“Why aren’t you coming with us?” the child avatar of his male rival asked, and Davinth swallowed around the lump in his throat.
His words came out as a whisper, “I cannot.” He extended a trembling hand towards the vision’s face and choked back a sob. “I am broken.”
The scar of self-loathing ripped, oozing fresh currents of despair. His hand dropped with his head, and he released a shuddering breath. He had always felt like less of an Elysian because of his disconnect. In a way, he was blind, unable to sense their world the way those around him did. He could not feel Pahali’s warmth during the Jurna, the ritual dance of fire and awakening. He did not experience her divine sorrow when he joined the mourning wailers at Iddoth, the solemn procession marking her descent into the underworld and the end of the traditional growing season.
“So you filled that void with something else,” the female’s voice returned, and he could not face her this time.
“I needed to know why…” he replied.
Warm hands cupped his cheeks, causing his eyes to widen, and gentle upward pressure made him rise with her, bringing them face to face. Her tattoo subtly glowed, and for a moment, he felt it. A soft buzz at the back of his mind that sent a trail of warmth over his skull. It was as much a possession as an embrace, and he knew who she was.
“For some, that is their gift,” she replied, although her mouth formed no words. “In being blind, you sought to see,” she continued, brushing a lock of hair away from his face, “and what have you seen?”
His vision flashed, and his travels filtered before him. The high mountains in Dommah, where a rare berry used for treating blood disorders was discovered. His hands were wrapped around the fragile stem while his breaths puffed over their supple yellow flesh.
The caldera in Yusen held a mold capable of digesting carbonate compounds. He was not involved in the initial research, but visiting the area with its bleak pockmarked landscape had been one of the most breathtaking experiences of his life. He recalled Lorion’s face as he described the strange flora and fauna to the younger male, all uniquely shaped to suit their environment.
When his sister asked if he’d felt Pahali’s presence there, he became less inclined to speak. His stories became few and far between until, eventually, he moved like a shadow through the house. A kind word here, brief interest there, but he no longer wove stories of discovery that provided glimpses into the natural world surrounding them.
The memories faded, and her face returned. “You record and refine creation as others have before you.”
And, in doing so, he provided glimpses of creation in its all of its profound complexity to Pahali’s children. She stepped back and nodded, her lips curling into a smile. A shadow moved out of the corner of his eye, but his gaze never wavered. She may not have told him the meaning of all existence, but she had certainly given him a glimpse into his own.
His next words came out without his consent, the result of his mind wishing to fill as many gaps as possible in his understanding. “Doesn’t telling me all of this defeat the purpose?”
Her laughter was beautiful, musical even. It reminded him of Stephanie’s, and something else he couldn’t quite place. He strained his ears, desperate to hear the tone again, the melody that played under her joyful peals. She extended her hand, and a flash of her intention flitted across his mind.
He could internally plead with her for only a few moments when her fingers touched his brow and his world erupted into an orgy of color.
5
Stephanie
She balled her fists, stood, and began marching in the opposite direction of the stump she once sat upon. A few thousand light years should have been far enough from Minerva Renaut, but when her perfume and visage condensed and emerged from the surrounding trees, Stephanie couldn’t help the familiar fear that dropped into her gut like a tiny stone.
It was insignificant. Miniscule. Worn down and tumbled after years of handling by Minerva’s expert hands, but it still emerged as the learned response to the other woman’s presence.
Minerva strode through the trees, running well-manicured fingers over the black leaves. “You do have a flair for the dramatic, Stephanie.” She batted a leaf away and rubbed her fingers together. “Really, you didn’t need to run all the way across the galaxy to escape your failures.”
Stephanie stumbled, the words a striking blow. Minerva had never spoken the words outright. She always framed it as being worried about Stephanie’s future. About her daughter dying alone. Or worse. Poor. Like Minerva had been before she’d clawed her way up from humble beginnings.
After choosing Stephanie’s career, a spouse became the logical next step, despite her protests.
“I haven’t failed anything,” Stephanie hissed.
Snagging Jonathan wasn’t some grand accomplishment. The humiliations she had to endure while blinded by what he represented were proof enough of that. There was nothing he offered her that she didn’t have herself aside from the obvious, and she could get that anywhere.
Her mother’s laugh cut across the orchard, and Stephanie stopped, pushing the meat of her palms into her eyes.
“An empty womb. An empty home. And when your seniors tire of your mediocrity, your little cubicle will be empty as well.”
Stephanie shuddered and kept her back to Minerva’s onslaught. She would appear next to one tree, idly twirling her pearls between her fingers, then step through another to mention a different shortcoming. Stephanie had heard them all before, in every pricking comment about her lack of promotion or engagement ring.
And, in response, she had shut down, closed off the part of her that raged at the unfairness of it all.
Minerva scoffed. “Fair? I was more than fair.” The woman appeared in front of her, bringing Stephanie to a halt. “You’ve always done the bare minimum and expected praise for it.”
Stephanie was nauseated, and she didn’t know why. Her hands flew to her hair, and when she closed her eyes, she was greeted with the sight of expectant eyes looking up at her from behind blinding lights. She ran her hands down her body, temporarily caught off guard by her attire’s deep blue color. She looked up, and a familiar word was printed on a large screen: Emerton.
That had been the first time she realized something was wrong, when she collected her diploma after a grueling dual major in Marketing and Communication and Photography, it had been her mother’s version of a compromise. It would take years for Stephanie to realize it was attempted sabotage.
“Emerton’s International Finance program is globally recognized.” Her mother beamed at her from across their dining room table when Stephanie presented her acceptance letter. That blissful moment, when Minerva’s eyes shone with pride, evaporated once Stephanie began discussing her major.
Photography was deemed unacceptable on its own, but combined with one of the most stringent marketing programs in the country, such a “frivolous,” “easy” major was supposed to become insurmountable. After years of hard work, she’d descended the stairs of the University of Emerton’s graduation stage to her mother’s tight smile and her father’s apologetic one.
Over a champagne lunch, her trajectory was laid out before her. “Your education may not have been as rigorous as some of your peers, but you’re well prepared for the future, at least.” Minerva was always meticulous in her angling. From Stephanie’s first internship to her current position, the older woman’s fingerprints were everywhere.
“I had to pull a lot of strings to get you in here, so no mopey, put-upon act, hmm? You’re an adult now.”
The scene flashed again, and her fingers clenched around the tablet in her hands. In a few minutes, she would be making her first presentation as Marketing Lead, and the small meeting room was filled with peers and senior executives alike.
Stephanie darted into a brightly lit refuge lined with mirrors and sinks on one side and stalls on the other. She sagged against the door, willing her heart to slow down. If she stepped out
of those doors, she would be back where she started and would need to relive the first time she met Jonathan.
“You’re lucky he was there to ask about that terraforming project,” Minerva said from her position as Stephanie’s reflection.
Stephanie’s lips twisted as though she’d bitten into something sour. That was how Minerva chose to interpret Jonathan’s actions, and she had managed to convince her of the same over the years. Never mind that his ridiculous Abraxas project had nothing to do with her work ensuring the company’s products sold or that his questions ended up making her look woefully unprepared.
His apology rang hollow when he realized his mistake. She was already flustered but had managed to recover. Stephanie Renaut could be a whizz with a marketing campaign but floundered in the face of cutthroat office politics. It was one of the things Jonathan liked about her.
“He tried to humiliate me,” Stephanie said back to her reflection. Minerva’s cream, cowl-neck sweater and pressed slacks took on a liquid quality as they turned into a short sleeve button down and strange trousers that appeared too large in the hip area. Her mother’s grey hair tumbled in heavily teased curls to her shoulders and were returned to their former glory, the glossy Chestnut ringlets taking her back to her childhood. “He wanted to knock me down a peg while reminding everyone of how important he was.”
She existed at his expense and was rewarded during their relationship with fawning adulation from coworkers and acquaintances but never from the man himself.
That never mattered to Minerva, either.
“He’s more than a good catch.”
“Then why don’t you fuck him?” Stephanie screamed, and her mother’s wide eyes only spurred her further, the words she’d tempered finally cutting free. “I know why.”
The vision shifted, and she was back in the orchard. She could hear her heartbeat, a thunderous war drum that pushed adrenaline and rage through her veins.
“Because he doesn’t want you.” She took a step forward to mirror the vision’s retreat. “You’re not good enough for him or any of these people you force me to deal with.”
“You don’t—”
“No one thinks about you, Minerva. No one mentions your accomplishments because you have none.” Her fists balled at her side. “Everything you crow about now has either come through my hard work and sacrifice or father’s.”
She squared her shoulders and maintained the offensive, backing Minerva into a tree until the figure could no longer retreat.
“But guess what?” Stephanie continued. “I did it all. I finished those degrees and got that office suite, and I didn’t even give a shit about any of it.”
She was nose-to-nose with the vision now, and a new emotion welled in her chest, a fierce triumphant rush. She had to be losing it. “Now imagine how far I’ll fly when I give a damn.”
She stumbled backward when the vision collapsed, tumbling toward the ground as a pile of thick, black smoke to slink back into the orchard’s shadows. Her head pounded, and her throat felt parched, but the orchard still swayed with the imaginary current created by the tea.
She licked her lips and closed her eyes, willing her breaths to slow down so that her head could catch up with her heart. Her hands shook, and she clenched them together before running them along her arms. The orchard was warm, but that didn’t stop chills from running down her spine at the encounter.
Shadows moved again, and she continued walking, Minerva’s pained face etched into the front of her mind. It wasn’t real, but every bit of it had felt tangible. The anger, betrayal, and finally, determination. Her footsteps increased, and she counted them, narrowing her focus down to getting out of the orchard. She needed to think and strategize her next moves, and it would be a lot easier to do that if that damned music would stop playing.
She stopped, perking up when the sound rose again before dying back into the wind. It was like nothing she had ever heard. A deep, pleading, flute-like tone that begged the listener to find it.
Stephanie began her trek anew, her intention on finding the music at the forefront of her mind. But nagging doubts remained. She couldn’t possibly be considering leaving her position. That was drastic. Almost unthinkable. Whatever little back up she received now from her father wouldn’t be enough to shield her from Minerva’s wrath and the inevitable flurry of outside involvement that would invite.
She looked up from the ground in front of her, realizing she had lost the music she was using to guide her. Upon stopping and making note of its absence, however, it’s tone gradually returned.
“You must trust the silence…” she mumbled under her breath, and although she still didn’t really know what that meant, all that mattered was finding those notes. If that meant forcing her mind to shut the hell up for the rest of the day, challenge accepted.
6
Stephanie
She hissed and covered her eyes when the sun hit them. She wasn’t sure how long she had been wandering in that orchard, but by the time she stepped past the last clump of trees, she hoped to avoid stepping foot in another one for the foreseeable future.
She raised her hands to cover her eyes and realized she had come out into a small cove carved into a tall black cliff. Stephanie frowned and turned back to the orchard, where the trees’ forbidding, black leaves slowly turned outward as if to repel her.
She could only go forward. A slight vibration shuffled the ground, and a sharp hiss filled the air. Stephanie froze and watched while a large metallic vessel rose from the ground and filled with a bright blue flame. It was a fortunate distraction as two large bags were leaned together against a nearby shrub. She likely would have missed them altogether without the beacon.
She looked around, wondering if any of the novices were going to pop out and explain what she was supposed to do next. Then closed her eyes, searching for the sweet music she heard before only to be greeted with silence and snapping twigs. The flaming vessel was beautiful and everything, but she was far more interested in whatever could be in those bags.
A bottle of water was her first find, and she downed half of it before tearing the bottle away from her lips to take a breath. It was sweet, fresh, and cold. It couldn’t have been sitting out for long. Small parcels with sandwiches and fruit sat on top of towels, and she chuckled. They really did think of everything.
Stretched out on the grass under a clear blue sky, the tea’s remaining effects appeared to be a light euphoria, although she wondered if it was also the sense of claiming herself.
Whatever she put her mind to she could achieve and had a proven track record of doing so. She was in a rut, but she could move forward.
Her gaze drifted from the tree line to the polished, black, stone cliff beyond. Even from afar, it’s reflective sheen caught the light and was one of the most spectacular things she had ever seen in her life. She wished she had a camera and cursed herself for forgetting to bring one.
She sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees, casting her eyes back on the orchard’s swaying leaves. She used to love taking pictures and never missed an opportunity when she was younger. If someone told her, ten years ago, that she would take an off-world trip and leave her camera behind, she would have laughed in their face.
“Priorities,” she mumbled under her breath. Happy to hear her own voice instead of her mother’s.
The tree line shifted, and she squinted as something seemed to be moving among the trunks. To her knowledge, she had entered the orchard alone, so the sagging, tired figure emerging from the trees was a surprise.
The narrow strip of light hit its face and, like her, it turned up to face the welcoming beams of warmth. Seeing the reaction from the other side was almost awe inspiring. It was a revelatory moment coming out of the gloom and into the bright light of day. The once slumped figure straightened a bit and turned in her direction once it spotted the vessel with its bright blue flame.
Stephanie rose, a nervous tingle running down her spine. She wasn’t alt
ogether certain but there was something familiar about that gait. Measured and graceful, as though it didn’t want to take up too much space. Her heart leapt, and she gently touched a hand to her chest before bringing it to her lips to stifle a laugh.
Davinth had definitely seen better days.
* * *
Davinth
He was already emotionally raw when he finally managed to stumble out of that orchard, but seeing her was a soothing balm. Her eyes were as tired as he surely felt but held that familiar spark.
He motioned with his head toward the orchard. “I must be quite a sight if you can still laugh after coming out of there.”
His pace increased just as she took her first few steps toward him, but they stopped short of connecting, the urge to touch stifled by the lingering pain of exposed truths.
“You brought some of the orchard out with you.” Stephanie replied and she reached toward and above him, bringing her achingly close. He could try to convince himself that he brought his hand to her back to steady her, but the soft smile that came over her lips as she twirled a leafed twig between them, made seeing it up close worth pushing past his initial resistance.
A comfortable silence hung between them before she stepped back. “They brought us food.”
Davinth’s eyes narrowed as he studied the supply bags. Communal meals weren’t uncommon after a ritual experience, but that Stephanie and he emerged from the orchard together had to be the work of Brother Namais. He should have been happy with the circumstances but could not resist the tinge of indignation at the other male’s interference.
“It’s the least they could do,” he said, although he would be sure to thank Namais when they returned to the commune. The sandwich was vegetarian, as he had expected, but thick fungi, sprouts, and some kind of spread would make it rich and filling.
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