The Love Eclipse

by Charlotte Meadows, 15

Gods are not meant for mortal love. The kind that bards write about in their most detailed poems, described with intimacy and awe. Gods are meant for passing lust; bursts of faked romance that dry out in less than a day. That is what we are made to feel, and all we feel. At least that is what we used to believe. 

I am the God of the sun, bright as the first light. I have gone by many names, but I like to stick with Vasren. It’s calmer and composed compared to my other titles, and I like a little contrast here and there. Ironically, the God of the Moon is the strongest example of this. Lyssar is his name, and just like it, he is a whisper of a God. He kept to himself and spoke in a soft tone unless upset, which was rare.

It was fate for us to meet, but what we did next was entirely of our own choosing. We are Gods who must mingle during dawn and dusk, times of transition. We mainly ignored each other, perhaps a slight wave on a good day, but we were focused on our duties in the moment of change. While we kept this up for a few millennia, you can’t go forever without someone striking up a conversation. I don’t remember the details of that first time talking. I just remember the after. 

As more time went on, dawn and dusk became longer for the mortals. We made sure of that. We talked and talked for as long as we could push it before going our separate ways. The topics blurred together. We just cared about staying in our moment. 

Much as I wish for that time to continue forever, nothing truly can. We’d made an error. We stayed together for too long. It was during a passionate talk, and we’d gotten too close. He had blocked my light from reaching the Earth, and the humans panicked, thinking it was the end. We quickly moved away from each other after realizing what we’d done, but it was too late. We’d been found out, our affection laid bare before every God cursed with sight. They showed no mercy in their decision. We can be rebuilt anytime the Gods choose to—reshaped from starlight and shame, a God can die only to the blade known as the Godrid. Once a God is ended by a single slice, the role is taken over by a new creation. A remodel if you will, made to never make the same mistakes as the previous. That is exactly what would happen to us. Now, we sat in a cold cell, left to wait. 

Our replacements were already out doing their jobs. We were waiting for all the other Gods to gather so they could see what would happen if they failed at their duties. There was nothing to sit on but the floor in the cell, built to humble us as much as possible before our execution. They needed the shame to settle deep into our skulls so we knew exactly what we were. Disgraceful beings. 

I plucked lightly at my robe; the yellow looking dull compared to the rough, gray floor beneath me. I was lost in thought, recalling everything that had led up to this moment, when a small sound broke the silence. I looked up and to my left at Lyssar, who looked dimmer than ever before.

I reached out, my hand resting on top of his shoulder. He flinched, his eyes shutting for a second as if an anvil had slammed beside him. I quickly removed my hand, my eyes softening. “Lyss? What’s wrong?” I realized how dumb of a question that sounded, especially considering our situation, but he spun around before I could recover the sentence.

“What’s wrong?” ‘Wrong’ came out in an angry hiss, like a snake whose tail had just been stepped on. He turned the rest of the way toward me, causing me to jolt back slightly from the sudden movement. “We’re about to be slaughtered in front of our own kind, and you’re asking what’s wrong?”

I winced at his shouting, my body tightening up. I knew he didn’t mean to get mad, but it still stung, especially because of how rare it was to see him upset like this. I slowly moved back toward him, attempting to stammer out a sentence. “Lys, I’m-I’m sorry, I-”

He stopped me with a broken laugh, shaking his head as he stood up from the floor. “No, no, no. Don’t apologize now. It’s a good question, isn’t it? I have just been dying to tell you what’s wrong, because you must see this as normal, right?” A cracked smile formed on his lips, but his eyes showed how much pain he was really feeling. I looked up at him from the floor, my fingers tangled in my lap. 

“Well, we’re going to be dead soon. Our replacements are already out doing the work we’ve upheld for millennia, which just goes to prove how we never mattered in the first place. And we have no one to blame for our deaths but ourselves.” As Lyssar ranted, he began to pace, his hand movements growing wilder with every sentence. Eventually, he stopped pacing altogether, his body folding inward. His hands dropped to his sides, heavy and unfamiliar. He stayed silent for a few moments before mumbling with a voice thick with sorrow.

“… it’s my own fault.” The realization had fully sunk in now, only adding to the grief that was beginning to consume him. “I knew. I knew that if we stayed too long, we’d be found out. Replaced. I saw the consequences and I let it happen anyway …” He spoke like I wasn’t even in the room, his words only getting louder and faster with each breath. “I knew, and I did it anyway. All for some fantasy I knew would end horribly, but I held on because I was too afraid to let go.” He gave a hollow, broken laugh. “A God dumb enough to make his own demise.” He suddenly turned his head to look at me, the air seeming to drop a few degrees with his gaze alone. I stilled, straightening my spine. “A God whose mistakes damned the one he loved.”

He stared at me, unblinking, as if something had hollowed out his soul. Before I could stand, he buried his hands in his face and threw his head back. A muffled, ragged scream ripped through his hands, echoing across the cell. I winced, not from the volume but the pain behind it. His hands fell back down after a few more moments of silence, his body shaking as he stared forward with blank and broken eyes. No tears fell, but I saw them desperately fighting to get through. I rose slowly, my concern apparent in every motion. Each step I took toward him was careful, like I was approaching something half-broken. 

I crept forward, not wanting to startle him, but as soon as I got close, he spun toward me with wide, broken eyes. His shaking only got worse, and I knew the tremors weren’t from holding back tears. It was from overstimulation. Not from the outside, but from his own thoughts ripping him apart. His mind was punishing itself for what it had done, forcing every shard of guilt into him at once. 

He looked at me not with fear of me, but of what I represented. Desire, demise, death. Everything that was the reason he was going to die. I softened my expression and took just one step forward. That’s all it took for him to hit me. His pale hands slammed on my chest, and while I stumbled slightly, I wasn’t pushed back away from him. He teetered between pushing me away or pulling me in. So I made the decision for him.

Slowly, I reached out toward him, causing him to flinch hard. Yet, he didn’t pull away. He stayed right where he was. Finally, I wrapped my arms around him, gently pulling him to my body. He stayed as still as he could as the tremors wracked his body. I turned my head and pressed my face into the side of his neck. 

“It wasn’t your fault.” I tried to keep my voice as quiet as possible, making sure he knew I wasn’t going to force him into anything. “You deserved to feel love, and you still do. Even in our last moments.” He didn’t say or do anything at first, staying frozen. Worry coiled along my spine, but then, very hesitantly, his arms wrapped around me. 

He buried his face in my shoulder, his hair brushing against my chin. He drew a deep, shuddering breath as his tears soaked my robe. I tightened my grip, giving him as much gentleness as I could. His sobs turned raw and gasping, and I rubbed his back in slow and steady circles. 

He sobbed broken, slurred words, but I didn’t hush him. He needed to feel, and I wasn’t going to be the one to interrupt. I gently guided him down to the floor against the wall, letting him curl into me.

My own tears began to fall, but I didn’t raise my hand to wipe them away. That would mean  pulling my hand from his back—and he needed every ounce of comfort I could give.

It felt like hours passed by while we sat there. Eventually, Lyssar stopped crying, his eyes drying up, but even then he didn’t move away from me. He stayed lying there, his head rising against me with every breath. At some point, I must’ve laid my head back against the wall and closed my eyes, and soon, I was asleep. 

I was woken up by the sound of keys jangling around inside a lock. I slowly opened my eyes, blinking away the bleariness that clouded my vision. My gaze landed on a guard, his face stoic and his posture straight. Though, as he entered the cell, I noticed he was looking anywhere but us. It wasn’t like the fear of a blade—it was the fear of the unknown. 

He cleared his throat, walking into the cell. He stared at the piece of wall above my head as he spoke in a gravelly voice. “It is time.” I nodded at the guard before lowering my head to look at the sleeping form of the Moon God. I guessed he also must’ve fallen asleep at some point. I gently patted him on the back, shaking him just enough to wake him up.

“Lys-” I heard the guard vocally cringe at the nickname, but I ignored him. “-it’s time to wake up. We have to go.” He mumbled something incoherent before lifting his head to look at me. His eyes were tired but understanding. He knew what was about to happen. So did I. We untangled ourselves and stood, both of us turning towards the guard, who was very clearly trying to make this process as quick as possible. He turned without another word and made a gesture for us to follow. 

As we walked out of the cell and down the hall toward the main chamber, my mind wandered. There was no heaven for us, no place for our souls to reside after death. We are the souls. This will be the last time I will ever feel again. Not just my love, but my pain. My joy, my tears, my fear, my rage. I will never exist again. My body started to shake as I walked, my breathing quickening. Then, a weight pressed against my back. 

I raised my head, the feeling grounding me. I looked next to me to see Lyssar looking at me with understanding eyes. His hand slid down to his side, open and waiting. I dropped my hand into his, and we clasped them together. 

I looked up as we finally walked into the chamber, my other hand coming up to cover my eyes from the bright lights that filled the place. The whole pantheon stared down at us when we entered, their forms looking like crows staring at dinner. I shivered at the thought. 

In front of us was the Godrid in all its glory, its golden sheen brighter than the lights themselves. It was almost bigger than the chamber itself, its blade tip just barely above the floor. There was no need to announce why everyone was here. They all knew. They were here just to be reminded of the existence of consequences. 

The guard pulled a lever on the chamber wall, grunting with effort. The giant sword suddenly turned, angling itself in front of Lyssar. My heart stopped. I thought it would kill us at the same time. I thought we would be together during our last moments. I didn’t know he would be leaving me behind first. 

I turned to him, panic filling up my insides. I’d be alone in my last moments. I’d never feel his warmth in my last seconds. As he looked towards me, a sort of calm fell onto his features. He tightened his grip on my hand as the blade rose, ready to strike. 

My breathing started to quicken, but this time I couldn’t be soothed. I opened my mouth to beg, but the sword was already falling. There was no point. His mouth formed the start of a sentence—‘I-’—but the sword cut through him.

There was no blood. No guts spilled. No body cut in half, lying on the ground. Not even any sparkles or silhouette to show that something was there. Just gone. The sudden loss of touch against my hand shook me. I even had to look down just to make sure. 

“A God dumb enough to make his own demise.” 

He had prophesied that he would be killed first. Maybe, in some way, he knew. I raised my hand in front of my face. All I could do was shake, my breaths heaving. I didn’t even notice the sword swinging back behind me. Nothing registered. Just emptiness. I didn’t hear the sword falling towards me.

I just knew he was go-

Sykesville, Maryland

This piece won FIRST PLACE in our 2026 Voice & Verse Writing Contest, prose ages 15-18 category.

Judge’s Note: The emotional intensity in this piece is extremely strong in the relationship between Vasren and Lyssar, which feels raw and deeply personal. The author builds tension very effectively, leading up to the ending in a way that makes the final moment feel both powerful and devastating.