It was almost done. A young woman stood before a steaming pot, eyes red and somber. She had been working on this for days, without rest or food. With no appetite, no sleep, no desire to live–she might as well be halfway in the grave already. The mixture in the cooling metal urn was a dark greenish tint, a fitting appearance for what it was. Taking out a small clear vial, she carefully dripped a few drops of the liquid into the bubbling concoction. The smell would've stung her eyes and burned her nose if she could still feel it. Stirring the new addition in, she set it to cool off the flame while she went to retrieve a glass vial. In one of the drawers of a dresser strewn with crinkled letters and half-burnt parchment, another vial of the same size and shape was already filled and sealed with a cap. Whatever purpose the brewed solution held, this would be its counterpart. It was meant to be lost, forgotten. Just like how she had felt since she began making the tincture.

Months earlier, she had been happy. Blissfully ignorant and unaware, she had returned from her time in Parvpora back to Arri. She had someone waiting for her here, or that was what she had thought. Instead, he was in the arms of another woman. A stranger, but that did nothing to lessen the sting. After promising her he'd write every week and sending wax-sealed letters whispering sweet nothings without fail; he still couldn't wait. It didn't matter if it was her or not, anyone would do. When she found out, she realized why her friends had been so hesitant to let her see him. They kept asking her if she had met anyone while she was abroad, and if she wanted to meet some of their new acquaintances. They had been hoping their efforts would soften the blow, but if they already knew then why didn't anyone tell her sooner? If she had known, then she wouldn't have bothered coming back. She would've stayed there and found someone else.  

Just remembering the night she discovered she had been replaced made her eyes ache. After crying for days, she no longer had any tears left. It hurt. Everything hurt. Holding the vial of poison tincture in her hands, she knelt down and stifled her sobs as the memory reopened wounds that were never healed in the first place. As far as anyone else knew, she had simply been despondent for days. No one, especially those closest to her were aware of what she had been doing. She couldn't let them know. They would just console her and try to give her sympathy. They didn't understand how hard it was to walk down the market square when it reminded her of when they spent the longest day in Ignius watching the fireworks beside Kirika Lake. No matter where she went, the memories kept coming back. 

This was the only way she could escape from this torment. If she stayed awake, then she would spend her life running away from everything that reminded her of him. Her hand tightened around the vial's cap, and she set the antidote on the counter not too far away. Sooner or later someone would find her, and once they found the other vial they would understand. Having reached the end of one's rope, she was prepared to commit herself to the eternal slumber. Hands shaking from fatigue and grief, it slipped out from her fingers and she dove to catch it before it fell onto the floor. Then, a gloved hand saved the glass vial before it shattered.

"Why do you want to die?" An unfamiliar voice spoke to her. When she tried to grab the poison vial, the stranger's hand jerked back. They then asked the same question: "Tell me, why do you want to die?" 

Eshari, the eternal slumber–more commonly known as an Arriese ritual where a Rosenite woman commits suicide via ingestion of poison. The poison is custom-made by the victim before they take it, and the same goes for the antidote. Due to the Rosenite race's innate resistance against poisons, this would have to be one volatile cocktail of toxins to essentially send one into a permanent coma. What's less surprising is why so many do it. Just like all races, they too are susceptible to loss and heartbreak. Even beings who possess a seemingly infinite lifespan can be driven to suicide.

Shiloh had been in Sularia for business reasons. Even as a deity, she continued to act as the head of an international shipping and transport company that delivered goods from all ends of the world. Today she had delivered an order for raw gems mined from Baltil to a lapidary. For a wealthy nation such as Arri, purchases of such scale were common. She didn't receive requests from here often, as her reputation was more prolific down south in Canelux and in northern Parvpora. With the deal done, she was on her way to the port where she had docked the Clephsydra. Passing through the residential areas, she was cutting through the streets to shorten her trip. 

It wasn't because she had omniscient powers due to her recent ascension to godhood. Even if she had come before that happened, she still would have felt it. Somewhere, there was an overwhelming sensation of despair. With all the grievances and sorrows she had swallowed over the years, it was screaming from within the decorated stone buildings–loud and clear. Hopelessness. Anguish. Desperation. Futility. The desire to die. Such a powerful and all-consuming desire compelled her to seek it out and find the source. She could practically hear it ringing in her ears. Searching from alley to alley, she came upon one house where the aura of despair was leaking through every corner. Slipping in through a window after forcing it open, she arrived just in time.

The smell of death was heavy in the air, and the atmosphere was familiar. She always had a knack for arriving right before disaster struck, and this time it didn't work against her. Snatching away what was a vial of poison, Shiloh had interrupted a woman's attempt at committing Eshari. At the time the term 'Eshari' didn't even register; the scene inside the house had given her the impression of someone preparing to end their life in the quickest way possible. The way the woman looked also gave it away. Her eyes were red, slightly swollen from crying. She looked tired and gaunt, emotionally spent. Her spirit was crushed, and her eyes were dulled. How did Shiloh know? Simple…she had seen this all before.

Many years ago, long before she had set foot in Revaliir; she too had stumbled upon a woman grieving a broken heart. Though their names and looks were different, they both shared similarities in how they acted. The emotional numbing brought about by the sting of betrayal and the cruelty of infidelity, as well as the body's physical reaction to extreme distress both were present. That woman had been weeping over an unfaithful lover, and it had left her hopeless and overwhelmed. The same could be said for this one, only the latter had been in this state for a long time. 

"Why do you want to die?" Her question was simple and direct. Instead of offering sympathy and comfort, she quietly addressed not the woman's emotions but her reasoning. She didn't need to ask how she was feeling, or what she was feeling. She knew that already. What she wanted to know, was why a person gifted with capabilities beyond human limits wanted to end it all. As painful as her question was, it had to be said. If this woman didn't acknowledge the true reason why she chose this course of action, then there was nothing Shiloh could do. It was the only way to help her let go of what was causing her suffering.When the woman tried to take back the poison, Shiloh pulled her hand holding the vial back out of the woman's reach. In times like these, sometimes one had to be cruel to be kind.

Using shadow meld, she slipped into the dimly-lit, shuttered room to the window she had entered from and took a seat on the windowsill. There, she awaited the woman's answer to her question while carefully watching for any signs of another attempt at suicide.

When the stranger asked their question, Nerine didn't know where to start. Instead, her words came out in a jumbled mess. Now on her knees, she covered her mouth with a hand as she spoke through ragged breaths. "He…he left me." She choked between suppressed sobs. "He told me he would wait…I always wrote back to him right away, always told him everything–" Heaving another sob, she squeezed her eyes shut even if she didn't have any tears to shed. "But when I came back he–he was with someone else!" Burying her face in both her hands she cried out: "Liar! Cheating wretch! I didn't even know who she was, but maybe–maybe it's better that way. He promised me…he promised…" 

By now her throat had constricted to where she couldn't even scream. She could only shake between sobs as the pain came back again. After she found out, she didn't want to believe it at first. She tried to see if she was mistaken, that maybe she was just imagining things. But her proof came clear as day, when they kissed so passionately in the corner of the rose hedges in the late afternoon sun. It was only for a moment but she couldn't watch any further. What happened after was completely unknown, as by then she had ran all the way back. She had always been worried if he'd really like someone like her. Whenever he tried to tease her with a kiss, she'd hold back. Was it because of that? Did he think she was too boring for him? When she had asked for him to wait for her until she came back from Parvpora, did he think she wasn't interested? No, that couldn't be. Why would he have sent her all those letters over the years?

The stranger said nothing. They simply waited, in silence. Nerine didn't understand why they had appeared, and what they were doing. She wasn't even sure if they were truly there, or if the masked figure was simply a figment of her imagination. She remembered the question they had asked her in the beginning. Why was she doing this? Why did she want to commit Eshari? It was because it was too painful to wake up every morning, to go outside only to see things that reminded her of him. It was too painful to see other couples in the rose gardens or in the Yellow District being as intimate as they had been. She was afraid of seeing him in the crowds, of running into him somewhere. And she was afraid of seeing him with that other woman by his side, laughing and happy. "I don't want to live anymore. Every day I try not to think about him. But everywhere I go, no matter where I look–I see his face–in my mind, in my memories…"

Slowly, her breathing began to stabilize and the palpitations started to calm down. "I just want to sleep…fall into a deep, deep sleep where I don't need to think of him anymore. Where my heart won't keep hurting and I can forget everything. It hurts so much…I just want it all to stop." Curled up on the floor while on her knees, Nerine could only hear the sound of her own breathing. Softly, quietly…the stranger then asked her: "Do you want to forget?" Her body still shaking from the tremors of her own labored breaths, she nodded her head. As her throat tightened again she whispered, "…Yes. Please." From the footsteps she heard, the masked figure came from the windowsill and approached her. Then, kneeling down to her level, they stretched out a hand. "Then, will you give this poison to me? If so, then I will take away all the hurt…and all the pain."

"Here… There's–there's another vial on the counter. Please, I can't take this anymore." As she gave up the poison and its antidote, she felt a hand press against the top of her head. "It'll be all over soon. I promise…" Then, everything went black.

In order for her to siphon a person's negative emotions, the person in question has to be willing to have them removed. That was necessary for her to completely and cleanly sever the connection and extract it from their psyche. In most cases, she would convince them to give up what was causing them grief. It was more than just equivalent exchange; it was helping them move on emotionally. Then, she would take their burdens upon herself and slowly purify those fragments by resolving them within her own mind. For simple things like guilt, they would be resolved within a short while. But more complex emotions such as grief, regret, and anger borne from betrayal took much longer. The taste was acrid and bitter like a pill. As it went down it burned like how vinegar slowly ate away at a piece of limestone. This woman must have suffered for a while for it to become this potent. Perhaps it was because she was a Rosenite. From what she had learned, the Rosenite population was terribly skewed to where females vastly outnumbered males. It had gotten to the extent where women literally fought over men, and would retaliate against having a potential mate stolen.

This wasn't something she would be able to understand, but having taken in this woman's pain upon herself, Shiloh could at least know how she felt. As the woman laid unconscious on the ground, she took the two vials and tucked them away for safekeeping. Leaning over, she lightly traced the symbol of Antikythera on the back of the woman's hand. The mark then appeared, brightly glowing for a moment before disappearing. Focusing her power to open a portal to the Machinarium, once it was stable Shiloh closed the opened window and lifted up the woman so she was leaning against her shoulder. Carefully stepping through the portal, she gave one last look behind to see if she had missed anything.

"Don't worry… I'll take you somewhere far, far away where you won't need to worry about seeing him anymore." The deity whispered as they disappeared through the portal. "I'll bring you to a cold, dark, and very gentle place. And maybe one day, it will make someone a goodly home… It's name is Antikythera." In the blink of an eye, a young Rosenite scholar was spirited away to parts unknown. Those who knew her would find her home empty, with signs of an attempt at Eshari. But the whereabouts and location of the poison and the antidote were never found. Eventually, in time the scholar would return once the wounds in her heart were healed. But for the time being, she would sleep a deep and peaceful slumber for the first time in many weeks. And as promised, Shiloh took away the memory of the pain.