"Let's get this started," said the burly man, smearing dust onto his palms as though it were a sacred ritual.
Tithonus blinked, confused. "Started with what?"
Sisyphus cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders. Before them lay a massive boulder, uneven and weathered like it had borne centuries of weight and it had. With both hands, he braced himself and began pushing, gravel scattering beneath his sandals.
Tithonus stared. "Where… where are we taking this?"
"To the top," came the calm reply.
"The top?" He looked up at the towering mountain looming above. "Why would you take a boulder up there?"
Sisyphus didn't answer immediately. His muscles strained beneath his tunic, veins like roots etched along his forearms. Then, as though remembering the presence beside him, he said, voice low and steady:
"Once, I was a king. King of Corinth. A clever one, too clever for my own good. I exposed Zeus's secrets to mortals. I captured Thanatos, the god of death, and chained him so that no one could die. I tricked Persephone into letting me return to the land of the living by feigning neglect from my wife. And when I returned, well, I never went back."
Tithonus raised an eyebrow. "…You tricked death?"
"Twice," Sisyphus said, almost proudly.
"And each time I thought myself victorious. Clever. Above the gods. But no one cheats the divine without cost. When my time finally came, they condemned me to this, an eternity of futility. To push this boulder up this mountain, only for it to roll down each time I near the summit."
Tithonus felt a strange chill. The tale was absurd, yet told with the steady weight of truth.
"How long have you been doing this?"
Sisyphus's face softened. He looked past Tithonus, to the gray skies beyond the ridge.
"…I don't remember anymore. Time blurs. There's no night, no dawn—only this task. This rock. This path. Me."
Tithonus frowned. "But… how do you keep doing it? Over and over, knowing it'll all fall again?"
Sisyphus exhaled deeply, gazing upward at the path ahead.
"Because I have nothing else. No kingdom. No wife. No name in the world above. Only this task and the choice to face it. To shoulder it without breaking. They gave me a punishment meant to humiliate me. But if I bear it willingly… then who truly wins?"
"Some days, I imagine what it would be like… to actually finish it. To see it rest at the summit. I know it'll fall again. But maybe just maybe I could finish it once. Just once. And then… perhaps I could rest."
Tithonus was quiet. The sorrow in Sisyphus's voice was deep but never self-pitying. He carried his burden without complaint, not as a victim, but as a man choosing to endure.
After a long silence, Tithonus stepped forward and unsheathed Aetherfang. Its pale edge shimmered like light trying to remember the sun.
"I can end your curse," Tithonus said, pulling out the blade Aetherfang. The divine dagger shimmered faintly, its curved edge like a slice of moonlight. "It severs bonds, of soul, of duty, of godhood. I've already used it before."
Sisyphus stared at it, eyes reflecting its glow. "I believe you," he said. "But no. Not yet. Let me finish it, forjust once. Let me reach the top before I go. I want to choose my own ending, not have it stolen again."
"…Then I'll help."
They nodded, and resumed the task.
Days passed. The climb was harsh. Wind howled. The desert sun scorched them, and the slope fought back with every step. The boulder slid. Sometimes they had to stop, rebuild their strength, eat dried roots and moss.
But each day, they got closer.
On the third day, they could see the summit. Jagged, sharp like a god's broken crown, but reachable.
Tithonus's heart quickened. Sisyphus's breath was labored, but his eyes burned bright.
"One more push," he said, smiling.
They leaned in.
But the ground shifted beneath Tithonus's heel. His foot slipped.
He staggered.
The boulder trembled.
And then,
Crash.
It rolled back, bouncing, rumbling, plummeting all the way to the bottom of the mountain.
Tithonus collapsed, panting. Sisyphus stared at the trail the boulder had left. He exhaled through his nose and gave a rueful chuckle.
"…Well," he said with a shrug, "that's life."
He turned to walk back down.
Swish.
Aetherfang cleaved through the air.
Sisyphus's head tumbled forward, expression still caught in that same gentle smile.
His body collapsed.
Behind him stood Tithonus, shoulders trembling, breath ragged.
He stared at the blood on the blade. "Heh," he chuckled softly, bitterly. "If I had let him complete the task… he would've become mortal. And died instantly."
His grip tightened. "Then I'd never have been able to extract his essence."
Aetherfang pulsed, new glyphs engraving themselves along its spine. Sisyphus's life, his curse, his years of endurance—absorbed into the weapon.
"…I needed this," Tithonus whispered, though no one remained to hear him. "I needed more strength. I need to kill them. All of them."
A pause.
A silence.
"I didn't want to do it," he added. "But I won't stop now. Not for him. Not for anyone."
A twinge of sorrow flickered across his face which was quickly crushed.
He raised the blade.
"…No regrets."
He sighed. A quiet, almost mournful breath.
"One more step."
With a steady hand, he brought the blade to his neck.
His fingers trembled, not from fear, but from the sheer anticipation of pain. He knew what came next.
"I won't let sentiment stop me," he muttered. "Not his peace. Not mine."
And then
He dragged the blade across his own throat.
It wasn't clean. The first slice bit deep, nerves screaming, blood surging from the gash like a broken promise. Pain ignited behind his eyes. But he didn't stop.
His body convulsed, knees buckling. Still, he pressed harder.
Another pull. Cartilage cracked. Bone splintered. His breath came in choking gulps, the world spinning.
Finally
Snap.
His head tumbled free, crashing against the cold stone, eyes wide open.
Next,
His body vanished in a burst of light and shadow, leaving behind nothing but the dust of the mountain and the faintest whisper of the wind.