An End of Gods & Dust: Act VIII

“Then let us be ground, you and I - 

not to mere ash, but to stardust; 

for that is all we ever were, and all we shall be.”

To Stardust by Amanda Starks

“What…what are you?”

It was all Kokuo had in him to say as those lightless eyes inside his friend’s skull gazed back at him.

Karra stepped forward, her hand outstretched warily. “Kokuo…”

“Answer me!” Kokuo shouted, balling his fists into the sand beneath him. Tell me you’re still my friend. Tell me I know who you are. “What power is that? Have you been an apostle this whole time?”

But Kokuo already knew the answer, for there was no golden blood on the ground. 

Only black dust.

“Something like that,” Karra said, not elaborating any further. “But it’s not important. We need to leave, now.”

She reached for him again, but Kokuo scrambled back, gasping as a painful, burning sensation flared across his legs. Looking down, Kokuo was horrified to find the top layer of skin on his knees and shins had turned grayish and pale and looked to be flaking off dark particles in certain spots where the skin had been worn down to muscle.

Kokuo clamped down on the pathetic cry bubbling up his throat, leaning forward to press on the open wounds, only to hiss when, upon contact, more of his skin flaked off.

“Kokuo! Stop, let me -” Karra stumbled forward, her knees sinking into the black sand before him, her hands hovering over his. Yet, despite the power she had shown, it seemed she didn’t have the kind to heal this.

“I - I’m so sorry. I was only trying to kill the daemon. I had a feeling Hallas was going to get hurt but that…that wasn’t what I intended.” Her voice cracked and broke, her usually stoic, severe face twisting with every emotion waxing over her features.

Kokuo didn’t know what to say. He understood now why she had pushed him behind her, but to have this little control over something so dangerous? Maybe it was why she hadn’t shown this in all the time he’d known her.

But if she wasn’t an apostle, then what was she? And why did her power seem to resemble the storm?

Karra wiped her face, casting away dust, emotion, and the darkness in her eyes. She reached down to him once more, and this time he didn’t resist. 

With a grunt, Karra got Kokuo’s arm over her shoulder, and she began trudging forward through the new piles of black dust and sand where Hallas and the daemon had once stood. 

“I’ll get you home, Kokuo. I promise.”

.     .     .

Remarkably, none of the vulturkin catched up to their slow and painful march to the cave. Kokuo had kept looking over his shoulder the entire journey, sure he would see their feathered, bony forms. He hoped they had just given up, but something told him Karra was once again holding out on him.

As soon as the cave came within sight, Ourania was there running out of the cave to greet them, her weathered face pinched with worry and tension. 

Without a word, the apostle got on Kokuo’s other side and helped him into the shelter of their home. 

“The others?” Ourania asked as the darkness of the cave enveloped them.

“Gone,” came Karra’s curt reply, grunting as she aided Kokuo down onto one of the makeshift beds against the cave wall.

Leto came up from further in, his black hair pressed flat to one side of his head where he’d been laying down. “How’d it go? Did - by the gods, Kokuo!” Leto’s green eyes zeroed in on Kokuo’s flaking legs.

Kokuo glared up at Karra, but kept his mouth shut on who was truly responsible for the injury. “We ran into a daemon,” Kokuo explained. “It took out Hallas and nearly got me. Tryfon…he gave himself over to the creatures. He never planned on fighting.”

Leto’s green eyes dimmed, turning grey in the shadows of the cave. “That bastard…”

Ourania sighed, muttering something unintelligible under her breath before speaking. “They will be remembered, but right now we need to get this under control.” She gestured to Kokuo’s legs. “Has it spread since you were injured?”

“No,” Karra said, looking confident. “I’ve been keeping an eye on the injury as we walked. It’s stable.”

Ourania’s shoulders relaxed, some of the wrinkles on the dark skin of her face smoothing out. “Thank the gods. The dust hasn’t claimed you then. It’s just too much exposure.”

Kokuo was surprised she didn’t ask how he had accrued so much ‘exposure’ within the few hours they’d been gone. Perhaps, though, she didn’t feel the ‘how’ was important right now.

Ourania’s dark, star-flecked eyes briefly brightened as she began a chant, calling upon the power of the gods. With practiced finesse, she drew out a small knife and carved a thin line into her forearm, holding it out over Kokuo’s legs. 

The gold of Ourania’s blood was brighter than the other apostle’s, possessing an almost star-like quality to the sparkle and shine. Pocketing the knife, she then used her free hand to coax her own blood out of the wound, making it spiral and coalesce above them into a ring of gold.

Then, she made it spin until it was spinning so fast the colors and shine blurred. With a flick of her fingers, the spinning ring exploded into golden stardust, falling like drifting sand onto Kokuo’s wounds.

Instantly, Kokuo felt he could breathe deeper and easier. The burning sensation he’d been fighting slowly dissipated like a gentle rain putting out a forest fire. Miraculously, Kokuo watched his own skin brighten and re-grow. 

Karra let out a soft, amazed laugh. “You are truly the god’s child, Ourania.”

Ourania’s own self-inflicted scar quickly healed over, her dark eyes sparkling with pride. “I wish it worked on normal wounds too, but I’ll gladly take any blessing they wish to bestow.”

Kokuo’s relief was tinged with guilt, thinking back to Selene’s deep, mangled wounds.

A soft, weathered hand lifted his chin, and Kokuo met Ourania’s eyes. 

“Do not despair, Kokuo,” she said, her voice feather soft. “There is still a fight in us yet.”

“I’m afraid flight will need to come before the fight,” Karra said, her blue eyes focused on the entrance to the cave. “The vulturkin will be following our trail here. We don’t have long.”

Confusion crinkled Leto’s brow. “Vulturkin?”

“The creatures,” Kokuo explained, slowly standing and testing his weight on his legs. “That’s…that’s what we named them.”

Karra’s eyes whipped to his and then back to the cave entrance, saying nothing. 

Ourania stood as well. “Then we pack. Take only the essentials. The lighter we travel the quicker we will be out of here. Karra, can you gather the herbs and seeds? And Kokuo, if you are able, divide whatever water is left between us. We will each carry our own supply.”

Leto raised his hand. “And me?”

Ourania smiled. “You will be putting Selene’s teachings to the test. Guard the entrance. Should you spot anything, alert us at once. We will exit through the back.”

Kokuo frowned, not remembering an exit out of the cave besides the entrance. “What exit?”

Ourania’s smile grew. “I’ve been busy.”

.     .     .

Karra had been right. It wasn’t long until Leto’s alarmed shout echoed down the corridor of the cave.

“They’re here!”

Four neatly tied sacks waited for each of them near the stream in the back. Kokuo quickly threw one over his shoulder, satisfied with the weight. Karra followed, and then Leto as he ran toward them. 

“They’re crowding outside. At least five of them,” he said, rushing to secure the pack to his back and a scarf around his face and mouth. 

Ourania appeared then, standing on the other side of the stream. “Come, we need to hurry.”

All three of them jumped the little stream, shocked to find a hidden crack that was just wide enough for them to squeeze through by throwing their packs through the gap first.

Once through, Kokuo gasped. 

There was a narrow tunnel forcibly dug into the wall. It was just big enough to allow them to walk through if they bent over at the waist. The walls of the tunnel gleamed with golden dust and liquid, and Kokuo pieced together what Ourania must have done.

“You used your blood to dig through rock?” Leto asked, dumbfounded just as Kokuo was.

Even Karra was quiet, her eyes taking in the dripping golden blood still splattered on some parts of the tunnel wall.

Ourania pulled her cowl over her head. “I had a feeling it would be needed, especially after the encounter with the…vulturkin. Don’t dally now. Go!”

Leto led the way with Karra following. Just as Kokuo dipped his head to step into the tunnel, a spine-tingling, familiar sound echoed from the other side of the wall of their former home.

All of them froze besides Ourania who turned and braced herself.

“Go! Don’t stop!” She shouted at them, taking the pack off her back and throwing it at Kokuo who barely caught it in time.

“What? You’re coming with us!” Kokuo shouted, half a question and a statement.

Ourania turned and glared at him, her star-flecked eyes glowing once more. “I’m an apostle, the bulwark for humankind. I will fulfill my role, as you will soon too.”

“What are you -” and then Kokuo realized why there was still golden blood on the walls of the tunnel. 

Ourania’s eyes flared white, and her grey hair rose inside her cowl, casting it off. Raising her hands, the walls of the tunnel began to shake.

Kokuo’s heart wrenched as he forced himself to turn and sprint, pushing Leto and Karra ahead of him as the golden blood began collapsing the tunnel behind them.

“Ourania! Ourania!” Leto shouted, tears streaking down his cheeks as they ran.

But no answer came. Only the sound of rock and sand filling in the cave and crushing everything they’d loved and feared inside.

.     .     .

OURANIA

The apostle Ourania could still remember what their civilization had been like before it had become dust.

Aeonopolis was a city thought to last forever, for it was too powerful - too grand - to fall. Under the protection of Order, it was a bastion of safety and comfort, and the beating heart of their empire.

She’d been made an apostle there and had served directly under the Oracle, a prophetess and messenger of the gods. An honor few apostles would ever receive.

Ourania recalled with chilling clarity the day it all ended, when the Oracle descended from the phryctoria of Aeonopolis to deliver the words of the gods.

The wind had picked up, and the beacon atop the phryctoria had been lit for the first time in living memory. The Oracle’s white robes were stained black, her eyes streaming with tears.

“This is our end!” She’d cried atop the steps as the sky above ripped open, revealing a swirling darkness that released the first wave of the storm upon the unsuspecting populace.

The Oracle was the first to join the dust.

For 50 years, Ourania had stayed loyal to her vows: protect humankind, preserve what the gods could not, and remember what humanity refused to.

And now, below the earth, in the dark, Ourania fulfilled those vows, her golden blood a glowing beacon amidst the agents of Chaos.

“Go back to the Chaos from whence you came!” She shouted at the monsters, letting her lifeforce fuel this final act.

As their darkness and her light were snuffed out, Ourania offered up one last prayer to a dead god.

Save them. Save them all.

Want to catch up? You can start here with Act I:

Author's note:

Oh yes, we are so back!!

The end approaches. Two chapters remain in this short story, and I cannot wait to finally share them with you.

For those who remember the initial teasers I shared back before I published the first chapter, you might recognize the scene with the Oracle - also an apostle herself - from the poem below. Hope you enjoyed it coming together!

Don't forget to check out other amazing fantasy writers on the platform!