Orpheus was numb with disbelief for a moment. Nothing like that could happen to Nae-nae, she was strong, invincible. She had near mastery over death. But there she was, being engulfed in maleficent black flames. "NOOO!!" the Guardian yelled out in his powerful voice, and he used his power, which he seldom did. The crowd was forced back from around him, and a path was cleared to his dying Otaku, as if every person was being shoved at once. He put on his speed as he ran to her side, shooting a look that promised unending agony at the dragon and its mistress.

He looked down at the sister of his heart, the only person who could understand his spirit. And he was caught between a desire to vomit and an urge to tear his eyes out, so as to never see such a sight again. Anaera was lying there, looking like nothing so much as a large paper doll. Her skin was bleached white, and was so dry that he was sure a passing breeze must make her crumble and fly away. And she was so cold – there were ice crystals on her eyelids and she sucked the heat from all around her, without becoming a degree warmer herself. Orpheus would have sobbed at the sight of her, but he couldn't breathe. How could she possibly be alive? Yet her Guardian knew she lived because only that kept him from dying himself. But she couldn't last, and there was no way that Nyx would let her recover. He had to do something. Anaera barely breathed and her pulse was so slow.

Yet she still managed to somehow cling to that wretched sword. Orpheus's eyes glinted with desperate resolve. There was only one way to ensure her survival, and there was no question in his mind that it was worth it. He clasped his warm hands around her frozen ones on the black hilt. Once again he noted how appropriate it was that the pommel stone should be an Apache Tear, then he braced himself for the pain.

And was stopped.

Not by the enemy, but by a gently omnipotent Presence that filled his mind and halted his suicidal action with the words, "That is unnecessary, Child."

The voice was a wonder, comprised of all the sound and feeling of life, and free of all darkness of pollution or death. It *was* life. It was the Mother.

"Gaea," he breathed in recognition.

"Don't waste yourself, Eurydice." The Mother used the Guardian's old name, from his other life. "I will take my Last Daughter in again. She will recover."

"And I can go with her again?" he asked, noting how time had seemed to stop around them.

"Not this time, Child." Orpheus felt his heart drawing and quartering itself.

"For how long? How long will I be alone?"

Pause.

"I do not know, Child, but it is how it must be. You must stay to monitor the Game for her. She must know how things are when I give her back."

"I – I understand, Gaea," he choked the words out.

"Good, now push the Sword back in, and I will take her to nurse again at my bosom, where all life is born and born anew."

Orpheus flinched at the deed he needed to do, but did not hesitate. His hands were still around hers on the hilt, almost frozen together. He reversed the blade, and with a small cry, plunged it into his sister's heart. The black mist came up around her, hiding her from even his view as Gaea absorbed her. Then, the hilt and the feel of her hands were gone from his touch, and Anaera was gone from his life, for gods knew how long.

The fading voice of the Mother suggested to him, "Sing, Child, to ease her passage and both your hearts." Then, that vibrant Presence was gone, too.

Time resumed for the rest of the world, and Nyx and Milton beheld the scene with astonishment. Where there had been the near-corpse of Chichiri no Otaku a second ago, there was now a tiny brown mouse, singing a lament in an ancient language. It was a song that hadn't been heard in over a millenium, sung in the voice that made gods weep. It swelled impossibly clear into the deathly silence and surrounded each person in a blanket of sorrowful sonance.