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never had the world been lit up like this.
fauna, in her blood tinted lips, would she have imagined to wish back the pollution civilisation imprinted in her night sky instead of this.
it is hell on earth. there is fire in the air, the ground, and even the ocean. the lava running from every single volcanos she made oozes into the land. the sea couldn’t quell the amount they spew and thus creates a river of fire and heat.
her trees burn to a crisp. the embers leave nothing but ash on the ground and smoke in the sky.
with all of the soot above her she could still see it; lightning between the throes of blazing fires. fauna couldn’t comprehend how her creation could lay destruction beyond her reach. she cannot control it. when she attempts to, the pain stabbing at her ribs spread all over her body. her own internal fire trying to reduce her into cinder and ash.
she coughs up blood into her hands. not even she could stop and save herself let alone humanity. they are seconds away from extinction. mumei is seconds away from letting the last thread of life she’s holding in her hands, go.
and before her, she watches a blade takes the thread from the guardian’s hand. her body lays limp with a blank stare in her eyes. from the tips of the blade, there stands tall, cloaked, and beautiful. underneath the cloak are the eyes she’s seen countless of times. where they were filled with devotion and affection, they now sit in the socket glowing in red, raging far worse than the sea of fire that slowly reaching the mountain tops.
fauna cannot see the emotions she longs in moments where she needs comfort. instead those loving eyes stare at her in putrid hatred and emptiness.
before her isn’t the mori she kisses tenderly before they sleep. it isn’t the mori that wrote her a lullaby just because.
it’s the husk of the calliope mori she knew before civilisation was born. the reaper who only knows to reap and sow souls under the orders of the underworld.
the keeper of nature feels like she has been punted to the past. her first encounter of the reaper who stood before her lifeless self as she sits underneath her dying tree of life. the fruit it last bear is could barely save a life of a beetle on the ground.
the reaper then bends a knee, lowering herself to where fauna sits against the tree that kept nature thriving.
the reaper’s cold lips instills across fauna’s dried up ones.
a kiss.
a promise for the future.
a kiss of death.
and now, the reaper has come to fulfil.
a smile slowly spread across her blood kissed lips. for the last time, as keeper of nature, ceres fauna reaches for calliope mori’s lips in acceptance, “we will meet again, my darling reaper.”