> Tot
>
> Noun
>
> Translation: Death
>
> Definition: "Tot" is the word used to describe death. It represents a fundamental concept in Menschen culture, often intertwined with beliefs about the afterlife, legacy, and the cycle of nature. In some region even Tot, is also applied as the word for reincarnation.
Noctavia moved her bare feet slowly towards Yeso. Each one of them clutched a simple copper dagger, an insignificantly small weapon with only one meaning: Tot.
They both understood the futility of any physical struggle between them; the outcome would be the same regardless of who struck the final blow. Their shared promise, a bond forged from a hex and a bless, ensured that their destinies were irrevocably intertwined.
Their history spanned aeons. There was no library big enough to contain their love story. Together, they had traversed the spectrum of all emotion, from joy to sorrow, laughter to tears. Their lives were so deeply bonded that it was impossible to discern where Yeso's story ended and Noctavia's began.
Yeso watched, his gaze fixed on Noctavia's hand as they trembled around the hilt of the dagger. She was using every strength left to fight against Xendrix’s command.
"I know you can hear me. It's okay. The hex will work, you’ll see, and we'll be together again soon. We can outsmart death, just like he did, can't we? You trust me, don't you?" He took a step closer, trying to bridge the gap between them.
But as he moved closer, Noctavia instinctively flinched back, her body reacting even as her mind fought against Xendrix's control. "Don't do that, Zonnestra, come here," Yeso beckoned gently, trying to coax her closer, “Please, Zo, come here.”
However, his words, meant to reassure and draw her in, had the opposite effect. Triggered by some command or fear implanted in her mind, Noctavia suddenly lunged at Yeso, her dagger aimed straight at his heart.
In a swift movement born of their centuries of combat training, Yeso sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the strike. He reached out, attempting to grasp her arm to stop her without causing harm.
But Noctavia, short and agile, demonstrated her mastery in evasion, a skill honed through aeons of being the lover of the greatest warrior who ever existed. She moved with a fluidity that made it difficult for Yeso to anticipate her movements.
Yeso knew Noctavia's combat capabilities too well. He had always ensured she was adept in self-defence by fighting, dodging, and parrying to ensure she would be protected even if he wasn't next to her.
Xendrix's voice, in the meantime, echoed through the hall, "Kill him, you wretched thing!" he bellowed. But his words seemed to fade into the background for both Yeso and Noctavia.
They were in a world of their own, locked in a struggle that was as much about resisting Xendrix's spell as it was about grappling with the looming spectre of death.
After a series of deft movements and close calls, Yeso finally managed to grab Noctavia by the shoulder. Her dagger was perilously close to his chest, and her hands and arms trembled under the strain of resisting the order to strike.
Yeso, understanding her restlessness, gently took hold of her hands around the dagger. "Zo, do you remember what we promised each other? Yes?" he asked, trying to lock his gaze onto Noctavia's stitched eyes. "If we don't find each other again, if we turn into dust after this, Orlo will carry on our hex. He will be blessed with a love as great, if not greater, than ours. We will live on, one way or the other. Do you hear me, Zo?”
At that moment, Yeso felt the pressure of the dagger intensify, the sharp point pressing against his skin. "But if the tales are true, if we do come back, Zonnestra, you must be the one to find me. I'm not sure I'll be capable of finding you in the next life... Zo, I don’t think I will be strong enough," His voice wavered, emotion choking his words as the blade began to pierce his skin. "You'll need to be the one to save me. Please, my love, you have to find me and save me."
The dagger delved deeper into him. Yeso could feel the tremors running through Noctavia's body, her entire being quivering and fighting against the involuntary act of betrayal. Her struggle against her own will was a silent scream of resistance.
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"Mir amo tu," Yeso whispered gently into her ear, "I love you so much. You made me so happy… Zo…"
With a sense of finality and a hexed love, Yeso whispered, "You are free now, Sehr em ver, vida weiter mir tu suchen!" As he uttered these words, he pulled her hand, and thus the blade, decisively towards him. The sharp edge split his heart, sealing their fate and love with an act of unconditional sacrifice.
In those last moments, as his vision began to blur and darken, Yeso's eyes remained fixed on Noctavia. Her face slowly drained of colour, a haunting mirror of his own fading existence. Yet, even as his strength waned, Yeso mustered enough will to catch her in his arms, ensuring that even in death, they would not be parted. They fell on the stoned floor, creating a cloud of ashes, while a shadow covered the sky.
Xendrix, oblivious but with a triumphant stride, approached the lifeless bodies of Yeso and Noctavia. His eyes glinted with a sense of victory and satisfaction as he beheld the culmination of his plans. He walked up to Yeso's still form and kicked at his shoulder, showcasing his disdain and to be sure the Blue-one was indeed dead.
He was interrupted by the sudden but not forgotten menacing growl of the Howling Night. He turned, an expression of mild annoyance crossing his face as he met the formidable Spirit.
"It was a bit anticlimactic, wasn't it?" he said, almost to himself, rolling his eyes in exasperation. The repetition of events, the sense of déjà vu, seemed to irk him more than anything else.
Addressing the Howling Night, he spoke with a tone of weary resignation, "We've done this before, haven't we? Just get this over with. I have already won." Xendrix said while opening his arms to the enraged Spirit. “And you have already lost again!”
The Howling Night, fuelled by a primal rage and a profound sense of loss, accepted the invitation and leapt towards Xendrix with a ferocity that was both terrifying and awe-inspiring. In one swift, powerful movement, the wolf tore into Xendrix's throat, his jaws clamping down with such force that it not only tore the flesh but also cracked and decapitated the king’s neck in a single, brutal motion.
But the wolf's fury was not yet quenched. Driven by an insatiable need for vengeance, the Howling Night proceeded to tear open Xendrix's chest. With relentless savagery, he ripped through the rib cage, exposing the heart within. The wolf then slowly chewed on the heart, but it did little to ease the immense pain and loneliness that engulfed him.
The Howling Night's Master was gone, leaving him completely and utterly alone in his grief. This profound realization resonated far beyond the castle's fallen walls, reaching up into the heavens.
In a mournful tribute to the Howling Night's sorrow, all spirits from the Map grieved alongside him. One by one, like the Sun, the stars dimmed their light, turning off their brilliance in solidarity. The night sky became shrouded in total darkness as each star retreated into oblivion.
The nine moons, echoing the stars' gesture, also withdrew their presence. For a long time, they would remain absent from the sky, leaving the world in an extended period of darkness, a fitting reflection of the Howling Night's profound loss.
Amidst his tears and howls of grief, the Howling Night witnessed a small miracle. Inside the lifeless bodies of his Master and her Hexe, two saatguts fluttered their wings, a sign of life amidst the devastation. It was a bittersweet moment.
As one of the butterflies emerged effortlessly from Yeso's body, its counterpart struggled to free itself from the confines of Noctavia's form, hindered by the stitches around her mouth.
The Howling Night, his muzzle stained with blood and eyes clouded with tears, watched in uncertainty. He was torn between the desire to assist and the fear of causing further harm, unsure whether to intervene in this process.
However, the first butterfly, glowing with a serene light, seemed to understand its mate's plight. In an act of gentle assistance, it hovered near Noctavia, offering its support.
After a tense and delicate effort, the second butterfly finally managed to disentangle itself from the stitches. Now freed, it joined its companion in flight. Together, they soared away, their wings emanating a colour that defied description. It was a hue so unique and captivating that it left an impression of otherworldly beauty, just like the love that bonded between Yeso and Noctavia.
Watching them disappear into the distance, the Howling Night felt a bittersweet sense of relief. Even though he knew he wouldn't see his Master and her Hexe for a very long time, there was comfort in knowing that they wouldn't be alone. The butterflies, embodiments of their saatgut, would carry on. Where? And when? He didn't know.
Exhausted and overwhelmed by the events, the Howling Night collapsed into the ashes, completely drained. In that moment of utter weariness, all he yearned for was sleep. Something to make the pain stop.
As he lay there, on the brink of succumbing to exhaustion, a gentle voice reached his ears. It was the little mouse, Marie-Hex, speaking, "Sleep, my friend; I promise I'll wake you up when your Master returns. I will take care of everything."
The Howling Night, his voice heavy with fatigue and sorrow, asked feebly, "You promise you'll wake me up?"
"I promise," Marie-Hex affirmed while her fingers brushed his fur. "I always keep my promises."
"I'm so tired, I'm so sad," the wolf murmured. “I can’t do this anymore!”
"I know," Marie-Hex replied, "But they will return. They always do, don’t they? Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here. Rest now, and when the time is right, I will be here to wake you up. You won't be alone in this wait. This time, I'll be here when you wake up."
With that said, the Howling Night allowed himself to drift into a deep, much-needed sleep, trusting in the promise that one day, he would be reunited with his Master, whoever or whatever they would be.