by Kyrja
“He thought we were the threat, Sina,” Denit tried to explain. “We were trespassing on his … land, I guess. It’s where he gets his food. It’s not his fault for not understanding.”
“Then you can’t blame me for wanting to do the same thing to the strangers who trespassed in Nohoyo!” she retorted.
“Do you think the water dragon hates you?” Giya asked, reaching out to stroke the muzzle of the creature in question, now that it had calmed itself once more.
“Animals don’t hate or love!” Sina replied, still shouting.
“Your people kept feeding the dragon, Sina,” Giya told her. “They made Sov stronger and stronger, so he wanted more and more, just like our friend here would do. Only they fed him people instead of melons. Sov was supposed to thrive off of the thoughts, prayers, and worship of his people. He wasn’t supposed to feed off of their very lives. He was wrong, and it went on far too long. It should never have started, and once started, it needed to stop. That’s what happened. There was no evil intent, any more than this water dragon had evil intent in attacking Denit. But just like what happened here – that’s what happened in Nohoyo too. Your people saw the strangers the same way this water dragon saw Denit – as a threat. And so they attacked.”
“No one is ever going to make you stop wanting to hurt the people that hurt you or your people,” Denit spoke up. “Only you can decide what is right and wrong and act on that belief. If you want the killing to go on, then that’s what you’ll do – you are the only surviving Fire Tender. What you do with that power is up to you. Will you abuse it as Sov did, or act mindlessly, as the water dragon did, or will you do something else?”
“Are you going to get me out of here, or not?” Sina asked, ignoring her question.
“You knew Ozahm was here,” Denit pointed out. “Tell me how you knew.”
“He brought her here,” Giya told her, bending down to place her hand in the soil.
“So you haven’t been alone all this time!” Denit exclaimed, realization dawning.
“I never said I was,” Sina snapped, then walked closer to Giya, asking “What are you doing?”
“Feeding our friend here, so he has enough nourishment to survive until next harvest time,” she replied, pulling her hand up from the soil while wiggling her fingers. Tendrils of new plants followed her fingers as she raised them, flowing as if they were full grown under the dirt and she was pulling them up. In moments, the ground all around them was littered with vines pushing their way out of the ground and melons were growing rapidly to full-size.
“You shouldn’t be able to do that,” Sina said, shaking her head. It seemed to Denit that Sina wasn’t just surprised, but genuinely alarmed at what Giya was doing. “The soil should be sallow until the next growing cycle. I’ve seen it happen the same way, over and over again. This ground shouldn’t be able to grow anything!”
“And yet,” Giya observed quietly, putting her hands into her sleeves, “here we are.”
“If you’re so powerful, why can’t you leave here?” Sina wanted to know.
“You’re powerful,” Denit pointed out, and yet, you can’t heal anyone, or grow food. Being “powerful” isn’t the answer to everything.” Denit felt herself smile, knowing Giya would be proud to know she had learned something in the two hundred years it had taken her to grow up.
“The only way I know for anyone to leave Jikangai is to either stop Deiserin, or if I die,” Giya told them. “Come, let’s leave our friend to enjoy himself,” she suggested, walking towards the far end of the field.
“Who is this Deiserin?” Denit frowned, following her, then looking back to make sure Sina was coming along. “I thought we would have to stop Ozahm.”
“No,” Giya corrected her, “he was merely smart enough to trap me here when I required rest after Lumas left. Deiserin is the tortoise. She was the first empress of Bila, long, long ago.”
“And if you die, then what?” Denit asked, worried. “When I first got here, I was afraid you had already died.”
“If I die, then the planet will die,” she said, shrugging, but Denit knew how much that shrug cost her. “I have sent for help, through Eruitt,” Giya told her. “My apprentice. Doing so took a great deal of effort. I am more …” she hesitated … “restored now.”
“Why are we here?” Denit asked when Giya stopped in front of a rock formation.
“We will stay here while it’s night,” Giya replied, touching the rocks only to have them disappear, revealing a hidden cave.
“So we don’t get eaten!” Sina said, rubbing her arms. “Aren’t you cold?” she asked, leading the way into the cave.
“No,” Giya told her, reaching out to hold her by the arm with a look of concern on her face. When she looked back up, Denit knew there was something wrong.
“You’re feeling cold because Ozahm is trying to take your life,” Giya said, shaking her head.
“You two are so stupid!” Sina yelled, but Denit noticed she did so with less enthusiasm than when she’d been yelling before. This time, even though it was obvious she was angry, it seemed more like she was scared than anything else.
“Both of you – look at you! I’m just a human. A Fire Tender, but still human. Both of you are gods and Ozahm trapped you without a fight! I thought you were going to help me get out of here, but you’re both useless. Just useless. I never should have followed you,” Sina said, looking at Denit. “I should have gone to help Ozahm stop the turtle. Well, “she paused, taking a moment to look at each of them, “it’s not too late. He’ll figure out a way to get the turtle to stop and then it will be too late for either one of you!”
“Sina,” Denit said, feeling both angry and frustrated. “If we work together …” but Sina could no longer hear her. The girl seemed to turn to ash right before her very eyes, her body disintegrating into the ground. In a moment, she was gone.
Chapter Twenty-One – Memories and Accusations
“Remember …. Remember who you were… “
He could hear the voice of his sister echoing in his mind, but shied away from it. He knew it was unusual for him to do so, but trembled at the sound of her voice. He didn’t want to remember. He’d been insane when he’d been that boy. That man. Serat Caeli. He knew that name. He wanted to shout at her to stop. He didn’t want to remember that name. That life. He was Raito now. “The Light.” He was the moon and the moon was who he was. Now.
He always heard her voice when he was near her, during those times when her part of the world would see him as “full.” Of course, that was an absurd concept for him. Now. He was always himself, no matter where he was in his path around the planet. It was all right with him that she, somehow, felt closer to him when Denit’s light made him appear “full” to her. He would have welcomed her voice and her company on any of her nights. On each of her nights. He hoped to be able to join her on the planet sometime, when he understood better how to remove his presence from the sphere that had become his body. He feared though, that being able to stand beside her in human form would prove to be too much of a distraction, and he wouldn’t want to return to himself as the moon. Not that it would probably matter, he was sure Lumas had made sure of that.
“Remember Lumas… “
Why would Siri want him to remember the Goddess of Beauty? She was gone. If he nothing else, he was certain of that much at the very least. It was she who had created him. And his sister too. His twin sister. He had once longed for Siri to return to him, but she had left long, long ago, taking his blindness with her. He had never been the same after she left. The madness had retreated after she’d gone though, and for that he had been so very grateful. Still, it had been much like having his right hand returned to him, only to have the left taken away. And yet, he had learned how to live without her. He had learned how to thrive. He had been a god. No, he was a god still. Just much differently than he had ever thought he would be.
“Lumas touched you …”
He wasn’t sure t
hat saying she had “touched” him would be the way to explain what had happened, no. And no again, she hadn’t “touched” him. She had absorbed him, as if he had always been a part of her. An insignificant part at that. No more than a drop of water added to a cup already full. He hadn’t exactly become a part of her though, once she had enveloped him. He had remained separate, very much unlike a drop of water in a cup. She had filled him, merged with him. For the briefest moments in time, perhaps they had been interwoven enough to have been considered “as one,” but she was the greater of the two. He’d had no control once he had agreed to become … whatever he was now. A god who was a moon, a moon who was a god?
“Remember Lumas …. you know her ….”
That would be like saying you know a tree when you have done nothing more than to hold its leaf in your hand. No, I don’t know Lumas. She knows me. I am her leaf. Perhaps her acorn. Maybe so much as a branch, but nothing more. There was silence then, deafening silence. Siri had left him again. She always did. It wasn’t right that she could reach out to him, but he wasn’t able to initiate contact with her. He missed her. His sister. And so much more.
“Lumas was amazing … and so beautiful too …”
Maybe he wasn’t able to physically breathe a sigh of relief at the return of Siri’s voice, but the emotion of gratitude flooded through him. He knew she would be able to feel it. She knew everything he thought. She always had. Lumas, though, had never cared about him. He wasn’t sure who or what she might have ever cared about. She created on a whim, but rarely remained to tend to that which she had fashioned into being. As if planting a hundred rose bushes was enough, but the effort to trim, weed, water, and nourish them was a bother. What difference did it make to her whether they bloomed or died? Or even if they grew into a unruly mess? She had done her part in having created a thing.
“Lumas was clever in many ways … and in many things she created…”
She was also careless, he knew. Some called her a trickster, or a demon. Others were blinded by her beauty. Some were overwhelmed with her charm and counted themselves as blessed because she looked their way. In truth, she was destroyer as much as she was a creator, but none of it mattered to her. Her only goal was to escape boredom and loneliness. If others experienced joy or harm in the course of matters she set into motion, it meant nothing to her. Nothing.
“Lumas left many behind …. broken, angry, and alone …”
Alone. Like me.
“Alone… like you … Alone … like Deiserin of the Empire of Bila …”
… like … who? Bila? Wait! I remember! From the crystal. I saw her. Lumas made her … I remember seeing her cut her baby’s throat. Lumas made her do that. But the baby – her son – why is it always the sons who must suffer? Does she hate us all so very much? It was terrible. I saw Deiserin do that when I was just a boy. When Oculis was still a small owl. Do you remember Oculis Siri? Do you?
“I remember Oculis … he was so happy when you picked him up. He never flew away… “
I saw so many things when I was blind. And now I can see. But I saw too much, Siri. Lumas tried to hide everything from me, but I saw it all through the crystal. There was nothing I didn’t see. He felt like sobbing then. But I saw it all at once! The past, the present, and the future. It hurt me.
“You can see now … the pain is gone …”
No, the pain will never be gone. I can see it all still. Especially when I’m alone. I fear I may slip back into madness if I am alone forever.
“Jikangai… Did you see Lumas create this place? This terrible place?”
Deiserin is there. She still puts one slow foot in front of the other, marking time that is outside of time. Marking nothing at all except the perimeter of her prison.
“Lumas was clever in creating such a prison …”
No! She was hateful and vengeful. Deiserin killed her own son – the smallest of babies. He was nothing but a tiny, tiny thing. Her hatred of doing so echoed throughout all time so that even I, so very far away, could hear her heart break in the future, and even now, in the past. She killed her son in a pledge of loyalty to Lumas. She was sincere. Lumas thought it quite the jest. What mother – what father – could retain their sanity after such an act?
“Deiserin should be freed …”
Yes! Yes she should! No one should ever be so alone. Never. It is the worst kind of suffering, to be so alone.
“Can you free her? Or must she suffer forever more?”
If I do, she will no longer be alone. But I will be. I will always be alone. Why should I help her when no one will help me?
“You’re right … let her suffer then … she made her choice…”
No she didn’t! Lumas tricked her! Weren’t you listening to me? Why must I relive all of these nightmares, these terrible scenes of slaughter that I cannot stop, that I could not stop? And each tender moment of compassion and care, if I cannot share in it myself? Am I nothing more than a shelf upon which all memories are laid to turn to dust? Must I watch, helplessly, eon after eon, unable to alter a single event? Lumas was evil to create me just so that I might one day take her place. She made me love you so that I would think I was never alone, but I have always been alone!
“What would happen to Deiserin if she was released from her prison?”
I don’t know.
“Because you are nothing more than shelf upon which memories turn to dust?”
You’re taunting me, and I don’t like it.
“Remember … Remember who you were …”
I was alone and blind. I was insane. I saw her, you know. Deiserin. I saw her cut her son’s throat and never shed a tear. I ached for her. I cried for her. I saw her husband, Zemer, enter into the Second Circle of Jikangai because he loved her so deeply. He wanted to wait for her. But he was alone too. Too alone. For too long. And now his son thinks he will be able to enter the Second Circle. It’s madness. All of it. Jikangai is a place out of time.
“You have lived your life out of time …”
You think you’re so clever, sister of mine. I know what you want. I’ve seen it before and only just remembered. He paused. I don’t want to be alone forever. I don’t. I chose to be the moon that is a god, the god that is a moon. It was my choice. I hate Lumas. The blood of Deiserin’s firstborn son will stop her slow march around the perimeter of her prison, but it won’t do what you want it to do. The Earth Goddess will still be trapped and the Lord of Death will defeat her. Denit, too, will die if you do nothing more than stop Deiserin’s plodding and she will retain her tortoise form. You must agree to join me, before I will help you. I will not remain alone forever. Choose.
It took Raito a very long time to understand Siri Ventus was not going to answer him. He had been certain she would choose to come to him rather than let the others die. To let the entire planet die. If the planet died, Siri would leave and then he would really be alone, the solitary moon in orbit over a dead planet, whose sun had been extinguished.
He’d seen it though – he had. That she had come willingly to him. It was Denit, he knew. It was because she had absorbed the crystal into herself that he could no longer read the tides of time. And Denit was now in Jikangai, a place out of time. Raito, the god that was the moon, the moon that was the god, the being who had once been Serat Caeli, wept bitter tears of loneliness.
* * * * * * * *
Looking around at everyone gathered, Chared had a strange sense of being “other.” It was ridiculous he knew, because almost every one of the men and woman around him was his offspring. He’d only met a handful of them, while they all seemed to know each other. He felt almost shy, and afraid to look at any of them, for fear that they would think he was searching for his own features in their faces. How odd it was to stand here among his own children, when he’d never thought to have any of his own. Of course, they weren’t really his, he just happened to have been chosen to participate in a ritual wherein each of their mothers was impregnated by him. That thought did
n’t help one bit. That meant each of these people knew he had had sex with their mothers. Suppressing a sigh of frustration, tinged with what he was sure was unwarranted embarrassment, he looked up when High Priestess Khashya stepped out of the door to join the rest of them on the roof of the Temple of Life. Nor was he surprised to find his daughters, Baya and Aku with her. What was surprising was that Aku kept walking towards him, even when the others stopped. He could tell by the way they reacted that they were surprised as well. She had an intense look of determination on her face and was looking directly into his eyes. She had something to tell him, then. He was beginning to understand her better, and could tell by the look on her face that whatever she had to say wasn’t unpleasant. Inhaling deeply, he realized he felt a great deal of relief. He tried a smile on and found he was pleased when she smiled in return.
“The path is clear, but you will have to choose,” she told him, as soon as she was standing in front of him. He wanted badly to look around to see if anyone else was paying attention to them, but resisted the temptation. They all knew that most of them were his sons and daughters, so were also each other’s brothers and sisters. Whether they knew about each other’s magical abilities or not – or what they thought of those abilities – wasn’t something he was privy to. Nor did it matter. For some reason he would never be able to clearly articulate, he found himself liking this strange daughter of his.
“Do you know what the choices are?” he asked her in return. He took it as fact that she could truly see the future, or at least some version of it. He knew he would be a fool to dismiss anything she said as nonsense or irrelevant. He had no idea what to expect when his mother returned, so was happy to have some kind of barometer to gauge what was coming.
“You won’t like either choice,” she told him, still smiling.
“Then why do you seem so happy?” he asked, suddenly frowning.
“Because you will choose right,” she said, her whole face lit up as if he had just given her the gift of her heart’s desire.
