"I love you." She kisses her wife's cheek, and then steps toward the darkness. "Together, then."

"Together." Into the darkness.

The Halls recede behind them, and a path rises under their feet. Colorful in the utter dark, smooth like glass with glimpses of nebulas and distant stars trapped within it. The mists continue to swirl lazily around them, almost hedging them away from the edges of the path. It rises for a long time, the silence heavy, and then -

Their ears pop, and Mygwainor glances behind them, her eyes widening at the entirety of Ea spread at their feet, a coiling darkness wrapped around it - a headache, for her mind can't comprehend how it's supposed to parse a dead god, and a maggot growing in the corpse of a dying day -

A dry husk of a thing, trapped, a record spinning now without any hand to guide it, the Song slowly turning to static, and -

Mygwainor takes a step back, pulling Luthien away, and something gossamer snaps.

And unravels.

And Mygwainor can breathe.

"Oh," she says, softly. "Oh."

Her grip on Luthien's hand is so, so tight.

The impossibly many layers of Ea, the threads binding it in place, shake and settle out, and leave just -

The world.

Luthien gazes in awe, mouth hanging slightly open.

"...It's over."

Small, almost hysterical laugh, and she turns and pulls her wife into a hug, burying her tears in her shoulder.

"It's all over."

Hug, hair pets.

"It's over."