Dalia sat in silence, feeling a growing discomfort in the heavy air of the room. She tried to break the tension, struggling to find the words.
"Father..." she began, but her voice trembled slightly.
Cragar gave her an indecipherable look, before interrupting her with a grave tone. "You worry me a lot, Dalia. You've been doing it since you were born."
The little girl immediately lowered her gaze, as if those words hit her deeply. "I apologize."
Cragar turned to her and for a moment his face softened. "It's not necessary, it's not your fault. I'm the only one I can attribute it to."
The gentle tone of the divinity enveloped her in a bitter sadness, leaving her with the usual thought: that she was a problem, a source of burden and responsibility.
"Shirei… the same," continued the god of the dead, almost thinking to himself.
"The truth is that I try to be a good father, despite my position."
He paused, as if that reflection required effort. "But it's difficult, extremely difficult, almost impossible."
Dalia got up from her chair, taking a few steps closer.
"Father, you must not despair. I am honored to have your blood and to be your descendant."
"I do not. I would have preferred that my reputation didn't ruin your life. Instead you are here, suffering the consequences of my choices."
Dalia came closer, her heart beating faster in her chest, and finally dared to ask: "Father, may I hold your hand?"
Cragar looked at her, and a small smile appeared on his face. "Of course."
When Dalia intertwined her fingers with her parent's, she felt a strange sensation: her skin was cold, soft and patient, and she almost seemed to thank that unexpected contact, as if it were a rare gesture.
"Do you regret the choices you made?"
Cragar was silent for a long moment, and time seemed suspended in the dim light of the room. Finally, he replied in a calm tone: "Only a few, but no, I would do almost everything the same way."
With a burst of affection and comfort, Dalia placed her other hand on her father's shoulder. "I think you're a wonderful father."
Cragar shook his head slightly, and his words were barely a whisper. For the first time in her life, the young woman saw the god break his constant solemnity, seem almost human.
"It is not true."
Dalia sought her father's gaze with determination, until she met his deep purple irises, the same purple that she had admired for in her half-brother's irises. Noticing that resemblance gave her some comfort and she imagined talking to Shirei for a few moments. She reflected on how similar they were, although they never wanted to admit it.
"Yes, it is," she finally murmured, sweetly.
"You always worries about us, even though our lives are insignificant compared to yours."
Cragar lowered his gaze, breaking that too intimate contact. He couldn't bear Dalia's blue eyes, bright and vulnerable. Suddenly, he felt the same sensation as the day he had made that mistake, when he had let himself be seduced by the blue eyes of Dalia's mother. More than a century had passed, but the god of the dead struggled to forget that isolated event.
He had done it with a specific objective, at the time too vengeful to reason coherently. He was ashamed of himself.
"The other deities have many more children," he said, trying to dispel the thoughts through his speech, as if he wanted to justify something, "That's what they can't worry about properly."
Dalia shook her head and, in a firm but respectful tone, replied: "You're lying and you know it well. You're always ready to help and support us when needed. Your invitation to lunch is proof of this."
Cragar seemed unconvinced, he didn't see himself as she saw him, he couldn't believe in his own qualities. The little girl didn't know the whole story, otherwise she wouldn't have treated him that way.
"I'm sure that if Shirei were here she would agree with me," added with a shy smile, as if to soften her father's rigidity.
The god of the dead looked away and took a few steps away, loosening his grip on their hands. Dalia let him go, respecting his need for space, but watching him with concern.
"Shirei..." Cragar murmured, getting lost in his thoughts for a moment. "I also wonder if he's okay. At the moment, I can't follow him."
Dalia felt a pang of anguish in her chest. "What happened?"
"He is traveling through the temporal faults to eradicate the advance of our enemy. My hounds cannot remain with him, they carry my ichor with them."
Dalia frowned, trying to understand the obstacle. "What would be the problem?"
Cragar sighed, his face now marked with tangible concern. "The temporal rifts are Rakion's domain. I can't let him discover my presence. So I can't know his situation."
Dalia remained motionless, feeling the weight of her brother's mission weighing on her like a shadow. Her father's worried look was, to her, a sign that even the gods were not immune to fear and uncertainty, and that perhaps, despite his divine nature, Cragar was more like them than he wanted to admit.
She continued to feel confused, unable to fully understand the reason for such caution, after all they were gods, but she understood that, if her father did not act, it was only because of the importance he attributed to Shirei's safety. She tried to show him trust and reassure him as best she could.
"Shirei will be fine. You know him better than I do and know how powerful he is."
Cragar looked at her, fear clear in his violet eyes.
"Shirei is also very fragile, dear Dalia. One word would be enough to make him collapse."
"You are not serious."
The man closed his eyes for a moment, as if he was tired, then nodded slowly. "It is the truth."
His words left a silent void in the room as Dalia reflected, trying to find a way to release the tension. "Just don't say this word then. If the enemy doesn't know about it, there's no need to worry."
Cragar looked at her, surprised by her optimism, and a hint of a smile appeared on his lips, barely visible.
"You didn't get this trait of yours from me."
Dalia smiled back, "Not even from my mother, but maybe it's for the best."
For a moment, it seemed as if the dim light in the room became softer. At the young woman's words, however, Cragar seemed to change imperceptibly, as if he had touched a memory or a thought that he preferred to avoid. The sweetness in his gaze disappeared, giving way to a darker and more distant expression. He turned without saying anything, heading towards the exit of the dining room and, with a silent nod, invited her to follow him.
"Father, will you tell me this whole story about Rakion? I want to be aware of the situation."
"In due time you will know everything, now come with me."
Dalia did as she was told, keeping a few steps away as they walked through the wide, silent corridors of the palace. After a long period of walking, almost an irksome pilgrimage for Cragar's daughter, the god spoke, his voice barely a whisper.
"The enemy knows about it. He knows the key word to bring down Shirei."
Dalia stopped for a moment, surprised.
"Damn," she muttered, before realizing she had said it out loud. She glanced at her father and quickly added, with a nervous laugh, "I beg pardon for my bawdy ways."
But Cragar didn't even seem to notice that word, which made Dalia question the sensitivity of his hearing. Perhaps, she thought, she was too used to the dangerous composure of deities. In truth, the god of the dead was well aware of his daughter's comment, but had not paid attention to it: it had seemed to him to be an insignificant nuance, far from the imprecations and heartbreaking moans that reached him every day from the spirits of the dead who passed through the Underworld. Truth be told, he found Dalia far too polite and composed for 2021.
A small smile touched his lips as they walked. He was aware that Dalia was born and raised in a different era, distant from the brutality of the past that he and the other deities had gone through, but also from the degradation of post-technology civilization.
Perfectly in the middle, not one nor the other, almost pure.
The little girl nervously fixed her hair, trying to reorganize the confused thoughts in her mind.
"What can we do, then?"
"As for you," Cragar replied, "You will stay until I can make sure you are ready."
"Ready for what? I... I'm not capable. I only make mistakes, in any area," she replied, the memory of the Lilies Park coming back to her mind like a persistent trauma. "You saw what happened because of me."
"That mistake, as you define it, is inexperience in using your powers, not lack of skill."
At that moment, Cragar paused to observe Dalia. He saw in her reflections of himself, of his beginnings, and a sort of regret pervaded him. If before he had been struck by the distinctive features that linked her to her mother, now he saw clearly the elements that she had inherited from him.
He placed a hand on the girl's shoulder, a gesture of reassurance that he didn't often do, and guided her towards a new room.
"So what should I do?" the young woman asked, curiosity and apprehension mixed in her voice.
The black doors opened and the two entered the throne room. Dalia was struck by the majesty of the environment: the walls were decorated with ancient tapestries and the atmosphere was impregnated with an aura of power full of greenish particles. An endless line of spirits began a few meters away from the black throne of the king of the underworld, ranks of armored skeletons supervised everything, waiting for their sovereign. A modest dark throne was present to the right of the god's, empty and waiting to be occupied.
Cragar turned towards her and, in that instant, Dalia once again noticed the bright purple eyes peering deep into her. They were the same as Shirei, their gaze inspired a terrifying, almost hypnotic calm.
Her heartbeat accelerated.
"To make your powers a weapon to your will rather than your fear…" Cragar announced, his low voice making her step back, "From now on, I will train you personally."