Chapter 29: Indomitable

"No one here has any right to accuse insanity."

Music

Here we are... at the bottom of the earth.

Yellow-gold looks over the caverns and stone before you. The thought of your beaten and bent form making it back to your friends should be reassuring, but you pull into yourself. Wrapping your arms around your own body in unnatural, erratic, and difficult movements is interlaced with visible pleasure. You need something to hold onto. Something other than a Goddess.

Here we are: at the end of the world.

The way ahead is dark, and you feel terribly alone.

There must be something down here worth fighting for.

Lunatic looked like he was enjoyin' it, too. Scariest shit I've seen in all my life.

There is a sickness in their minds and no one will listen.

Scarcely able to speak, you still fight to murmur to yourself. Perhaps you're trying to lean away from Mercy's blessing. To justify your actions to yourself. Perhaps you're trying to prove something.

"No one here has any right to accuse..." You're practically afraid to say it. The accusation leaves you as a whisper. "...insanity."

Mercy is with you as your eyes break away from the caverns. There's no motion from your blood-slick hair as you hang your head.

Our mind...

You're granted a rare, intentional glance at your mortal shell.

Our body...

Jutting bones and pockets of scarred tissue leer through gaps in your holy garment. It's almost as unrecognizable as your own skin. Cut, tattered, and blood-stained— the fabric is loosely draped at best over your ungainly stalks of sinew. The length of your limbs and abdomen is emphasized even further by how much you've wasted away.

It has bent so much. We scarcely recognize it anymore.

Closing your eyes, you clutch onto your own skin in self-love.

We won't break.

You open your eyes of your own volition, and rise to your feet. Mercy guides you. She lifts you through agonizing steps. "We all have something to live for. To fight for." Another gasp leaves you in relief as you stagger forward, and break into a run. You've wasted enough time. "To suffer for."

We who adhere to the will of the Gods— or heathens who turn from your light— our plight is one and the same.

Mercy begins to leave you at long last— with a cry from your lips. It's all the more reason to push yourself harder. Every ounce of strength you possess, all of your righteous justification, and each excruciating step takes you closer to your friends. To people who think you're still worth protecting. They think that you are worth fighting for, and it is enough to keep you moving. They grant you the will to press on despite all agony, and Mercy leaving you alone in the dark.

We all draw strength from where we can.

Into caverns and stone, through creeping mist, and deeper still into crushing darkness you turn, and wind, and delve into the very base of the earth to reach them. Gold and warmth and relief all parts from your sight. She leaves your body— and while remnants of Her blessing persist— the absence of Mercy is crushing. Your thoughts cloud. The world darkens.

Maybe this is our curse.

You're so close to them. There's just another turn ahead, a few steps, and a slight decline in the caverns. Blood comes to your lips as the Mother keeps the Father aloft. She's pushing you— pushing you to safety— with only the faintest remains of a caress upon all the scars littering your back.

Back to the women who question your sanity. Who scorn humanity. Those who would think your connection to the Gods is depraved. They doubt the validity of your life, your work, and everything you have given to achieve what no other man can claim.

"Why should I care for mortals when I have— when I have the Gods?"

Is it only a voice in your head? Are you ever truly alone?

"They would never leave me."

Who you address is uncertain, as you try to press beyond the limits of any human endurance. A deep spasm in one of your legs makes the entire limb give out.

They have left me. Haven't they...?

You're barely able to keep yourself upright, and slip to hands and knees. A nearby rock face is clutched onto for support. A wave of blood is swallowed down. In all-consuming night, you grind your teeth together, and drag yourself upright.

What am I thinking?

You can see light ahead. Mercy has left you— but relief remains. Several rapid, final steps are taken to close the last of the distance between you and your friends. There isn't enough strength in your body to make it to the entrance.

Heavy with exhaustion, you collapse again just shy of an opening in the stone. Your vision swims. Ray's familiar panting, worry, and the sound of him bounding over pierces through the fog that's shrouded your mind. You're dragged into the light.

Panic is written across Ofelia's and Celegwen's worried faces. Your name is being called. The arms of safety becomes a blur.

You finally slip into unconsciousness.

They've been waiting for me.