The River of Time (The Shiva XIV Series Book 4)

by Lyra Shanti

  “Wha… what are you?” asked the wide-eyed, little Sarax.

  Not knowing how to answer truthfully, Axis nervously replied, “I am your… ancestor.”

  Using half his memory and half his instinct, he further described the situation to his young, confused self.

  “I am a spirit, yes,” he explained, “but I am also flesh. You see, Axis, this is not my time to be here, so I can only remain in this dimension for a few moments. It will cause a paradox if I stay too long.”

  “I don’t understand,” said the little Sarax. “Where is my family? Are they in another time? Are they alive or dead? Why did they leave me here all alone?”

  Not wanting to tell his past self that he had reincarnated in a strange, unnatural way, Axis thought it best to avoid the subject of family altogether.

  “All your questions will be answered, little one… in time,” he reassured the child.

  He then gave the little Sarax the choice to either run away or to help Ayn be the great Bodanya he was destined to become; it was a test, and it was one he knew the child would pass.

  “The power of The Bodanya has yet to awaken within him,” he told the little Sarax, “and I fear he never will without you as his guide.” Hearing himself say those familiar words, he almost felt like crying. He wasn’t just saying it to calm his past self. He craved to hear it as well. Ayn needs me, he thought, now more than ever! That’s right… I remember what I said now! I told myself I was destined to spread the light amongst the universe so that Ayn and I could save this world! How could I ever forget my true destiny?!

  As he told his past self to believe in his ability, and his path, Axis became invigorated with the power of his own memory. Putting down the little golden-colored Sarax, he then flew high into the night’s sky.

  Focused on the sound of Ayn’s soul, he heard his plasma calling to him. “I’m on my way, Father,” he shouted to the stars, “and together, we will heal the universe with our light!”

  Chapter 17: Embracing the Past

  “His surgery is tonight. I’m worried, Srah. I know Lius is a brilliant doctor, but… I still fear for Ayn’s life.” As Ona paused, holding in her worries, Srah’s angelic face showed her concern, and Ona wished she could hug her through the screen.

  “My dear friend,” Srah gently replied, “I know how hard this is, but you have to remain strong, for his sake. You also have to believe in Ayn’s strength and that he is meant for a long, happy life by your side. I believe in that fate with all my heart, and I will be praying for his soul and body to make it through tonight.”

  Ona was on the verge of tears. “I just… can’t watch him like this, Srah. He’s so tired, and I can tell he’s losing hope. I want to tell him he’ll be fine, but when I say things like that, he doesn’t believe me. His mother and mine, and yours too, they all died from this horrible disease. I can’t bear seeing him this way!”

  Srah hushed her friend through the screen. “Oh, dearest Ona, it’ll be alright. He’s the strongest man I know. Have faith, my friend. Please, remember that you are both loved, and watched over by the Gods.”

  Ona sniffed, trying to keep tears from falling. She wiped her eyes and pulled back the sides of her long, burgundy-colored hair. “Yes, well…” she said, straightening up in her chair, “you know I don’t really believe in Gods, but… I’ll try to have faith… in Ayn’s soul, and mine.”

  Srah nodded and said, “That’s good enough, my dear. I will be with you in spirit every step of the way. I wish I could be there in person, but I can’t get away. There is so much happening on Sirin right now.”

  “No, it’s alright,” replied Ona. “Truthfully, Ayn wouldn’t want you here. I mean, he barely wants me present. He’s acting… distant and closed. I hate it.”

  Srah sighed and said, “He hasn’t answered my calls either. I think he may be blaming himself for what is happening. He has the tendency to take everything on his shoulders. He’s always been given too much burden, and he feels he must do it alone. You are the only one he truly lets into his vulnerability, Ona. Use your power, and help him through this the way only you can. I believe in you, my friend, with all my heart. If anyone can heal him, it’s you.”

  Ona wanted to believe Srah’s words were true, but she wasn’t so sure. Ayn had said he didn’t even want Ona to be present at his surgery. It broke her heart.

  “Thank you,” she said as she lightly touched the screen, as if she could touch Srah’s face. “You’re my very best friend, you know that?”

  “And you are mine,” replied Srah, reaching her hand to the screen in return.

  After a moment, Ona noticed the time and said, “I have to go. It’s almost time for his prep for the surgery. I have to wake him and get everything ready with the doctor.”

  “Good luck,” said Srah, “and remember, I’m here if you need me. Please contact me the moment the surgery is over.”

  “Thank you. I love you,” said Ona.

  “I love you too, sweetheart,” Srah softly replied.

  “Oh, and give my love to Rax and Thali!”

  “I will. Goodbye for now, Ona.”

  They both shut off their com-screens, then Ona took a deep breath. She’s right, she thought, I need to get myself together. Ayn needs me to be strong.

  As she tried to gather herself, she looked at the book that was lying on the nearby table in her room. She had taken it out two hours prior from the once-secret section of the library, although it had been against Lius’ wishes.

  “Your Majesty,” he had addressed her as he interrupted her reading, “if you’re thinking of using that book’s ancient knowledge, I must strongly advise against it.”

  “Why?” she asked him with a sneer. “Why is it you allowed yourself to tap into these sacred arts, but I cannot? Do you think me incapable of learning from it?”

  “That’s not what I worry about,” he replied. “I am certain you are more than capable. However, these arts were forced on me by Notama. I did not wish to remake bodies and force souls to be reborn. It’s unnatural, Ona, and this book… Sri Unda’s true legacy is a lost knowledge for a reason. I suggest you put it back on the shelf. Let it remain a mystery after I am gone from this world. I know you are scared about Ayn, but… trust science. Trust me as a doctor. I will cure him, I swear.”

  Ona shook her head at her memory. You fool, she scolded the doctor in her mind as she looked at the old, delicate book. It was a dark-jade color with a gold pyramid shape on the cover. Inside the pyramid was a star, and in ancient Deiusian, it read: “The Book of Death and Rebirth.” Ona scoffed and thought, Don’t be such a hypocrite, Lius! Are you not using Sri’s old methods to rebuild Ayn’s cells? Regeneration is not a crime. Why act like it is? Why not tap into everything she once knew?

  Overwhelmed by a strong feeling of rebellion, she opened the thick, ancient book and began reading its first page. She was still a novice at the ancient, barely used Deiusian language, but she managed to make out its first words:

  This is the truth of life and death. This is the truth of creation and decay. If you wish to learn the truth, I will teach thee, but prepare thyself for madness.

  Taking a deep breath, Ona closed the book. It felt too familiar and frightening.

  I wrote those words, didn’t I? she admitted to herself. I’m not ready to face this. I’m sorry, Ayn. For now, … I must trust science alone. I hope it will be enough.

  --

  With his eyes closed tight, deep in prayer, Meddhi begged for strength, for Ayn, and for himself. He wasn’t sure about Gods any longer, but he still did believe in spirits and the light of The Un. He felt its presence, even when he survived in the mountains. The immense power in the universe was constant and ever-glowing, and he was sure that a guardian spirit would help his son through his surgery, and in the years to follow.

  “Please, ancient spirits, guard and guide my beautiful boy,” he whispered in the candle-lit temple. On his knees in front of the statue of Om, the oldest mother
-goddess in Deiusian myth, he prayed as hard as he could for Ayn’s health and happiness.

  “I’ve been an awful father, I know,” he added in a hushed, yet affected voice, “but I love him more than life. Give him a long life, I beg you, and in return I will serve you once more, as I did when I was a priest.”

  “You wouldn’t enjoy being a priest again,” came a woman’s calm voice from behind him.

  He whipped around to see Emelanthia dressed in her usual dark Dryndi robes. “Nor do I think it would help Ayn. It certainly didn’t help your own soul,” she added as she stood near him in front of the statue. Looking up at the Goddess, Om, she turned to Meddhi and smiled.

  He slowly stood and said, “With all due respect, Priestess, how do you know? You do not know me enough to judge.”

  She smirked and replied, “I know you more than you think.”

  He folded his arms and cocked his head. The high priestess was a mystery to him, and her sudden importance to Ayn and Ona baffled him even further. Why is she here, not only at the palace, but at the temple? he silently asked.

  She side-grinned and said, “I am here because I was fated since birth to be with this family.”

  He was momentarily shocked that she had heard his thoughts, but then, he remembered how he and Pei had once been trained in empathic abilities. The Dryndi were renowned for their spiritual prowess, so he could accept their Head Oracle would be expertly trained in telepathy.

  “You see,” she said, moving nearer to him, “my mother spoke of you. Although, you were not a priest when you loved her. In those times, you were just the opposite - you were a warrior without equal… and my mother, she worshiped you like a God.”

  Meddhi’s heart nearly fell to the floor. Her Mother?! he silently shouted in his mind. Temporarily forgetting that she could hear him, he frantically thought, Did I love her mother? Oh, yes… I remember now. The beautiful high priestess on Kri. She resembled Amya, and I tried to love her, but couldn’t fully give my soul. Oh Gods, this is her daughter?!

  “Her name was Umara,” she calmly replied to his thoughts, “and she loved you beyond reason.”

  Just then, it hit him like a tidal wave crashing against a giant rock upon the shore. “You’re… my daughter,” he quietly stated. It felt as if he’d always known, and yet, somehow, he had blocked that fact from his mind.

  “Yes,” she replied. “I am glad you’ve finally realized the truth. I must ask, however, had you already come to this truth once before, but because you were High Priest of the Dei, you shut it from your mind? Did you know of the daughter you left behind on Kri? Did you even care?”

  Meddhi felt a rush of shame and anger flush his cheeks. He calmed himself, then said, “I am sorry, but I have only just begun to regain my memory. I am sure I did care… about you, and your mother both. However, I cannot remember the exact path I took when I was younger. All I can recall from that period in my life is I was pretending that fighting with a sword would help the world in a way I thought I could not as a priest. I was wrestling with a demon inside me… a dragon… but it’s vague. I’m sorry if your mother knew me then… and if I hurt her. I did not mean to do so.”

  Emelanthia slowly shook her head and held out her hands. She placed her soft hands on his wrists and said, “You did not have a demon inside you, my wayward father, but you had much suppressed longing and desire. You became a warrior so you could prove to yourself, and everyone, that you mattered. You found yourself in The Lirhan, and for a short time, you found yourself in The Dryndi with my mother. It is nothing to be ashamed of, Father.”

  He gently held her hands for a moment, but then folded his arms and turned away. “I have much I am ashamed of,” he stoically replied. “Amya’s death, most of all.”

  “You could not stop the inevitability of her illness,” she replied. “You need to stop looking to the past to whip yourself, for your queen is still with you in your present.”

  “Yes, she haunts me every day of my life,” he said through gritted teeth.

  Emelanthia shook her head and sighed. “No, Father,” she said with a loving smile, “Amya is right here in the flesh. In fact, she is walking through the hall at this very moment. She’s wishing to speak with you, and is on her way to the temple.”

  “What?” he questioned with a confused, knotted brow.

  “Turn around and face her,” said the high priestess, “and you will have the strength you have prayed for.”

  Meddhi turned and saw Pira coming through the large, golden doors of the temple. “Oh, Gods,” he whispered, “how could I be so blind?”

  Pira looked at Meddhi from across the temple as he stared at her in return. He saw her differently than before. Her soul seemed to be glowing with the light of the one and only woman who could reach him to the core.

  Emelanthia smiled and whispered, “She is your Coismir, Father. Go to her, and be at peace.”

  He looked at his daughter and grabbed her tight. He then kissed her forehead and said, “Thank you, my dearest girl.”

  Emelanthia smiled. “Go… tell her you see the truth now.”

  Meddhi turned to Pira and ran to her, feeling as though he were a young man full of vigor.

  “Pira...” he said as he drew near to her. “No… you are my beloved Amya, aren’t you?”

  She smiled wide with teary green eyes and yelped, “Meddhi! My love, you remember me! It’s me, your Amya! I’m so sorry I left you! I’m sorry I didn’t fight for our love or for our planet’s freedom! I’m sorry I didn’t have the strength to fight the Dei when-”

  Before she could finish, he passionately kissed her lips with all his might.

  Emelanthia smiled and silently slipped out of the temple. As the newly awakened soul-mates kissed in the candlelight, the high priestess felt a mix of pride and hope.

  --

  Somehow, his flute seemed out of tune. He hadn’t played it in so long, and in his mind, it sounded slightly bitter. Sighing in disappointment, Ayn thought, Does it really matter? I barely have the energy to play.

  Frustrated, he got up from his chair and re-wrapped the belt around his blue robe. He then put back his treasured flute into its white and gold case, which lay on a round table in his room.

  Utterly sick of being sick, and frightened about his impending surgery, Ayn wanted out. He had the urge to run far away - out of the kingdom even. Briefly, he fantasized about grabbing Inda out of his fancy art school and taking him to see his sister, Weema. Together, they could walk around the city and see how the new parks, schools, roads, and clinics were all fairing.

  No, I can’t, he told himself. He knew he didn’t have the strength, and his wife would kill him, even if the surgery didn’t.

  Feeling trapped and weak, Ayn shook his head and sat on his knees. After putting back the flute into the large, gold chest in his room, he now wanted to look through more of his favorite, usually hidden things.

  Slowly, he pulled out his sheathed Viha. It was old and powerful, and even with the sheath still covering its blade, the plasma emanating from the sword made it feel ten times its weight. Ayn hadn’t had a chance to practice with it when he had been healthier, and it saddened him greatly.

  My father was going to teach me, he thought as tears formed in his eyes. “Is this how it will be, Adin?” he softly spoke to his own ghost. “After a thousand years, I now possess your sword, and yet, shall I never wield it?”

  Looking at the beautifully crafted hilt with its carved image of an upright Sarax in gold, Ayn cringed with bitterness.

  After a few moments of silent self-pity, he heard a man say, “Your future is not firmly written in the stars, my king.”

  Ayn turned around, still clutching his Viha while sitting on the floor. He saw Zasaban standing only a few feet away. Wearing a dark-purple robe with embroidered stars and moons, the enigmatic adviser seemed to Ayn even more mystical than usual.

  “I’m sorry,” said Ayn as he tried standing to his feet, “I didn’t know you wante
d to see me, Zas.”

  The red-skinned wizard immediately helped Ayn up by the arm. “It’s alright, Your Majesty, please take it easy.” Leading Ayn to the chair, Zasaban gave his king the Viha, then stood, folding his hands.

  “Thank you, Zas,” said Ayn. “I’m not quite myself right now.”

  “No,” replied his adviser, “you’re not.”

  Ayn looked up at Zasaban, and for a moment, he imagined wings extended from the back of his adviser’s shoulders.

  Shaking himself out of his waking dream, Ayn said “I’m just… not ready for my surgery.”

  “You’re not ready for many things, my king.”

  Ayn looked at the robed man before him and noticed how serious he looked. “Zas, are you alright?”

  “No, and neither are you, Ayn,” he replied with concentrated, dark-red eyes.

  “Well… I know, but…”

  “Listen to me, Your Majesty, you have to decide what your fate will be. This is a defining moment, and you must make the right choice.”

  “What?” asked Ayn. “What do you mean?”

  “There is a forked path in front of you, Ayn,” said his stoic adviser, “and the path you choose will affect the entire universe. You will either heal The Un… or destroy it.”

  Blinking and confused, Ayn nervously stroked the hilt of his Viha and said, “What are you talking about, Zas? What sort of choice? Please, be more detailed. I don’t have much time.”

  Zasaban took a deep breath and said, “Ayn… you have less time than you may think. Yet, time is a bit irrelevant to creatures like us.”

  “Creatures like us?” Ayn repeated.

  “We are Sarax, you and I… in our souls, at the least, and we carry their knowledge and power. You have not allowed it to blossom, however, for you’ve been letting your fears split your soul in half.” Without warning, Zasaban went to his knees and grabbed onto Ayn’s legs. “But my king,” he said with fierce red eyes, “you are not meant to hold yourself back from your true self. You are not the weak man you think you are! You are The Great Adin, and I will not let you undergo this surgery!”