The Valentine Circle

by Reinaldo DelValle

  Finally reaching the vast shoreline, he saw Lucy run towards a dark and ominous ship. Silas stood there, his breathing spiraling out of control. In those few seconds, all the feelings he ever felt for her came shooting up from his chest and into his throat, choking him with a scalding pain. For the first time since he’d been with her, he took off his mask and called out to her. “Lucy! Lucy, please don’t go! I love—”

  But it was too late.

  Lucy was too far away to hear him, and within a few seconds she boarded the ship and disappeared, vanishing from his life as she sailed away towards a distant land. He fell to his knees, realizing he’d lost the only chance he ever had to win her back.

  Darkness overtook him.

  Waking up from his vision, Silas noticed he was still sprinting down a dark and lonely street. He’d gone more than five miles in the harsh snow without stopping, and he was still just as strong as he was when he first started running.

  At last he reached the taxidermy shop where Lucy had been scheduled to have her interview. He scaled the wall of the building that was next to him. After he reached the ninth floor, he jumped on top of the roof’s ledge and scurried over towards the corner. From there, he could see the whole scene displayed out in front of him.

  Max, the owner of the shop, was sitting down on a group of stairs, being questioned by an inspector. Lucy’s body was covered up with a white blanket. One of her boots lay next to her, and all he could see of her body was her right leg, which protruded from the blanket. A few bloodstains had already seeped through the cover, one strange and overly large stain coming from near her torso.

  Unable to contain his sorrow, Silas let out a bone-chilling scream, the same type of shrilling sound he let out when he saw his mother beheaded in front of him when he was just a small child. His scream echoed throughout the city, and everyone on the ground was startled by his harrowing cry.

  Unable to keep himself upright any longer, Silas slowly fell off the ledge and onto the roof’s floor. As his head hit the pavement, his vision returned, and he saw Lucy boarding the ship that took her away from him. “No, Lucy, don’t go,” he whispered. “No, Lucy, don’t—”

  He closed his eyes, falling into a state of unconsciousness brought about from a combination of his injuries, trauma, and heartache. The darkness of night passed over him, and the moon sailed along the horizon. For the first time in a long while, Silas slept a peaceful sleep.

  Three days passed.

  By this time, Silas had woken up and had been sitting in seiza position for the prior twenty-four hours. His body was near frozen; soft patterns of frost formed across his eyebrows and lashes; his lips were white and cracked, and his cheeks were steadily losing color. He sat quietly, fighting off the urge to shake from the cold with great success. His skills and training were fastly returning to him. It seemed that the knock on the head he endured from Merle had dislodged something inside his brain, allowing for his memories to slowly seep back into his thoughts.

  He sat in the stillness of the Boston dawn, searching for those long-lost visions of his former days. Intensely focused, he neared the end of his journey, coming to a light at the end of a far-reaching tunnel. As he navigated this spiritual road, nearing the white light, he was abruptly brought out of the trance by a spontaneous disturbance.

  A gallant black raven landed a few feet to his left, touching down on the roof’s frost-covered ledge. Instantly, the raven sparked an image in his mind, of the three-legged raven embroidered on the patch he’d found inside the trunk. Closing his eyes, he remembered once again the words his teacher had told him back in Japan.

  The black bird goes from one place to the other like a thought enters and leaves the mind. It is there and here and there again, all at the same time. You turn and see it on your left, only for it to be on your right the second after.

  Silas opened his eyes and turned towards the bird but found that it had disappeared. He turned to his right, and there it was, as if it had instantly appeared out of nowhere.

  The raven owns the space around it. Be like the black bird, young Shi...the three-legged raven.

  And there, as if by some type of trick, the raven now had three legs instead of two. Silas shook his head, thinking it was some type of illusion. Once he turned back to look at the raven, it was gone, like a passing wind, never to be seen again.

  Without warning, the wound on the side of his head began to bleed, and his eyes turned inward as he trembled, as if experiencing a seizure. The sight of the raven sparked something inside his mind, for out of nowhere all of the memories from his days in Japan and the vigorous training he’d endured started to rapidly stream into his thoughts. The sensation was so powerful that he drifted into a trance-like state while his mind began to be reprogrammed. Bleeding from his head, he toppled over, lifeless.

  Faintly, the visions started.

  One by one, they entered his mind, racing through his thoughts like a hundred horses galloping away down a long and narrow stretch of road. Vividly, he remembered when he was just a young child, exploring the vastness of the Japanese mountains with his parents and a few other families, all belonging to a group of missionaries who’d been operating in that area throughout the years.

  It was a picture of happiness. All the kids played together, frolicking among the emerald-green grass against a backdrop of Japan’s hypnotic mountains, while the parents were huddled in a group, talking amongst themselves and planning out the day’s mission. The wind blew calmly, and the sounds of the earth were hypnotically soothing.

  Then there was violence.

  Before any of the children could understand what was happening to their parents, they were already dead, slain by darts, flying knives, and all other types of objects they’d never seen before. Out of the forest’s shadows came three ominous figures dressed in brown and black. They passed the pile of dead parents lying on the ground as they made their way towards the children, swords drawn.

  Silas, being the youngest one, was the last one left standing. He had witnessed all of his friends die by the men’s swords and was soon about to die himself, when his mother came running out of nowhere, still alive, in order to embrace and protect him. Instantly, she was dragged away, pulled by her hair, and then beheaded in front of him. Some of her blood washed across his face.

  The men laughed as they kicked his mother’s head towards him. Silas could do nothing but call out to her.

  The first man stepped up to him and raised his sword, but before he could cut Silas in two, out came a hail of throwing stars, raining down on the three murdering cowards. They were dead within seconds, falling lifelessly onto the floor just inches away from Silas’s feet. The sharp shurikens had come from a group of rival warriors who’d been chasing the three men for more than a week, finally catching up to them just as they were about to slay the young boy.

  Silas was approached by a man outfitted in dark gray clothes and mask. The man reached out his hand to him, speaking in Japanese, yet Silas didn’t understand. The man spoke in English instead.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he said. “You’re safe now.” Silas didn’t know what to do. “Come now. Come with me. You’ll be safe with us. We have to leave now before we’re discovered.”

  Scared and reluctant, Silas had no choice but to reach up and grab the man’s hand. Then everything faded to black.

  In his memories, the days progressed into years, and now inside his unconscious mind, he was ten years old, being taken out of an orphanage and given to a group of men clad in dark clothes. After hours of travel up a large mountainside, he finally reached a hidden village. The first thing he noticed was a flag with the image of a three-legged raven painted across it. The image of the raven was everywhere, not just on the flags, but on most of everyone’s clothes as well.

  Stepping out of the carriage, he was left there to stand alone in the center of town, watching the natives pass on by as they stared him down, wondering what a foreign child was doing awkwardly standing
by himself inside their secret village.

  At last, an old man approached Silas. “What’s your name?”

  “Si-Silas.”

  “No, it is not.”

  “It-It isn’t?”

  “No, you are no longer Silas, for the minute you stepped inside this village you were reborn into your new self. I think I shall call you Shinju. Yes, that would fit you just fine. Remember your new name. Shinju you will be from now on, Shi for short.

  “Shinju?”

  “Yes, and I am one of the village chiefs. My name is Masayoshi Hosokaya. Learn the name of your new master.”

  “Masa...yoshi?”

  “Yes, Shinju, but you won’t call me that.”

  “Then what do I call you?”

  “Sensei.”

  “Oh.”

  “Follow me, Shi,” Masayoshi said as he turned and began to walk way, but Silas stayed where he was. “What’s the matter?”

  Silas didn’t say a word, wary of his new teacher.

  “Shi, don’t be afraid. Come to me, and you will take your first step onto a new path, one that will take you on an important journey.”

  “A journey? Where to?”

  “Into the way of the warrior.”

  Silas’s eyes beamed with wonder.

  “But before you can travel on this journey, you must begin to exorcise all your fears, and eventually, later on down the path, you will free yourself from them.”

  “How?”

  “That you will learn on your journey. You will learn not to fear anything, including fear itself.” Then he stepped up to Silas and knelt down in front of him. “Shi, your journey ends when you learn to become fear.” He stood up. “Now come.”

  Silas grabbed his hand as he was led away into the heart of the village. Once again, his visions went to black.

  A new memory sparked inside his mind, and a teenage Silas stood at the entrance to a large city in one of Japan’s largest regions. Masayoshi was next to him.

  “What are we doing here, Sensei?”

  “You are here to learn the art of evasion.”

  “How do I do that?”

  “So many questions with you. First, search deep within your mind to find the answer before asking. Asking too many questions makes it seem as if your head is just empty space. Most of the things you think you don’t know, you truly do know. You just don’t know you do. Do you understand? It is good to ask questions, but use them sparingly.”

  “Yes, Sensei.”

  “So, how are you going to do this?” Masayoshi pointed towards the crowd.

  “To evade, I must be invisible.” But then Silas looked at the clothes he wore and saw that they were all black. He turned to the people in front of him, and they were all clad in colorful outfits. The sun was high and bright, hanging right in the center of the sky. Silas realized he stuck out like a sore thumb. “They’ll see me.”

  “Will they? And how can they not see you?”

  Silas searched deep within his knowledge. “If I’m one of them, they won’t see me.”

  “Yes, correct. Who is better to spy on someone than a friend or neighbor, or even a lover? But right now, you’re not one of them, so you’re faced with a problem.”

  “Should I change clothes, Sensei?”

  “No, I want you to walk into the crowd and tap as many people as you can on the shoulder without being seen. Sometimes you must adapt, you must improvise, Shi. A warrior knows when and how to do this. Life never follows one’s own plan. Life has a plan of its own. Your plan and that of life must always be in complete harmony. Whenever you see a digression between the two, you must amend, you must adapt. Your will and that of life must be one and the same, but if it ever breaks the union, your will must always be subservient. For this occasion, you don’t have the time or resources to change clothes in order to blend in with the crowd. Life has shown you its plan for this moment. Use your knowledge to harmonize yourself with this digression.”

  “But how?”

  “A warrior is swift on his feet. Invisibility takes on many forms. One of them is speed and distraction. Don’t let them see you, Shi.”

  “Yes, Sensei.” Silas carefully stepped inside the village gates and walked straight into the mass of people. He turned back to his teacher.

  “Go on.”

  Silas turned towards the crowd and began tapping them on the shoulder, doing his best to sneak away before being seen, yet after the fourth tap he was spotted, and everyone began staring at him, thinking he was some type of thief. The women started slapping him on the head, while the men began pushing him around.

  Masayoshi stood there watching the scene play out, smiling as he witnessed his student experiencing a hard lesson. “I never said it was going to be easy,” Masayoshi graciously mumbled to himself. “But I am very pleased.” He turned around to walk away, leaving Silas alone to deal with his plight.

  And his thoughts drifted away into a dark abyss.

  Fading in from a deep nothing, Silas now found himself at the brink of becoming a young man, still in training but nearing the end of his journey into the warrior’s path. He was being led through the forest by Masayoshi until they came upon a great cliff overlooking a small but populous village.

  “Why are we here, Sensei?”

  Masayoshi put his hand on Silas’s shoulder. “It’s time you learned our purpose.”

  “Purpose?”

  “Yes, Shi, the purpose of the Order of the Three-Legged Raven. You see, Shi, in life there is what we call fate and what we call purpose. Fate is a word that explains our urge to masquerade our will with that of the heavens. People use fate to justify their wants and ambitions in life. They do things that please them and call it fate. Purpose, on the other hand, is brought down upon us from a transcendent reality and it crushes our will and spits it out. When that happens, when we clear our hearts of our own desires, we find that we are able to truly see the beacon which will guide us towards our destiny in this life. Purpose informs us; fate blinds us.”

  “And what is our purpose, Sensei?”

  “The Order is in charge of settling transgressions.”

  “Transgressions?”

  “Yes, Shi. A transgression is an offense against another, and when one person transgresses against another, he violates that person’s harmony. And when the harmony of a person is disturbed, the harmony of the world is shifted out of place, causing disruption in nature and in our way of life. Our purpose, Shi, is to keep the harmony balanced. Do you understand?”

  “I think so, Sensei.”

  “Good, then. You are here overlooking this city because someone in there has disrupted this harmonious balance, and the scales must be tipped back towards equilibrium. You must search for this person; you must find him and restore back the harmony of the everydayness of things. This is what we do, Shi. We occupy our minds with nothing else.”

  “So, it’s like a bounty?”

  “Correct, but we do not receive monetary payment for our acts. We are not hired hunters. We do this, Shi, because of—”

  “Purpose.”

  “Yes, Shi. You are beginning to understand.” Masayoshi gave him a squeeze on his shoulder. “Time for you to go, and remember—become the raven, Shi. Stay in the shadows, move with the moon, breathe with the pulse of the wind, walk with the paws of a cat, and strike with the quickness of a flame being put out. Be the black bird. You are there and here and back there at a moment’s notice. To the men inside that village, you do not exist but only in their deepest fears.”

  “I will restore the harmony, Sensei.”

  “Good, dear Shinju. Now go.”

  Silas crouched down and lost himself in the pockets of shadow-laced bushes leading towards the sleeping village. His master stood by watching, pleased with his beloved student, whom he loved like a son.

  All turned to black.

  A few more years passed, and Silas was now a young man, thoroughly trained in the art of combat and of shadow. Alongside a glimmer
ing lake, he stood with other men like him, huddled up in one big circle. His sensei, Masayoshi, stood in the middle.

  “You have been trained in the art of the body and of the mind,” Masayoshi said. “You have learned the tools needed to be a master of fear, to use the night as your ally and its shadows as your armor. But never forget: The most powerful weapon you have is right here,” Masayoshi pointed towards his head. “The mind is what makes you transcend this life. It will instill doubt and fear in your enemies. Because of your mind, they will think you are ten times more powerful than you actually are. Your enemy fears what they do not know, and those who go searching in the dark never find what they’re looking for. That is why you must always remain in the dark. You are an agent of the night, an agent of fear, kin to the black birds of power. You have completed your training, but you are a master of nothing, and you have mastered nothing. The one who keeps this in mind at all times will then become a master of everything.”

  Silas stood silently, taking in his master’s wisdom, and after everyone was dismissed for the night, he walked up to the serene lake lit up by the moon casting pockets of gleaming mists across the surface of the water. He inched up to the lake’s bank and knelt down beside it. Reaching over the bank, he saw his reflection calmly displayed on the glassy water. It was the first time he’d ever seen himself in his visions, to truly know what he looked like in his former days.

  There, staring back at him, was a young man in a dark grey uniform. Due to the fitted hood and mask he wore, his eyes were the only thing he could see, shimmering like two white stars floating in deep space. Inside those eyes was a lifelong tyranny of pain and torture, but also of knowledge and hope.