Last read in part one: Fragments of a healing psyche, ancient and raw. Before you is a new perspective, a witness full of unspent wrath. Please read part one before continuing: click me
I hold the charm loosely in my grip. A new bounce to my step. It was finally time. The spring equinox had arrived, and power thrummed in my veins. I used to have hope for this modern world. That one day they would wake and remember.
Soon I realized betrayal was a poisoned tongue passed through lineage. Most mortals still bubbled with trepidation, quick to anger. Clinging to the gaps of missing memory. Conjuring tales to explain the mysteries of this world.
I have walked among them through the dark these past centuries. Alone. Aching. Waiting. Setting a silent glowing path to lead them towards truth. Still, some refused to trust their senses, and denied my helping hands.
It was so easy before The Triad, and his sacrifice. Before they took his name in vain with the same breath used to plunge the dagger in his back. His wails are deafening as they twist his words to fit their tyranny.
I haven’t been worshiped in some time, not on purpose, but The Triad is kind to lend me space beside him during the celebrations this time of year. I used to beg him to fix it, to call the council. He still hesitates from fear of what I would do to him, the demon lurking in the trench.
Both The Triad and I desire retribution. However, he detests that part of himself. Hides from the vengeful mirror to what he once was, in another life.
The charm was cool to the touch. A smooth blue globe cradled in my palm. It was worth more to me than every new blossom emerging from the acrid soil. I had kept her safe all these centuries.
The day I saw my Asherah felled by the bronze sword with her blood dripping on the desert sands, I spoke with swift hushed intentions. I unraveled her slowly, carefully, and threaded her blood with mine. I didn’t give myself the time to think, to question. My mind’s sole focus on tying her to me. The grief of our shattered plans was an unbearable thought easily shoved aside by a wave of boiling wrath.
At night I selfishly dive into her dreams, slowly coaxing life to return. I wonder if she even notices me. Does she remember me fully, or am I just a happy whim she hides away even in this deep sleep state?
We were so used to feigning friendship. Accustomed to stealing moments of bliss in dark forgotten corners. Our love a threat to them for reasons never shared. It didn’t take much to see the source was a battered ego.
The streets teemed with mortals staring at the cracks in concrete. Some spoke on phones. While others simply shouldered their way toward their destinations. I would not miss this place of lost connection.
Eventually I found myself near dew drops and old oaks. A place long promised to us. Away from the brittle sand. Chirping birds in playful flight. I took a breath of the sweet and earthy air. I knelt and placed the charm in a fallen green leaf. A gift from the old tree. Soft footsteps came from behind.
“So you have come,” I said without turning.
“Of course I came. You know how I feel, Eastre. You know how I cry for her. A part of me wishes to flood this world all over again.”
I turn to face The Triad. His eyes red rimmed as if he was indeed still crying for her, our dear Asherah.
“I would have happily threaded our power together. I never wanted to embolden the usurpers. I did not ask them to use me as their excuse to,” his voice darkened, “disrupt the sacred balance, to twist it to suit their needs.”
His violation was different from mine, from Asherah’s. To be made to seem so shallow must cut deep into one's worth. For most to twist their morality around what others claimed with no proof. Wars waged in his name. And though I feel for him, a part of me could not forgive him for his compliance. My stomach twists each time I sense salt on the wind. Reminded of that vile creature still allowed to thrive in the depths of the sea, hidden from justice.
“Fear creates fickle fiends my friend. It attaches to each legacy leeching all good sense,” I reply, “but it is in your hands now, whether you like it or not.”
We have had this conversation frequently, always meeting the same tired conclusion. The Triad was still new. Not used to the nature of the mortals. Their swiftly shifting allegiances, and their ironclad assumptions. He allowed the fear of slipping into old habits to keep him from delivering just consequences.
I let out a sigh. Relief from this burden was only moments away.
I felt his presence slip closer to the ring of stone and bramble I created. There was one final piece to add to the ritual. I gingerly opened the tattered parchment, one of the many letters from the past centuries. I had clung to our correspondence long before the tragedy. This one though, had been my lifeline during this time without her.
Its well worn folds were soft against my finger tips. These were the first bold words she had written to me. Possibly the ones that damned her fate. A confession. The spark of hope that the seeds we planted in secret rendezvous had grown roots.
Dearest Eastre,
I find myself counting the days as I step from one sandstone tile to the next. This palace is so bleak I forget what the sun feels like. Without your words lighting something within me, I know I would be dead. I lay awake at night staring into the rippling ceiling pretending we are together. Skipping around a secret glen. One lush with moss, and ferns. Calling on the Earth to bless us with cool breezes and warm sun kissed stones. Planting bulbs and healing bruised petals, together. I have stopped asking myself why they would do this, make this wretched deal. What does it matter in the end? The why, when it simply is. Only I can make the choice. Somehow. Two moons and I will be free to feel your warmth in my hands.
Your Truest Friend, Asherah
I quickly brush the tears from my cheeks not wanting one to slip onto the fragile paper. I hold the charm to my breast one last time with a hushed prayer on my lips, and The Triad’s hand on my shoulder.
“Our freedom awaits, my love.”
The Triad stood a few yards away. He wore simple linen, rough and worn from use. His sandals discarded as he enjoyed the feel of the soft grass. Pleas were a constant hum in the back of his mind. He closed his eyes and pushed the desperate voices away past his mental blockade. He felt a pinch of guilt. He shoved that down too, allowing it no space in his mind. Today was a day for her.
When he arrived on this plane, his father had warned him of the subterfuge and treachery among mankind. He warned him not to allow their ilk into his own heart, and he didn’t. Though he soon saw that the mortals were not alone tainted by material possessions. He long wondered if this mission went beyond saving the meek.
He would never forget the glint of brown skin dancing in the light, a panicked thing. The fear in her eyes as she fled from her captor. He still dreamt of the bronze blade tearing through muscle and woke to the crack of bone.
Eastre placed her hands on either side of the ring. Her soft voice sang one final farewell to him.
“Do remember, friend, that this is not entirely goodbye. Make the council hear you, or rid yourself of them before it is too late for this realm. That is when we shall return,” her voice rang with a sadness that left him cold.
“I do not know what I will do without your wisdom,” he said, his voice strained from emotion.
“You know where to find us if your desperation for company is ever so low,” she said with a soft chuckle.
With those final words she turned, her arms raised towards the sun. The Triad watched her skin glow. Her aura shifting from gold to pink to mint until starlight surrounded her. He sent his own pure intentions toward his friends. One he had known over several lifespans, the other he had never met. A sense of divine justice filled his veins empowering his own magic, and he sent it all to them.
Once the light faded two rabbits were left huddled in the circle. Nose to nose they sat. Quiet clucking and purrs drifted to him. Despite feeling intrusive he couldn’t part from them, not yet. The amber one faced him with penetrating golden eyes. The other with tawny fur faced him. Her hazel eyes widening in recognition.
Slowly she came to him. Her nose twitched with curiosity. The Triad knelt before her with an outstretched hand. A snort of impatience from the amber rabbit caused him to chuckle.
“I promise not to visit too often, I know solitude calls for you both. I am so happy to see you, to meet you at long last, Asherah,” he said, smiling down.
With one final look in The Triad’s direction Asherah raced over to Eastre. She collided into her with such force that the two rabbits rolled together in the grass. Racing and leaping over stones and ferns. He watched in amazement as they jumped higher and higher towards the sky, until they didn’t touchdown. Instead two doves cooed and soared above him.
At last, they were truly free.
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Indie Creator Collective Vol 1. is in the final formatting stage. I am so excited for its release and to start the process all over again! Where Magic is Made proof copy is on the way!
This is lovely. I got really pulled in by the language, and I haven't yet read the earlier chapters!