| Seer jolted from dreams, whimpering. She sat upright, staring into the deep dark that blanketed the cart. The depth of the shadows suggested that Kelnai was gone, again. Usually when Seer awoke from nightmares, the wails of the dying still echoing in her ears, a soft red glow - the vibrancy of life - emanated from Kelnai. Most Magi had such an aura, a soft glow somewhat resembling the shade of the Jihann that had chosen them. Seer wrapped her arms around herself, drawing her legs up, and began rocking slowly. A tear squeezed from her bright green eye, and the shadows eased as her eyes cleared. Pains radiated through her bones - her dreams were becoming more real. Every night when she slipped into unforgiving sleep she dreamt first of the faces of her dead family. The heavens, had they not been utterly empty, would have ordained that her family had deserved death, but not the slow stripping their daughter had chosen for them. Had the heavens not been abandoned, then sleep might have held more for Seer than visions of her rotting blood family, a world so different – so much brighter – than the world in which she lived, and that singular dream about fire that always followed their faces. It was always the same: Dharin, kneeling beside her, Jenya's song, and a ring of flames, and laughter. The Sight frightened her, as did the laughter of her mother and father blotting out the screams had begun to stay with her even after she woke. More than the laughter, what scared her about the dream was the uncertainty. She could never see anyone's face, nor could she decipher what it meant, other than she was meant to suffer. She knew better by now than to examine her skin. Though it felt peeled, cracked and aqueous she knew by now that if she looked she would find it as smooth as ever, aside from the plethora of scars left from her childhood. The Jihann was changing her, as they changed all Magi. Yet, the energy that radiated from the tiny stone embedded in her palm seemed so sinister. She almost felt foolish, watching the infinitesimal glow pulsate deep within the opal, horrified that every day, the luminous beat of the Jihann matched the rhythm of her heart a little more closely. Fresh tears planted themselves in her eyes, and the weight of loneliness and desperation fastened themselves to her consciousness. A voice, soft and searing, echoed in her mind. "You should hate what you are," her dead mother's sibilant words fought to make themselves clear above the death sobs of the Taer'shal. "You are no better than the Shriedhan that glut themselves on your work." "Mayalin," Seer choked. The Kaer'melthek word for "mother" sounded so strange. "Why does it hurt so badly? What have I done? Help me think-" "It is hopeless to keep thinking," that tiny voice whispered. "Your thoughts, your dreams, and everything you love is going to betray you. Not even your Acharya can save you from what is coming. You are going to die, Mal'kenar." Seer's true name, terrible mistake, stung. "I pray that it is painful. Those dark things you see in your dreams-" a vision of a massive scaled beast, bloodied maw gaping, filled her mind. "Those dark things are going to shred your pretty head, and I will be there, laughing." The icy voice snickered, and the smoldering in her bones gave way to a piercing frostiness. "You have done nothing to fight this. This," shards of ice began shredding her mind. "This is the best you deserve." The heels of her palms automatically pressed at her temples and a loud cry escaped her lips as her feet found the floor. She stood, shaking all over, whimpering. Salt-jewels bloomed in her eyes, and the tracks they left felt like acid on Seer's tender skin. She stumbled outside in a foolish attempt to escape the pain, and the cold voice of her dead mother. Outside, Seer shuffled away from the carts with her eyes shut tightly. The tear tracks on her luminous skin felt like deep gouges; the bones beneath felt exposed. She sank to her bare knees, sobbing softly. Her palms left her head and clutched the ground. Her fingernails dug into the sticky earth, but none of the gore from that day dirtied her hands. The pain died as suddenly as it had bloomed, but the laughter remained. Her mother's voice, always reminding her that she was an accident, a mistake stayed but softened. Maybe Seer could learn to ignore it before she died. With her hands dug into the earth, still on her knees, she glared accusingly at the stars, which twinkled obliviously in their empty heavens. Tears still flowed from her eyes, spilling over onto her bare chest. Sniffling pitifully, she pulled her nails from the ground and forced herself to her feet. Before limping back to sleep, she stared at her stars for a while, daring them - begging them - to make this world different. She prayed to gods that she had been told died with the Old World to shape this plane into something like the somewhat happy places she saw in her Dreams. So much needed to change. The world owed her apologies; she owed several to the people in her life. Standing beneath an empty sky, shivering with her arms crossed, she had an epiphany. This godless, painful world desperately needed to change. |