Thalassa's Memoria

«Sacrifice Carved in Marble»

Doubts, like mold, sprout in silence. Noah could no longer just watch. He saw how with each month she became more transparent, as if she were molded not of flesh and spirit, but of morning mist over the bay. Her laughter sounded less often, her steps quieter ; sometimes, waking in the middle of the night, he would find her awake. She sat by the window, staring into the forest darkness, and her eyes reflected not the stars, but some inner, fathomless emptiness. This was not sleep – it was exhaustion. He began searching for answers where they were usually not sought : in the dust of the city archives, in the drunken mutterings of old whalers, in half-forgotten ballads that sirens sang to fishermen over a bottle of rum. He was not looking for a key to magic, but to nature. What is a Leviathan ? Not a monster, not a deity. A creature of the Aeon of Voracity. And that word – "voracity" – became his obsession. One day in the port, he fell into conversation with a blind storyteller who sold historical scrolls. The old man, sensing genuine interest rather than mere curiosity, whispered, tracing the cracks on the table with his bony fingers : – They don't eat food, son. They eat essence, you understand ? The wind eats the sky, the stone eats time, the fire eats wood, and the Leviathan.. the Leviathan eats life itself – its strength, its will, its turbulence. As long as there is something to devour, they are strong. Stop the hunger – silence will come. Turn hunger into satiety – peace will come, but peace for them.. it is like a dream without visions, like water without current. Noah paid with a silver coin and left, clutching in his pocket the stone she had once given him. "They devour life".. but she was not devouring – she was spending. Spending her own life-essence to sustain a form in which she could not be satiated. She was dying of hunger in the midst of a feast she herself had rejected. The riddle was not how to stop the leak – the riddle was what to fill her with. And soon he found the answer. And the answer came with the thunder of royal drums and the smell of fear, eclipsing even the smell of the sea. The Royal Decree was nailed to the town hall door in the height of summer. The parchment was thick, the seal huge and ominous.

"In the name of purifying the lands of Talassa and protecting the true faith from corruption.."

The crier shouted.

"A great hunt is declared for the spawn of chaos : Leviathans, sea serpents, Kkaharags, and other filth defiling our waters ! For every head – a land grant ! For every proof – the Crown's mercy !"

The port city exploded, not with joy, but with feverish, greedy hysteria. Fishermen mended their nets to catch not fish, but "monsters" ; forges worked day and night forging harpoons and sharp hooks; in the taverns, non-existent lands were already being divided. Fear of the unknown had given way to greed, and in this new, terrible noise, Noah heard a direct address to himself. He ran to the forest cabin as dusk was falling. Tiaella stood on the threshold, paler than moonlight. She already knew. News reached her through the rustle of leaves, through the anxious currents in the underground waters. – They'll come here too. She said without preamble. – They sense what is alien. They always sense it ! – No one will come. His voice came out sharper than he intended. – I'll hide you. – Where..? Her voice held not fear, but weary resignation. – In the ocean ? They'll scour even there. In the mountains ? The smoke of campfires already hangs there ! He grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. – Listen to me. There is a cave on the northern slope of Kanberra. Dry, with an underground lake. You can't reach it without knowing the trails. I prepared it.. a long time ago, just in case. She looked at him, and understanding flickered in her eyes. He had prepared for this. For the day when the world would become too cramped for the two of them. – Will you come with me ? She asked, and in that question lay all her fragility. – No. This word hung between them, cold and heavy. She recoiled. – No ? You.. you'll leave me alone ? – I'm going to fight. He said, his words as clear as hammer blows on an anvil. – I'll enlist in the Port Guard militia. They'll be defending the approaches to Alcalá de Henares, to our— to this forest. If I'm there, on the walls, I'll know where the squads are going and I'll be able to help the others. I can lead them away. And you.. you will wait. You know how to wait – you said so yourself. He saw fear, pride, and powerless fury warring in her eyes. She, a being capable of summoning a tide with one movement, was forced to hide in a hole while he, a mortal, went to war with other mortals. – This is madness.. She whispered. – You could die..! – And you could fade away ! He countered. – And that would be worse. For me – definitely. He gathered a bundle for her : warm blankets, food, books, a flask of spring water. He did everything quickly, efficiently, not allowing feelings to tear the thin film of determination. At dawn they set out; he knew the way to the cave by heart. They walked in silence, listening to every rustle. The cave was where he said it would be – a narrow entrance hidden by a curtain of ferns, inside a spacious grotto with black, still water at the far end. At the entrance, he stopped. Could not cross the threshold. – Wait for me. He said, looking directly into her eyes. – No matter how long it takes. Until you hear my whistle – do not come out. Promise ? She nodded, unable to speak. Then she threw herself at him, clutching his jacket, pressing her forehead to his chest. He held her, breathing in the scent of her hair – the scent of forest, rain, and something irrevocably slipping away. – I'll come back.. He whispered into the top of her head. – And when I come back.. we'll fix everything. I found the answer. Believe me. She pulled away, looked at him, trying to read the answer in his face, but he was already stepping back, dissolving into the morning mist between the trees. The last thing she saw was his steady gaze and clenched fists ; the last thing she heard was his footsteps fading into the distance. She was left alone in the stone womb of the mountain, in silence broken only by drips of water from the ceiling. And she began to wait. As only she knew how. The war Noah entered was no noble duel. It was a meat grinder, grinding fear, greed, and human flesh. The Port Guard of Alcalá de Henares was thrown onto the most vulnerable sector – the isthmus between the port and the wild Tarava forests, where the first "bounty hunters," fueled by royal gold, were already creeping in. They fought not against an army, but against a mob. Drunk peasants with pitchforks, mercenaries with jagged boarding hooks, fanatics with burning eyes and torches – all who dreamed of growing rich on the mythical "treasures of the unclean." Noah stood in the ranks, feeling the weight of a halberd on his shoulder – a clumsy but fearsome weapon issued to the militia. Rain mixed with sea salt poured over his face, running down under his oiled leather armor. He did not think of heroic deeds – he thought of the map in his head : here is the Tei-Pei River, here is the path to the cave, here is the ridge from which the smoke of their cabin is visible. Every cry of "For the King !", every sound of battle echoed in him with one question : are they heading there ? The first serious attack came on the third day. A band of mercenaries, led by a grizzled captain with a face scarred by burns, tried to break through the isthmus under cover of fog. A close-quarters fight erupted. Clamor, clang, gasps, the smell of blood and sweat. Noah fought with a ferocity that even frightened him. He was not defending the king or the faith – to hell with a king who gives such orders. He was defending a square of land on the map of his memory. His halberd found its targets with grim efficiency. He saw the light fade in the eyes of a mercenary trying to outflank him, and felt not triumph, but an icy void. Each enemy's fall pushed the threat further from her. That was enough. But war does not forgive obsession – it punishes it. On the seventh day, as the Guard was repelling the fifth attack, Noah noticed a group of men trying to outflank them from the south, along a dried-up stream bed. Straight toward the path leading into the foothills of Kanberra. Without a second thought, shouting to his comrades to cover him, he lunged forward, breaking away from the formation. It was a mistake. He ran into not a handful of marauders, but an ambush. Three figures rose from behind the rocks. One huge, with a two-handed axe ; another wiry, with a pair of curved knives ; the third remained in the shadows, with a crossbow. Seconds stretched out. Noah parried the axe strike, feeling the vibration reverberate as pain in his bones ; he dodged the knife attack, feeling the blade scrape against his thigh plate. He caught the wiry one's leg with his halberd and yanked, hearing a crunch and a scream – but at that moment, a dry click sounded. The pain did not come immediately. At first, there was a sensation of a strong punch to his side, as if he had been struck by a blacksmith's hammer. He sank to one knee, his vision blurring ; he saw a crossbow bolt protruding from the gap in his armor below his ribs. Warm liquid quickly soaked his shirt beneath the leather. The giant with the axe raised it for a final blow – and Noah did not remember what happened next. A flash of rage, a scream – not his own, but someone else's – a crash, and then darkness, enveloping the pain. He awoke in an improvised hospital set up in the town hall basement. The air was thick with the smells of blood, pus, and smoking herbs. A woman in a stained apron, her face infinitely weary, changed his bandage. – Crossbow. She said curtly. – The bolt went straight through, damaged the intestines. Infection set in. We washed it, stitched it, gave you strong herbs.. but.. She did not finish. Her gaze said everything. It was the look of someone who had seen hundreds of such wounds and knew their end. – How long..? He asked hoarsely. The woman sighed, looking away. – A day, maybe two. If you're lucky – three. The body won't hold out longer. Rest, try to sleep, and pray before you sleep to High Arevir.. He did not sleep. He lay and stared at the ceiling, feeling the fever of infection consuming him from within, while the chill of death crept closer from without. His thoughts were surprisingly clear. He did not think of injustice, of fear, of never seeing another dawn. He thought of her – of her grey eyes, full of waiting in the stone darkness, of her quiet smile by the hearth, of her slow fading, which he now felt in himself, accelerated a hundredfold. And then, in his consciousness, polished by pain and approaching end, all the fragments of knowledge came together. The blind storyteller's words, her exhaustion, his own ebbing life. The hunger of the spirit, which can only be quenched by life. Give what is yours to another, become their destiny. The riddle he had been wrestling with for months was simple. The Leviathan feeds on life force. She had stopped feeding, choosing love. So she must be fed – but not just any life, taken by force – that would only prolong the agony. She needs life given freely, life that becomes her destiny by choice, life in which there is no more hunger because it is full. Full to the brim, to the last breath, to death itself. Fullness born of emptiness. Death giving birth to life. He understood.

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music : «To the World» by HOYO-MiX

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On the second night, when the on-duty medic dozed off, Noah found the strength to move. The pain was cosmic, tearing – but he forced it to retreat to a distant corner of his consciousness. He pulled a cloak from the neighboring cot, draped it over his bloodstained bandages, and rose. Every step was fire in his side ; the world swam before his eyes. He stepped out into the cold night, leaning against the wall, and took one step, then another. The road to the forest, to the mountains, to her called him not with a voice, but with the yawning emptiness in his chest that only one meeting could fill. The last. He walked all night. The rain that had begun in the port now fell in sheets, washing away sweat, blood, and tears he could no longer distinguish. Every step on the sodden forest trail was like climbing a mountain. He fell, rose, clung to tree trunks, leaving dark, bloody prints on the bark. The pain, once localized to the wound, spread throughout his body, becoming the background of existence – a steady hum beneath which memories now played. First fall. He stumbled over a root, crashed face-first into the mud, choking, his vision darkening – and in the darkness, an image flashed : she, first taking human form, stood behind a boulder. Wet, frightened, her eyes full of silent questions. His own voice, childlike and full of faith : "Secret..?" He pushed himself up from the ground, stood, and walked on. The rain turned to icy sleet, lashing his face. He walked bent over, pressing his hand to the wound, as if he could hold his life inside. It seeped through his fingers, warm and inexorable ; each lost drop shortened the path, but he counted not them. He counted the steps to the cave. Second fall, his foot slipped into a gully. He fell to his knees, stifling a cry – and saw : their clearing, summer. She laughs, runs, and jumps into the spring, sending up a fountain of silvery spray. Her laughter, rare and genuine, rings in the air. He stands on the bank, and his heart beats so fast it seems about to leap out. He does not yet know the word "love", but he already knows its taste – like wild honey and cold spring water. He crawled out of the gully, his knees refusing to obey. He crawled through mud, over stones, through brushwood. The cloak became a filthy rag ; the tunic felt like a shroud. Dawn found him at the foot of Kanberra. Mist lay over the slopes like smoke after a battle. He found the path – a narrow, almost vertical crack in the rocks. The ascent was torture; every movement sent fire through his side. He jammed his fingers into the crevices of the stone, pulling his body upward. In his mind, cleansed by pain, fragments of their conversations echoed. Her voice, soft by the hearth :

"This is the most beautiful pain in the world.."

His own, full of despair :

"I can't watch you grow weaker !"

Her answer, final and calm :

"This is my choice.."

Now he too had a choice. The last. He crawled to the curtain of ferns ; his hand trembled as he parted them. Inside the cave, the air smelled of dampness, stone, and her – a thin, barely perceptible scent of sea and wildflowers. In the far corner, by the black water, she sat – motionless, hugging her knees, staring into the darkness. She was so still she seemed part of the rock – a statue of sorrow carved from the darkness itself. – Secret.. He breathed out. His voice was hoarse, alien, torn. She started and turned her head. In her grey eyes, usually so clear, there was a hazy detachment, as if she had already begun to forget what light looked like. Then her gaze focused – and she recognized him, leaping up. She did not run – she flew, as if caught and carried by the wind. She was beside him in an instant; her hands cupped his face, cold palms pressed to his cheeks. – Noah.. Oh, Aeons, Noah, what happened to you..? Her voice broke into a whisper full of horror. She saw.. saw the pallor of death on his face, the dark circles under his eyes, the bloodstained cloak, the wild gleam in his gaze. He tried to smile, but it was only a pathetic grimace. – Ran into.. a little trouble on the way.. He wheezed, sliding down the cave wall to the floor. His strength was visibly leaving him. She knelt beside him, her hands darting – now to his face, now to the wound she could feel through the fabric. – No, no, no..! Noah..! She murmured, a prayer of despair. – I— I can help.. I.. ! She placed her palms on his chest, where his weak, uneven heart beat. Her eyes closed ; her face contorted with effort. She tried to do what she had always done – to soothe the pain, to heal, to pour into him the very life force she herself had barely any left. But nothing happened. Only a faint tremor passed through her hands. She opened her eyes, and in them was true, animal terror. The terror of understanding. Her strength, her magic, her essence – all had been spent on maintaining her human form. She was empty. She could not even ease him. – See..? He whispered, watching her despair. His hand, cold and sticky, rose and lay over hers. – The emptiness.. it's in both of us now. – I'll call for help ! From the city ! She tried to rise, but he weakly squeezed her fingers. – Don't bother. No one will answer.. and it's already.. too late.. He took a deep, ragged breath. – They said.. a day. Maybe two left.. but I feel it's much less. She froze, staring at him. She seemed to stop breathing. Then, down her pale and fragile face, tears rolled silently, soundlessly. – No.. No, Noah, please..! It was not even a word. It was a groan torn from the deepest part of her being. – Not like this.. I beg you..! I won't survive this..! – You will. He said with sudden, terrible firmness. He forced himself to sit up straight, leaning his back against the stone. Pain shot through him, white and sharp, but he pushed through it. – You'll live a long time yet.. You will live, Secret, a full life, a real life. The one.. you dreamed of. She looked at him, uncomprehending ; her mind refused to accept the meaning of his words. – I watched, I read.. I searched for a long time for the answer behind your back, forgive me.. He continued, his speech, broken by wheezes, acquiring a strange, rhythmic clarity. – I found out why you're fading.. Leviathans.. you feed on life. You stopped feeding. You chose hunger.. for me. Now your cup is empty. He drew her hand to his wound, pressed her palm to the blood-soaked fabric. She tried to pull away, but he held fast. – And mine.. mine is already overflowing, Secret.. Overflowing and.. spilling, see..? And in vain now.. – What..? What are you talking about ? I don't— Her whisper was full of horror. – There needs to be an exchange.. His eyes burned in the cave's half-light with a feverish, sacred glow. – "Give what is yours to another. Become their destiny." You understand..? I am giving you mine.. all of it.. to the last drop.. to the last breath.. my life.. my death... my love. All of it.. to fill your emptiness, so that your hunger.. is finally sated not by the lives of others.. but by one, single, right and freely given life.. She shook her head, tears flying from her lashes. – No ! No, Noah, this is madness ! I won't take it ! I can't take— ! – You're not taking. He interrupted. His voice grew quieter, but each word struck like a hammer. – I am giving.. as a gift. Think of it as a vow before an altar.. like a wedding oath.. You said.. that your choice to be with me is worth every spark of strength. And my choice.. it is worth my entire life. And I am paying.. paying with joy. He loosened his grip, and his hand fell. He barely felt his body anymore. Only lightness, drifting from the darkness, and her face before him – the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. – I love you.. He said simply. – And I want you to live.. as a woman who will remember, who will tell our story, who.. will love this world as much as I love you.. Promise me.. She could not speak. She could only watch as the light in his eyes slowly faded, as his breathing became rarer, softer. – Promise.. It was already a whisper, barely reaching her ears. And then she understood – this was his last will. To refuse would be to defile his sacrifice, to reject his love in its final moment. And she nodded slowly, as if her head were carved from lead. Tears flowed without pause. – I promise.. She breathed out, and in that word, all her resistance, all her will, surrendered. He smiled. A true, calm smile, the kind she had not seen in a long time. – Then.. take it.. He closed his eyes, and his body went limp. The last breath, warm and light, touched her cheek – and at that same moment, something happened. She felt the emptiness inside her, that icy, soul-draining abyss, suddenly.. fill. Fill with his life – warm, familiar, salty from the sea and sweet from the honey of their summers. His memories, his laughter, his scent, his pain, his love – all of it poured into her as one mighty, completed river. His life found its vessel in her; his destiny became her destiny. Her body trembled. The chill of the cave gave way to warmth rising from within. The weakness that had plagued her for months began to recede like an ebb tide – but this was not the strength of a Leviathan. It was a different strength. The strength of human life – full, complete, and given. His heartbeat faded in her ears, but in her own chest, a new, powerful, human and mortal heart began to beat. Her eyes opened wider on their own; she gazed at his face, now calm, peaceful, and eternally asleep. She no longer wanted to scream or cry. The deepest sorrow in the world is silent.