Sisyphus (3)

The Remnant of a God.

IV. Thoth.

Gods don’t sleep, but our consciousness can be suppressed else the existential crisis of immortality got to us. There were a few different ways to do this, but most would ask for a dollop of sand from my twin brother, Hypnos. A bit to the nose, and you’re good to go. But the demand of Gods was endless, and even with all of his power, Hypnos couldn’t meet it. The God of Sleep couldn’t sleep, for a long time.

Interesting, very interesting indeed. I wonder how much Madness existed between Sisyphus’s smiles. It was cloaked around him, like a black mist, smouldering. I want to see it burst, but it wasn’t quite ripe, not just yet. This wasn’t yet time for that. There was a whole new world on the surface to enjoy.

knock knock

There was a knocking inside my mindscape. Closing my eyes, I found my consciousness opening a door into a library of sort, with book-filled shelves as far as the eyes can see, books donning the ceiling, books as floor-tiles, books stacked upon each other to support the structure itself. In the middle of it all was a birdman, with wrinkled skin the colour of old parchment wrapped around a thin, long beak. Perching upon the beak was a pair of small glasses. A god, no doubt, and an insolent one at that. It was obvious he gave me the invitation, but now that I was here, he heeded no mind and instead steadily scratching at a book with his quill, coughing in between strokes.

“Name yourself.”

“Thoth is my name, Thanatos.” - A violent coughing fit interrupted him half-way. Still, he didn’t turn to greet me. “Apologize, I must, Foolish One. The weight of years hangs heavy upon me.”

“Watch your manner, Thoth." - He reminded me of Athena, the typical know-it-all God of Knowledge.

“Anger, as always. Is it not Lyssa the Goddess of Rage? Fear you as your family does, I do not, Death.” - Thoth finally turned around to face me, but his hand scribbled still.

“Athena was our Wisdom, and she feared me just the same. You are talking big, birdman, merely because I am not close.”

“Informed me, Lady Nyx did, of your state. Spot me, you cannot, even if I was close by, Thanatos. Afraid, I am, that few left on this planet believe in Death.” - He let out a cackle.

“As long as you still believe, Egyptian God, that would be enough for me to snuff you out the same as I did Ra.” - The phoenix came to aid Apollo. He begged like the rest of them.

Thoth stood up at the mention of his King, his head touching the book-ceiling, causing some to drop to the ground. The sudden movement sent him into a bout of coughing. Sand seeped in through the holes.

“Her perceptions are sharp as always, Lady Nyx’s. Hatred for the Gods, still dwell deep within yourself, Thanatos. What would your brother think?” - He looked down at me.

“Did you pay any mind what my brother thought when you asked him for his Sand? What I did was merely a reaction.” - I rose until our eyes met, glaring, fist-clenched, teeth-grind, all the best ways I know to show him the old adage: Death allowed no regret.

We kept the stare for a minute, until the bird let out a sigh and sat down, letting sand trickled atop his head.

“No matter. What done is done, Foolish One. A message, I was asked, to deliver to you from your mother. Your brother lives yet. And find him, you must.”

The news flashed into my mind a vision of golden blood and golden weapons, sprouting barbs inside my chest. I shook my head and tried to steady my voice.

“How?”

“The Pyramid, Lady Nyx divulged. Not ours, no, but one made of flesh and blood. Your companion should know of it well.” - Thoth cleared his throat. The God straightened himself on his seat at the word “Pyramid.” It appears the Egyptian, and perhaps other of his kin, was able to cling to Existence thanked to humanity’s reliance on their architecture.

“Did dear ol’ mom tell you anything else, birdman?”

He nodded his head, where sand had formed a comical cone.

“A name, one you might be familiar with, Death. Another one of your failures.”

“Alcestis.” - As soon as the name left my mouth, I found myself back on Sisyphus’s shoulder.

We were nearly at the top.

V. Belief.

The throne room of Olympus wasn’t much to look at in its hayday: twelve giant thrones circling an ever-burning hearth. The hearth remained, but instead of cedar and cherry, it smelled of smoke and burning oil, thick enough that my hands felt like they were wading through butter. As mentioned, above me was the only source of light: a giant spotlight moving around in circle, never lighting the whole landscape at once.

“Sisyphus, how far are we from The Pyramid?” - I asked.

“On foot? Three months. But I know a place we can get a vehicle not far from here.” - He answered and started walking toward a direction.

Soon enough, I could see the outer edge of the dome, where the smoke met some sort of wall that stopped it from spreading or dissipating. There was a figure leaning his back on the glass wall, a cowl covered his face. What little I could see was a full beard filled with food, and his neck… tied with a noose. The skin above and below the rope’d turned purple.

“Ted bowed to Lord Index, ha.” - The man, Ted, got down on all fours and started pulling on the rope, tightening it around his neck. His voice was high-pitched, but it was hard to tell if that’s his voice or the self-torture.

“At ease, Ted. Report back to HQ that I’ve found Death. We need transportation immediately, as well as rations enough to get to The Pyramid.” - Sisyphus ordered.

Ted didn’t budge. There was a moment of silence before he responded.

“Ted apology to Lord Index, ha. But that not Death. Ted lives, still, ha. That a little girl. No power, ha.” - The man pointed a finger at me.

Before Sisyphus could utter a word, I lunged at Ted, conjuring all of my power to chant the power word for “Rot.”

“Maybe losing a hand will teach you respect. I killed a God just because he looked at me wrong. You…”

…

…

…

I was waiting for a scream from Ted, a squeal of pain having his hand melted to the bones. What I actually heard was him laughing as I wrapped my hands around his arm like a helpless kitten dangling from a tree branch.

“Ted saw Gods, little girl. You no God, ha.” - He shook me off, leaving me ass first on the ground, stunned. Hoping the spell had a delay effect, I kept staring at his arm. All the damage I dealt was some red marks where my nails’d been.

“Sisyphus.” - I screamed, and in response, the Prince drew two daggers from his belt. With a blur, the blades cut Ted’s head clean off, his body still trembling from the laughter.

“Ted apology. She guest. Don’t kick Ted head away, ha.” - The rolling head pleaded.

Meanwhile, like a sack of potatoes, I sat there, looking at my own hands. Magic was a God’s birthright, it flowed through us like blood through veins, feeding our muscles. But now, what inside me could barely be registered as a tickle.

“I wanted to tell you before, but it’s better for you to see with your own eyes. I’m afraid, Death, you are but a distant memory of the human race at this point.”