#melody sarathess

[yzareenxiv]

The Final Hours

((Music: https://youtu.be/qOMQxVtbkik and https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XpFKPVquSeA&t=331s ))

“I’m out of time.”

They’d all known it was coming but hearing the words spoken out loud had an extra weight to them like the toll of a deep bell. The look in her brother’s eyes as he said them was something she’d seen so, so many times and it never ceased to affect her, tugging at part of her very soul- her purpose for life. In this case, though, she would not be offering gentle mercy, gods willing. This time, she would be leading a Hunt, she would lead a pack to stand in defiance of the dark and fight. In a way, it was a good thing to finally be able to do something- no more waiting, no more uncertainty, no more second-guessing or sleepless nights staring at her ceiling or the strange moon with her hand wrapped around her soulstone so hard it left impressions in her skin as she begged for more knowledge- for anything that might be the key to turning the tide.

Just once. Please, gods, just once let this not be goodbye.

The Xaela had looked so fragile, so afraid. Tormented. He had been so very strong for so long, buying them all the time they had needed to prepare. She wanted to comfort him, to wrap her arms around him and hold him tight- but neither of them could risk what might happen if she drew so close. Not when her instincts and the thing inside of him were so volatile. So she had swallowed down everything- all her fears, all her hurt, all her grief, all her uncertainty. She had sat out of reach and purred comfort, sung comfort, gently embraced him in as much of her loving care as she could to offer him a few precious moments of peace- and as his pain visibly eased she had watched him. Memorizing every detail- every little mannerism, the fall of his hair, the way light moved over his skin and scales, the way his features looked in profile and when he looked over at her. His body, the way he moved, the movement of his tail, his scent, all gathered in and placed gently in memory. When she felt secure she would not forget, she had gazed around the house with the same care- it was all so precious. It was all so fragile. The wood spoke, the air spoke, the mingling of individual scents, the ghosts of every-day routine moving around her in comforting mediocrity. She hadn’t once taken it for granted, not when her place here was so uncertain. Now she was glad of that, in a way. It meant she would have many memories to return to in the empty, lonely bells that may lie in her future.

When he thanked her, she wanted desperately to promise him that it would be okay. But she could not tell such a lie and he would not thank her for it even if she could.

Returning to her room that night had never been so hard.

--------- A few days later --------

The Jaguar knelt in a circle of items that had not been seen nor touched since before she had made her sacrifice, with a padded box set to her side so she might carry everything safely to the ritual site. Sacred relics of her fallen people, some of them ancient- carefully cared for through generations, the knowledge of their use kept safe through song and story impressed upon the carriers of certain soulstones. She had turned off the lights in her room and conjured a small, floating flame. It was as close as she could get to the warm firelight that brought out the beauty and mystery of the tools and the memories that moved through her mind. First, the hanging censers…

The Jaguar lifted six of them from the collection, turning each on it’s chains so the bells softly rang as she examined them closely. The firelight was captured in the small chips of precious stones, flashing brilliance in the shadowed dark. Setting them carefully into the box, she ensured they were well-packed before moving to the next.

Melody, smiling with her tufted ears wiggling. The floof of her tail swaying. The way it felt to have the young woman sit and lean against her- trusting her. Loving her. Niece. Doing her very best to keep her head up despite the recent pain of not just grief but the loss of her innocence. Her pride when she held one of her creations for Zareen to see.

“I love you unconditionally and I always will.”

The carefully blended and pressed resin incense was next, lifted to her nose as her eyes close to inhale the complex scent. It had taken her so, so long to get the blend correct- especially since she had only had three cakes to compare against the ingredients she could get her hands on here. Setting down one of her crafted discs, she picked up one of those crafted on the island and took a deep inhalation again. Not quite exact- it could not be. But she could feel the rightness of it, feel the latent power waiting for the touch of flame to release the smoke that would act to steady her ritual-craft. Packing the discs and the charcoal that they would rest on in the box with gentle hands, her fingers lingered for a moment before she brought one to her nose again.

A memory. She was a ghost, standing to the right side of a Jaguar huntress as she worked mortar and pestle to grind down and blend the ritual mixture. Her ingredients, small mounds of herbs, little clay jars of liquid, flowers and stalks, all set carefully around her. As she worked, Zareen could hear her voice speaking in an ancient version of the Jaguar tongue, explaining each ingredient, the proportions, the preparations they must undergo before mixing, all the details that an apprentice would need to know. Step by step. When the memory faded, she had been able to smell the finished blend with clarity.

Zareen’s gold eyes opened and she took a deep breath, verging on the edge of tears. How many times had she begged her soulstone to show her a way to save her people? Her loved ones? How many years had passed in despair when it gave her only silence. She realized, now, why that was. She had been asking the wrong questions. There was no “way” to save someone from the dark. There were only small flickers of hope. Small things that might, if one were brave and committed, illuminate one of the many steps along a path that may, possibly, lead to victory.

The gods were good. Sometimes. The gods were cruel. They demanded much and often gave little. She knew there would be a price for what they were going to do- each of them would pay in their own way. Each of them had been given the chance to change their mind- even Ayanga. Each of them had expressed their desire to take the chance, to challenge fate. To take the gamble. To leap.

He’d listened to her carefully, his eyes not meeting hers as he thought about what she was saying. It was clear he wasn’t entirely happy with what he heard, but when she was done, his odd pale eyes with their black sclera moved to her face and he nodded. He expressed his gratitude for all that she was doing and though he slipped back into uncomfortable, awkward silence after she knew when the time came he would fight the same way she would.

Tolemy... let there be time for us. Let there be a chance to see...

Her eyes moved to the jewelry she would wear for the ritual. It, too, was ancient. The filigree open-work was less evident, the craftsmanship favoring a more simple design. Stylized figures of jaguar, the rising sun, and the rising moon are barely able to be made out. The gemstones set in the gold still have all of their shine, despite their age. The one open setting awaits her soulstone. She will place it when she arrives at the cave and begins the cleansing and preparations there.

“I barely got this second life-- I should’ve been dead a dozen times over by now, so I just want folks to know I didn’t have any regrets with this part of the life I’ve lived, and I don’t want them to regret it either.”

Amaranth’s irrepressible smile as she said the words had brought an echoing expression to Zareen’s lips. The Jaguar couldn’t express it, didn’t have the words, but that smile reminded her of so many she had known. The faces were different- slit-pupiled eyes framed in brightly-colored hair looking at her with that devil-may-care grin. ‘Death comes for all of us.’ said that grin, ‘May as well have as much fun as we can before it catches up!’ She had grinned that way before. Sometimes, she still did. It was bittersweet- it made part of her yearn for earlier days, days when she had nothing to lose and everything to gain, days when she had seen every minute of life as a new adventure and a dare- live fast, live free, live fierce, laugh at Death as you dance one step ahead. She prayed that her friend would manage to find that smile for as long as possible.

Putting the jewelry into a velvet bag, she set it into the box tenderly. Her eyes moved to the final item and her ears lowered even as a soft smile bloomed on her lips. She lifted the knapped obsidian blade, turning it so the firelight glowed through the thin, impossibly sharp glass. Her hand fit the wrapped gold wire on the hilt easily, as if it were made for her. Her head tilted a little as she slowly twisted it back and forth, gazing into the shadow-made-real.

A pair of too-bright violet eyes, or blue. Green. Red. Scarred into white. Empty sockets.

A hand held in hers, clinging tightly in desperation so claws pierced her skin. Holding loosely with a lack of strength. Gently pressing skin-to-skin as if to comfort her as much as she comforted them. Slick with blood. Cold with fear. Thin-skinned with age. Too small...far too small.

A voice, whispering in quick, pained gasps. Pleading. Broken by sobs. Empty of all emotion- too far gone into the dark to hold any more. Resigned. Gentle. Young and scared. Old and content. Moving without sound, voiceless but speaking still. Requests for the end, for messages left too late, for regrets unable to be overcome, for sins unforgiven, for loves lost, for comfort to those that remain. Tales, stories of lives lived, spoken with the hope that they might be remembered, that they will find their place in the stars, that they will be carried on in the hearts of those who carry on. ‘Remember me, remember me, remember that I walked on this star. Remember that I lived, and laughed, and loved. Do not let me be lost, do not let me be forgotten.’

The taste of blood. Tears. Rot. Sweet herbs. Salt. Alcohol. Life lived. Life lost. All that was and all that might have been. An inhalation- drawing it all in, feeling it coil and curl inside, feel it seep into every part of her soul, feel it become part of her. Feel them calm, feel them let go of the fear, the anger, the tension, the sadness, the past, the future. Feel the grip of their hands grow gentle, every one.

Whispering the words- her tongue forming them, her mind forming them, her soul forming them into shapes and sounds they knew from their earliest memories. Watching the calm fall over them. Acceptance. Even hope. Wielding the spell, the blade, sliding it gentle and painless until it kissed the heart. The final breath.

The silence.

She slowly lowered the blade, resting it on her palm before gently and carefully putting it in the special part of the box prepared for it. It is delicate, and it is vital for what is to come. The box is closed, latched, aether woven around it for protection and security. Zareen moves it aside, gathers up the other items that will be kept for another day and puts them away in the chest where she keeps that which is precious to her. Rising, she turns and walks to the closet, opening the doors and leaning in to press her fingers against one of the back panels. It slides away, revealing a different kind of box. Dusty in a way that none of her things ever are. Hidden here where it should have been forgotten, found by one of the future generations perhaps. Or lost forever.

For the first time, her hands shake and she gently closes them into fists, closing her eyes.

Her brother’s eyes, crimson and pink, looking at her with a gentle pleading.

“I can’t go through another night like the last one, not and still fight.”

She whispered the words she had spoken to him. “I will stop you befoah you hunt anehone. I sweah this to you on all that is above and below.”

A single blue eye looking into hers as the box is handed to her. “Whatever you need to do, do it.”

Eyes opening again, the Jaguar gazed into the dark closet and sighed. Leaning forward, she drew the box out and set it on the floor. Opening it revealed a collar-style necklace, glowing faintly blue along the magitek surface, the ceruleum light pulsing slowly. Matching cuff-like bracelets, two of them, rested in their own divots in the padding. They, too, glowed and pulsed in perfect time with the necklace. She picked up one of the bracelets and her wrist twinged with sensory memory- the feel of the metal biting and chafing as she turned it, and turned it, and turned it unconsciously as it seemed to weigh more and more and more. There were no tears- she had shed a lifetime’s worth for those losses. Turning the bracelet in her hand, her fingertips found the simple pad that would activate the necklace when aether was passed through it. It would take only the smallest amount- a breath, no more. The restraint would render the one wearing the collar immobile. Not for long. Just… just long enough. Just long enough to say goodbye.

Her eyes are unfocused, gazing into the distance as she feels the weight settle heavy on her shoulders. It is familiar. So familiar. Sun after sun, season after season, year after year… era after era…

Twi, holding her hand, squeezing her hand with a gentle firmness. “Whatever you will become, whatever you think have become… you are still our Y'zareen.” Falling into a hug, held and holding, a moment of terrible, terrible vulnerability met with a loving kindness that gently provided a balm to a wounded heart.

“... Thank you, sisteh. Thank you. I love you vereh, vereh much.” She whispers.

“I l-love you too,” she replied.

She refocuses, setting the bracelet back into the box for now and closing it, carrying it over to the other box and setting it on top. It would be one of the last things done, that it might not chafe at already raw spirits. As she looked at the two boxes, she felt a sudden spike of intense icy fear that caught her breath and made her press a hand to her chest as she gasped and her eyes widened. It is a surprise but the unexpected pounding of her heart in her ears and the chill in her fingers and toes is almost...welcomed. Eyes fluttering slowly closed, she breathes a prayer of gratitude. If she can still feel fear, then she is not past hope. One doesn’t fear the inevitable. One fears uncertainty. And that means that, in her heart of hearts, she still holds hope. Irrepressible hope. Hope that has kept her alive, over and over, giving her the strength to take that fear and make of it a weapon named Courage.

She would have to show the others how to do the same. They would need this of her. This is not a fight she can win by throwing herself into the dark. Never again, that. They needed her to be better. To move past her mistakes. To rise above her insecurities. To be the light, the guide. It was her last chance and she knew it. Whether they succeeded or failed, how she carried herself and the choices she made, the way she led them would set the course of her future. Redemption or damnation. A small smile touches her lips. This, too, is familiar- feet light and fleet, spinning and swaying and leaping on the edge of the blade.

Please, gods… Please, let me be worthy, just this once.

Turning slowly, her eyes move around the room- her little attic room, made cozy but still not quite “home”. It was a good place, though. It had been a sanctuary and she was grateful. Walking down the stairs, the house was very, very quiet in those bells before dawn. Moving like a shadow herself, the Jaguar walked through each room, gathering them into her memory and her heart. She did not linger in her brothers’ bedroom, passing through to where the children slept in a way that would not bother the men- it was something she did often when they needed an extra hand to soothe or care. Pausing by each little bed, she allowed herself the tears as she watched each little chest rise and fall. Memorized the curve of their cheeks, the gentle expressions they wore as they dreamed, the soft scents they gave off, the small hands that would someday shape the future.

At the bed her twin girls shared, Zareen sat on the edge and reached out to stroke the thick black hair and brush the back of her fingers butterfly-light across their cheeks. Her Hope and Dream. A terrible pain speared her heart and her eyes closed, head bowing and hand covering her mouth to catch the sob that threatened to escape her. Taking a few breaths, shaky at first before steadying, the Jaguar rose and leaned to kiss each of them, whispering inaudibly in her mother-tongue. “I love you. Always.”

She left the room as silently as she’d entered it, walking back up to the attic and sitting down at the window. The moon, strange and too-bright, shone down on her and she gazed up at it, golden eyes glowing. Bells passed...and as the moon lowered and the sun started to rise, she prayed. She prayed blessings, she prayed apologies, she prayed her dreams and her plans. She poured a river of heart-offerings into the liminal place between night and day where the Dark Lady and the Bright could both hear. The place where she walked, both and neither.

The sky grew brighter, the tops of the waves going gilded, and Zareen closed her eyes and wiped the tears from her cheeks. They would be the last she would shed until the matter was done. Taking a slow breath and letting it out softly, she went to that place inside her where the jungle trees rose to impossible heights and a pool of darkness reflected the storm-tossed sky above, lightning dancing through the roiling clouds. One of the trees, huge and wide, held an opening in the roots- a passageway. There was a sanctuary there, a healing place. But there was a deeper place, too. A hidden way. Zareen floated above the inky pool, one foot touching the surface as her hair flowed above her and her head tilted back to gaze at the sky before she closed her eyes and let go.

A shift, a breath, and her head snapped down as gold eyes opened and she sprang forward, throwing herself into a leap, a dash, a run that carried her across the surface of the pool, splashes rising behind her and staying, frozen in time. Half-way to the shore, she jumped high and sure and sloughed her skin, landing true on four huge paws, already running, racing with her tail a flag behind her and her wild eyes fixed on the tree. The passageway irised open as she threw herself into it, diving into the dark.

Huntress. Jaguar. Sin Eater. Weapon. Blade and shield. Killer and protector, healer and devourer. Dancer on the edge of the blade. Wild laughter in the face of death.

A predator from an unbroken line of predators stretching back into the mists of time.

Prayers given form.

She Who Catches Demons in Her Teeth.

(( Tagged for mention: @talesfromthegameff14 @ala-mhinyan @realmoffantasy as well as Twi and Amaranth who do not have Tumblr))