Mara - The Lady Grief (Completed)

48 We Are Death

2650 B.C.E., City of Tmari-on-the-Euphrates

Early Spring, Month of Adaru, Two Years after Mara's Rebirth

Mara

"Grief is Love, without Love there is no Grief. You cannot grieve what you didn't love, first," both babies listen intently to my bedtime "story" that sounds remarkably similar to lectures from Patriarch Rimon and my father, sprinkled through with various prophecies I've read about in the library.

"I love you, mama," Poppy says sleepily.

Erra says nothing, of course, but I see him look at Poppy and smile. He's a head taller than she is, in just a day he has grown dramatically and now I have a new fear to stack onto the others; will our enemies see this child as a threat? What sort of demon-child matures so rapidly? It's not just his body that is growing. He is devouring knowledge the way he used to drink down blood. Young in so many ways, but absolutely ancient in others.

He looks at my poppet in a way that I am not comfortable with. She is his goddess. Inanji miscalculated by tainting his soul. She has created a dangerous creature whose only concern is the daughter of her enemy.

Strange that I trust him more than most of the grown shifters who surround us night and day.

A rhythmic pounding begins again. The battering rams are hitting the gates nearby. The ebb and flow of battle can be marked by this noise. If the rams are close enough to be used, than we are failing to hold back the tide of undead. If they are silent, then we have beaten the enemy back from the walls.

The booming of the battering rams has grown more and more frequent. War is teetering on collapse and I can't help but wonder what Urto hopes to accomplish by sacrificing his shifters to this conflict.

A softer noise reaches my ears. I turn my head, my words faltering. The noise is strange, a scratching of stone on stone. I look towards one of the antechambers of the mausoleum. Momo peeks out, his face lit up in unholy glee.

I stand, attempting to look casual, and stride into the room just where the toilets are located. This window is larger than most in the mausoleum, due to trying to air it out, I think. My smart gargoyles brought Enlil in through the high arrow-slit. He is shifted into a wolven, a little thinner than in his other form and just able to be shoved and pushed and pulled through the window.

It looks painful as Mishu yanks on his arms as Mushu and Harku push his hind legs through. The unconscious shifter hits the stone ground with a thud, headfirst.

I wince for him. Tongue lolling out of his mouth, I see a little blood. His canines must have pierced it.

"This is Enlil?" I ask in a whisper.

Momo shrugs both shoulders, even as Harku shakes his head, 'no' and Mishu and Mushu nod 'yes.'

I sigh. Well, whoever this is, he's about to be experimented on. I feel guilty, but more so if this isn't Enlil. As far as I'm concerned, overhearing his agreement to trap my soul makes him my enemy.

I take a deep breath and crouch down.

"Tie the wolven, first," I hear Erra's voice chime from behind me.

I cut stripes of my own robes to tie the wolven with. Mishu and Mushu take over, their intricate knot-making ability coming in handy for once.

Enlil, or whoever this is, starts to stir just as Mishu finishes knotting his wrists to his ankles. He stirs, shifting back into his Acera form with wide eyes springing open. Mishu tightens the knots expertly, so Enlil's hands and feet remain bound together.