Chapter Text
Before Hanorael can even call for help, Stenaiah already appeared before him.
“I told you his life is fickle in comparison to yours.” The leaves of the willow tree sway in the wind, while Hanorael leans on the trunk of the willow tree, holding Lauren in his arms.
“Why couldn't I save him?” He asks. His voice is tinier than how he feels.
Stenaiah stares at the two forms in front of him, “how arrogant have you become that you thought you could trample with death?” He asks, his tone sharp and dull. Devoid of any empathy. “That is the result of your own doing, the consequences of meddling with fate.”
Hanorael knew by heart that fate would always come back biting. After all, just like what he said all those years ago, he can never change its destination. Hanorael bit his lip, his grip on Lauren tightening before losing right after, glancing at the dead human on his arms, apologizing in his head for gripping his body too tight.
“Shavriel will do his duties, will he not?” Hanorael asks, his eyes remain fixated on the body in his arms, tucking Lauren’s hair out of his face, and tracing his forehead with his featherlight touches.
“If a candidate of a god precedes his own death, their soul shall be scattered and grinded.”
It really did bite his ass.
Hanorael chuckles underneath his breath, pressing his forehead on Lauren’s before looking straight at Stenaiah’s form.
“I know what you can do,” he states. “What do you need in exchange?”
Stenaiah sighs. “I do not need anything. But what you're asking for needs something.” the god pauses, “your immortality.”
“Then take it.” Hanorael says without a hint of hesitation.
And Stenaiah just shakes his head and weaves his hand through the air, pulling the strings of the cosmos and stitching them into a circle.
“Your fate will always be tied to Ouroboros. You shall live and die, collecting every piece of your human. And in each life, whoever carries the memory of your first will be the one who'll meet death first. And only when this willow tree stops weeping shall be the life where this cycle stops.”
Hanorael hugs Lauren closer to his chest. “A cycle that is fleeting for a god and never ending on a human.”
“You are no longer a god.”
“I know.”
Stenaiah glances at Hanorael’s fickle form. A shame in comparison to his old one’s. “Why do this?” He asks.
Hanorael smiles,”because the tips of his hair will always be warmer than what that power could ever offer.”
“Even if it's the power that could've saved him?”
“Yes.” a pause, letting the light that Stenaiah casted on them wrap him in a suffocating embrace. “If I were given the same choice once more, I would always take this path. Steer this road, and find my way towards him. Always.”
The light expands and contracts before disappearing in the face of the earth as two bodies lie dead on the roots of the willow tree.