Disclaimer: I you recognize it, it belongs to Anne Bishop.
Dedication: For Raksha, who decided I should write it!
A/N: This is the sequel to Awakening. It's not necessary to have read it, but it might make this easier to understand.
Enjoy!
The Mother dreamed.
She dreamed of the three Realms and Her children, of fertile lands and peaceful hearts. She dreamed of sun and rain, of laughter and of tears.
These dreams were reflections of the world above Her.
She dreamed of Her daughters, of their happiness.
These dreams were wishes of Her heart, through Her power reaching into the physical world and easing the troubles of heart and mind.
Her lips curved into a small smile as She saw Her youngest daughter grasp her husband's hand, placing it on her stomach.
A melancholy pleasure claimed Her as She turned Her dreams elsewhere, not wanting to intrude on the private moment. She would have a grandchild, a new little one to love. Another child She could never hold or acknowledge.
Her deep sigh filled the void around Her as She tried to sink deeper into the world of dreams. Tried to sink so deep that the present was overshadowed by the past, that the past was obliterated by the ancient memories of Her youth. Memories from before She became the ominous being Her kind feared more than anything. Memories from a time when She had a name.
A name can be regained.
She shivered with the thought; uncertain if what She felt was fear or anticipation.
A life can be reclaimed.
The emotion that rose in Her was only too familiar. Hope. She crushed it ruthlessly.
My time has passed, She told Herself sternly. I made my choice long before Draca made the Blood. What might have been will never be more than a dream. A pleasant dream, perhaps, but still a dream.
And what else is there for you now? that inner voice replied, mockingly. What have you become if not a dreamer?
I… She hesitated. I am still the Mother. I am still the Night, its creator and its child.
Yes, the voice agreed. But can you remember who you are?
For a moment, there was only silence. A stillness only found in long forgotten tombs, where even the souls of the buried no longer come. A silence that settled around Her like a cloak, shielding Her. Not from physical chill, but from the cold dread of realization.
How could you know? the voice pressed on. How could you know yourself when you don't know your name?
The stillness shattered. A wordless cry of anguish tore through the void, filled the Abyss with Her pain and loss. Shards of the broken silence rained down over Her like pieces of glass. Glittering as they fell, so sharp She barely felt them as they sliced Her skin.
A small part of Her mind watched in fascination as blood welled from the cuts, painting Her pale body with patterns of crimson and pooling around Her feet. As She drew breath, Her nostrils filled with the scent of it. She closed Her eyes and recalled how the blood of Her prey used to taste as She sank Her teeth into their flesh.
But you can't remember your name, can you? the voice taunted.
The second cry was as wordless as the first. It was a cry of overwhelming loneliness, of sorrow too deep to hold inside. It was a plea for understanding, maybe even for pity.
In the pain-filled Abyss, the cry had nowhere to go but up.
The first cry had been unsettling even for the light-Jeweled Blood, but it had still been a thing of the Abyss. The second cry rose higher and higher, spilling into the physical world, echoing through the three Realms and moving landens to tears.
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In the depths of Lorn's lair, Draca shared a knowing glance with her former Consort. They alone understood who was crying, and why.
*There isss nothing you can do,* Lorn said carefully. *Not even you can reach that deep.*
Draca allowed herself a small smile.
"No one hasss the Jeweled ssstrength to reach Her," she agreed, "but there are other waysss, other powersss that will ssserve me better."
She sank to her knees and closed her eyes. Reaching deep within herself - not into the Abyss, but into her heart - she sought the ancient connection between daughter and mother. The bond of love and caring that had held through the ages. It had aided her before.
She would not let it fail now.
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As the cries faded into silence, She felt a light tug at Her heart.
Distracted from Her own pain She searched for the source of the delicate sensation. Cautiously, hesitantly, She opened up to the insistent calling.
*Mother.*
*Draca?* She sent back. *I can't remember…*
*You don't need to be alone. The Realmsss would welcome you again.*
There was a moment of silence as She contemplated this.
*If I came… Who would they see?*
*They sssaw Jaenelle and Witch. They loved both.* She didn't need to see Draca's smile to know it was there. *Are you so sscertain you need to choose?*
When only silence followed her words, Draca sighed. *Come to the Hall, Mother. Give them a chance to see who you are.*
Just as She reached to close the link, She heard a final word drift down. It filled Her with warmth, made Her gently push Draca back up to the physical world before retreating to the bottom of the Abyss.
She lay back on the smooth black stone, movements languid, eyes half-closed in contentment. The word still a pleasure in Her mind.
A word, but more than a word.
A blessing.
A name.
Savoring each syllable, She spoke the word aloud.
"Yssandra."
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A/N #2: So what did you think? Just click that "Go" button and let me know!