by C. W. Trisef
Depression was finally claiming her, once and for all.
But then, despite her blurred and squinted vision, she caught sight of something. Several yards away, she saw something shining brightly despite the onset of night. It was a large picture, positioned vertically among the trees. She thought it was a painting until its depiction moved. She slowly rose to her feet, intrigued by the screen and the strange scene that it was showing. It was obviously a foreign film, portraying things that did not belong in this wooded setting. Paige cautiously walked closer. It was about the size of a door, slightly taller and wider than herself. She peered inside, where there was no forest but instead a rich blue sky and a great grassy field. It was like a portal to another time and place.
Suddenly, a woman came gamboling through the grass, holding the hand of a small child. Paige’s heart leapt within her chest: the woman was her mother, Helen. Then Paige recognized the child as a younger version of herself. She realized this was a scene from the past. She strode through the doorway and followed after the pair, who didn’t notice her at all.
Mrs. Coy was even more beautiful in person than in pictures—at least in Paige’s estimation. Slim and feminine, she was smiling from ear to ear as she frolicked across the field with her pride and joy. Paige the toddler was moving her little legs as fast as they could go, her curly blonde hair bouncing just above her waist. Their destination was a great sycamore tree, from which was hanging a simple wooden swing. Paige had seen this swing before—in an old photograph, one of her most treasured—and, judging by her mother’s yellow skirt, this may have been the exact day when it had been taken.
“Will you push me, Mommy?” young Paige asked sweetly as they approached the swing, her favorite pastime.
“Of course, sweetheart,” Mommy obliged. She lifted her daughter onto the wooden seat, made sure her little fingers were gripping each rope, and then commenced the ride with a gentle push.
The child cheered, crying, “Higher, higher!”
For a long time, the pair played together in the afternoon sunshine at the old swing under the big tree. With wonderful enthusiasm, Helen entertained her girl. She pulled her forward like a train and backward like a rollercoaster. She reached from behind during the upswing to tickle her tummy, or sat underneath and laid back just in time to avoid the downswing.
“Do ‘Walking Along’!” the toddler requested.
Helen knew precisely what that meant. She stood to one side and, pretending not to see the swing coming towards her, started to unsuspectingly ‘walk along,’ purposely pacing back and forth in front of the swing’s path. Each time it whizzed by, she quickly leapt out of the way, narrowly escaping a strike from the swinger whose arms and feet were outstretched to try and bump her mother. The closer the call and sillier the reaction, the bigger the grin and louder the laugh. Most of the time, Helen dodged her, but sometimes she allowed a direct hit, much to the swinger’s glee.
There was something infectious about the pure joy of a child. It was an antidote for depression. Current-day Paige observed from the sidelines, soaking up the happiness that was radiating from her younger self. She couldn’t help but feel good inside. The gladness was difficult to deny—a smile impossible to suppress—the warmth swelling within her ridiculous not to welcome.
In time, Helen grew tired. She sat down at the base of the tree, leaning against its wide trunk. Without someone to push it, the swing gradually slowed until it stopped. Young Paige hopped down from her seat, trotted over to her mother, and sat in her lap.
“I love you, Mommy,” the child whispered, hugging her tightly.
“I love you, too, Paige,” Helen replied, straightening the girl’s curls.
“You’re my best friend.”
“You’re my best friend, too,” the mother stated.
“I wish we could be together all the time,” young Paige said.
“But we are,” Helen told her. “In here.” She brought her daughter’s hand to her chest.
“That’s your heart,” young Paige giggled, feeling her mother’s heartbeat.
“You are always with me in my heart,” Helen said. “And I am always with you,” she placed the girl’s hand on her own chest, “in your heart.”
“But I mean together,” the youngster emphasized, “not just in your heart.”
“I know, darling, I know,” Helen pulled her in close. “But there might be times in life when we can’t be together.” She thought of her beloved brother Peter, who died during a special ops mission for the U.S. Navy. “There was a time in my life when I was very sad because I couldn’t be with someone I loved anymore.”
“You mean Uncle Peter?” young Paige wondered, having heard her mother speak of him often.
“Yes,” Helen said, her voice shaky. “I was sad for a long time. Meeting your dad helped a lot, but it wasn’t until I had you when I began to feel completely happy again. I love my little girl.” She drew her in even closer.
It was clear by now that these people from the past could not see the person from the future who was in their midst. Paige went and sat down next to the pair, knowing she was invisible to them.
“So,” Helen carried on, “if there’s ever a time when we can’t be together and you are feeling sad, I want you to promise me something.”
“Yes, mommy?”
“I want you to be strong,” her mother said.
“Strong like Daddy?” young Paige asked, holding up her little arms in a muscle-man pose.
“Daddy is very strong,” Helen smiled, “but I’m talking about something different. This is a strength that comes from inside—from here.” She pressed her finger to the child’s heart. “So when you’re feeling sad, just look inside your heart because I’m always with you in your heart.”
“And I’m always with you in your heart,” the girl returned.
“That’s right,” Helen said, her eyes moist. “We’ll always be together, and we’ll help each other to be strong. Promise?”
“I promise,” whispered both the past and present Paige, the latter watching the tender exchange and answering as if her mother was speaking to her right now.
Just then, a sound was heard a good ways behind Paige. She turned around to see her father striding through the grass, coming to join his wife and daughter. There was a camera in his hand. He looked so young.
Young Paige yawned and laid her head against her mother’s chest, listening to her heartbeat.
Helen wrapped her arms around her and then, while still looking off toward her husband, said, “I love you, Paige.” Although Helen was really watching Ben as he drew nigh, current-day Paige was sitting directly in her line of sight so that for a moment it felt as though her mother was looking her in the eye, saying those comforting words to her not only in the past but also in the present.
“I love you, too,” Paige told her, speaking in unison with her younger self, then her present self adding, “I miss you.”
“Be strong,” Helen whispered, cradling her child as Mr. Coy’s footsteps grew louder. “I’m always with you.” Paige placed her hand over her heart. “In your heart.”
Snap. The entire scene disappeared. Paige found herself back in the forest, which was growing brighter from the first rays of dawn. Her stroll through the past had occupied the entire night. Confused, she glanced around, then nearly fell over when she saw a man sitting on a bench nearby.
“Who are you?” Paige questioned timidly.
“I am Neo,” the older gentleman told her politely, “Guardian of the Wood Element.”
“Oh,” Paige said, taken by surprise, “it—it’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
“Likewise,” Neo replied, “though I’ve known you for a long time.”
“You have?” Paige asked with a bit of alarm. “How?”
“It’s a long story—I’ll let Ret tell you about it sometime,” Neo said. “Remember that person you and Ana saw in the Keep recently—the one who led you to the room with the Stonehenge diag
rams?”
“Was that you?” Paige queried, sitting next to him on the wooden bench.
“Yes, indeed,” Neo answered. “And how did you like the glimpse of the past that I just gave you?”
“You did that, too?” Paige questioned with growing amazement. Neo nodded.
“Now, my dear, it’s time to make your depression also a thing of the past,” the Guardian counseled. “I believe you’ve battled it long enough.”
“I know,” Paige confessed. “I’ve tried, but I just can’t seem to get over it.”
“That’s because you’re not doing it right,” Neo told her sensitively. “Your approach is missing something—or, I should say, someone.”
“Who?” Paige wondered with great interest.
“Anyone,” Neo said. “You can’t do it alone. You need help. Tell someone about it—tell anyone about it. When you feel yourself starting to spiral out of control, tell them and ask them to help you. Depression thrives on loneliness but flounders with companionship—surely you know that.”
“Yes, I do, but who?” Paige asked. “I feel like no one will understand—that they’ll just think I’m strange.”
“Give people a chance; they may surprise you,” Neo advised. “Might I suggest starting with Ret?” Paige’s head fell at the idea.
“Why should I talk to him?” she put forth, her good-hearted nature ruining her attempt at sounding scornful.
“Now, now,” Neo gently warned. “The guy at least deserves a chance to explain himself, doesn’t he?”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Paige admitted.
“Of course I am,” Neo clapped. “Now off you go.” With that, Paige stood and took a few steps forward. “Be strong,” Neo added, borrowing the phrase from Helen.
Paige smiled and, glancing back, said, “Thanks, but I—”
But the Guardian was gone.
“Hmm,” Paige hummed. “All I was going to say was I don’t know the way back to town.” Suddenly, a line of trees off to her left parted, showing a clear path to take. “Guardian of wood is right,” she remarked to herself as she started down the path.
Though nervous to confront Ret, Paige was in much brighter spirits than she was a few minutes ago. Such was the nature of her disorder: it came suddenly and consumed quickly but could be dispelled just as rapidly with the right intervention. She was grateful that Neo had come to her rescue, and she appreciated his wise advice to seek out someone—anyone—who could interrupt any of her future descents into depression. With renewed hope, she hiked through the woods until she found the trail that would take her back into town, feeling, for the first time in her life, as though she finally possessed what had been missing in her quest to control her mutation.
Still new to this strange land, Paige kept a quick pace in her trek back to town. She was unsure of what creatures might be wandering in the woods, the thickest patches of which were quite shadowy despite the daylight. The slightest sound scared her. She wished Ret was with her.
Paige’s worried heart took courage when she saw the figure of a man on the path ahead.
“Excuse me?” Paige called out to him. “Can you help me?”
The man did not move, his back still facing her.
“Sir?” Paige said with growing uncertainty in her voice.
Slowly, the man turned around. He was wearing a black robe, the hood concealing his face. He started to step towards Paige.
Startled, Paige began to walk backwards, but after only a few steps, she bumped into something. She spun around to find another person in a black robe. Paige screamed, but as soon as the sound left her mouth, the person held up a hand and silenced the sound waves. Paige glared wide-eyed at the hand, which bore the marks of two illuminated scars—identical to Ret’s.
Paige rushed to her left, but a third cloaked person cut off her escape, followed by two more on her right. By now, the first mysterious man had joined the huddle, surrounding Paige on all sides. Despite her squirming, the five strangers bound her hands and feet and carried her away into the woods.
CHAPTER 16
SERGE PROTECTOR
Apparently, there was a rooster somewhere in the old barn where Ret was staying. It probably would have woken him up the next morning, had he been asleep. But he wasn’t. In fact, he hadn’t slept a wink all night.
“Rise and shine, sweetheart!” Nika caroled as she strode into the barn a good while later, like she had done the day before. “I know you need your beauty rest, but sleeping past noon seems like plenty of—oh.” She was surprised to see Ret was already awake. “Hello, Ret,” she said with a bit less enthusiasm. When his gaze remained fixed on the nearby window, she knew something was troubling him.
Nika slowly approached Ret. She could see him massaging his right palm. He did that a lot, she had noticed. She quietly sat down next to him in the hay, reached for his right hand, and took over as masseuse.
“What are these markings on your hand?” Nika curiously asked as she pressed her thumb into his palm.
“They’re scars,” he answered without emotion, still not turning to look at her.
“How did you get them?” she questioned, childlike.
“I wish I knew,” Ret said, “so I could give them back.”
“Do they hurt?” Nika wondered.
“On the inside,” Ret told her.
“They look like symbols,” Nika assessed, leaning in for a closer examination. “Do they have any meaning?”
“They tell me where the elements are,” Ret explained.
“The elements that you have to collect?” Nika deduced.
“Yeah,” Ret said softly.
“Why is our old world mad at you for collecting elements?” Nika tried to understand.
“Because it’s destroying their world,” Ret said.
“Oh,” Nika said with subdued shock. “Then why do you do it?”
Ret sighed with heaviness and replied, “Because I have to.” A moment of silence ensued.
“Why is this scar brighter than the others?” Nika asked, referring to the scar on the far left side of his palm. “This one that looks like a tree?”
Ret finally turned to face her and said with soberness, “Because its element is here.”
Nika froze. She was connecting the dots.
“The great tree,” Nika whispered to herself as she analyzed the scar. “The element is in the great tree?” Ret closed his eyes and nodded. Nika released his hand and immediately became defensive.
“So that’s why you’re here?” she interrogated, her eyebrows furrowed with suspicion. “That’s why you stayed? To collect your element?”
“Not exactly,” Ret said pathetically, his temperament steady. He suspected such allegations.
“So you’re using me?” Nika continued to jump to conclusions. “Using me to get to your element? And then what—steal it and leave us all to die?” Her words were growing more acrid by the moment. “You’re just like all the others.” She turned away, then brought her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.
Nika had not always been so distrustful of others—in fact, quite the opposite was true. Once upon a time, she believed people were innately trustworthy and that no one would knowingly hurt someone else. But that was long ago, in a land far away, before a series of tragic experiences in her life taught her to believe otherwise—the first of which occurred when she was rejected by her own household as a young girl. That disownment had left her crushed, and so in order to protect herself from getting hurt like that again, she subconsciously began to cast up walls between herself and others—walls of distrust, bitterness, and cynicism. Initially, the walls were short and thin, but with each act of unfairness and prejudice that was thrown at her, those walls became taller and thicker.
For this reason, Nika’s accusations did not bother Ret. He knew her assumptions of his motives struck a familiar nerve within her that sent her insecurities into panic mode. She had let down her walls for Ret, but now that he w
as within them, she feared the past was happening all over again. In short, her reaction was the manifestation of her mutation.
“I never said I was going to collect the element,” Ret told her.
Nika turned to face Ret and said, her antagonism melting, “You’re not?”
Ret shook his head, “No.” Nika detected considerable disappointment in his voice. “I can’t—I don’t even have the Oracle.”
“The Oracle?” Nika inquired.
“It’s the sphere that houses the elements,” Ret clarified. “It has the same markings on it as my hands. When someone with the scars holds it,” he cupped his hands together, “it aligns itself with the scars and opens into six wedges, then each wedge closes around an element. But I don’t have it—Mr. Coy does.”
“Who’s Mr. Coy?” Nika asked.
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Ret said with visible sadness.
Ret’s words indicated that he had made up his mind. His body language, however, told a different story. It was obvious that he wanted to collect the element—that his sense of duty, no matter how unwanted, was pulling him in that direction. But, for some reason, he was yielding to his mind this time instead of his heart. No wonder he looked so heartbroken. Notwithstanding the relief she felt at his decision, it pained Nika to see Ret in such despondent spirits. She wondered if there was a way for Ret to win despite the apparent lose-lose situation.
“If the element is in the great tree,” Nika postulated, “then collecting the element would only destroy the tree and nothing else, right?”
“The tree is the backbone that holds this whole place together,” Ret returned. “Its roots run everywhere. Once the tree goes, everything will cave in on itself.” Nika winced at the thought. “It’d be like removing the skeletal system from a human body.”
