by K.W. McCabe
The return to Death’s presence was punctuated, as it always was, with the clench of my stomach and the sheen of cold sweat slicking my forehead underneath the hood. I could not avoid what could come next. I had earned it, and more, with my actions. I knew and it did not matter. Were I to be placed in the same situation again—and there was no doubt I would be—I would change nothing. I would do it again if the chance presented itself.
Despicable as my duties were, I retained what little honor was left to me and clung to it fiercely. It was the only thing which reminded me of who I had once been.
Moving through shadow and darkness, my footsteps became insubstantial as I shifted from this world to the next. When I appeared, at last, in front of the guardians of the dark gate, I was weary with effort.
My weariness could have been worse: I could have been carrying a soul bright with purity and translucent with death. Those nights were always dire. He could not hold those souls. He would take his fury at the failure out on my own flesh. Nevertheless, those times were preferable to the empty-handed defeat I suffered this night.
Those nights, at least, were a victory against him which could be savored.
This night there would be no relishing of his failure to soften the punishment. He had won this round. There was a soul, darkened with the corruption of the Choice, awaiting the day and hour of Death’s final call.
Bowing to the guardians at the gate, I waited, shoulders slumped, for them to let me pass. Finally, the two shadows, bulky and red-eyed, moved apart. Moving between them, I passed through the gate.
Stepping onto the floors of his domain the first time had been a shock. Cold marble shot through with glints of gray had been the opposite of what anyone would have expected. I certainly never expected Death’s home would mimic one of the more luxurious castles in the earthly realm.
Striding quickly, I moved down the hallway. The stone walls were covered with burgundy and black tapestries and lit on either side by flickering torches. My footsteps became firmer with each step, ringing hollow as I moved closer and closer to his presence.
I swallowed against the constriction in my throat. It didn’t help. He must be very angry to force my flesh into substantiality this soon. When I reached the end of the hall two large black doors, twice my height, blocked my entrance. The symbol etched upon them moved and changed. I had never been able to determine its actual shape. I laid my hand against it, tensing as its magic swept through me, and the doors opened.
“Come in, Thomas.”
I shuddered as his sibilant words slicked over my skin, defiling me. I faltered, but delaying would do me no good. It only amused him, and his amusement was almost worse than his anger.
I entered, my footsteps consumed by the abyss of darkness swallowing the room. I strode quickly—he was never patient—and went to one knee, bowing my head to the formless shadow on the black, skull laden throne.
“So,” he rasped, “you disobeyed me.”
I gritted my teeth and said nothing. Begging would do no good. Explaining would earn me worse punishment. Silence was my only recourse. I felt his rustle of movement and my heart began to thud.
“You disobeyed me and still you lost this round. When will you learn you had your chance, Thomas? You cannot defeat Death.”
I lifted my head, my heart pounding louder in my ears as I spoke. It was always thus between us, but I could not help it. The man I had once been would have despised who I was now. “I defied you, Lord Death, because I could not let someone suffer the Choice without fair warning. I would have wanted someone to warn me in their place.”
He laughed, and his laugh sounded like the scraping of branches against tombstones. “Thomas, I picked you. You never would have received that chance from me.”
I bowed my head in bitter self-loathing. He had not given me the chance, no, but I had known the conditions. Everyone did who made the Choice.
When he moved again, I did not flinch. I deserved the pain that lanced through my flesh. I welcomed the fire which boiled through my nerves. I deserved it and more: For my Choice, Ceria, my wife, died—forfeit for my selfishness. I had not thought someone I cared so deeply about would be sacrificed in my place.
She died.
And I am here: The servant of Lord Death and all he signifies. If only I could remake the Choice I made that night.
I cannot.
The Choice, once made, stands forever.
I was weary and bruised when he bade me return to my quarters. I had an assignment: Another soul on the edge of death to be given the Choice. I rested, as much as a soul who will never find peace is able, and then I went out.
Slipping through the shadows, I followed the tug of the dying soul. After a few hours, I arrived at a cottage. Golden light fell through the lace curtains; I could see the silhouettes of a small group of people inside. Fear and denial shuddered through me and I stopped. The cottage was my old home: The home I had lived in before I made the Choice.
Who could be in this home dying…waiting for my appearance? The answer rose unbidden, unwanted: Felicity, my daughter.
Edging forward, I faded into invisibility. Humans never took my appearance well. Especially not near a loved one’s death bed. I passed through the closed wooden door, its panels an icy brush through me. The room was hushed, the worried murmur of voices fell into the backdrop as I walked forward.
I passed the group, dread growing in me with every step. The moment I stepped through her doorway, anguish cut me like a knife. There she laid, pale from loss of blood. A babe wailed in the arms of a nursemaid at the edge of her bed. A young man knelt at her side, clutching her limp hand in his own. I wanted to curse, but did not. Death had played a foul joke. I could see her soul, translucent, beginning to separate from her corporeal flesh. When she stood at last, wavering and bright, looking with surprise at her shining form, I spoke.
“Felicity.”
She looked up, wonder and awe lighting her eyes. Dread sunk my stomach. Death must be laughing right now.
“Papa?” she asked. “Papa, is that you?”
“Yes…and no.”
Hurt and confusion touched her face. I swallowed against the burn behind my eyes. There would be only one chance to do this right. I had only one chance to warn my daughter without breaking the rules of the Choice. I hoped she chose the best course. I glanced at the wailing babe in the nursemaid’s arms. The young man knelt at the side of her bed calling her name. I knew what Choice she would make.
“You have come to a pass, Felicity. You have a Choice: You can choose to pass on to the next life. Or you can choose to stay in this one.”
Dawning horror touched her face as she stared around her…and saw, at last, her supine body. “Papa? I’m dead?” Panic and fear transformed her features as she finally noticed the sobbing form of her young man.
I sucked in a breath against the pain which lanced through me. It had ever been thus, I had always hurt for her sorrows. But she was no longer a child. If she had been, I would not have been sent. Children were never subjected to the Choice.
“Yes,” I said heavily. “You are dead and you must make a Choice.” She wasn’t listening. She touched her young man’s hair, calling his name urgently. He lifted his head for a moment…and then dropped his face into his hands, sobbing quietly.
“He cannot hear you, Felicity,” I said. It was hard. It was so hard to watch her die and be complicit in her making the worst Choice of her life. I would try, the best I could, to steer her away from Death’s eternal grip. But what could I do against a mother’s love? What could I say against a wife’s passion? I did not know. But I would have to find something. This first time she would be given the Choice to stay or not. The second chance to choose would come later. And that second Choice would end in either eternal bondage to Death—or freedom from him forever.
She had begun weeping, desperately trying to take the babe from the nursemaid’s arms.
It was too much.
“Felicity.” My voice cracked like a whip.
She lifted her head, dazed, and focused on me. As she met my gaze her eyes cleared a little. It was the tone I had always used when lecturing her as a child.
“You have come to a pass, Felicity, and you must make a Choice. You have the Choice to stay, here, with the ones you love.” She opened her mouth to speak, eyes lighting with relief, but I pushed on, grim. “Or, you have the Choice to continue the way all spirits must go in their time.”
“Papa, I choose to stay,” she said, rushing the words out.
I pressed my lips together. Here was where the conditions must be spoken. “If you choose to go now,” I said, “you will continue on in freedom eternal.” I paused. I’d pushed the rules of the Choice hard to imply as much as I had. I took a breath and continued, “If, however, you choose to stay know this: You will only stay for a time.”
She was listening closely and I felt a spark of pride. It was too much, I knew, to hope she would leave her young man and babe behind. But at least she would know the conditions and ponder them well. My voice hardened as I continued. I hoped she listened well enough to understand all. “And once that time is done, you will have the Choice, once again, to stay for a short time. But it will come at a price you will regret.” There. I had stretched the rules to the very limit. I would pay for that last bit of warning, but I did not care. I could not. She was my child.
“What price, papa?” she asked.
I felt pride once again. No other victim of the Choice had ever questioned the conditions. Not even I. “Someone you know will enter Death’s embrace in your place,” I answered.
She sucked in a breath. I watched as her gaze slid to her young man’s sobbing form…and then her young babe.
“It is not so much to be able to stay for a short time now…and then go when Death calls the next time…” she said to herself, murmuring.
My heart sank. This was the first trap. All victims of the Choice thought the very same before being caught in the trap entirely. I stayed silent. There was nothing more I could say without stepping outside the rules of the Choice completely. She must make the Choice on her own.
Finally, she set her shoulders, lifting her brown eyes to mine. My heart ached with love and pain. She would not choose the best course, I knew, but I could not fault her for it. What person willingly leaves behind love? What parent cheerfully leaves their child?
“I will stay, papa,” she said.
I nodded, heavy. “Then rise, Felicity, for a short time. I will see you once more after this.”
I had turned to leave when she called out, “Papa! Are you dead? How are you here, like this?” she said, her voice wavering with confusion.
I turned slightly, looking back. She was fading, slowly being pulled back into the body lying so still on the bed.
“I am Death’s servant, Felicity,” I said.
I turned again and moved towards the door, but her cry stopped me short once more. “But how? We thought you died…you and mama. How are you Death’s servant?”
Hearing her confusion and pain hurt. That I was the cause of it was worse. I could not help the gruffness which came into my voice as I spoke. I hoped she did not feel it was towards her. “I am Death’s servant, Felicity, because I made the wrong Choice.” I turned, then, and left, ignoring her fading calls as I slipped into the shadows of the night.
My thoughts were a mix of worry and guilt. I knew why I had been assigned to this particular death. It was my punishment. Death was adept at finding ways to administer his particular form of justice. That Felicity was subjected to the Choice was my fault. Not all souls were given the Choice…only the purest ones. And even then, many souls continued on never having met Death’s servant. They never experienced the exquisite torture of choosing between staying with their loved ones or moving on to eternity.
It was my fault she had come to this pass. My fault she had taken the first step towards an eternity of bondage to Death. I could not allow it. I had to find some way to stop it. But how? The game had already begun. She had already chosen to stay. The only way she could change anything would be to choose to leave the next time I asked for her Choice. And I knew, with an ache of pain deep in my soul, what Choice she would make.
If only there was no Choice. If only there weren’t this never-ending game of the corruption of souls. If only there weren’t Death. But that was impossible. How could one defeat Death? As the saying went: All roads end in Death…
Except one.
Where, exactly, was it souls went when they passed on? I knew only the purest of souls went there…wherever it was. Ceria had gone there, I was certain… The only way to know where those souls went would be to find a soul—and follow it.
My chest constricted at the thought. I had never, in all my years of bondage, sought souls against Death’s bidding. It would put the soul I followed in peril of the Choice… It would put me in peril of the punishment he would administer…
It might be the key to saving Felicity.
I swallowed, hard. I had to take the chance. Gathering myself up, I listened for the tug which told me a soul, somewhere, was dying, and I followed. The soul I found was a disappointment. Darkened by years of evil deeds, it was not a soul that would escape bondage to Death. I left, desperate to find the soul I needed to further my plan.
It took three additional tries that night to find a soul which was pure enough. I nearly gave up, my fear of Death’s discovery causing my heart to pound at the thought.
When at last I found the soul, I was weary and discouraged. Certain I would hear Death’s demand that I return to his domain, I almost missed the tug. When I noticed, I immediately moved in the direction of its call and came to a small farm. There was a house squatting in the center of the fields. Its door was ajar and I entered in…and
stopped.
On the floor, flanked by a weeping man and woman, was a small boy. His belly was opened with a large gash and blood pooled in the area around him. Grief touched me at the sight; there was no greater pain than that of losing a child. If there had been some way I could have comforted the couple, I would have. There wasn’t: Already the boy’s pure soul was rising away from his corpse.
I gave one last glance to the mourning couple and turned away. The boy was leaving—his face alight with wonder and his gaze turned above. I felt a moment’s relief that he would not be in danger of the Choice. No face which held that much joy and peace should ever have to experience the trap.
He slipped, then, into the shadows. Surprised, I followed him and began a journey which would change the course of everything I knew.
I journeyed to the very edge of the Light.
The boy’s soul grew more and more translucent as I followed. The shadows thinned until following was difficult. When I stopped at last, the boy’s soul was far ahead of me, blending into the brightness around him. My shoulders slumped as I let out a sob of breath. I had failed. I had been a fool to think I would discover help from the place I had rejected by my Choice. I turned, meaning to head back, when a voice sounded all around me.
Who is this that touches the realm where Death may not enter?
I froze. What could I say? What words could I use to convince? I needed help so badly…
“I am Thomas,” I said, my voice a dry whisper of hope and dread.
Why do you seek this realm when you have already made your Choice?
It was the question I had feared and hoped for, the opening to my plea. “I seek help for my daughter.” I cleared my throat nervously. “Death has set a trap for her. She has not yet made the final Choice.”
Death sets traps for many…and yet you come not for all those souls he imperils?
I flushed in embarrassment and shame. Once again, selfishness was my downfall. “No.” I bowed my head. I could only hope Felicity would not suffer for my flaws. “Death sets traps for many…but it was not fear for those souls that brought me to your borders.” The
re was a silence for a long while. Despair set in me, I was certain my request would be denied by the time the voice spoke.
Your plea has been heard, Thomas.
Looking up, I held my breath; hope made my heart beat hard in my chest.
This is the answer: for your selfishness and your Choice—your request would have been denied.
My heart fell. I felt dizzy with despair, but the voice had not stopped speaking. But for all the souls who have been trapped by Death, and to save the souls who have not yet made the Choice, you will receive aid.
What did this mean? I was afraid to hope too soon…
The Choice cannot be undone. The souls who have chosen, have chosen for all eternity. But for those who have not made the final Choice…yes, even your child, there is still time.
You must challenge Death, Thomas.
I let out my breath in a shaky whoosh of air. This was what I had hoped for. I had known it was too late for me, but at least my child would be safe. But how did one challenge Death? That dilemma was the whole reason I had traveled here to begin with. “How do I challenge Death?” I called out. Keeping the frustration from my voice was hard, but I managed, barely.
You must find out why Death picked you, Thomas. And then you must give him this.
Into my hands floated a perfect sphere of light. I stared at it in wonder. What could it possibly be?
“What is this? How do I use it? What is it for?” I knew I was babbling, but I couldn’t help it. To be given this…bauble…and not told anything else was too frustrating.
When you give this to Death, tell him it is the answer to what he has asked from us for millennia.
I clenched my fingers around the sphere, then immediately released. It would be disastrous if I destroyed the only hope to defeating Death. “But what is it?” I asked, plaintive.
Peace.
I waited for more, but nothing else came. After awhile, it was obvious nothing else would. I had received from this place all the help that was likely to be given. I turned wearily and headed back the way I had come. Somehow, I must find a way to save Felicity.
Somehow, I must defeat Death.
The change from light into darkness was gradual. Traveling through the shadows grew easier with each moment. Yet an ache lingered; a wistfulness for the beauty of a light which would never be my home. Pushing it away, I continued on. Death must be livid. There had been no way of telling just how long I had been gone.
I shifted and shifted again, moving as swiftly as possible. The sphere glowed bright in my hands and I tucked it beneath my cloak. It dimmed once it was covered which relieved me. I was not ready to challenge Death yet. I wasn’t even certain if it was possible. The only clue I had were the ones given to me: Challenge Death, find out why he picked you. At the moment, hiding the sphere was the best option. I still needed to discover exactly what it meant to challenge Death.
My heart was thudding in my chest by the time I arrived in his domain. He was very angry with my disappearance; his call had become a sharp and painful tug. I stopped at the dark gate before the guards, waiting their approval to pass. It was a terrifying experience. I could not know until too late if they could sense the gift I carried. They didn’t, and once they signaled me through I hurried on, heading immediately to my quarters.
To delay answering his call so long might have been foolish—but to arrive in his presence carrying the sphere would have been more so. I had no doubts he would sense it. It was made for him.
I hid the sphere quickly and left to meet what punishment I would receive. There was no doubt in my mind it would be terrible. Not only had I pushed the rules of the Choice with Felicity, I had delayed my return. The only consolation I had was that, finally, there was some way to end his reign of terror. I paused before the large doors which barred the way to his throne. The symbol shuddered and writhed as though laughing at my plight. I pressed my hands to it, stiffening against the sharp sweep of magic. The doors opened.
“You have been long in coming, Thomas.” There was laughter in his voice. I shuddered and did not speak.
“You have been long in coming…and you have disobeyed me yet again.” His voice was a dry rasp.
I couldn’t move my feet forward.
“You will have to help me understand your doings tonight.” He paused again. When he spoke at last, his command overrode all my best instincts to flee in the opposite direction. “Come.”
The doors shut behind me like the final closing of a coffin’s lid as I entered in.
By the time I left the throne room, a cold, hard knot had grown in my chest. I’d had enough. This last time had been the worst. When he had finally finished, he ordered me to return to Felicity and give her the Choice. I could only stare at him. Never before had he demanded the second phase of the Choice so soon.
He had laughed to see the look of disbelief and despair on my face. “Thomas, I call in my debts when I please. We shall see if the apple does not fall far from the tree hmm?”
Despair had fallen on me like a blanket. I’d believed I would have a little more time to discover how to defeat him. It was too late. Time had run out.
I had to confront him now or Felicity would pay the price.
Limping into my quarters, I retrieved the sphere. It had muted to a soft, pulsing gold. I looked at it in frustration and despair. How was I supposed to use it?
Wrapping it in the folds of my cloak, I took a breath and went to confront Death. Once I reached the doors to the throne room, I touched the symbol and waited for the doors to open. They opened silently, a brush of dank air wafting from the room within.
“Thomas, have you returned for further…discourse?”
I gritted my teeth and moved forward, ignoring the leap in my heart when the doors clicked shut behind me. For too long I had been subject to his corruption, playing the marionette to his twisted games with souls. Forgetting who I had been, I had nearly forgotten what it meant to have honor, real honor.
And suddenly, it all became clear. I nearly laughed at my foolishness in not understanding it before. My journey to the Light had not been without clues. They had given me everything I needed to defeat Death. It was so obvious now. The answer was so very simple that I didn’t understand how I could have missed it all this time. To challenge Death, I must do the opposite of what my Choice had first been. I must put aside all selfish concerns and do what would bring me no gain.
“Death,” I said, my voice ringing with a strength I had not felt for a long time. “For too long you have played this foul game with souls. Too many have been lost to your bondage, and for what purpose? So many have been wasted for nothing.” Standing before his shadow, for the first time since I’d made the Choice, I felt like myself. They had told me to challenge Death. Likely, I would only receive punishment for my efforts, but I could not regret it. No more would I facilitate the corruption of innocent souls. If I had to suffer for the rest of eternity—so be it. I was done.
His dark chuckle echoed through the room, raising the hairs on the back of my neck. “So. You have finally come to this pass. I have waited a long time for you, Thomas.” His tone was…pleased. Why was he pleased?
“Waited for me?” I couldn’t stop the confusion which leached into my voice.
“Yes, Thomas,” he said. “Haven’t I told you before that I chose you myself?”
He had. And they had told me to find out why that was so. An uncomfortable feeling came over me. Perhaps the answer to that question was one I did not want to know. I forced the question past my lips. “Why did you choose me?” I asked. I could almost feel his smile. It crawled down my spine like a nest of newborn spiders.
“For millennia I have searched for someone with enough compassion to hate the game of souls. For thousands of years I have waited for someone with enough honor to defy me…no matter the personal cost.”
I stared at him. “Why?” The question left my lips unbidden. The suspicion I would not like the answer had be
come a dreadful certainty.
“Did you think, Thomas, that I did not know you sought aid?”
I clenched my fingers around the sphere hidden in the depths of my cloak. He knew.
“I went to them myself, many lifetimes ago, and asked them for surcease of this realm. They told me I could not leave my post. The world would be overrun without Death. They said that at all times there must be a Lord Death.”
I sucked in my breath as he continued, “And so, I searched. But the souls that came naturally to my realm were too corrupt. They had the tendency to reap lives indiscriminately.
“That is when I created the Choice. It was the only way to find a soul pure enough to hate the game itself—yet weak enough to fall into my trap.”
There was a ringing in my ears. I almost couldn’t hear him when he spoke again. “Even then those souls were too weak to defy the corruption I encouraged. They forgot themselves over time and became as bad as the souls who had been destined for my realm to begin with…until I found you.” His gaze rested on me and I shuddered. It was a foul joke. It had to be.
“So I am…” I could not finish.
“Yes,” he said gently. He shifted, raising one dark hand, palm up. “They must have given you something for me, Thomas.” I walked towards him, dazed, and pulled the sphere from beneath my cloak. It blazed bright in the room, throwing light and shadows across the ceiling. He took it from me, his red gaze squinting as he peered into the purity of its light.
“But why?” I asked, my voice sounding lost even to my own ears.
He looked up then and smiled, and his smile was full of…joy. “Because sometimes, Thomas, even Death wishes to rest in peace.” At his words, the globe brightened until it lit the room like a tiny sun. The light blinded me and I covered my eyes with my arm as his voice whispered through the room. “Your honor will serve you well, Thomas, Lord of Death. Perhaps one day you will understand my desire for peace. Perhaps one day you will use the Choice.” His voice disappeared with the fading light. When I lowered my arm, the globe sat on the throne pulsing lightly. He was gone.
“Never,” I whispered my last words to the dark lord I had served. I would never be like him. Never again would I subject pure souls to the horror of the Choice.
Picking up the globe, I turned to leave when a glint caught my eye. I leaned forward, looking closer. His scythe, the symbol of his office, rested against the side of the throne. I hesitated and then reached to lay a finger against its blade. A sharp, icy pain ran up my finger and filled me until I was certain it had been cut off. When the pain ebbed away, the scythe was gripped in my fist and a pool of darkness surrounded my feet.
I cursed.
Somewhere, he must be laughing.
Shaking my head in resignation, I exited the throne room and headed towards the dark gate. The guardians there took a look at me, startled, and bowed low as I passed. I wrapped my cloak tighter, pulled down my hood, and shifted through the shadows.
Traveling now seemed like second nature. I merely thought, and there, in front of me, was my old cottage. I hesitated—would Felicity be afraid when she saw me? Perhaps it would be best if I left…but I didn’t want her to worry about the Choice any longer than necessary. I took a breath, walked up to the door, and knocked.
I stepped back into the shadows and waited. Felicity might recognize me, but her young man would see only Death.
The door opened after a moment, Felicity’s pale face peeking through the opening. “Yes?”
I stepped forward, pulling back my hood, and she gasped.
She glanced over her shoulder, then came outside, quickly shutting the door behind her. “Papa? Is that you?” She lifted a hand to my face.
I leaned away from her touch. I could not bear for her to feel the iciness of my skin. “Yes…and no,” I said.
She dropped her hand, hurt crossing her face once again. She was silent for a moment and then asked, “Have you come for me, Papa?”
Pride, pain, and love lanced through me. “No.”
She looked up and I saw relief in her eyes. “Then why…” she stopped. I knew she did not want to ask why I was there.
“I came to let you know you need not ever fear the Choice again. Have a long life with your babe and your young man, Felicity. And when you call for me—when you are ready to go—I will come.”
She sighed and smiled up at me. I couldn’t help myself. I laid one icy palm against her cheek.
“I love you, Papa,” she said. She didn’t even flinch at my touch.
I swallowed, dropped my hand, and turned away, whispering as I went, “I love you too, Felicity.” I shifted once again, entering the dark of my realm.
I would be there the day she called to usher her myself to the very edge of the Light. She was the last vestiges of who I was. The living reminder of whom I had once been…but for now, I had duties to attend to.
Even if it was possible for me to abdicate, I would not. I was the only one he had trusted to protect the living against the predations of the corrupted dead. This was who I was now—and would be for a very long time.
If someone had asked me for my name just one night past, I would have told them:
I am Thomas.
Do not ask me now what my name might be—I have none. I have taken on the mantle of the night.
I am Lord Death.
8
Siren
It was hard to breathe facing the cold wind. It blew like a live thing, yanking and tugging her dark hair, tangling its curls into knots.
“Kara! Step away from there right now!”
She scowled. Of all the ways her mother could have chosen to get her attention, she had chosen the worst. She ducked her head and stepped away from the railing, feeling the smirks of at least fifty other passengers amused by her disgrace.
She wove her way through the crowds to her mother’s side, ignoring their smiles. She pressed her lips together under her mother’s scrutinizing gaze and endured the impatient tugging as her mother checked the damage of Kara’s hair. It was her mother’s desire that Kara find a suitor on this short trip. It was Kara’s desire to thwart this if at all possible.
One day, she thought, I will reach my majority. One day I will be free. The wind followed her playfully, brushing the bare skin of her arms and raising goose bumps along her flesh. She sighed and hugged herself. Two years until she was eighteen. It might as well be an eternity. She followed her mother into their tiny cabin. Her mother always insisted that ladies retired early for the night.
Kara woke.
The sound of the wind…and something else called her from her dreams. She lay there a moment, sleep receding like lapping waters on a sandy beach.
It’s not a dream, she thought, but what is it? After a moment, she pushed herself up, shoving tendrils of curls away from her face impatiently.
She stilled. The sound was still there, insistent. She stepped out of the bed, forgetting her slippers. Had she heard it before? It sounded so familiar. She crept, stepping quietly, not wanting to make a sound louder than the song winding its way to her ears.
She opened the door to the cabin and shut it behind her gently, hesitating. The song was louder now. She could almost make out words. She followed its soft lament until she stood at the same railing where she’d stood the day before.
And there, lifted on the waves, was a man.
He sang to her of beauty, and riches, coaxing her to come to him. She tilted her head and listened, but she did not care for those. He sang to her, then, of life and death, but those things, too, were not her desire.
The night had almost gone when he sang, finally, about joy, peace, and freedom in his kingdom beneath the waves. It was the last which caught her heart, pulling her to his whim.
He reached out his hand, glistening and mossy beneath the waning moonlight, and she met it with her own.
To join him in freedom beneath the shifting waves.
9 Muse
(O
r Conversations with My Muse)
“Why do you do this to me? Isn’t it enough that you always leave and never tell me when you’re coming back?” Burying my head in my hands, I rubbed my face in frustration. I felt her light touch and looked up, meeting the reflection of my own bloodshot eyes in the mirror.
“We’ve been together a long time, Sage.” Her voice was dulcet, stirring the ache I always felt in her presence. “You know how it is.”
I stood, abrupt and angry. “Yes, I know. We’ve gone through this time and again.” I turned, lifting my hands, pleading. “Can’t it be different for once? Can’t you stop this disappearance act?”
I could feel her smile to the soles of my feet. It made me want things, fantasies I could only dream about.
“Well, we’ll see.” She touched me again. This time, ache turned into need. “Now, what do you want most? What do you see when I’m with you?”
I sucked in air unwilling. She could, and did, inspire me. It was always this ebb and flow between us: Despair and joy, famine and seduction, hatred and love…and I couldn’t live without her in my life.
She smiled again at my unwilling breath. She knew me better than anyone else. She knew me better than I knew myself.
“Come, Sage, write for me.”
I did.
