Marius put both arms out, a walking Christ, fingers touching the walls on either side. Polished stone, he could remember the day that path was carved out. It was narrow and cool, the moisture in the underground pathway making ice crystals in the cracks along the floor. Marius didn't like that, frowning as he viewed them. Yes, he would do something about that. Why have such imperfections in the design in this day and age when such things could be done flawlessly?
Though the passage was dark he could see keenly, his ice blue eyes sharp and calm. This was a forced emotion, a forced sense of peace. Something was wrong and Marius felt it inside of him. Small clues ran over and over through his brain; the TV too loud, the light that was usually blocked by sets of locked doors shining down the tunnel. And he was trying not to lose his calm, not to cry out and rush down to the shrine in a frenzy. His heart was pounding, a flush rising to his face and numbing down to his fingers. Marius' head was light, spinning, causing him to close his eyes for one sweet moment.
Nothing is wrong, he told himself, have they not moved things about their own shrine? Have they not opened the doors before?
But this felt different; he felt a sense of foreboding. It was thicker them the ice-cold moisture in the air, thick enough to suffocate him.
Placing his hand to his forehead, Marius gave himself a small speech intended to encourage him. He could not spend all night hesitating in the corridor; he had to view the shrine to make sure that everything was alright. This was his responsibility. This was what he was, all that he was. And inside, deep inside where he hid everything he denied, he hated it.
A feeling of bitterness swept over Marius. Why should he be burdened with such a thing? How many times in the long centuries had his heart been broken because of the still pair he kept under his wing? He had been the most faithful of all acolytes, sacrificing so much for the benefit of the Royal Pair. And now he saw the cruelty of it. How selfish were the parents that they refused to move for him, refused to let him have a moment of peace.
Granted the visits to the shrine were growing few and far between, they were a constant worry in his ever-running mind.
No wonder the Elder had put the pair into the sun; he had grown weary as Marius had.
Marius felt an instant shame at thinking such a blasphemous thing. His Queen and King could hear everything, were their fine ears not tuned into the thoughts of their own keeper and watcher?
All of this was for the purposes of lingering, the fear still in the pit of his stomach. Placing his cheek against one of the cool walls, the chill sank through his layers of immortal flesh. The cold seemed to go all the way down to his bones. When he shivered, though, it was not from the temperature, it was from simple fear and anticipation. Could he now summon the courage to walk forward? With a deep breath Marius did indeed stride forward, taking sure but small steps, letting the passing seconds still the pounding heart and ease the color of worry from his cheeks.
Was there truly any preparation that he could do? Maybe at that moment he believed that measured breaths and positive thoughts could have some sort of effect. But when he saw what was in the room all of that washed away, all thoughts that maybe nothing could be wrong.
Upon entering the room his eyes were downcast, it was show of respect. To look a marble saint in the eyes in a church seemed unsettling, and this, to Marius, was just the same. His mind was pleading, hoping that when he did look up everything would be normal and he could give a deep sigh of relief and go about his routine of dusting and cleaning, praying and giving his reverence and respect to the ancient man and woman.
But that wasn't what happened. When Marius lifted his eyes the room was, for the most part, the same. Only a few small differences graced the interior. Two very noticeable and devastating details.
Marius felt a cry swell on his throat, gripping his fists painfully to keep it inside.
"No, no, no, no..." Marius whispered to himself, his voice soft and shaking, "It can't be, this can't be." It was too horrible to be true, too much for even his vast mind to comprehend. With shock induced innocence his eyes scanned the shrine, falling again on his king.
With great effort he took a few strides forward, his feet like lead. They didn't want him to go any closer to the still King. His eyes saw what he brain refused to register, the growing transparency of Enkil's skin.
He felt his head shaking with pure disbelief.
This isn't real, his mind said, this isn't real.
But it was and he knew it, he was a man that had perfected the art of reason after all. Such a thing was so; he was staring through the body of the King he had taken care of since he was first brought into this life. True, he had never worshipped Enkil as a King, and it was true that this was all done for his love of Akasha. But this was horrible, it was wrong; it was just too traumatizing to be true.
It didn't occur to him to turn and rush out of the room, his feet still carried him closer to the seated man, the immortal that lacked the preternatural life it had led for six thousand years. No matter how pointless his life may have seemed at times, he still endured and lived.
Marius felt sick when that struck him. Six thousand years. Something so old; something that had seen so much was gone. It seemed the greatest crime of all, so much knowledge lost. Marius would love to have seen half of what Enkil had. In history, accuracy and completeness was often a rare thing, and when faced with the opportunity to see things how they really were one would jump at the chance. But Enkil was no more, along with centuries of things man would simply never get to discover.
He had to make sure what his eyes saw was real. This was new to him, never had he ever doubted his own vision, his own mind. But here he stood considering that he might not be sane or that this could be some hallucination or dream. Whatever it was he wanted to wake up. The flush was rising and filling him with heat again. He wished he could enjoy this feeling. Like a child his fingers came out, hand moving slowly through the space to touch the body. When he felt the dried flesh he instantly recoiled and drew his hand back.
It felt hollow and empty, filled with just air. How could this be? What could have caused such a thing? He reached out again to touch, gasping as he felt the skin push inwards, his hand probing the dried organs in the body. The chest bone was hard still, but Marius heard a slight pop, realizing he was applying too much force and stepped back. In his haste to get away he tripped over his own feet and almost fell.
How long had it been since Marius had stumbled? Ages. He couldn't even remember. It was delightful to be reminded, but this was no time to enjoy the 'simple' things.
Light from the TV hit Enkil's body and splintered, the colors making delightful rainbows in the clear body. Marius shuddered, disgusted by all of this.
Was Enkil really dead? Marius was alive and well, so if Enkil were dead then he would be dead too.
This caused doubt, troubling him more. Marius hated those rare moments of doubt, they confused and tormented him. To be unsure of anything made you weak and more susceptible to failure.
If Enkil was dead and Marius was not, then that meant that his fallen King was not the primal source of power.
Marius wanted to weep; he wanted to fall to the ground and cry. He imagined the marble to be cool and damp, going down to his knees. His palm touched it, feeling the same chill the corridor's walls had. Weariness made his insides numb, finally lying on the floor, his eyes still gazing up at the dead King.
Without meaning to, his hand unsettled the light husk, and it seemed to almost float down to the ground.
What was he going to do? He had never been faced with a problem such as this before. Move Enkil? Bury him? Burn him? What seemed fitting?
Something in Marius told him to burn the body, scatter the ashes and sing while he did it. What had this King ever done for him but burden him? A slow and bitter smile spread on his face.
"You're gone... and so now I have her. Does she know you are dead? Does she cry for you? Or does she do what I am doing with my broken heart?" he whispered into the calm air, "Celebrating this moment..."
His laugh rang off of the walls, stopping short as something struck him. Akasha was gone. Where was his Queen?
Springing to his feet Marius did cry out this time, in fear and horror, more horror then he had ever felt for Enkil.
Akasha was gone. Where was his Queen?
