After several more weeks of arduous travel, the couple finally reached their destination—the colossal roots of the giant tree. The moment they stepped into its shadow, they could sense the ancient power that emanated from the earth, from the very bark and leaves that surrounded them. The foliage grew thicker here, woven into an impenetrable tapestry of green and gold. Sunlight filtered through the dense canopy, casting dappled shadows that danced across the ground. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and blooming flowers, yet there was an underlying musk, a reminder that this place, while beautiful, was not without its dangers.
The animals they encountered were surprisingly docile, moving with a serene grace that belied the primal energy of the forest. It was as if the tree itself commanded their tranquility, holding them in a gentle but firm embrace. And yet, despite the outward calm, there was something unsettling about the place. The surroundings seemed paradoxically organized and chaotic, vibrant with life yet tinged with death, filled with truths that felt like lies. Every step they took was a journey through contradictions—each one both confusing and enlightening.
Pacificus never strayed from Merina’s side. His protective instincts were heightened, even in this place where the beasts seemed unnaturally tame. He kept a constant watch, his hand never far from his weapon, though he hoped he wouldn’t have to use it. The presence of the temple was palpable now, its sacred aura growing stronger as they approached.
As they neared the entrance to Gaia and Thanatos’s temple, the couple halted, their breath catching in their throats at the sight before them. A group of kirins stood guard, their elegant forms arrayed in a semi-circle around the entrance. Each kirin was larger than Torrent, their scales shimmering in hues of emerald, sapphire, and amethyst. Their presence was awe-inspiring, an otherworldly display of power and grace.
Passing by them was a surreal experience. Kirins were known to be solitary creatures, elusive and rarely seen. Yet here they stood, not only in a group but also calm and composed, a bizarre sight that defied all natural law.
There was something else about these kirins—an aura of power that surpassed even the most fearsome predators. Though smaller in size compared to the thunder beasts, each kirin exuded a strength that felt immeasurable, as if they could effortlessly subdue a dreaded saurian. Their eyes, bright with intelligence and ancient wisdom, followed Pacificus and Merina, unblinking and watchful.
But it was the largest among them that truly held their attention. This kirin was a majestic creature, his scales a radiant blend of silver and gold that caught the light and reflected it like polished metal. His horns, long and twisted in intricate spirals, gleamed with a brilliance that rivaled the sun. His white mane floated around him as if moved by an unseen wind, giving him an ethereal, almost divine appearance. His hooves, large and powerful, struck the ground with a quiet authority, while his claws, sharp as swords, hinted at the lethal power he could unleash if provoked. He resembled not so much a kirin but a dragon, a being of legend and myth.
The great beast’s violet eyes locked onto the couple, his gaze intense and penetrating. It was as though he could see into their very souls, weighing their worth, their intentions. Then, with a graceful shake of his mane and a proud toss of his beard, the kirin let out a resonant neigh, the sound echoing through the sacred grove. It was not a challenge, but a welcome—a gesture that signaled they were allowed to pass, that they were accepted within the temple’s hallowed grounds.
Merina and Pacificus exchanged a glance, both humbled and awed by the experience.
“Pacy,” Merina whispered, her voice soft but resolute.
“Yes, my love?” Pacificus replied, his gaze shifting to her with concern.
“I’ll stay here,” she murmured, her eyes flickering with both resolve and a trace of unease. “I am not a child of Gaia... or Thanatos. The temple is sacred, and from what I’ve seen, only their true worshippers are allowed within. I don’t want to disrespect the deities.”
Pacificus frowned, his worry deepening. “But Rina...”
“I will be fine, Pacy,” she reassured him, her voice steady despite the gravity of her words. “I know I will.”
He hesitated, torn between the instinct to protect her and the understanding that she was right. “All right,” he finally conceded, his voice laced with reluctance as he slowly turned to face the temple’s shadowed entrance.
As he ventured deeper into the ancient cave, the light around him dimmed, consumed by the thick, suffocating darkness that seemed to pulse with its own heartbeat. The air was heavy, filled with the scent of damp earth and the unmistakable tang of decay, yet interwoven with the sweet fragrance of blooming flowers. It was a place teeming with contradictions—life intertwined with death, beauty with decay.
Pacificus walked cautiously, his steps echoing in the vast emptiness, each one taking him further from the safety of the entrance and closer to the unknown. The silence was oppressive, broken only by a voice—soft, almost imperceptible, yet it echoed in his mind like a distant memory. It was a voice that was both honest and deceiving, luring him forward with promises he couldn’t quite grasp.
He followed the voice, his senses on high alert, every nerve in his body taut with anticipation. The darkness seemed to grow thicker, wrapping around him like a shroud. His eyes strained to see, but the shadows clung to everything, obscuring his path. Then, as he took another step, he felt it—cold, stagnant water seeping through his boots, creeping up his ankles.
He paused, his heart skipping a beat as he looked down. The water was black as night, reflecting nothing of the dim light above. It was an unnatural coldness, the kind that seemed to reach into his bones, yet he pressed on, his resolve unshaken.
As he continued, a faint glow appeared in the distance, a solitary beacon in the sea of darkness. Drawn to it, Pacificus moved closer, his steps careful yet deliberate. The light grew stronger, revealing its source—a giant enclosed flower.
The petals of the flower unfolded slowly, each revealing a swirl of colors that defied comprehension. They were hues that shouldn't exist together—brilliant yet murky, soothing yet unsettling. The beauty of the flower was a paradox, its colors clashing and blending in a way that was both mesmerizing and disorienting. As it fully opened, vines and branches began to twist and writhe from its center, like living tendrils of chaos given form.
Leaves sprouted from the vines, their veins glowing like embers, while delicate flowers bloomed, exuding an aura that was at once inviting and repellent. The goddess emerged from within this tangle of life, her form coalescing from the twisting wood and foliage. She was Gaia, the primordial goddess of life—a being of contradictions, with a body made of living wood and a flame burning brightly at her chest. Her horns were twisted and gnarled, like ancient roots, and vines curled around her limbs as though they were an extension of her very essence. She was both beautiful and grotesque, her presence uncanny yet somehow comforting.
Her eyes, deep and dark as the earth, bore into Pacificus, filled with a mix of nurturing warmth and predatory hunger. When she spoke, her voice was a blend of opposites—genuine yet mocking, sincere yet dripping with deception. "Greetings, Azrael," she intoned, her words resonating deep within his soul, as though she had reached into his very essence and called him by his true name.
Pacificus felt a tremor run through him at the sound of her voice, the way she uttered his name making his heart race. He bowed low, his respect for the primordial goddess overshadowing the fear that gnawed at his insides.
Gaia chuckled, the sound both a soothing lullaby and a sinister laugh. It echoed in the chamber, filling the space with a strange energy that was both calming and terrifying. "What is it that you desire so much that you would seek me out, Azrael?" Her voice danced between tones, never settling, always shifting like the wind.
As she spoke, vines and branches began to grow around Pacificus, wrapping him in their glowing embrace. The leaves unfurled, displaying the same contradictory beauty as the petals of the flower—both lovely and hideous, natural yet otherworldly.
"I... I just wanted to receive your blessing once more, great goddess," Pacificus stammered, his voice wavering under the weight of her presence.
"Is that all?" Gaia's tone was laced with amusement, a dangerous edge hidden beneath the surface.
"Y-yes, Goddess," he replied, though uncertainty gnawed at him.
"You didn’t know, did you?" Her voice was softer now, almost pitying.
Pacificus felt a cold dread settle in his stomach. "What is it that I don't know, Goddess?"
"The woman, your lover... she is pregnant with your child."
Pacificus's heart skipped a beat. A smile slowly spread across his face as the realization sank in. "I... I never thought I would become a father... but she gave me that chance."
Gaia's voice shifted again, losing its mocking edge and taking on a tone of genuine concern. "So did I, Azrael," she said, her words heavy with meaning. "For you see, Azrael, you carry the blood of Elion, Idra, and even Durin in your veins."
Pacificus's eyes widened in shock. His body trembled, feeling as if the very ground beneath him was crumbling away. "H-how can that be, Goddess?" he stuttered, disbelief clouding his mind. "I... I can't be a hybrid... Aren't hybrids supposed to be infertile?"
"No, my dear child," Gaia's voice was firm, devoid of any contradiction. "All hybrids are born from the children of Elion. However, those born with different blood are usually weak, but they also possess incredible potential." She gazed at Pacificus with an intensity that made him feel exposed. "Azrael, my dear child, you are a miracle brought forth by love. You were born weak, destined to die, but your parents defied that fate. They braved my domain to save your life."
"I... I understand now," Pacificus whispered, his voice trembling with the weight of the revelation. "Now I know why I've always felt so different from others... All this time, I thought I was just human... Oh, Merina... How will she... Will she still love me when she realizes what I am?" Fear gripped him as his thoughts turned to the woman he loved. "And she is pregnant... with my child. Goddess, please tell me... Will she be all right if she gives birth to my child?"
Gaia's expression softened, her eyes filled with a mix of pity and sadness. "If she chooses to give birth to your child, it may cost her life. If not, she will weaken, for her lifespan is lower than yours. She will be vulnerable to the same disease that took your father."
Pacificus's heart pounded in his chest, terror threatening to overwhelm him. "And if she doesn't?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
"Then she would stay alive and healthy," Gaia answered, her tone leaving no room for doubt.
"I must tell her... I must tell her to abort the child," Pacificus said, desperation coloring his voice.
"Oh, Azrael," Gaia sighed, her voice filled with a sad wisdom. "That decision lies with her and her alone, not with you."
"But... but Goddess," Pacificus cried, tears streaming down his face. "I can't lose her... I can't lose her."
Gaia’s expression remained calm, yet there was an undeniable depth of empathy in her eyes. "But it is her decision, Azrael. She is the one carrying the life that is slowly forming within her."
Pacificus fell to his knees, the cold water now rising to his chest, his body racked with sobs. "Wh-what must I do?" he pleaded, his voice breaking as he looked up at the goddess. "Please, tell me... what must I do?"
Gaia's smile deepened, her lips curving in a way that was both reassuring and mysterious. "Do as your parents taught you. Be strong, Azrael." As she spoke, a vine extended from her, its touch gentle as it brushed against Pacificus's back. A warmth spread through him, chasing away the cold dread that had gripped his heart. He felt the warmth not just on his skin, but deep within his soul, a comforting presence that steadied his nerves and gave him a sense of clarity.
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As the vine touched him, runes began to glow faintly on his back, shimmering with a light that pulsed like a heartbeat. The symbol of Gaia and Thanatos—the intertwined tree representing both life and death—etched itself into his flesh, its roots and branches spreading across his back like a living tattoo. The runes felt alive, humming with power, but Pacificus barely noticed them. His thoughts were consumed by the weight of Gaia’s words, by the fear and despair gnawing at him as he thought of Merina and their unborn child.
"You have grown," Gaia's voice was soft, almost maternal, as she regarded him with those deep, knowing eyes. "You have grown strong, Azrael."
But her words offered little comfort to Pacificus in that moment. He stood there, his gaze distant, his mind clouded with worry. The thought of losing Merina, of failing to protect the life they had created together, was unbearable. He felt the weight of the world pressing down on him, a suffocating burden that made it hard to breathe.
"Tell me," Gaia’s voice cut through his thoughts, drawing his attention back to her. "What potential would you wish to increase?"
For a moment, Pacificus was silent, his mind racing as he struggled to find the right words. Finally, he looked up at the goddess, his eyes filled with a mixture of desperation and determination. "I... I wish I was stronger... strong enough... to save them."
Gaia studied him for a long moment, her expression inscrutable. Then, with a slow, deliberate nod, she spoke again. "Azrael... bring her here."
Her words were both a command and an invitation, filled with a gravity that sent a shiver down his spine. The vines around him seemed to pulse in response, as if they were alive with anticipation. The runes on his back flared briefly, their light casting faint shadows on the water beneath him.
----------------------------------------
Merina stood quietly, her hand moving in a gentle rhythm as she brushed the mane of the lady Kirin. The brush she used was one she had crafted for Torrent, its bristles smooth and well-worn from many uses. The Kirin, with her single, spiraling horn and the soft, doe-like features, stood serenely under Merina's touch, her silver-white mane cascading down in silky waves. The majestic creature was a picture of grace and calm, a stark contrast to the swirling emotions within Merina.
As Merina brushed, the lady Kirin shifted slightly, lowering her head to nudge Merina's belly with her warm, velvety muzzle. The gentle gesture was followed by a soft neigh, almost like a question or an expression of concern.
"Oh," Merina murmured, understanding the Kirin's unspoken inquiry. "Yes... I'm pregnant."
The Kirin responded with a slow nod, her deep, violet eyes reflecting a wisdom that seemed to transcend words.
"I think I've been pregnant for... fifteen weeks by now?" Merina continued, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "I really don't know."
The Kirin neighed again, a sound that was both soothing and supportive, as if she understood the confusion and fear that Merina was feeling.
Merina's hands paused for a moment as she let out a soft sigh, her gaze lowering to the ground. "Yes... I'm afraid," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm afraid and nervous... I'm terrified of giving birth, knowing how painful it will be. But... but at the same time... I'm... I'm excited." Her voice wavered, a mix of trepidation and longing. "I want to see this child. I want to hold this child in my arms... It's kind of weird... don't you think?"
As if sensing her vulnerability, something gently bumped against her back. Startled, Merina turned to see a Kirin fawn, its tiny hooves prancing with playful energy. The fawn's youthful exuberance was infectious, and for a moment, Merina found herself smiling despite her worries. The little one seemed to be inviting her to join in its play, its eyes bright with innocent joy.
But before Merina could react, the lady Kirin let out a low, gentle growl, and the fawn obediently returned to its mother’s side. The lady Kirin leaned down, nuzzling the fawn with a tenderness that made Merina's heart ache with a sudden, overwhelming emotion. She watched as the mother Kirin cleaned the fawn’s fur, each movement filled with a deep, instinctual love.
Turning her attention back to the lady Kirin, Merina resumed brushing the mane, her strokes slow and deliberate. There was something calming about the repetitive motion, something that soothed her frayed nerves. The Kirin, in response, lowered her head once more, this time licking Merina's face and then her belly, her tongue rough yet comforting.
The Kirin's soft, melodic neigh followed, the sound filled with an almost maternal warmth, as if the creature was offering her own form of comfort and reassurance.
"Uh... Thank you?" Merina replied, her voice tinged with uncertainty and gratitude. She reached out to gently pat the Kirin's neck, feeling the warmth of the creature’s skin beneath her hand. "I don't really understand what you're saying, but... you're a mother, and I'm about to become one... so I'll keep your words at heart."
"Rina," came a familiar voice, tinged with a sadness that immediately set Merina on edge.
A smile instinctively spread across her lips, but it quickly faded as she turned to see the anguish etched in Pacificus's eyes. The depth of his despair was like a dagger to her heart. "Pacy," she called out softly, rushing to him, her hands reaching for his face, her fingers trembling slightly as they brushed his cheeks. "Are you all right?"
"I... I'm fine, Rina... I'm fine," he replied, his voice betraying the tremor in his heart. His eyes, however, told a different story. They quivered with unspoken fears, and the smile he offered her was weak, a facade barely holding together.
"Liar," she whispered, her voice laced with concern and gentle admonishment.
Pacificus blinked, taken aback by her straightforwardness. "I'm fine, Rina... honestly..." he stammered, struggling to maintain his composure. "I... I... the goddess wants to meet you, my love."
Merina studied his face, searching his eyes for the truth he was trying so desperately to hide. She sighed softly, her heart aching for him, and leaned in to kiss him tenderly on the lips. When she pulled back, she whispered in his ear, "If something is troubling you... just tell me."
Pacificus wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace. "I know," he murmured into her hair, his voice thick with emotion. "I know you would."
With a silent understanding between them, Pacificus guided Merina into the heart of Gaia's domain. The entrance to the temple lay beneath the massive roots of the ancient tree, a dark, yawning mouth that seemed to swallow all light. The darkness inside was palpable, a heavy, living presence that pressed in on them from all sides. It was both terrifying and strangely welcoming, a paradox that tugged at Merina's soul.
As they ventured deeper into the temple, the air grew thick with contradictions. The very atmosphere was a blend of chaos and order, symmetry and asymmetry, beauty and ugliness. The walls seemed to shift and pulse, alive with the essence of Gaia herself. Merina could feel it in her bones, in the very core of her being—a presence that was both ancient and young, serene and wild. It was disorienting, and yet, in some inexplicable way, it felt like coming home.
Finally, they stood before Gaia, the primordial goddess of life. Merina's senses were overwhelmed as she beheld the deity in her full, contradictory glory. Gaia was a living embodiment of paradoxes—chaotic yet organized, symmetrical yet asymmetrical, breathtakingly beautiful and yet disturbingly ugly. Her presence was an assault on the senses, and yet, Merina found herself unable to look away.
"Greetings, young one," Gaia's voice echoed through the chamber, a sound that was both melodic and discordant, genuine and mocking. Her eyes, ancient and all-seeing, fixed on Merina with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat. "Come closer."
Merina swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. Her feet felt like lead as she took a tentative step toward the water that separated them. The goddess’s words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. "There is life slowly forming in your womb," Gaia continued, her tone both sincere and sardonic. "Did my champion treat you well?"
"Champion?" Merina echoed, her eyes widening in surprise. She turned to look at Pacificus, confusion and disbelief warring in her expression. "P-Pacy is a champion?"
Gaia chuckled, a sound that was both warm and chilling, before turning her gaze to Pacificus. "Azrael... come closer. It would be much wiser if you were the one to tell her."
Pacificus hesitated, his face a mask of grief and despair. His body trembled as he approached Merina, the weight of what he was about to reveal pressing down on him like a physical burden. "M-Rina... I... I... I am a hybrid," he confessed, his voice cracking under the strain.
Merina blinked, her brow furrowing in confusion. "And?" she asked, not understanding the significance of his words.
Pacificus stared at her, bewildered by her reaction. "I'm a hybrid... I'm not a pure human," he repeated, his tone laced with urgency.
Merina tilted her head slightly, still not grasping the gravity of his confession. "Pacy... I know that," she said simply.
His eyes widened in shock. "Y-you know?"
"Not exactly... but I had my suspicions," she admitted, her voice calm. "Your immense strength, the stories you've told me about your grandfather being a dwarf... I always thought you might be a dwarven-human hybrid."
"Rina... you are pregnant with a hybrid's child. Do you know how—"
"Dangerous it is," she interrupted, her voice steady. "I know, Pacy... I know. Hybrids are rare because they are often born extremely weak... and I've heard rumors that their human parents get sick and die when they give birth to them."
Pacificus nodded, his face pale. "Rina... those rumors are true. My father died from it."
Merina closed her eyes, the revelation hitting her like a physical blow. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself before looking back at Pacificus. "Pacy... you have dwarven blood in you, don’t you?"
"Y-yes," he stammered, "but... I also have the blood of Idra."
Merina’s eyes widened further in shock. "No wonder you're so handsome," she tried to joke, a weak smile forming on her lips. "You have elven blood too." Her gaze dropped to her belly, then shifted to the goddess who had been silently observing their conversation.
"Will I die if I give birth?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"There is a strong possibility that you will," Gaia answered, her tone devoid of the contradictions that had filled it before. It was just the cold, unvarnished truth. "If childbirth doesn’t kill you, then the curse of Elrion might."
"The curse of Elrion?" Merina echoed, her voice trembling.
"Also known as the curse of mortality," Gaia explained, her voice steady and clear. "Though it is not truly a curse... it is a gift. Mortality itself is a gift. The curse of Elrion is a gift because, though his life was short compared to other progenitors, his influence has outlived them all. His name and deeds are remembered by his species. However, it is because the human lifespan is so short that when a hybrid is born, they often don’t survive."
Merina's breath caught in her throat as she stared at Gaia, her mind struggling to process the goddess’s words.
"Young one," Gaia continued, her voice gentle yet firm, "When a baby is born, they unconsciously draw mana from their parents. The more long lived the species the more mana they siphon, this is not an issue for non-hybrids, but for hybrids who are born from parents with different lifespans, it is fatal for the one who has less lifespan. This unconscious siphoning of mana continues until the child is a month old, for those who had the blood of Idra this is nothing but for those who had the blood of Elrion... it is fatal. Even for the children of Durin, it can be fatal. You may feel fine for years, but one day, you will suddenly grow weak as your body begins to shut down, leading to a slow and painful death. That is the process of mana poisoning."
"I... I see," Merina stammered, visibly shaken. She looked from Pacificus to Gaia, her thoughts a whirlwind of fear and uncertainty. "If I abort the child, what would happen?"
"You will be fine," Gaia replied, her tone as matter-of-fact as before. "You will stay healthy and live your life as a normal human."
Merina’s gaze shifted between the goddess, her belly, and Pacificus, her thoughts racing. Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing like a drum in her ears. The weight of the decision before her was suffocating, and as she tried to steady her breathing, she realized that her entire life—her future, her love, and her very existence—hung in the balance of the choice she had to make.
Merina's gaze shifted between the goddess, Pacificus, and finally, her belly, which had grown noticeably larger. Her hand instinctively rested on the curve of her abdomen, feeling the life that had yet to fully awaken within her. The weight of her decision pressed heavily on her chest, but her resolve was clear.
"Pacy..." she began softly, her voice trembling with both fear and determination, "Pacy has elven blood... doesn't he?"
"Yes," the goddess replied, her tone devoid of any contradiction, her words ringing with the cold, unvarnished truth.
Merina nodded, absorbing the confirmation. A small, bittersweet smile played on her lips as she looked up at Pacificus, whose eyes reflected a storm of emotions—fear, love, and a deep, abiding sorrow. "Then I want to give birth to this child," she declared, her voice steady despite the turmoil raging within her.
Pacificus felt his heart shatter at her words, but he remained silent, his throat tight with the anguish he couldn't voice. His thoughts screamed with objections, with desperate pleas for her to reconsider, but he held them back, knowing that this was her choice—a choice he had no right to take from her.
"Please," Merina continued, turning her gaze to the goddess, her eyes filled with earnest desperation. "Give this child your blessing."
Gaia's expression remained impassive as she shook her head, her voice a blend of warmth and coldness, carrying the weight of an ancient truth. "I can't," she said, the words striking with the finality of a closing door. "There is life forming in your womb, but that is life that is slowly being formed not life itself. My blessings are only available to those who are alive. If you wish to bless your child, return here after you have given birth." The goddess's voice, though contradictory in its warmth and coldness, held no deceit. "You may stay in my domain, spend your days here resting and preparing for the trials ahead. Childbirth is a painful process, young one. You will need all the strength you can gather."
Merina smiled softly, gratitude mingling with the fear in her heart. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible in the sacred space.
The goddess regarded her with an unreadable expression before speaking again. "Young one," Gaia began, her tone probing yet gentle, "why do you choose to give birth to this child?"
Merina looked over at Pacificus, her heart aching for him as she saw the sorrow etched into every line of his face. Then, she turned back to Gaia, her voice quiet but filled with the depth of her conviction. "Because I'm only human," she answered, her words simple yet profound. "My life is shorter than his. I will die someday, if not sooner, then I will grow old while he remains young. Pacy... Pacy is the kind of person who would do everything for the people he loves. He would care for them until the day he dies... but who will be there for him when I am gone? Who will he love once I am no longer here? I am not a long-lived species. I'm only human, and that is something I can't change. I choose to give..."
Her voice caught in her throat, but she forced herself to continue, her gaze unwavering. "I choose to give life to this child, because I want to leave behind something of us—a part of me, a part of him. I want him to have someone to love, someone who will carry on, even after I'm gone. I may not be able to stay with him forever, but this child... this child will be our legacy. It's the only way I can ensure he won't be alone, that he will have someone to love and be loved by, even when I'm no longer here."
Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them back, refusing to let them fall. "I choose to give life to this child because it's the one thing I can give him that will last beyond my time, beyond our time together. It's the one thing that will remain when I am gone."