The Death of Time

...is always now

An uneasy partnership steps forward…

Once more Chronos walked the dreaming world of Ananke’s mind. He walked alone, unable to discern memory from subconscious madcap and the combination left him wondering just what this mortal woman had endured to become the remarkable being she was now. Not many could stride through the landscape of Chronos’ own memories and guilt without judgment but she had managed and led him through to the safety of her own mind. The once Titan god-king and now Father of Time felt a bemused irony that this mortal woman who he had shunned originally now provided him with a safe haven from his own history.

In front of his wandering self, Chronos could see the familiar memory of Ananke lying in a hospital bed, apparently comatose. The people who must be her parents hovered anxiously around her, the room filled with flowers and get well wishes but all the other visitors held at bay. Chronos regarded the younger version of the mortal who’s body he shared and tried to understand the difference he saw on her face now to the face he had seen while looking through Hades’ eyes. Even in repose Ananke was a beautiful woman, her ethnic features touched with just the right combination of exoticism and balance to be striking but appealing. There were lines around her eyes and mouth that were deeper,  showing that at this time of her memory she laughed and smiled and felt like Chronos hadn’t experienced from her yet. And other than the grey tinge to her skin, she looked full of vitality as well.

Until he saw the specter of Thanatos, the god of Death, walk into the room. The two parental mortals were unable to see him, but Chronos stared at him, not at all surprised to realize that Ananke had been touched by the Dead maker. Still it surprised him that Thanatos remained oblivious to his presence as the chthonic god had a knack for seeing things no one else could perceive.  It surprised Chronos even more to see Thanatos stand over Ananke’s still form and stroke her face as if he had been in her presence before.

“You fought well little mortal. You battled bravely and did what few others could do; you moved me to compassion. But it was never your battle to win. There was no force or fate that would have kept what you fought for alive but I relented and allowed you to live as well. But you cannot remember these things my dear and so I need to walk with your soul for a while. I summon you spirit Ananke of inevitability, and we will return to your flesh before this night ends.” Thanatos’ voice was calm and soothing, at odds to the Grim Reaper visage modern man imagined for him and Chronos listened to his fellow god’s words with surprise and confusion.

When Thanatos’ twin brother Hypnos entered the room to stand guard over Ananke’s comatose form, Chronos felt torn between the need to follow her waking soul and the need to guard her living flesh. But once again he was reminded that he was simply an observer as his indecision left him training after the ephemeral spirit of Ananke walking hand in hand with Thanatos, without any ability to choose where Chronos’ own feet led. Because this was the land of dreaming, Chronos wasn’t sure that the landscape they all dredged through wasn’t just creative flashes from Ananke’s slumbering mind and yet the details she had correct of gods she should have never met assured him of the veracity of this event. She had met Thanatos, apparently more than once and even Hypnos had touched this mortal. There were more gods tied into this woman’s living moments than ever he had seen and it made Chronos wonder just what the Moirai and Destiny had planned for her now. He finally understood why he was compelled to share this mortal’s flesh, and beginning to understand why she was resisting his dominance so readily. If these gods were all adding even a sliver of themselves to her with their interactions, there was more latent power in Ananke than anyone yet suspected.

They left the halls of the hospital to step outside and into the Underworld directly. Chronos hesitated, knowing that not only was he not wanted here in the domain of his son, but that his very presence was anathema as another version of himself ruled over the Elysian Fields. But once again he had no choice and an unknown force compelled him to follow as closely behind Ananke now as he had been while she led him through his own memories.  They stopped only when Thanatos had brought Ananke’s soul to the river of Lethe and suddenly Chronos understood their sojourn to the Underworld. Thanatos lifted the trusting spirit of Ananke, still bespelled by the god of Death, and lowered her into the waters of the river. Lethe was the river of Hades whose waters held the gift and curse of forgetfulness and by immersing Ananke’s soul thus, Thanatos was relieving her of whatever memories burdened her soul of their particular encounter. She would remember her life in the waking world, but whatever experience she had endured while comatose would be beyond her recollection once revived.