dark, reverberating register. Death is nigh.
The air pressure in the room violently plummeted, stealing the breath right out of my lungs. Arcs of chaotic, pitch-black lightning lashed out from the broadsword, cracking like whips against the stone floor. The dark magic was ravenous, demanding a severe toll for its manifestation. I watched with bated breath as the black lightning surged around the blade and my father's right arm grew visibly gaunt. The skin pulled tight against his bones, his veins turning a bruised, inky black as the spell aggressively siphoned his own vitality to fuel its lethal power.
Despite the agonizing physical drain, his hand did not tremble.
Mother Rhoyne's sky-blue eyes widened. Even blinded by the Taint, I could see the awe mixed with realization on her face. To her, he must have looked terrifying.
His presence became an avalanche so heavy it felt as though it would bring the entire ruins down to their very foundations.
"You truly are a being of vicissitudes... Destroyer," the goddess whispered, her voice trembling over the roar of the spell. I remembered how she had casually let drop the fact that father had souls clinging to him. Over three billion, it was a number that shook me to my soul. I did not think that even the populace of the world amounted to that amount. I intended to inquire about it later.
Father did not hesitate. With a fluid motion, he drove the heavy goblin-steel broadsword straight into Mother Rhoyne's chest, the blade sinking deep just a fraction above the suffocating boundary of the Taint.