by Travis Bughi
Then, one night, as he lay with his back turned, clutching himself in the sorrow of Emily’s memory, he felt a soft touch to the back of his head. Quickly, Takeo wiped his eyes and turned to see the little boy with curly hair just a hand’s width away. One eye blue, one eye brown, and Takeo was mesmerized by both.
“Miss,” Cyrus started, stuttering, “miss mommy?”
“Do I miss my mother?” Takeo asked, sniffing through clogged nostrils.
Cyrus paused, blinked, and then nodded.
“Yeah, you could say that.” Takeo forced a faint smile.
“Me, too.”
Cyrus looked down to the ground, a frown between his rounded cheeks. Takeo saw the loneliness the boy felt in the strange land of rolling hills and endless yellow grass. The wind never stopped here, always blowing like in Savara. It must have been strange for Cyrus to walk a land that didn’t have trees or anything green in sight.
And to walk it alone must have been worse.
“Do you want to sleep next to me?” Takeo asked.
Cyrus looked embarrassed. He thought for a moment before nodding slowly. Takeo lifted his blanket, and the little boy crawled inside.
Takeo slept better that night, even with the occasional stir and kick.
Upon reaching the base of Khaz Mal, they waited for the next full moon. Its towering peaks loomed high above them, daunting in their timeless nature. To both Takeo and Gavin, the mountain ridges brought back waves of nostalgia, both good and bad. For Cyrus, he looked upon the grandest thing he’d ever seen. His face said it all.
Each and every day as the mountains stood before them, the little boy watched with eyes and mouth wide at the enormity of such a land, at the snow covered tops so blanketed they sparkled white even from the edge of the Great Plains. He didn’t even seem to mind being buried anymore, and when he turned into a werewolf for each full moon, his altered form howled at the mountains as much as it did the moon. When that week had passed, they packed up what little gear they had and headed for the peaks.
True to his word, just two weeks in, Gavin found the angel.
Takeo saw the light first, a quiet and unexplained flashing that shined from a cave surrounded by half-melted snow. As they approached, their feet crunched on snow and tiny rocks, and the light from the cave shut out completely. Gavin went inside first, into the darkness, followed by Takeo who led Cyrus by the hand.
“Ephron,” Gavin called, his voice echoing only once. “It’s me, Gavin.”
They stepped down onto the jagged rocks that covered the cave’s floor. Cyrus gripped Takeo’s hand like he could be swept away at any moment. The samurai gripped back, holding his breath in anticipation of the aura. In a flash, the cave was illuminated with twin beams of yellowed light, and the aura washed over them.
Deep within the cave, Takeo saw a beautiful angel in a white gown, sitting carefully upon a rocky seat. His feathered wings were tucked up against his body, brushing the stone walls around him. His bare feet touched the cold floor without any sign of discomfort, and the light that poured from his eyes turned the cavern into a well-lit sanctuary.
An overwhelming sense of purity and protection fell over Takeo, Gavin, and Cyrus. Gavin breathed deeply, taking the feeling in stride and absorbing its powerful feel. Cyrus’ jaw dropped open, and his eyes and pupils widened as his hand dropped from Takeo’s.
Takeo was even less prepared. The samurai felt his heart swell in his chest and blood rush warm through his veins. The numbness that had plagued his soul was destroyed. The dam that had kept the pain reduced to a slow trickle shattered in the presence of the angel, and Takeo felt everything once more. He gave a feeble cry and clutched his chest, but it wasn’t enough. He staggered and fell to his knees. The pain from the jagged rocks hardly registered compared to the overwhelming feelings of loss and woe that stabbed viciously into his soul. His eyes shut and flooding with tears, all he could picture was Emily lying bloody and dying in his arms. He began to shake from something far more damaging than the cold.
“Takeo!” Gavin turned. “Takeo, are you okay?”
“Let him bleed, Sir Gavin,” Ephron said, his voice echoing on its own. “Such sorrow will poison him if left buried.”
Takeo’s heart hurt to beat. It was as if, with every compression, it threatened to crush itself. Takeo breathed in ragged breaths, doubling over as if struck in the gut. His numbness was completely gone, replaced with all the feelings he’d tried for so long to keep hidden.
Emily, oh Emily, he whimpered. I’m so sorry. I’m so very sorry. I . . . I will never love again.
“I wish you wouldn’t call me that,” Gavin said, turning back to Ephron. “You know I’m not a knight anymore.”
“Of course you are, Sir Gavin.” Ephron smiled. “I made you a knight, so only I can unmake you. Your duty remains yet unfulfilled. Your promise must still be kept. Now, tell me, who is this young child you’ve brought?”
Gavin appeared bashful for a moment, tucking his arms in and looking back to Cyrus. The little boy was hardly distracted by Takeo. He was staring at the angel slack-jawed, eyes unblinking, pupils dilated in utter awe. When Gavin came forward to take his hand, Cyrus gave not an ounce of resistance and moved as if in a dream.
Meanwhile, Takeo lay broken on the cave floor, his mind flooded with memories of the one he’d loved so dearly. He’d fallen over completely now, crunched up into a ball, trying not to scream out as his heart burned. The melted snow that leaked into the cave soaked through his clothing to leach the fire from his skin. It was the only relief he would receive from the onslaught of the angel’s aura. He whimpered Emily’s name—murmured over and over how he should have saved her, how he could have saved her, or how he should have died in her place. He couldn’t live without her, didn’t want to live without her, there was no harsher plane of existence than the one that existed without her. If there was a fate worse than death, it was his.
“Emily,” he whispered through ragged gasps for air.
“Ephron,” Gavin said, rushing his words as he presented the little boy, “this is Cyrus. I’m sorry I brought him to you. I know you seek solitude but—”
“There is no need to apologize,” the angel said. “I trust that you had a good reason. Come here, child.”
Cyrus silently obeyed and stepped forward. Ephron rose and walked to meet him, his wings unable to spread and glide in the cramped cave. Takeo fought to keep his eyes open long enough to see Ephron kneel and touch Cyrus’ cheeks gently. The boy stood so limply that a gentle breeze would have blown him over.
“A werewolf,” Ephron gasped. “I never thought I’d see one in my lifetime. How grand it is that even after all this time, I can still be surprised. Who is he, Gavin?”
“Sir Mark’s son.”
Ephron paused, raising one eyebrow, which brightened the chamber. The light beams shifted to fall on Gavin, but the knight held steady under the gaze. Then Ephron chuckled, and Takeo could have sworn he had never heard anything so beautiful in all his life.
“There is no end to the miracles of this world.” Ephron smiled. “Why are you here, child?”
“Mommy,” Cyrus replied, sounding breathless. “Mommy said to go.”
“His mother’s name is Belen,” Gavin explained. “She was turned into a werewolf, somehow. I’m unsure. All I know is that Emily blamed herself for it, and so did Belen.”
“Where is Emily now?” Ephron asked.
Gavin hung his head and let the silence speak. The angel glanced at him, breathed deeply, and then looked over to Takeo, who felt a new surge of sorrow wreak havoc through his crippled body. He whimpered, shuddered, and tried to hide the new tears that fell from his eyes.
“I see.” Ephron closed his eyes for a moment, sending the world into darkness.
“She and Takeo grew close,” Gavin said, “before she died.”
Takeo breathed steadily for a few breaths, but then Ephron opened his eyes, and the pain renewed itself. He gritted his teeth, but coul
d not stop the harsh grunts that arose from his throat.
“Cyrus,” Ephron whispered. “Can you excuse me a moment? There is another that needs me. Yes? Thank you.”
Ephron rose again and walked past Cyrus and Gavin, his bare feet catching none of the dirt or grime on the cave’s floor. With every step he took towards Takeo, the samurai felt another wrench in his chest. By the time Ephron was standing over him, Takeo was withering like a vampire in the light, tears streaming down his cheeks. In his mind, he saw Emily breathe her last breath over and over again, whispering to him her last words.
Don’t blame yourself.
How could he not? How could she ask that of him? Who could possibly bear the blame other than him? The amazons knew it. Emily’s family knew it. Even Gavin knew it. ‘You let her die,’ he’d said, and oh how right he had been. Takeo had left her alone, forgetting his own promise never to do so. He’d let his guard down once, just once, and his reality had become the most horrid nightmare imaginable. Emily was dead—the Angels’ Vassal, the sun of his world—and he would live in a world of darkness for it. Pain and suffering would be his only friends, and he deserved nothing else.
“You carry too much, Takeo Karaoshi,” Ephron whispered. “It will destroy you.”
“Let it,” Takeo answered. “I deserve it.”
“No. Emily wouldn’t want that.”
Ephron reached out a hand and touched Takeo’s cheek. His fingers were so hot that they might as well have been the kiss of dragon fire. Takeo gasped, the air snatched from his lungs so fast he couldn’t even scream. The darkness within him retreated from the light that spread through Ephron’s fingers. The warmth spread through his body like a plague, feeding on the sorrows that had grown rampant in his soul. A quick and relentless war raged in Takeo’s body, one he had no chance of winning. Ephron took his hand away, and Takeo’s chest hurt no more.
The samurai took his first truly steady breath since entering the cave.
“Do not let what killed Emily kill you from beyond the grave,” Ephron said. “You are stronger than that. Just because you do not fear death, it does not mean you should fear life, especially when that life was granted to you by another. Now, rise.”
Takeo trembled as he rose. His entire body was sore from tensing for so long. He didn’t feel numb anymore. He felt hollow, like he’d opened his veins with a knife and let the blood pour out. In its place, Ephron had poured something else, something sturdy and warm, and Takeo could breathe once more.
He thought of Emily, he pictured her kissing him in the mountains and then dead in his arms. It hurt, but nothing like before. He could still breathe.
“I still blame myself,” he said.
“That you are allowed,” Ephron said with a nod, “but you will not let it stop you.”
“Stop me from what?”
“I don’t have all the answers, Takeo. Now, excuse me. I must tend to the reason you thought you came for.”
Ephron turned, his feathered wings tickling Takeo’s nose as they swept by, and returned to Cyrus. The little werewolf hadn’t moved yet, other than to tilt his head. Ephron knelt next to him again and touched a large hand to the side of his face.
Cyrus began to drool and slurped it back into his mouth. Ephron smiled and hummed.
“What to do with you, hm?” Ephron asked.
Takeo spoke up, his voice a tad shaky. “His parents, they both want him to be able to grow up normal. If he stays a werewolf, he won’t be able to leave Angor. He’d be hunted and killed if he went anywhere else.”
“Don’t listen to the samurai,” Ephron said to Cyrus. “There is no such thing as normal, only varying degrees of unknown. He is right, though. The world is a dangerous place for one such as you.”
Cyrus blinked once, twice, and then repeatedly as he realized how dry his eyes were. He rubbed them, closed his mouth finally, and then glanced over the angel’s shoulder to Takeo. Cyrus looked embarrassed, confused. Ephron used his hand to guide the child’s eyes back to him.
“You are too young to know what you want, I think,” Ephron replied. “Your parents think they know, but they have asked something of me I cannot do. There is no way to separate the beast from you. It is as much a part of you as my own wings are of me. Your eyes are proof of that.”
“There’s nothing you can do?” Gavin said.
Ephron sighed. “I did not say that. Tell me, Cyrus. What do you want?”
“Mommy,” he answered with only a moment’s hesitation.
“Then your mother you shall have.”
Ephron’s hand moved from Cyrus’ cheek to his eyes. Ephron closed his own, and the cave went dark. For a moment, only the sounds of breathing and wind blowing over the cave’s mouth could be heard. Then Takeo heard a faint hum, and Ephron’s hand began to glow yellow.
It shed barely enough light to cast shadows across Ephron’s and Cyrus’ faces. Both hum and light hovered at one tone, but then began to grow. The hum grew louder while the light glowed brighter. They continued rising until the cave began to echo with it, and the rocks beneath their feet began to shake. Takeo tensed, his knees bending in preparation to run—he feared the cave might collapse—but then it stopped.
Everything went quiet and dark. The humming ceased while the light faded rapidly. Once again, there was wind, darkness, and breathing; only now, Takeo’s and Gavin’s breaths were strained. Then Ephron opened his eyes, and light poured over the cave again. The angel lifted his hand from Cyrus’ face, and Takeo marveled at the change in the boy’s eyes. Where once his eyes were two different colors, one blue and one brown, they were now one set of identical grey.
“It is done,” the angel said.
He stood and placed a hand on the boy’s head. Gavin and Takeo glanced at each other, both looking just as confused as they felt. When they looked back to Ephron, the angel answered their unsaid question.
“Before, he was half man, half animal,” he said. “They took turns, switching at the full moon. I have made them share, now. You are no longer two halves, Cyrus. You are whole. You can return to your mother and, in time, make your own decisions about what you wish to do with the life you’ve been granted.”
Cyrus blinked and then nodded, and Gavin stepped over to take him by the shoulders.
“Lucky you, kid,” he said, starting to lead him out of the cave. “You get to go home.”
“What about me?” Takeo asked. “What do I do?”
“Serve a new master,” Ephron replied. “Yourself, perhaps. I can give you no more answers than that.”
The angel shut his eyes, a silent command they obeyed. They left, tracking down the mountain to reach the edge of the Great Plains just as the full moon was about to come again.
Unsure of what else to do, they buried Cyrus again just up to the neck and sat nearby, watching the sun set and waiting for the moon to rise and change Cyrus into the beast Ephron had spoken of. They did not theorize about what Ephron had done, not wanting to scare the child any more than he already was. Understandably, he hated this part.
“I don’t want to change,” he cried softly.
“I’m sorry, Cyrus,” Gavin cooed. “There’s nothing we can do.”
“It’s scary. I . . . I can’t stop. I eat things. I’m angry. I don’t like it.”
“This time might be different,” Takeo offered. “We won’t know how until it happens.”
Cyrus cried all the way until the sun fell low and darkness consumed all but what the moon touched. Its white light fell down on them, unhindered by any trees, and Cyrus howled as he changed.
His face grew a snout, his teeth turned to daggers, and his ears went bestial. Black, thick fur sprouted all over his body, and a lolling tongue flapped out from between his teeth. Takeo and Gavin watched, both sighing in fear that their efforts had been for naught, that Ephron had not helped enough, that Emily would be frowning down on them from above.
Then to Takeo and Gavin’s complete shock, Cyrus stopped howling and went s
till. He did not bark or growl or fight as he used to. The werewolf looked calm, albeit surprised, and turned slowly to look from one human to the other. His eyes weren’t grey anymore. They were brown and blue again, two different colors looking out without any of the hunger Takeo had seen before. The moon reflected almost cheerfully in them. Takeo gawked and crawled forward. Cyrus’ different colored eyes turned to him, looking serene, even elated.
“I’ll be damned,” Gavin gaped.
“Cyrus, can you hear me?” Takeo whispered.
The boy nodded and smiled.
Author’s Note
Before I do anything else, I want to thank you for taking the time to read Emily’s Saga. With countless books, movies, music, vacations, jobs, chores, sports, and other forms of work and entertainment crying out for your attention, you took the time to read my work. I am truly grateful, and I hope you found this tale worthy of such devotion. Know that I enjoyed writing for you.
Now, you might be wondering if there’s more to come. Emily’s Saga ends in such a manner that one can only assume the tale is not yet complete. This is true, and I’ve already written the next two parts of what is to become the World of Myth Epic, following from Takeo’s perspective. However, to continue on, I will need your help.
I don’t need to be supported financially or have my mortgage paid off (shocking as it sounds, I like my day job), but I do need funds for my editor and cover artist to make the next books just as polished as the last. If you downloaded this book for free, loved it, and want to read more, please let me know by buying my books at whatever outlet is available to you. My required profit is quite small, I assure you, and I only need about—not 1 million, not 100,000, not 10,000, not even 2,000—a thousand people to buy the first set of the World of Myth books in order to produce the next set. So believe it or not, your decision to purchase my books might very well be the purchase that makes the sequels possible.
