No Man's Land

by C D Beaudin

  Awyn remembers, the tune in her mouth, on her tongue.

  “Upon the green hills the battle commences.

  And within a young girl walks, a dress of white flowing behind her.

  Her hair, black as night, and lips, red as blood.

  She bears a sword made from the ashes.

  And holds it to the heavens.

  Down come messengers with feathers.

  Giving her the light.

  The war has been won.”

  “I remember it.” She looks at him. “What does it have to do with you?”

  He winks. “I’m not wearing my feathers at the moment.”

  She stares at him. “You’re a…messenger with feathers?”

  He shrugs. “We prefer the term Israe, but messengers with feathers works too.”

  Her mouth drops. Israe. Legendary creatures, beings of myth, and divine status, higher than the Spirits, higher than Sericia and Zyadar themselves. And she’s…sitting next to one.

  He chuckles. “My name’s Nethan.”

  “Nethan?” She swallows. “I think there’s no need to introduce myself.”

  “No need at all, I’ve been waiting to meet you since the beginning.”

  Awyn tilts her head. She isn’t even going to ask him what he means by “the beginning.” “What are you doing here? With me, I mean. Who am I to you?”

  “You’re the one who helped save the world.”

  She huffs, hugging herself. “I destroyed it. I let the beasts out.”

  “You would have.” He looks onto the pale horizon. “But the doomed one’s blood was shed, so you actually saved everyone.”

  Her eyebrow rises. “What?”

  “When the destined dies, the Veil is torn, and all the beasts will roam free, and every soul on the Isle will die. But you also open the Other World, the afterlife that has been closed off for thousands of years. You save the world, but you also destroy it.” He glances at her. “But when the doomed dies, the beasts are killed, and the Isle is destroyed.”

  Awyn’s confused. “So, I saved and doomed everyone, but then the actual doomed saved everyone again?”

  “It’s confusing, I know. I’m the Protector of Souls, and it confuses me. But just know…everything is balanced. Everything is right. I know so on good authority.”

  Awyn lets out a breath, relieved. “So…what does this mean?”

  “It means that everyone who ever died in the past four Ages are gone forever.”

  Awyn’s relief drowns in horror.

  “But I may be able to bring them back. If you do something for me.”

  She puts her hand on his arm. “Anything. I can’t live with their deaths. Not that many.” She shakes her head, face in her hands. “I can’t.”

  He breathes in. “You’re dead, right now. But I will bring those souls back if you let me resurrect you.”

  Awyn swallows.

  “I know you want to die. And sleep forever, in peace. But I also know you will never know peace—whether you like it or not—if you don’t settle what needs to be settled.”

  Awyn exhales. “You want me to kill Revera.”

  “Yes. And I will give you the weapon to do it. Hathos, a sword that combines the power of the Nine High Israe—myself included. You will be able to slay the sorceress, and the world will be at rest.”

  Awyn bites her lip, fighting back tears. She can’t do this. She can’t. She isn’t strong enough. She has the chance at peace, at an end…but if she doesn’t do this, no one else will be free. This is the moment she needs to choose. Herself or the world? She chose herself on the Isle, and it’s opened a door for everyone else.

  She can fight just a little longer.

  She can hold on another moment.

  Awyn looks at Nethan. “I guess it’s time to say goodbye.”

  He smiles, and the sky drips down into the sea, fading to a white abyss. The white fades to gray. The ground becomes grass, and trees form. Mountains take shape. And in front of her, a frozen river. A forest of dark history and black, twisting trees. The Dark Woods. And in front of it, the White Bridge.

  Standing on the pale, worn stone, adorned in red and her scarlet crown of leaves, is Revera.

  Quiet stillness sets upon the plains. No Dalorin howl from the woods. No hungry, sick cry from the city. No battle. No fighting. No one calling her name.

  It’s just them.

  “It truly is the end of the war.” Revera’s voice is loud but calm, not carrying like it does when she casts her magic upon it. She speaks to Awyn and Awyn alone. The sorceress turns around, facing her. “After all this time…finally.”

  “You don’t like it?”

  “It could be better. It can always be better, Awyn.”

  “The war or life?”

  “Both, maybe?”

  Awyn raises her brow. “You sound unsure of yourself?”

  “I’m just thinking.” She leans against the side of the bridge. “I do a lot of thinking. I dream a lot too. It’s part of what brought me here today.” She turns to her. “What brought you here?”

  Awyn doesn’t say anything.

  Revera sighs. “I saw everything, all those years ago. I saw you. Kepp. The downfall of Mera and the Battle of No Man’s Land. Everything. I saw the salvation of the dead and dying. Of everyone.” She looks at her. “And yet it was only a dream.”

  “Are you saying… Are you saying that you knew this was going to happen?”

  “I’m saying a lot more than that, Awyn.”

  “What?”

  Her fist hits the stone. “You can’t be that dense, Awyn. Think. If I knew everything that was going to happen, then who do you think made sure it happened? Who do you think sparked Raea’s consent to Daron? Or told Atta about your father’s adultery?” Her eyes narrow. “Me.”

  She huffs. “Honestly, Awyn. Do you really believe I’d let that idiot of a king Tamon not kill you? I knew he’d lock you in a cell, I just made sure you stayed in there. I knew he would hesitate in killing you when you turned eighteen, so I made sure you had enough strength to fight him off. And had Kaniel find you in the Dark Woods.” She takes a breath.

  “I’ve saved your life too many times to count. I’ve saved your friends’ lives even more. I was the one who made sure you four didn’t die when you jumped from Nethess.”

  “You?” Not Raea?

  “Raea?” Revera laughs. “I was Raea. I was the one that told you to go through the backdoor in Thasoe. I was the one who saved you from becoming a Dalorin. It was me who removed my own magic from Aradon. I appeared to him as that dead Delcah, so he’d start fighting, and resurrected Idies so his Besged Cross wouldn’t kill him!” She shakes her head. “I had to weave so many threads, cut so many strings, just so we could end up here, now.”

  She closes her eyes. A harsh wind sweeps in, light shining brighter than the sun.

  Awyn covers her eyes, and when the light fades, before her stands Raea. “When Slayer failed to kill her, I finished the job. I’ve impersonated Raea for nineteen years.” The White Lady fades, and Revera stands there once again. Her eyes darken. “It’s haunted me. My magic taunts me with her image, her voice. Sometimes it even takes control, making her appear to me. I was the illusionist, but my magic was controlling me.” She wrings her hands. “My magic wants this war more than I do. There were times I wasn’t sure if it was my doing or the magic’s.”

  “Don’t blame the power you harness.”

  Revera’s eyes narrow. “Trust me. I’m not.”

  Silent for a moment, the world’s eeriness is somewhat calm. Final. Awyn’s glad. It’s over. She’s still trying to comprehend it.

  Revera shakes her head, and Awyn watches as she fights for a grin. She achieves it, but it’s not completely genuine. She seems stuck in her thoughts, stuck in her past, and Awyn knows it’s true when she says, “Raea’s gone.”

  Awyn’s eyes well with tears, the truth overwhelming and confusing. “But why? Why any of this? What was your goal?”<
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  “To destroy the Isle! To save those who died and those who would. So that there could be an end to suffering because once you’ve experienced enough of it yourself…” She inhales slowly. “I made sure Kepp was driven over the edge, but honestly, it didn’t take much effort on my part. He was so far gone in his hatred, it took a sliver of my magic—barely that—to make him completely content in my cause. And you. I just had to lock you up, make sure you escaped, and keep you alive until you were prepared for the Isle. Until you were so broken, you became selfish and ended your own life. You, Awyn, were my most important soldier. My weapon.”

  Awyn shakes her head, walking toward her. “Why didn’t you just kill me? Why didn’t you just kill Kepp? Our blood would still have been spilled. What reason could there possibly be to cause so much suffering on the world?”

  “Because the world deserves to suffer! Its people deserve pain.” Revera descends from the bridge, approaching Awyn, her gaze a dark fire. “This world made me suffer. Cry. Beg for death.”

  She’s inches from Awyn’s face now. “This world made me weak. But I made me strong. I would be the one people begged. The one to cause and end suffering. I, would be the reason people cried.”

  There’s a shake to the sorceress’ body. A harrowing tremble.

  “I am life. I am death. I am power, and I am mercy. When people kneel, they pray to me. When people die, I am the light. And when life reveals who it truly is, I am the darkness.”

  Awyn shakes her head, unbelieving. “So, which is it, Revera? Salvation? Or revenge?”

  Revera seems to soften, the fire in her eyes still there but a raw vulnerability begins to devour it as night does day. “Both.” A soft voice. A weak voice with so much hate, anger, sorrow, and shame. Sickly pain flushes her fair face, her eyes dark. “I want both.”

  Awyn shakes her head. “You can’t have both.”

  Revera throws her head back laughing. “I twisted the world to my will to destroy the Isle of the Dead. I manipulated everyone into fighting this war.” She tilts her head. “I realize how confusing this must be. My motives have changed more than the moon’s phases. But just like the moon, they all remain the same. It’s true when I say I want revenge. I want to make this world suffer, but I’m merciful. I give life after death by destroying the Isle. Call it a redeemer complex perverted by revenge.” She smirks. “I want both. And I’ve gotten both.”

  “Redeemer? Revera. You’re a destroyer.”

  Revera’s armor is up, no sense of vulnerability to her now. “All in the eye of the beholder, Awyn.”

  Above, the loudest thunder she’s ever heard booms. Both look up, lightning cracks, the clouds illuminated with a warm, powerful light. A force sends Awyn’s hand reaching for the heavens. Wind howls, the earth shakes. The sky seems to tremble when a beam of light shines down on her. Feathers wind their way down the light, building something in her hand. Awyn watches the beginning of a sword start to form, the feathers combining together to craft the handle, the blade, and the inscriptions scribed beautifully along the metal. And then, as if nothing happened, the light disappears with the feathers.

  Awyn looks from the long, almost weightless sword in her hand to the terrified Revera.

  The sorceress backs away, her foot touching the bridge. “You don’t understand.”

  “Then help me to.” Awyn genuinely wants to understand Revera. Why? What corrupted her mind and heart?

  Revera shakes her head. “Not like this.”

  Awyn’s brow creases. She’s not even talking to me.

  Revera glares at her, eyes flaming in anger. “Not like this.” Fire flames from her palms, aiming at Awyn.

  In reflex, Awyn blocks the flames with Hathos, the fire bouncing off it and blowing back at Revera.

  The sorceress growls, and red light forms in her palms. She strikes at Awyn, but once again, Hathos does its job.

  Awyn runs at Revera, sword raised. She bears down on her, but Revera quickly dodges it and slams her hands on her back. Pain fills Awyn, and the red light flows through her.

  “You won’t kill me like this,” says Revera, desperate to prove herself right.

  “And I won’t ever be at peace unless I do.” But truthfully, she doesn’t even know what peace means anymore. Death? Life? What does she want? If she gets the choice, which will she choose?

  “You don’t deserve peace.”

  “None of us do.” The sword falls at her side. “So much hatred. So much bloodshed. And you orchestrated all of it.” Awyn shakes her head. “Your reasons explain some of it…but the rest? Why?”

  Revera straightens. Anger and frustration contort her face in lazy surrender. “Because it was fun.”

  Awyn swings the sword, and as there’s a turn of perspective, a last-second decision, Revera doesn’t move or fight back as Awyn slashes her chest, deep and final.

  Revera’s eyes are wide, her mouth slack. Slowly, she looks down at the darkening flower of blood on her chest. Her body seems weak, shaky.

  Awyn’s eyes are also wide, the unwillingness to believe that the war is over, not letting words come out. She steps back as Revera falls, dropping the sword on the ground. The world moves slowly. The sorceress rolls over onto her back, looking at the sky above, the gray reflecting in her eyes. A thin line of blood trickles from her mouth, a crimson river over pale skin.

  Revera’s eyes begin to thin as her eyelids droop. “I guess the Last Lieutenant taught me too well.”

  Awyn shakes her head. “No, Revera. His war is over. This is your doing.”

  Revera looks at the sky, a slight smile to her lips but so faint. “My doing?” Something like a laugh leaves her. “All in the eye of the beholder.”

  Her last breath welcomes peace to Mortal.

  Awyn stares down at her, confused and disturbed that no relief comes. She looks at her still open eyes. “Not for you.”

  Turning away, Nethan stands at the bridge.

  “Ardon needs some time to recover from her magic, but the winter will end.” He smiles. “Good job.”

  She steps onto the bridge, leaning beside him. “It doesn’t feel like it.” She lets out a shaky breath. “It doesn’t feel right. None of this.”

  “It will. It’ll just take some time.”

  Awyn sighs. “I don’t want to wait for time to catch up.” She turns to him. “Did you fulfill your promise?”

  “The souls are in the Other World now. Safe and at peace.” He raises his chin. “I think it’s time for a re-do. Ardon needs a fresh start.”

  Awyn raises an eyebrow. “How so?”

  Nethan straightens, his hands outstretched, palms to the sky. He shines, emitting a calming, loving light. A renewing light. When it fades, he smiles softly, looking at her. “The Dalorin can go back to their families now. A second chance at life.”

  Awyn smiles softly. “I’m glad.” Her smile fades. “What if I don’t want a second chance?”

  “You deserve to be happy, Awyn. To have the peace you crave.” He turns to her. “Tell me what you really want, I shall grant it.”

  Awyn lets out a breath. The world isn’t right yet. It won’t be for a long time. Revera has died, her evil will fade, but her impact will remain. Mortal will never be the same. She looks at Kevah. Nothing will ever be the same. But the world will heal, and so will the people.

  She breathes in, enjoying the fresh air, and finds clarity.

  The world will grow, and the people will grow with it.

  But she’ll be the one watching, this time.

  Clutching her arm, she looks off into the sky. “I know I should try. I should fight.” Tears well in her eyes. “This world has broken me.” She bites her lip, the tears falling. “I can fight. I can try.” She shakes her head, looking into his eyes. “But I don’t want to.”

  Awyn gently shrugs, a gesture of acceptance and clarity.

  “The world doesn’t need me anymore. And call me weak, but I don’t want the world. I don’t want pain.” Swallowing, she
looks up as a bird peals across the sky. The cold breeze washes against her skin. Tilting her head, Awyn exhales. “This world needed a hero. I gave them one, but in doing so I destroyed myself.

  “Maybe I should stay so my family and friends have one less person to grieve, but they’ve already lost me. I’m not Awyn anymore. Not in the way that counts, and you know what? That’s okay. Because just like the world, they don’t need me.” Awyn looks down. “It’s almost humorous. Revera killed the world to save the dead, and I killed the dead to save the world…”

  She looks into his eyes. “But that’s not true, is it? I killed the dead to save myself. This person I’ve become… I don’t want to be her. Or fix her. I want her to be gone. Be rid of everything.”

  She takes a step toward him. “What I want, Nethan, is to not be a hero. Nor a martyr. No one needs me anymore. Mera is becoming a democracy, and I’m sure she’ll flourish because of it. Aradon will sit on a throne with a crown on his head. Eldowyn will rebuild Radian.” She smiles. “Hagard will probably dance in a tavern somewhere. And Brega will become the ruler she’s always meant to be.” She lets out a shaky breath. “My sister Adriel will die every day for what she did to me. Because it was the right thing and doing the right thing tears people apart. I tore myself apart. And doing the wrong thing saved the world.

  “And maybe it’s wrong of me, but I don’t care. I will help myself. And rid myself, and my family of the pain I’d cause if I went back. Because a broken soul is what creates a Revera. And if I’m a hero, then I’ll die before I become Revera.” Awyn holds out her hands. “So let me die.”

  Nethan averts his golden gaze for only a moment before looking back at her. And something she wasn’t expecting, he smirks, letting out a huffy, short laugh. “The world didn’t deserve you, Awyn.”

  Awyn nods, jaw tight. The world took her parents from her. And her dignity. It robbed her of joy, her light. Her friends. It erased her courage and her life. The world took everything from her.

  She levels with his gaze. “I didn’t deserve the world.”

  Awyn’s whole life has been one long, endless fall. A fall with darkness and light, with hope and dread. Pain and comfort. But mostly pain. Dread. And darkness. She’s so tired of the fall, and she’s finally hit the bottom.