“And look how we have fallen.”

“That failure weighs heavily upon me. I weep for your father. I weep for your mother. And I weep for you.”

“Me?” Cyrus asked. “Why me? I lived.”

The roof above them vanished. The smell of grass grew stronger. Mari felt dirt beneath her knees despite the carpet of the library. She dimly recognized these hunting fields. They were the highlands believed to be the eternal paradise awaiting Endarius’s faithful. A sea of grass. A sky full of stars.

“I weep, for I know what you must become. And become it you will. You are strong. You are mighty.”

“So were my parents.”

Endarius’s presence burned hotter within Mari’s breast. To possess so much of it in her human form, without transforming fully into a resemblance of the god, caused her physical pain. Compassion kept her fully human. She wanted Cyrus’s hands in hers. She wanted to be there for him, and to share in the moment, so he did not feel alone in the presence of a god.

“Indeed they were,” said the Lion. “And a cruel world took them all the same. Will you be stronger, Cyrus Lythan? Will you carry their legacy?”

Cyrus’s entire body was shaking. His hair blew in the wind. Grass had risen all the way to his chest, threatening to swallow him completely. Still he kept his eyes closed.

“And if I cannot?”

Mari feared the Lion would show contempt, for he was a mighty beast, not known for mercy. Instead she felt sympathy, and kindness. A Lion, but also a father. A hunter, but also a protector. The fireplace snuffed out. The walls of the library faded completely. The horizon stretched eternal.

“Then I will await you in my green fields, beloved child. I see your wounded heart, and the courage it yet possesses. Walk your path. Walk it, for I cannot.”

The wind blew harder. Mari’s chest tightened, and exhaustion grew throughout her limbs. The grass paled and turned ashen. Stars faded, one by one, as the divine receded back into the mundane.

“Wait,” Cyrus said, and at last he opened his eyes in a panic. “My parents, are they with you? Are they?”

The library was dark and quiet. No wind, no grass, just flickering candles in place of a field of stars.

“Too late,” he whispered. “Of course too late. I am always too late.”

What began as a few tears became a river. What succor he might have felt melted into despair. He collapsed into himself, wordless, broken. Mari leaned closer, and she lifted his hands so that she might kiss his fingers. He didn’t know. He didn’t understand. Mari was the Lioness. Until she relinquished that power, or the people’s faith in Endarius faded away completely, she would always be the Lioness.

“Yes, dear child,” she said, two voices spoken with one mouth. “They are with me. And they love you.”