Bound By Blood (56 page)

             
Know thy self and live. Die. Live again. Nothing lasted forever because nothing lived forever to witness it lasting. What can exist without proof of its e
xistence? What proof did St
a
phãyn
leave behind except the pain which crippled her now?
Where were his children?
Everything faded in one way or another, fading into something changed and unknown. Nothing was what it seemed to be. She remembered him reminding her of that.
She remembered him also saying,
why do I call you silly Vii?

             
“Silly
Vii who falls so easily for Dĩas
’ illusions,”
s
he remembered St
a
phãyn
saying, and the night he’d said it. Her memories played out in front of her. Through blurry
eyes,
she watched.

             
She was so happy then about earning her title of High Priestess. How she’d fought for it, struggled for it, pushed past her boundaries to have it! She had just been through the ritual making her one with the Goddess, the voice of the Goddess, the daughter of the Goddess. She had escaped the celebrations afterwards, having no interest in them, so that she could sit alone in a dark room and dream-- dream of the good she would do, the magic she would do, the things she would change or make better.
Sitting there i
n
her long dark robes,
she was
trying to decide how she would rediscover the Old Ways
, o
r so she thought
--
until St
a
phãyn
laughed at her, until he slapped her in the face with his truths.

             
“Silly Vii, your dreams are only dreams. Your title is nothing more th
an an illusion. Do you think Dĩas
will ever allow you
to even come into your full power? Nothing is what it seems. Your mother has told you this often. Nothing is what it seems. All of this is but an illusion
,
”
h
e
’d
said from behind her, opening his flask and taking a drink. He wore his normal warrior garb, dark pants,
boots,
and unbuttoned, loose sleeved shirt.

             
“It’s not true. I earned this. I gave up so much. I sacrificed so much. You’re only being bitter,
St
a
phãyn
. You have become so very bitter.”
She told him that, truly believing it.

             
He had not been the same since his mother died. He swore he would never be the same.

             
“Let me heal you of your pain,
S
ta
phãyn
. Let me take away the hurt. I can do that for you. I can ease your heart and mind.”
She reached out for him, but he yanked himself away from her.

             
“My pain is the only thing that reminds me I am still living. It reminds me of w
hy it is I suffer
. So I do not forget and become as silly as you.”
He never once sounded angry. His voice never rose. It only showed his
misery
.
“You have such big dreams. You have always been this way, always thinking you can save the world. Maybe you were born to that dest
iny but we will never know. Dĩas
will never allow you to know unless you free yourself from his cage-- unless you free your mind and see past the illusions.”

             
He knew he caused her great mystification and he knew he caused her great pain on a night which she’d deemed so wonderful. Tears filled her
sparkling
eyes but he’d thought it was only concerning what he said, when in reality she cried for him. She felt herself losing him, which meant she was losing a part of herself, too.

             
He wrapped his arms around her from behind. He lowered his head so he could whisper into her ear.
“Don’t worry, my silly little Vii. One night you will no longer be chained to the fears they give to you. You will see our world for what it is and one night you may even break the cage and fly. But will you know the means which will give you that kind of power? Will you recognize the form your freedom takes? Will you recognize the eyes that promise it? Wil
l you take his hand and know him by
name? Will you trust in yourself?”

             
Thunder rumbled above as
Samanthŕa
’s awareness
shatter
ed away from her memory. It was a memory she’d forgotten
until now. St
a
phãyn’s
words haunted her and she cursed herself for not remembering them sooner.

             
The wind began to blow and a soft voice was carried with it.
“Underneath the willow, remember the willow?”

             
She heard St
a
phãyn’s
last request as lightning splintered
the air
above. She thought he had been trying to make her remember the times they shared when they were children. Children…

             
“
Left some-something for you. Willow. Remember why I call you silly Vii?”

             
“I remember!”
Samanthŕa
cried as she began to search the Willow tree. She remembered a large hole at the bottom of its base. Fresh dirt had been moved away from it. Stones had been stacked to hide it. She threw them aside and started to dig until her hands hit something hard. She smoothed the dirt away from around it and pulled it out. It was
the small golden flask with St
a
phãyn
’s initials.
Her hands trembled
to open it while rain beat viciously against her body. A scroll was inside. She covered it with her cloak as she ran deeper beneath the branches to open it. It read:

             
My Dearest Sister,

             
If you are reading this then I have passed on. Shed no tears for me. I regret nothing in my life, except the times I made you cry. Still, I had my reasons although they w
ere painful. I was bound by Dĩas
’ powers. I was bound to silence.

             
Yet if you’re reading this
,
then I am dead. And if I am dead then there is nothing more to keep me silent. There is nothing more to keep
you
chained.

             
We are older than we
think
,
Samanthŕa
,
and our memories have been distorted and stolen.
             
Dias is not your father but your guardian. You were given to him to protect, to look after, until you were old enough to take your rightful place beside the one
you refuse to trust now, Daŕ
ēus
.

             
It was he who gave you life with the aid of the Great Goddess
. It was
he who took you from his own soul, giving you shape,
form,
and purpose. Oh sweet sister you were blessed that wondrous night. The Goddess smiled down upon you as well as the keepers of the ancient world. There was not one who did not look upon you with love. There was not one who didn’t give you the breath of their gift. In
truth,
the ones who encircled you then are your parents and your parents are numerous. The Goddess, your true mother, fashioned you from and with
Daŕ
ēus
. She then placed you within
Chymeŕah’s
womb, who loved you no less
,
if not more.

             
You have spent your life fearing, spent your life trying to protect your sisters. You have spent your life living an illusion. Do not fear Evil’s prophecies, for the Goddess has one of her own and you
,
sister, always find a way, always, but you must be strong in order to find it. You must awaken. Only then will you remember…see past the illusion.

             
Go now and think of me often, for that which remains alive in our hearts, lives forever. Have faith that we will meet again, because sister, nothing is ever truly lost from you.
Not you.
             
Remember, you always seem to find it whether
you’re looking or not. Remember and embrace your
A
wakener my dearest sister
,
for I give
you
his name now,
Daŕ
ēus
Dracuŕa
.

Eternally
,

St
a
phãyn

             
The rain became heavier and the spring began to rise. Lightning fractured above repeatedly as if possessed.
Samanthŕa
tucked the letter in her bodice as tears streamed down her face. Thunder raised its might above her when the lightning drove its severed veins into the Willow tree. She dodged the falling limbs as she started to run. The wind whipped the brutal rain against her back. Another purge of lightning and flame sizzled and smoked.

             
Samanthŕa
turned around quickly, stopping dead in her tracks. Underneath the rain, rising in mist and
smoke, was a transparent St
a
phãyn
,
smiling. His hand reached up and waved, causing her to almost run to him. One step forward and the entire tree came down. She should have cried
out
and normally she would have, but seeing him happy, just seeing him, gave her a smile. It gave her hope.

             
She turned slowly, unconcerned with the weather and misted away this time, having no need to look back.
Instead,
she looked forward with one thought on her mind--
find
Daŕ
ēus
.

~
Chapter 19
~

Blood of my Blood

***

Blood of my blood,

Flesh of my fles
h,

Reflection of my truest desires
,

Take this hand which offers you nothing less
,

Than the eternal flame of a lover
’
s everlasting fire.

Hold sacred the flame
,

Which will never be tamed
,

For you are my soul’s purest light.

Bathe me in your embrace,

Bind me with your mystical lace.

For you and only yo
u
are the beacon in my
night.

***

             
T
he night continued to flow like turbulent waters
across an ocean of
stormy
sky
.
Daŕ
ēus
attempted
,
once again
,
to enter his chamber, pausing first as he opened the door, fearing something would come crashing down upon his head
.
He had attempted many times to retire this night but there was always something demanding his attention. That became a struggle in itself, focusing on others when he had his mind on Samanthŕa.

             
She had withdrawn from him since St
a
phãyn’s death and he wasn’t quite sure if he could blame her.
Her world had literally exploded with
colossal
change since the night he
'd
returned
,
or mayb
e the change was already there . . .
his return simply opened her eyes
to it.
Remembering each and every time he'd seen her, s
he seemed
breakable, not that
her eyes
ever once
acknowledged him since
the debacle in the court of Dias
.
She had become that way with everyone really, so he knew not
to take it personal
ly
, but it still haunted him.

             
It
also
haunted him
the way she
ignored
him earlier this night when they gave St
a
phãyn’s body back to the Goddess. She would not stand with him
,
nor any other. She even ignored him when he offered his hand to lead her home,
his
home,
or Chymeŕah’s. Y
et she refused and left him standing there as if he were nothing more than a ghost. Anyone else who attempted to gain her attention by calling her name, she ignored as well. Her mind was suffocating
under
the loss of St
a
phãyn
.
Daŕ
ēus could feel every ounce
of it.