I have been wanting to do an Amar fic for SO LONG. I pretty much sated my appetite. Enjoy!
I cannot say how long I have been running, or if I'm actually getting anywhere at all. No matter how many swirling masses of white snow I pass through, the lone tree and blood red moon on the horizon moves neither further nor closer; eastward nor westward. It is all I can do from collapsing in a fit of hopelessness and frustration, though I know I must keep moving, regardless of where I am headed. For if I stop, they can catch me that much faster.
I should hope the direction I chose is the way out, the way towards the river I know I must cross over. I am lost within the Winterlands, fighting with all my strength to escape and not give in to the temptations whispered in the screaming winds. There are promises of warmth and sustenance, of power and glory, though I know in my heart they are merely lies to recruit me for evil. Each waking moment is lived in excruciating agony, mental and physical, as I struggle to hold on to all that I have ever known in life – that I must find the garden and cross over, lest my life's training go to waste.
There is but one thing keeping me stumbling on these numb legs – the memory of my brother, still alive and whole. He, too, struggles to find his way, and that is what drives me on. Though he cannot see me, I know in whatever is left of the purity in my heart that I must continue to be a role model for him, and not give up. What he would think of me if he were to know I had succumbed to the evil of the Winterlands would break my blackened heart. I wish not to further increase the burden on his shoulders, and to instead remain the good big brother I had always been in life.
I can recall from my training as a boy that one of the most dangerous things you encounter in life is yourself. "You are your own worst enemy" was drilled into our heads in every lesson, under the pretense that we would strive to be the most fit and educated as possible, lest we fall into a situation we could not get ourselves out of. I only understood vaguely what my teachers meant, and that wasn't until I was dumped into the middle of an obscure forest and had to use what I had learned to make it out. Three nights I spent in that forest, hungry and alone, with only my thoughts for company. And that is when I realized what solitude could do to a man. I became afraid of things that were not there, driven to run from nothing, and kept awake for fear of what would happen if I closed my eyes.
You are your own worst enemy. Now I can fully understand. One cannot blame their actions on others, no matter how incapacitated they may be. My imagination had kept me in that forest for four days, when others before me had made it out in less than one. I have since grown stronger in body and mind, but that strength is now diminishing thanks to the endless drifts of snow and specters whispering haunting promises in my ears. I have but one relief, and that is that the trackers have not been following me for quite some time.
However, my solitude is often breached by other creatures, mostly wayward spirits such as I, looking for a destination. I prefer to steer clear of these beings, for their intense despair attracts trackers to the area. I have had close calls before, but I have since learned to keep my own head clear of such thoughts of misery in order to remain undetected by those that feed on melancholy.
I draw my black traveling cloak more tightly about me as the wind whistles more enticements to my ears. Though I can discern no known language or distinct voices, it tells tales of a place where all I have ever wanted can be mine. I pause for a moment, torturing myself with what could be, what I shouldn't do. But I know I mustn't give in, lest I become the enemy of the cause I dedicated my life to.
That single moment of hesitation was a mistake. I suddenly sense the presence of another, but experience tells me it is not a tracker, merely another lonely spirit. It is a young girl of about my brother's age.
"Hello," she says timidly. Evidence of corruption is strong about her, but I can tell she must have been beautiful in life.
"Are you lost as well?" I ask, unable to refrain from engaging the girl in conversation. The wind blows her black ringlets into harsher tangles. Her eyes, now muddled white with lies and hopelessness, lower demurely. I note with long-lost interest that she is doing this on purpose. I find it rather intriguing.
"I'm not particularly sure. I have been abandoned by my friends and now have no where else to go. I couldn't bear the thought of crossing over, so I came here instead." She gives me a sad smile, but I can sense the malice and hatred in it.
"Why would you not want to cross over? I have been trying to find my way to the garden so that I can finally be at peace," I say, wondering if she knows where to find the garden, and if I should trust her to show me the way. She glances at me in curiosity.
"If you want to cross over, why are you here?" she asks suspiciously.
"I did not have the luxury of dying peacefully. A tracker brought me here from life." Once I finish talking, I've realized I've said too much.
"You are Rakshana," she says with interest.
"You've heard of us?" I ask, genuinely curious. Few know of the legendary brotherhood, for we act from the shadows and keep our good deeds anonymous, as we had for centuries. She smiles again, her chapped lips curling over ragged teeth. Despite the imperfections, I still have the urge to taste her.
"I knew someone from the Rakshana in life," she says. "He looked a lot like you." She tosses her hair over one pale shoulder. "Only younger," she adds daringly, taunting me with the fact that she is quite younger than I am.
"My brother, Kartik," I say.
"He saw me in my chemise," she says, her paled eyes flashing. I grin, running my tongue over my own jagged teeth.
"Did he like what he saw?"
"Yes. But that made Gemma angry. She wants him all to herself."
"Isn't that always the case with women of the Order?" I say, my own words jarring me out of the spell I was under. I vowed to protect the Order, as well as their reputation. My charge, the aforementioned Gemma's mother, was nothing but good to me. I am ashamed to speak so badly of her daughter and her cause.
I lower my eyes from the eerily lovely girl. "I must be on my way," I say, nodding to her politely. She follows me.
"Why do you want so badly to cross over?" she asks, skipping a bit to keep up with my long strides. I refuse to look at her.
"It is imperative that I do. All spirits must cross." Out of the corner of my eye I can see her shake her head.
"But that is the way of old; things are different now. All the creatures of the realms are competing for the magic, so why should we be any different?"
I stop and grab her shoulder. Beneath my fingers, her skin is cold and smooth, like polished ivory. "We are not creatures of the realms; we are merely passing through from one world to another."
Her eyes drift from my hand on her shoulder to my face. "Aren't you even tempted by the magic? It could be yours," she says, leaning in close to me. I can smell the fragrance of the flowers on her head, a scent nearly foreign to me now, as the Winterlands are perfectly barren.
Her lips hover close. I know I should not, but I also know I have been denied so much for so long. My lips brush hers briefly.
"It could be ours," she whispers. My eyelids flutter closed to keep her out. I struggle to remember why I mustn't believe her…
"The magic is not for us to have," I say uncertainly. I find what I was looking for and grasp onto it firmly. My morals, my memories, I must stay true to them. "I am going to cross over."
Disappointment flickers momentarily over her fair face, replaced quickly by a more devious look. "Don't you ever want to see your brother again?"
I am thrown off guard by her question, for she has found my weakness. "My brother is alive and safe…"
"Safe for how long, do you think?" she says, cutting me off. "He is on the losing side, you know." Her face twists maliciously, and I wonder what I found so attractive about her before.
I raise my chin defiantly. "He is Rakshana. Nothing can breach our defenses." She laughs girlishly, as if I had just told her a secret. The effect, however, is more chilling than charming.
"Nothing? Not even…traitors?"
"What are you talking about?" I ask angrily, feeling the urge to throttle her. She examines her chipped and broken fingernails closely, paying particular attention to one. She rips the nail off completely without flinching and licks at the blood there. I am once again reminded of how corrupted she is. Still, her pensive face draws my attention to her.
"Your brother isn't the grand, upstanding member you knew him to be in life." She watches me closely for my reaction.
"I don't believe you," I say flatly. She shrugs, and bats her eyelashes to the deep red sky. There is the hint of blood playing about her lips, and her face looks revitalized from her sanguine meal. Her beauty stuns me again, despite my hatred towards her claims. She senses this and moves in for the kill.
"Your brother may end up here sooner that you thought. Don't you want to greet him?" Her words go unheard as the scent of flowers overwhelms my senses once more. The sight of fresh blood, live-giving and sustaining, playing on her slick lips mesmerizes me. So long have I gone uncared for, so long have I gone malnourished.
I kiss her again, if you can even call it a kiss. My tongue pushes past her lips hungrily, lapping up as much life as I can. The strong taste of iron, the taste of temptation and evil, writes stories of life in the Winterlands on my tongue. It tells tales of power and deception, of half-life and yearning for life, of an eternity spent with an open mouth, waiting for the mother bird to deliver the worm. Never satisfied, always denied. It is a saga I do not wish to take part of. I push the girl away, gasping for breath.
She mistakes my shortness of breath for passion. Her maniacal eyes glint in the bloodshot moonlight. "So you see it my way, my love?"
I glare at her. "I have only loved one person in life and death. I will not become my brother's enemy." She pouts.
"You're making a mistake. Your talents are better suited for our side."
"I have played my role already, and now it is time for me to pass on. We have no obligations to fulfill in death." The girl's face changes dramatically. She nods slowly.
"You are very strong," she says wistfully. "I wish I had been a fighter."
"It is never too late to make things right," I say, feeling sorry for the girl. She is too young to have died in the first place, and fear has prevented her from finding peace in death. Her eyes meet mine in desperation.
"Do you mean that?" she whispers, her white eyes wild with hope and fear. I give her a curt nod for clarification and for good bye. The ice and snow stings at my face, but I feel invigorated, renewed, ready to start fighting again. The wind no longer tempts me with false promises, though it brings with it one whisper.
Thank you…
As if you couldn't see that pairing coming...
Let me know what you think!
Sorry, inksmudged, I cheated! I did 2 oneshots. Beat me to the 300th story!
I am a dirty stinking cheater and Amar fan,
LunaEquus