Anais Eternal

by Paige Graffunder

  But for us, the Himlani had learned during the Deception prior to the Devastation that Fae are immortal. From the moment they learned of our immortality, they sought to reproduce it for themselves, no matter the cost. They trigger our magic first, through merciless and brutal pain. This process that strips even the strongest of us of all that makes us ourselves. Fae live in complete harmony with our magic when we are trained properly in the ways to speak to it. To have one's magic forced out of them with no control is comparable to the forceful extraction of our soul. With our magic laid, they harvest our magic-rich blood. From the information that had been delivered to us, they drank it like we used to drink wine. Prolonging their lives, but only for a time. They had not yet discovered how to replicate our immortality. They couldn't keep us in colonies; we were too wild, too full of magic to be contained. Instead, they hunted us relentlessly, with no thought of the preservation of our species. To them we were just another finite resource to expire. They had sensors everywhere, able to detect all but the smallest threads of magic, and always listening for our language. Even in a whisper it was almost never safe to speak freely with our own voices. So, we had learned the Human's tongue, and kept the knowledge of the Himlani tongue alive in Fae survivors. Speaking the language of our hunters kept us safe. They were too focused on conquest to suspect that we might remember what they taught us.

  So, we hide behind glamoured masks of Human faces and bodies. Softening our edges, rounding our ears, and dulling the shine of our hair, the shimmer our skin produced, all but extinguished. The glamour required to shift into the appearance of a Himlani was a detectable amount of magic, as some unfortuante Fae had discovered right after the Devastation. It felt as though their sensors could smell magic on us. All who tried to blend in with the Himlani were quickly extinguished. They kept their merciless mechanical eyes fixed on the skies for us. Although my sister and I were not from a region where wings were a common feature, the Fae are a diverse species. There are still many who remain with wings of all types sprouting from between their shoulders. Feathers like birds, stretched solid membranes like a bat, or scaled and dusted like a moth. As distinct and variable as eye color. What a curse it must be to have the gift of flight, of the freedom of the sky, but never be able to use it. The moment a Fae tried to flee by the air, their sensors would track and capture. I had never seen a Fae take flight and survive. While wings would have been wonderful, I was glad for my smooth back.

  After 45 minutes of doubling back and veering off again, I reached the spot, halting several meters away, I reached out across my magical bond to Ayesha, to see if the coast was clear. She indicated that there was no danger, but Tatiana had ingrained in me an abundance of caution. Taking no chances, I scaled the nearest tree nearly to the top, reaching across the divide to the nearest tree, and crossed to the spot Tatiana had designated by leaping from branch to branch. Relatively quickly I reached the tree directly above where I had found Ayesha. I sank down on the branch, putting my back to the trunk. I peered down but saw no sign of Tatiana yet. I settled back against the trunk, preparing to wait. Ayesha alighted on my knee and cocked her head at me.

  Even without our bond, it was clear what she wanted. I rolled my eyes at her, smiling, and reached into my pocket producing a handful of dried corn. I held my hand out to her, and she devoured her snack while I watched her affectionately. Tatiana had told me to wait only for an hour, but I was prepared to wait much longer. She could rage at me all she wanted, but I wasn’t leaving here without my sister. I made myself as comfortable as I could and touched the tree with my free hand, seeking its heart with a sliver of my magic, connecting myself to its roots. I think that people, Fae and Humans alike overlook the sensitivity of trees. Their roots pick up vibrations in the earth and where they touch the roots of other trees, they can pass messages. With only the smallest sliver of my magic, I could use this sensitivity to warn myself of anyone approaching on the ground.

  Tatiana had told me that prior to the Devastation many groups of Humans had lived as we do now. She called them nomads. She said that instead of running from predators, they followed food, and rain, and fertile lands. They traded and bartered and set up camps as they went. I guess that's what we are now. Nomads. Though, in my heart of hearts, I know that isn't true, we follow no food, or water, or migratory path. We are hunted, we are fugitives on our own planet. We have become prey.

  Curses

  I am small.

  Wings not large.

  Mama coming.

  I can hear her.

  She lands at home.

  Cocks her head once.

  Cocks her head twice.

  With her body she says,

  "Danger close."

  With my body I say,

  "Save me!"

  With her body she says,

  "I love you."

  With my eyes I say,

  "I love you too."

  She nudges me.

  Pushes me to the edge.

  I cry out,

  "Mama, no!"

  Her body, her voice is anguished.

  It screams,

  " I can't save you."

  The edge is close.

  Too close.

  I tip.

  I stay,

  Suspended.

  I fall.

  She cries after me.

  Her voice a mess of pain.

  She takes wing.

  Still crying,

  "I'm sorry."

  Water.

  Wet.

  Cold.

  Pain.

  I cry out for mama.

  Mama is gone.

  Danger is close.

  I cry anyway.

  There is something big.

  Too big.

  Bigger than me.

  I am touched.

  I don't like it.

  I bite.

  I taste blood.

  I am lifted.

  I am held.

  I am warm.

  I am hers.

  ◆◆◆

  After I had been in the tree for 50 minutes or so, I began to get worried. Tatiana should not be taking this long. Not unless she had met trouble. Trouble when the Himlani are involved meant near-certain death. Ayesha slept in my lap; her head tucked beneath her wing. I stroked her feathers absently and listened. I heard nothing, except for the sounds of the forest. It was almost noon now judging by the way the sun was filtering through the canopy. I would let Ayesha sleep a little longer before I woke her up to search for Tatiana.

  I let my mind drift, as I tried not to focus on my missing sister. My hand was still filtering a thread of magic through the tree. It alerted me of movement on the ground nearby. Still probably 30 feet away. The tree was old, and its roots were massive, tangling with the roots of other trees, creating a security net for me. My eyes snapped open, but I did not move. I knew my clothing and my glamour would keep me from being spotted. I sent a short, quiet message to Ayesha through the bond, wake my friend, but do not move, something is coming.

  Ayesha didn’t remove her head from beneath her wing, but I could tell she was awake. I stayed still and silent, unmoving and waited. I had a knife at my hip, but against a Himlani hunter carrying a Rounder, I was no match. Another shiver through the heart of the tree told me whatever was coming was drawing nearer. Whatever it was, was approaching from the west. I turned my head slowly, with the silent, effortless grace gifted to my people. I slid my gaze down to look at the forest floor. At first, I didn't see anything, but after a moment my eye picked up movement. I couldn't see the form clearly, just a shifting, shimmering outline of a body in motion.

  A cloaked Himlani. If you didn’t know precisely what to watch for or weren't looking for them with a shrewd and practiced eye, you would never have a hope of spotting them. Himlani scales have a limited ability to change color. They have evolved and adapted to make themselves nearly invisible by matching their environment. The figure halted five meters from my tree. My magic whispered inside
my head. I shushed it. I couldn't use any more magic than I already was. If I did, the Himlani below me would surely be able to sense me. It was a miracle they hadn’t spotted me yet. Even though I was using an infinitesimal amount of magic, they were really close to me. At this proximity they should sense me, so why weren’t they coming for me?

  Despite the whispering of my magic in my mind, I withdrew the thread of my magic from inside the tree, slowly and with great care. Back to relying on my senses only, I thanked the tree for allowing me to share its space as the last of my magic retreated. The core of my magic grew restless, the power inside me whispered more insistently. I ignored it, remaining perfectly silent. I peered down at the cloaked Himlani, as they moved slowly and rather aimlessly. They looked lost; I narrowed my eyes perplexed by the erratic way it was moving.

  I have been fortunate; I wasn’t generally accustomed to seeing them at all. When I have had the misfortune to witness their behaviors firsthand, they were always surgically precise and efficient. Not like this stumbling and panting cloaked monster, looking for all the world as if it might be terrified. After another few tense moments, the Himlani dropped their camouflage, their silver scales and tangled raven hair in stark contrast to the muted earth tones of the forest. They had no weapon, no Rounder I could see, and their hair was a little worse for wear. Normally hunters wore their hair up in severe looking braids and buns to avoid inhibiting their movements. This one, however, had theirs down, loose and tangled. A black substance streaked their body and their four-fingered hand clutched at a spot on their side, where the substance was thickest. For the first time in my whole life, I saw a Himlani wince.

  I had only ever known Himlani as the conquerors of my world. I had never seen one show weakness like this. I stared transfixed as it dawned on me that the black liquid was likely their blood. My magic whispered more insistently, and I felt my empathy rise. Angrily I shushed my magic and stuffed the feeling down. I would not feel empathy for this creature, this monster that had run my people to the edge of extinction. I couldn't. This creature and its people had been responsible for the death of my parents, my pod, of everyone I knew, of friends and strangers. For the capture of Serrif, and the loss of my sister's laughter, her joy. There were no lines on her face, but in the distant future when her youthful face did begin to show age, it would not be the corners of her mouth that creased, but between her brows.

  As if my thought had summoned her somehow, movement caught my eye again. I looked behind the Himlani and saw Tatiana's lithe form approaching with deadly grace. Her footfalls silenced even on the dry leaves carpeting the forest floor. Her knife was clutched in her hand and her pack was off her back. She stalked forward, the Himlani too focused on inspecting their injuries to notice her. Tatiana's eyes flashed up to mine and widened in shock and fear. When she saw the creature so close to me, her eyes focused with murderous intent, and she was on them before I could take another breath.

  Tatiana crashed into the Himlani and they both tumbled forward into the creek, the Himlani clicking and screeching in surprise. No words, just an exclamation of shock. Carried by the momentum of her attack, the two flipped over each other and landed with the Himlani on top. Ayesha took flight as I dropped from my hiding place in the tree. As I landed, my knees barking from the fall, my sister used the shock of the still reeling alien and flipped the Himlani over straddling their form, pinning their knees beneath them. Her knife pressed against their throat, the fingers of her free hand wound cruelly into the alien’s hair, pressing it into the icy water of the cree. Tatiana had her sharp teeth bared, the glamour hiding her true features slipping, showing the wounded Himlani the truth of her violence.

  The Himlani struggled weekly beneath my sister, whimpering in fear but Tatiana was strong, rested, and uninjured. The Himlani was bleeding and weary, Tatiana held them with minimal effort. I approached the two of them, my magic’s whispering rising to a near shout laced with urgent insistence. I ignored its roar in my mind as I approached. I got close enough to hear the Himlani swallow audibly and start to speak. Tatiana tightened her hold on its hair and pressed the knife harder against their throat, snarling.

  "You don't get to speak, filth," she spat, in Himlani. The Himlani blinked both sets of eyelids in surprise, ceasing their fruitless struggle. Watching them give up, the fight leaving their scaled body pulled at me, my brows knitted together but I remained silent.

  I peered over Tatiana's shoulder down at the Himlani, my magic a screaming roiling mass in the pit of my stomach now. They had eyes of the deepest purple. Almost blue, with silver rings around the irises. They looked from my sister to my face and swallowed hard again. With their eyes locked on me, they whispered in their clicking harsh voice, "Help me." I whirled around expecting to see another Himlani, but there was no one, not even the outline of a cloaked monster. I turned back to the prone creature, droplets of their black blood beginning to show where my sister's blade pressed into their scales. Tatiana snarled again and pressed harder. The Himlani tensed pressing their shoulders into the creek bed trying to avoid her blade. I glanced behind me again, but there was still no one. They couldn’t be addressing me, could they?

  I furrowed my brow at the Himlani, my magic a cacophony so loud that I could barely think, my vision going fuzzy around the edges from the pressure it was creating inside me. My sister leaned in close to the Himlani, her nose a breath away from theirs, before she whispered the most heinous curse among our people, "If there is an afterlife, I ask that you be barred. No good, no bad, just empty. I ask that you walk alone in the void forever." She pulled the knife from the Himlani's throat and raised it to plunge into their head.

  Then the world went mad.

  Madness and Magic

  Tatiana sat alone in her room, leaning up against the headboard of her bed twisting her silver bracelet around and around on her wrist. She should be sleeping, she knew that. She was still young, but old enough to have things in her room. The Fae did things differently than Humans when it came to the treatment of their young. The Humans showered lavish gifts on their infants, who are, of course, too young to appreciate them, and then provided them less and less as they grew older. A foolish practice. What use does a youngling that cannot move beyond some rudimentary flailing have for thousands of toys and stuffed animals? The Fae, instead, provide necessities for their younglings only. As the younglings grow, and mature, and come into themselves, they are provided with things to aid them in their learning, in the control of their magic, and things that,with age, comes appreciation for. Fae children also grew at a different pace than Humans. The Humans took 20 years or so to fully mature. (Though Tatiana had observed that some of them never really ever did.) The Fae were helpless younglings for longer, but in the grand scheme of their long lives, for a relatively short period of time. Fae were born and for the first three years were reliant entirely on their Pod and parents. Fae raise their children in multi-generational, and multi-family homes, a village under one very large roof rather than insular nuclear units. From the age of 3 to 60 years, Fae were considered children. The magic in most Fae children awakened between the ages of 3 to 5, and their bodies grew quickly and then tapered off at around 100. After 100 years of age, they remained relatively changeless. Tatiana was on the cusp of adulthood, nearing 60, and ready to get on with it. She had felt more than fully matured for several years now and was ready to take on the responsibilities that befell a full member of the Pod.

  Her Pod was currently below her, in the drawing-room, discussing her sister, Anais. Tatiana yearned to be down there, to be a part of the conversation. She wanted to be involved. Age and tradition barred her from the participation she so yearned for. So, instead, she was up here, in her room, using her magic to elevate her already superior hearing, and trying to catch what the conversation was about. They were talking about Anais' magic again. Anais was about 4 or 5, and still very much a youngling. Though she was walking and talking and had begun to display signs of her magic, in the
eyes of her older sister, she was little more than an infant. Her Pod seemed anxious about her, as though she were something to be feared instead of a youngling, who could barely feed herself. How could such a tiny thing pose a threat to anyone? Tatiana ceased her fidgeting with her bracelet and closed her eyes, whispering to her magic, making it focus more clearly on the conversation below after several minutes of brooding.

  "Annalisa, you can't deny she is different." The deep rumbling woodsy voice of a male.

  "Of course not, Trom," replied the succinct and stately voice of Tatiana’s father. "We simply don't think her difference is dangerous. She is progressing faster than most when it comes to communicating with her magic, that is undeniable. But she is otherwise a joyful, lovely youngling. What you are suggesting is just not done anymore." There was some murmuring of agreement or dissenting opinions, not voiced beyond wordless sounds. Followed by noises of movements through the room, and it sounded like someone had risen from a chair and was now pacing. It was several moments before anyone else spoke.

  "I don't think there could be any harm in taking her before Nysthrani, just to be sure. As much as I never wish to go there again, if she is of the Oracle, we need to know." A cracked ancient voice, sounding more like the wind through trees at night than a person speaking.

  "Mother, don't," said the elegant and melodic voice of her mother, Annalisa. Tatiana frowned in her room. What was so special about a youngling? Anais hadn't shown anything that had ever impressed her, let alone anything that would have warranted this conversation. She didn't know who Nysthrani was, but the way her grandmother said the name worried her. Elena was over 15,000 years old, and having seen so much of the world, she often told Tatiana, she was out of things to fear, but... But she had said this name, Nysthrani, as though she feared the one it belonged to.

  ◆◆◆

  One moment my magic was screaming so loudly inside my head I could barely hear anything else, the sound as oppressive and brutal as anything I had ever experienced before. My sister straddling the Himlani, knife at the apex of the arc that would end their life, Ayesha perched on a branch above the scene, and then the world exploded. My magic, no longer willing to be ignored, burst forth from me, my body pushed backward with the force of it, an invisible wall of pressure emanating out from me. As it hit my sister, she gasped and toppled off the Himlani, rolling clear across the creek. The Himlani also was forced back, their body digging trenches in the mud of the creek’s bank. I could see it all as I fell backward, everything happening in slow motion.