The Sentinels τέλος

for days, the father has faltered, retreating from his place in the sky where he gazes upon his mother and his children with such adoration; each night the proof of his weakness stares, soul-piercing, a single slit pupil suspended among the stars. on this day, nausicaä knows, pontus will fall again — the eternal song will cease just for a breath, and silence will fall over the land as it did so long ago. weighed heavily as if anchored to the ocean's floor by this knowledge, the wolfdog weaves with weary steps among the deadland. the wild ruin feels surreal; shards of hazy sunlight cut through the scant filter of towering dead sequoias kissed ashen and black by flame, a kaleidoscope of pale silver-gold hovering in wispy splinters over the faded dusky forest floor. against the muted, dimming autumn sky, the trees stand stark and ominous. the wolfdog's own coat of chrome and shadow is set nearly aglow under the current of rippling light as the slim figure drifts under massive looming corpses and over blackened tree limbs and tiny tentative attempts at new growth under the ruin. salt hangs heavy in the air, thick and cloying and bitter at once; death and the sea, joined. the perfect place to pray, to mourn. only the endless crash of waves, the whisper of light paws across the ground, and the breath in the wolfdog's own throat cut the silence — but they are never alone.
even as the sun crawls to its den below the earth and leaves all the lowly creatures to suffer the horror of infinite dark, their guardian orbits. his presence is a soothing balm to ananke's prickling skin, cool water over the grief burning in their heart for pontus. yet the wolfdog dare not lay eyes on their companion now; the sun descends rapidly, and soon their father's absence from the sky will be all too apparent. soon the grief will cut unfettered into their souls, arcing like lightning across the bond they share, and they too will descend. there are preparations to be made — rituals to be completed before they can rest and lament — oh! nausicaä's heart flutters frantically, steps becoming dizzied and uneven as the breath hitches in their throat. "@Hephaestus," their cry is soft, almost a plea, champagne eyes still fixed ahead. we must hurry; we have already shirked so many of our duties.