Empath Reborn

by J. A. Culican

  All those times and more, this tree has stood serenely in this forest.

  Waiting for me. For me, of all people. Perhaps it waited generations. Perhaps centuries.

  I sense a power, something truly special about this tree. But now that I've discovered it, I realize, it's at risk as long as I remain here. Some of the magic that people use, both Shade and Wraith, could track me through the past, revealing this place in the future now that I've been here.

  The thought makes me sad for a moment. How tragic that would be. The longer I stay, the more the risk grows. I don't want to leave. I will, eventually, but I feel like it welcomes me to simply stand here with it, enjoying its company, at least for a while longer.

  The thought of anyone else finding this place is a deeply troubling one. The tree knows me, now—I feel that, literally—and knowing me raises anyone’s risk greatly. I'm not a safe person to know, as history has shown me over and over. What would Luna do to such a place as this, if she found out about it? That thought isn’t merely troubling, it makes me shiver.

  My preternatural calm returns quickly though. Whatever happens, this tree will be okay with it. I think it must know what will come of all this. I’ll be okay with it, too. Whatever is meant to happen, will.

  I reach out with great reverence and lay my hand on it, eager to feel the rough bark on my palm. I glide my hand over it lightly, feeling its mottled roughness, and my heart soars to know it has permitted this. I imagine its heart beating, pulsing, sending harmony coursing through the earth like mine sends blood through my body. As silly as it might sound, there is something truly exceptional about this tree, something precious or even, dare I say it, miraculous. I don’t know what, or why, though.

  That's the question, though, isn't it? Why was I brought here? Why did it reveal itself to me instead of someone good, someone kind and generous and… Maybe I am those things, if it thinks I am. Maybe I am unique, but in a good way. Would it mean my soul could be redeemed for the terrible things I’ve done?

  "Wow, Ela, I wish you'd look at me like you're looking at that tree," a familiar voice calls out behind me, shattering my sublime moment.

  Talon.

  I spin reflexively, but once again, I'm not afraid. Usually, being startled sends adrenaline coursing through me, but not this time. I know deep in my core that all will be as it must.

  Then, I spot the source of that familiar voice. He stands only ten feet away, though I didn't hear him approaching. He’s gazing at the tree, too, with an expression I can't recognize.

  As I watch him grinning at me, my Zen doesn't feel quite so Zen-like anymore. I don't smile back, but stare at him openly as he walks up beside me at the base of the tree. “How did you find me?”

  For a moment, I consider telling him to leave. Freaking out on him. Pushing him away. But if I do those things, he might tell someone about the tree. I don't know why it matters, but I know that it does, and I don't want him to reveal this enchanting place to anyone else. Maybe I just want to keep it to myself. Maybe I like how I feel here and don’t want to share. Although, truthfully, I'm not as serene as I was before jerkface interrupted my moment. But I am still calm and at peace, with a warm and tingly sensation in my chest.

  When he doesn’t answer me, I try again. "What are you doing here?" I ask as I turn back to look at the tree, too.

  He doesn't answer right away. He just stares at the tree like I did when I got here. Or like I'm still doing.

  At last, he asks me, "What is this place? I feel like the noise that’s always in my head, all the doubts and troubles, they’ve all gone quiet. I haven't known much peace in my life, but there's something... odd and wonderful about this tree. Do you feel it, too?"

  I smile sagely, the corners of my mouth turning up slightly, my eyes heavy-lidded and low. "Yeah. I know what you mean. I feel… okay. Not so-so, but really okay, like everything will be fine."

  "Yes, I think it will. Whatever happens. I feel it, too, in my heart. I'm not used to feeling much of anything except when I'm… Well, it's uncomfortable, here. And that's okay, too."

  I nod, feeling much the same. "It's like the tree has let me put everything in perspective. Almost everything. It's sharing some kind of cosmic consciousness with me or something."

  "Ha, that's deep," he replies, still smiling. I wait for an innuendo-filled joke to follow, but he stays quiet.

  "What is this place? It's obviously a place of magic."

  "So it seems." Talon nods and lightly bites his bottom lip, like he's thinking deep thoughts. Maybe he is.

  "I figure you Wraiths would know, if anyone does." I hope he does know something about this tree, and that he tells me. In the past, though, he hasn’t been forthright with information that ends up being important. For example, the fact that he's my half-brother.

  "I wish I knew," he replies, "but I've never heard of this before. It's obviously a magical place, though. In all the legends, places of magic appear when they want to, and always for a reason. We might not be the reason, though."

  "Mm hm."

  "I wasn't going to approach you, you know. I only meant to follow you."

  "Because that's not creepy, or anything?”

  "No, because when I came here, I saw how useless it would be to simply watch you without saying anything, without trying to get something out of it. I guess I realized I'd get more resolved between us by talking to you here than by continuing to follow you."

  A spark of anger rises, but it quickly fades. I assume that’s because of this place. "Okay, but why follow me at all?" I ask, but without the irritation I expect to feel.

  He's silent for a long moment. Then, instead of answering my question, he asks one of his own. "What will you do with it? With the tree, I mean."

  That startles me. It takes a second for me to decide to answer him rather than pressing my own unanswered question. I can do that in a moment. "I'm not sure what I even can do. I only know this is a truly special place, in a way that goes beyond any of the other 'special places' I've been to. This place feels ancient. I don't know how it avoided being chopped down at some point like all the others this side of the Mississippi. I only know I don't want anything to happen to her."

  "I think of it as 'she,' also. So, then, you're going to do nothing for the moment."

  "Yeah." I wonder the same thing about him, though. "What will you do about it? Will you tell the Wraiths? You're probably supposed to. Right?"

  Please don't say yes…

  That thought echoes in my mind over and over, until he shrugs and answers, "I don't know. I should tell my mother, at least, but you know what? I think I'll do whatever you want. If you don't wish me to report it, I won't. If you want me to keep it just between us, I'll do it. For you."

  I glance over, surprised by his response. He always bows to Birka's every whim, or even what he thinks her whim would be. Until now, he's never once said he'd violate her trust, not ever.

  When I don't reply, he shrugs again. "Whatever you want me to do," he repeats. Maybe he misinterpreted my silence.

  "I heard you. Thanks. I appreciate it." What else is there to say? I'm happy about his response, but unsure what it implies.

  We stand in silence for a while, I don't know how long, but then I remember by unanswered question. "Why were you following me in the first place? And don't change the subject again. I want an answer. Otherwise, I'll think you're just a creeper."

  "Would you believe me if I told you I was just taking a walk to clear my head and found you here?" he asks, his lips pursed slightly and his eyes shining mischievously.

  I actually laugh at him, and he grins. I can't help it. I don't feel any real worries, not here in this place, and the irony outweighs the drama between us. Besides, it feels good to laugh. But he still hasn't answered my question. "No, I don't think I'd believe it. Is that your final answer?"

  He pauses, his smile fading a bit. "I guess not. Just, I'm no good at this sort of thing. You have to understand, in my family,
showing emotion is… frowned upon. I can hear Mom now, telling me, 'Stop laughing, son. When you bray like a donkey, it ruins your mask. A ruler must always wear a mask. One for this person, another for that person, but always a mask. If they are funny, we favor them with a smile, just enough to let them know we found it amusing but never so much that we let slip our mask.' Stuff like that."

  "Oh, I'm so sorry. That's… terrible. I can't imagine growing up like that.” His was a horrid, horrible way to grow up. I'm shocked, even offended. That's got to be child abuse or something, but even if it isn’t, it still isn't right. She should have treated him like her son, not her protege. The way my parents would have treated me, had I not run away thinking to protect them. What a fool I was.

  I tell him, "Where I'm from, we wear our feelings on our sleeve, so to speak, for all to see. We Roma are passionate people. How can you trust someone if you don’t know how they feel about anything?"

  "So I've learned," he says, cryptically.

  The memory of our kiss in his car, our passion, flashes into my head. It brings a fear response with it, because I know what happens next. Yet, when I have the usual follow-up memory of his rejection, it isn't as painful as before. I'm not certain if that's because I'm here in this wondrous place, or if I'm already getting over him toying with me and then tossing me aside. That would surely have been a great time to know how he felt about things, before I got tossed aside, literally.

  I'm not going to let him weasel out of answering my question, though. Not this time. "I’m sorry about that, but what does it have to do with why you're here?"

  His eyes click up, our gazes meet and, for a moment, he looks like a deer frozen in headlights. I watch with a little amusement as he gathers his nerve, which raises my curiosity level quite a bit.

  I try to coax more out of him by adding, "I mean, we didn't part on good terms. I hadn't planned on coming back to iron that out, either. But we're here, so just say what you need to while you can. I don't think you'll have another chance."

  He physically flinches, and his face flashes an expression I don't recognize, but it only lasts a moment before his mask slams down hard, making him unreadable. But for that split-second, I think I just witnessed the exact moment his heart broke. Why, when he was the one who pushed me away?

  I so desperately want to reach up and touch his face, to make him feel better, because if I'm honest, I don't hate him. I should, but instead, I have… feelings… for him that I haven't shifted through, yet. And a lot of hurt.

  All of which means that it sucks to realize I somehow hurt him deeply enough that he lost control of himself, even for a moment. Perhaps a moment of honesty, but a painful one nonetheless.

  He takes a deep breath, and then, speaking a little too fast to sound like the cocksure Talon I know, he says, "I'm tired. Tired of lying. Tired of dancing on my mother's strings. Tired of pretending to be the dutiful prince. Most of all, I'm tired of dancing around each other."

  "You don't have to say anything you don’t want to, Talon."

  "No, don't interrupt, please. I do have to say this, or I'll never forgive myself. Whatever you do, whatever you decide about leaving, I can't live without you knowing how I feel."

  My heart beats faster. He can’t be saying what it seems like. "And how is that?" I fight to keep my voice level, but it cracks mid-sentence as my throat tightens and my mouth goes dry.

  "I'm in love with you—"

  My palms begin to sweat, and that calm tree-serenity is no match for this.

  "—and I think you love me, too," he says.

  And now, I think I just witnessed the exact moment my heart breaks.

  He continues, still talking too fast, "You have to come back with me to Mortals Landing. I need you to, I mean. You don’t have to, and I know I was stupid and I should have told you how I feel before now, but you have to know this. The only thing I can even think about is being with you. I can't eat, I can't sleep, can’t focus, and that was even before you ran out. I’ve been fighting not to hyperventilate ever since you took off. Come back, Ela. Come with me and I'll do anything for you, anything it takes for us to be together. Forget Mom, forget the war, and forget all of that. Just tell me… tell me how you feel. Will you come with me? Really with me?"

  I'm staring at him with my mouth open, eyebrows as high as they'll go, eyes so wide in surprise that even the dim sunlight through the canopy hurts. But at the same time, he seems to positively glow in that dim light. His every feature stands out, vivid and lovely—his high cheeks, his broad, firm jaw, his perfectly almond-shaped eyes that are neither Asian nor European, but both at the same time. And his scent... He smells yummy. I feel stupid even thinking that word, but it’s true. Smelling him makes me hungry, but in a very different way than I’m used to.

  And he's right. I do think I've fallen for him. Yet, I knew that when I left, even if I didn't want to admit it to myself. It doesn't change why I left.

  "We can't," I reply, my voice cracking. "We might not have been raised together, but you're still my half-brother. There's no way we can be together, and that’s why I can't handle being around you. I just can't take the way I feel every time I see you, every time I want to reach out to touch you and can’t, every time your lips move as you talk and I want to still them with my own lips… But we can't ever do those things, and our relationship can never be like that. Not ever. Don’t you get it?" I plead with him to understand, as if that will make it any easier for me to deal with the harsh reality.

  Suddenly, however, his expression turns from tortured and lovelorn to an idiot grinning big enough to get dimples as his cheeks flush red. Yeah, hilarious, jerkface. If he's mocking me, I really will kill him, especially after that speech he gave. After I begged him to understand something that tortures me, and I thought him, as well.

  “What the hell are you smiling at?” I gather myself to strike out at him, readying my muscles and picking the pressure point I’ll go for. Damn him. I can't believe I fell for his—

  "Actually," he says, still grinning. His pupils dilate as he looks at me. "I may know something about this that you don't that opens some options up for us again."

  My heart skips a beat, my head reels. “What?"

  He takes my hands in his and I can't resist his touch, though I should. He looks into my eyes, and his smile fades as he becomes earnest, saying, "The second birth certificate was indeed a correction—"

  My stomach sinks. What the hell kind of joke is this? My gaze roves over him, looking for the best place to punch him to make it hurt really bad.

  "—but the one with Kasik as the father was the first version, not the correction."

  My mind spins, revving and not going anywhere, like a muscle car stuck in neutral. "Uh, what?" I ask eloquently. I'm surprised I manage that much.

  "You heard me. Kasik had your birth data changed to show him as the father before the original birth certificate was even issued. The second one, showing your real father, was a correction your parents got approved only three months after the first certificate came. To make any kind of change to that document in only three months? They must have been working on it hard from the day you were born to get it fixed so quickly. So, it was no afterthought.”

  "This can't be real. How do you know all this?" My spirit sings at the idea and I want desperately to believe him. Please let this be true. If this is his cruel idea of a joke, I think I might kill him.

  His gaze never shifts away from my eyes as he says, "I'm dead serious. Don't you see? Now we can be together. We can do whatever we want. Me and you. And I swear on my life, I'll never let Birka make me put her needs before yours again. I know I hurt you, and I’m sorrier than I have words to tell you. I didn't want to push you aside that night, but she told me to stay distant from you. She ordered me not to get too involved until we knew everything there was to know about you. She was worried you were part of an elaborate scheme, knowingly or otherwise, and she said that keeping my distance so I could stay objecti
ve was for the good of the Wraiths. I thought she spoke the truth. I’ve never regretted obeying any order more than I do that one."

  He takes a deep breath, having said all that without taking a break. His forehead looks damp now, when it was dry before. His posture shifts around, too. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look more nervous, and part of me is glad he gets to know how it feels to throw himself at the mercy of someone else’s heart without knowing what they’ll say or do in response.

  But the largest part of me wants to faint or jump up and down or squeal out loud.

  And then one thought buzzes through my mind, and can’t be un-thought. This is too much, too fast. He wanted me when we were in the front seat of his car, but he was willing to put Birka’s stupid order over me, even over his own happiness. He’s shifting gears on me faster than I can keep up. It's overwhelming.

  "So, you’ve decided to put your needs ahead of your mom’s desires. Where does that leave you?" I've crossed my arms in a defensive posture. I turn to face him directly, a challenge. I have to know if he was honest, or just playing with—

  No. I stop that line of thought. The alternative is too damn painful to imagine, much less to dwell on intentionally. Plus, I don’t want my own negativity to color my thoughts and feelings if there’s an actual chance for me to explore the possibilities.

  He takes a step back from my intense gaze and turns half away, tilting his head back to look at the canopy high above us. Closing his eyes, he takes a slow, deep breath, and I think I see a faint smile. Wistful, maybe? It looks like the one on the Mona Lisa, that's the only comparison I can think of.

  Then, he says, "Now? I'm not certain about now. You've shown me that, for all their good intentions, the Wraiths are on shaky moral ground, too. It isn’t only the Shades, as I’ve always been taught to believe.”

  I can't believe what I'm hearing. I could just pinch myself to see if I'm dreaming.