Gaea Regained
Hello readers! For those of you who have read this far, I really thank you, soooooooooo much;) It means a lot to me that you like what I have written so far. I also greatly appreciate the reviews I've received - you guys are the best. The story is getting more exciting now – I hope. It's hard to write with all this studying so please allow for confusions. I've included a postscript at the end of this chapter, to explain some references and points of interest – just in case you're curious. Please send me a message, and let me know how the story affects you. Happy flying!
1 III. The Vision of Eros
The visions fade before my sight,
Which Fancy pictures in the waste of air
Like lovely dreams ere morning's chilling light
And sad realities alone are there.
Ah, neither woe nor fear nor pain can tear
Their image from the tablet of my soul…
Percy Bysshe Shelley, "On Leaving London for Wales"
1.1 Is there a home where heavy earth
Melts to bright air that breathes no pain,
Where water leaves no thirst again
And springing fire is Love's new birth?
If faith long bound to one true goal
May there at length its hope beget,
My soul that hour shall draw your soul
For ever nearer yet.
Dante Gabriel Rossetti, "Insomnia"
Love is a matter of immensity and, sometimes, mystery. What is adoration can be seen as lust. What one calls truth may be the source of another's incredulity. All is a labyrinth for the pining soul, reaching after some promise that there is life, even in death. But there can be only one Eros. This is not a god of erotic fornication or shallow desires – this is the lover of Psyche the soul. When through the oceanic depths of emotions all hearts have gone, only a few will attain Love, over which Eros and all his amorous spirits preside. Whence such Love beacons, the sun, moon, stars will rise each day and night. This Love encompasses the bond between families, friends and lovers, their hearts forever mingled in a world with no horizon, a world where heaven and earth are intertwined. No one can say for certain why some loves are perishable with time and body, while a few are eternal. Call it Fate or Destiny, but call it a god first.
……….
Hearing her frantic scream, he bolted upright on his bed, and hyperventilated until he rubbed his own shoulders to calm himself down. A torrent of menacing images stung his mind as he felt an intangible object slowly enter his chest. Could she be…no, no, she is still there. But the reason for her horror could not be conceived, and only an imminent reunion will do. He must go to the dell at once.
The trees on the walls seemed garish in the summer morning, and the light paralysed his senses. Trying to refresh himself from the grogginess, he speedily went to the washing basin.
Nestor crept up from behind, stealthily, fearing that this might be one of the king's bad days. "Your Majesty,"
The razor sliced a little of Van's chin. "You startled me," he heaved crossly. "Well, what is it? It's early, you know."
"Actually, Milord, it's already time for breakfast. King Allen and Duchess Selena are waiting for you in the morning room. He has urgent business to discuss and bids you go at once."
"Tell him I'm busy. I have some place to visit. We can talk about it tomorrow."
"But…but," the role of messenger required him to continue, "His Majesty says this business is the reason he came to Fanelia. And, besides, he has to return to Palas soon."
Slamming the razor into the sink, he turned and shouted, "Tell him…" but he stopped. Nestor's troubled eyes reminded him that the world was already too full of worries. "Never mind. I'll go tell him myself. Wait for me outside."
What he turned back to concentrate on in the mirror was not his face, but the speck of blood on his chin, wet and crimson, dripping down to mix with the limpid waters beneath.
……….
Selena stood at the end of the long table, giggling at the ridiculous sight of Orion gulping down a plateful of food.
"My dear commander, how is it that you manage to stay so slender despite your overloaded diet?"
He mumbled something through his food, and then realizing she can't comprehend, swallowed first before replying, "I have the gift of beauty. Like you, princess." Her laughter was enough to inspire a lifetime of dreams. He would never mind appearing clownish in her eyes – at least then he will have an identity distinguishable from Van's.
Allen stood pensively by the window, folding and refolding his white gloves. When Van strutted in and sat down at the head of the table, he quit his contemplation and stood opposite him.
"Well?" said Van with intended curtness.
Nestor waved away the servant and followed them outside, closing the doors behind him. Orion set down his cutlery and Selena stood clenching her fists.
"You know I have to return to Palas soon. I can't leave Millerna all by herself. So, we are going to settle this matter."
"There's nothing to settle! I've made myself clear enough," Van interrupted and crossed his arms in annoyance.
"Van," Allen stepped forward, "Don't be so stubborn. It might as well be Selena than any other princesses or duchesses in Gaea."
"Brother, don't!"
"Selena, let me speak!" He signalled for her to step back. "Someone has to give you an heir. If it's not Selena it will be someone else!"
"Yes, and that someone else will be Hitomi!" He let the sharp tip of the pendant prick into his palm.
"Stop it! The war has long been over and her purpose here is done. It's been five years and she's not coming back. I miss her too, you know, but I've learned to move pass that. You should too. She might as well be dead to you!"
"What…what did you just say?" Van murmured as he rose from his chair slowly and steadily. Orion noticed how the autumn of his eyes turned into a bleak winter. "Did you just say that she might as well be …dead?" Allen looked down after realizing the harshness of his own words. "Well, let me tell you something, Allen Schezar, she will never be dead to me. You hear? Never!"
"You needn't raise your voice and point your finger," Allen was beginning to lose his usual calm. "I see you're still the defiant and unreasonable little boy I met five years ago. Look, I don't know what communication you still have with her…"
"That's none of your business!" Van snarled through his gritted teeth.
"Stop cutting me off, Van Fanel!" Allen retaliated
"Then you stop speaking to me in that tone! And how dare you call me unreasonable!" His chest began to heave violently.
"Fine, now calm down. Selena loves you, why can't you just return that felling? You're holding on to a dream, Van. Think about your people – what will happen to them if you ruin yourself like this?"
Van slammed his hands on the table, and all the plates clattered as if in terror. The pendant blazed, desperately imploring all the spirits to come and defend Love.
Orion stood up and walked closer to the two colliding mountains. "Van – breathe. King Allen, maybe you shouldn't…"
"Stay out of this!" Allen nearly pushed Orion away. "I will speak. Van, you are a king, but also a mortal. When you die, Fanelia will need a new leader. Besides, our countries will be united through marriage."
Van stared blankly pass his opponent, then shut his eyes in pain, and leaned forward against the table. Clench your fist and you will grasp nothing. Open hands receive the willing world – he remembered the old proverb and repeated it over and over in his mind, his body slightly rocking back and forth with the rhythm
Allen nervously ran his fingers through his golden hair. "I'm sorry. Look, I'm only trying to do what is best for Selena and you."
"What is best?" Van chuckled incredulously. "You think robbing me of my soul is good for me?"
"Van, she is not your soul."
"No, she," he pointed at Selena, "is not! Truth, goodness…" He tried to swallow the agony and continued in a torn voice. "All…all forbid that I should ever let go of her whose love is above the price of kingdoms." Selena began to weep.
"Are you saying that you will abandon your country, your world, for youthful adoration?" Allen hazarded.
"Shut up, Allen! How could you think it's only adoration? And don't you bring up the issue about an heir. I know very well that I will die one day, but that's a long time from now. And until then, I'm still the Triumvir, and you have no right to question what I do or don't do with my personal life!" In the face of grave adversity, the ever-humble Van resorted to titles, which he always held to be nothing but painted straws. He has lost it; the dragons are drawn.
"Are you pulling ranks on me? Don't you dare, Van Fanel!"
"Stop it!" The girl cried out in anguish too unfair for someone so kind and beautiful. "Stop it, both of you. Why are you fighting? Don't do it for me, I don't want you to. Brother, I think you should leave. Van, after hearing what you've said all this time, I finally understand now. I will give up my silly pursuit. Your love is so deep that I don't stand a chance. I should defend it instead and give up my unfruitful desire."
"No, Selena!" Allen shook her by the shoulders. "Don't let him do this to you."
"Selena," such gentleness in Van's voice made her want to die. "I…I'm sorry." Hesitating for a second in thought, his tone suddenly sharpened into fury. "You shouldn't so pretentiously say you understand when you really don't. If this is some trick you Schezars are playing then you both can get out!"
"But Van, I…"she whimpered, which only fuelled his rage.
"What! How could you think that Selena is pretentious?"
"I know what you're after! You want Fanelia, don't you? Is that why you want me to marry her?" By now, his hand was already gripping the hilt of his sword. Orion had always known Van to be capable of out-staring the lightning, and out roaring the thunder.
Then, the two of them began to shout simultaneously, demons of hatred and fear bound them in a Gordian knot that they either did not know how to untie or did not want to. The two men unsheathed their swords. Selena yelled, until Nestor burst into the room, and knelt down before the scene, praying like a frightened child.
Standing outside looking in, Orion was bent on ending this paroxysm. He stepped forward next to his inflamed friend, raised his fist and with a yell, punched Van down into the chair.
Nothing was heard except the clanking of steel against the ground. His nose bled the colour of life and death, its brackish taste stinging his tongue. A few drops fell, indistinguishable among the redness of his shirt.
"I did it for Folken and Hitomi." Orion whispered wretchedly. "They can't be here to hit you, so I did. You've forgotten, Van, you forgot what they taught you about conflicts."
The titanism of this act and of the entire morning, wrung out the last of Van's strength. The clamour and tantrum were executed. The room died into stagnant bewilderment.
None of them could recall how long they all paused thus. Orion did later tell Merle that they remained standing even after they watched Van embark, with heavy looks and steps, on his journey to the top of Olympus.
……….
That day, the cerulean sky allowed a faint showing of the Mystic Moon, hanging solitary within the vast domain of the universe. He closed his eyes and they came to each other again. He found himself inhaling afresh air, standing on a road painted with white and yellow lines. He has returned. Through the heat waves that blurred the colours all around, he spied a distant figure dashing across grounds of a burnt sienna hue. The hair, the muscles tense and quivering, the trail of wind behind – she, it is she. "Hitomi," he whispered under his breath, fearing that a louder announcement would chase away the dream.
He ran, every muscle in his body invigorated, ready to plunge at her and lock her in his arms forever. All the running in life amounted to this one goal.
She had not expected the sudden warmth pressed against her back, the comforting arms embracing her. This had been a dream about running, and nothing but running, or so she thought. There was no gasp but a quiet question "Van?" followed by an abrupt turn and a deep immersing into him.
"Oh Van, I knew you'd come, I called you."
His trembling fingers caressed her hair. "You know, I think we dream about each other so we don't have to be apart so long." Suddenly, he felt warm tears against his chest.
"I saw it, Van, I had a vision. I didn't want to. They're supposed to be over. What do I do?"
Taking her by the hand, he led her down to where there was grass and listened attentively to her anxious explanation of the horrendous and mysterious vision.
When she rounded off the last note, they sat in an unusual silence, gazing at each occasionally, or stroking each other's arm. Just when Van was about to express his thoughts, an effulgent pillar shot down from the sky, and hurled them upwards in its throbbing light.
With incredible speed, faster than either of them could think or feel, they were flung out of the blue tunnel, at the end of which was neither ground nor scenery. Holding each other, they fell into the darkness until Van sprouted his expansive wings, shining like two white suns in the unknown space.
There was no clue as to whether this was a room or not. All around was stygian black, yet they were visible to themselves and to each other.
"Where do you suppose we are, Van?"
"I really don't know. This doesn't feel like Gaea or the Mystic Moon. But don't worry, we'll find a way out." He enfolded her tighter.
"Look!" With widening eyes, Hitomi pointed to a distant dot that appeared out of the dark and seemed to be approaching them steadily.
To their amazement and fear, the bright spot was not a star, but a stellar being, encircled in blinding light, with no distinguishable face but a glowing frame. Hitomi speculated that this was the Atlantean from her vision.
In a reassuring voice that resounded all around the galaxy, the tall creature spoke. "Be not afeard, young ones, I will not harm you. This is not a dream. I have come to open the door for you, as it is the will of your true selves and of the Universe."
"Are you the one from my vision…Avalantis?" Hitomi asked timidly.
"I am a Numen. I have watched over you for quite a while my children, and now it is Time. You will soon face grave tribulation," – Van repositioned his hand slightly so he could reach his sword – "There is no need for that, young king. Trust me. All this is for the best. You must try to understand. Be brave."
With celestial majesty, the Numen opened his arms. An unseen and inhuman force came between Van and Hitomi. An image of the Empyrean flashed across both of their minds. But before Van could re-strengthen his grip on her, the force expanded in circumference and pushed them apart. Hitomi reached out desperately, hoping some more benign being will bear her into his arms again. Van beat his wings madly but something pinned him to the spot that he could not struggle out of even with utmost violence. The last thing he saw before his eyes were forced shut was the sight of Hitomi diminishing into the dark, carried by the Numen.
Van awoke to evening's chilling wind and to Orion's incessant calling at a distance. His heart was in a tumult, so riotous because it could no longer feel any trace of her. He was haunted by the grotesque conceit that the separation in the dream means that such reveries will never come again, that she is gone forever. Ineffable anguish spun webs around him, teasing out the suggestion that he, survivor of a blood-soaked war, has finally gone mad. Cold sweat dampened his wild strands. The gordian complexity of that one thought locked him to the ground, where he lay pining and pinging until the drowsiness closed down on that last vivid embrace. For a brief moment of eternity, he was convinced that the world was formed by feathers plucked from an angel's wings.
Prayer was for him a mystic communion with the holy, not a means to bargain for what he wanted. But in the face of bereavement, he prostrated. With the last drop of might in him he yelled, from the bottom of his soul, "Hitomi!"
Following the direction of the yell, Orion found the unconscious and half- dead Van, embedded in the murky grounds of the dell. Orion loaded the limp body onto his back and laboured step by step towards the palace.
All the healers in Fanelia were summoned, as was Merle, who hastened from the school with tearful eyes, fearing that her one nightmare has come true. Allen sat in the hall brooding, perhaps regretful of the morning's occurrences, and willing to stay and help lest Fanelia be in need. Selena knelt outside the room, with a stream of tears, and prayed relentlessly to whatever gods were out there. So long as he is safe, she would magnanimously give up any chance of being with him. Orion paced all around, occasionally joined by Merle, who clutched his arm and chanted with him, "Van will not die, Van will not die." For them, a world without Van would be like the universe without the sun.
Nestor, with red, swollen eyes, brought messages from the other court personnel, expressing their grief and anxiety. He offered for a meal to be prepared, but they all went to sleep that night in the waiting room, with nothing but pain in their stomachs. Neither the impending doom nor the serendipitous relief came. The doctors sighed, "Wait and see."
Fanelia became clouded with sombre heaviness, and the whole of Gaea took on a mourning gown. Each day, the healers tended to the motionless yet living body. For every meal, Merle would push liquid food down a tube into Van's throat, and Selena would join her in holding his hand and singing melodies until the Mystic Moon climbed to the zenith. Before sleep, Orion would clean Van's body with a wet cloth, and he would be horrified that no matter how hard he pushed the corpse-like body, no muscle or nerve would react.
Allen went back to Palas for a while and returned with Millerna, who issued more herbs and formulas. But not even magical incantations would bring more than a twitch of the eyelids, which the faithful friends took to be a sign that he was probably just dreaming and did not want to wake up.
……….
"Rise and shine, sleepy head," a voice that resembled the deep yet calm rippling of the pond washed away Van's dreamless dormancy.
Never has opening eyes or lifting an arm been such challenging and aching movements, as if the body disobeyed the mind's command to receive the light of day. Van concentrated as intensely as when he first tried to move Escaflowne – merely by picturing one simple twist of the finger. Terrible exhaustion pulled him back down into the comforts of the bed.
"Come on. Look, your little dragon friend is here!" the voice let out a ridiculous growl, mimicking an animal, as one would do to entertain a child.
Out of curiosity to affirm his speculation that the clownish voice must be Orion's, Van forced his eyes open and saw a green, stuffed dragon right before his face, being jolted around and the little growl continued, much to Van's displeasure. Suddenly remembering what has happened with Hitomi, Van disregarded all grogginess and focused all his energy on his right arm with which he swiped the doll away.
The face which appeared before him…No, it cannot be, it's impossible. I must be dreaming.
"What's the matter, Van? Did you have a nightmare?"
In times of mystery and shock, Van usually closes his eyes for a second before re-opening them with refreshed perception and logic. But mind is of no use for this. No amount of reflection could possibly explain why this fantastic current state did not feel like a dream. He simply gaped and unblinkingly scrutinized the greyish green hair and brown eyes of the person sitting next to him. "Br-brother?"
At the sound of his own voice, Van wanted to scream, "What is going on!" but was unreasonably afraid of hearing himself again. Instead of the resonant and steady tone of a young man, what came out of him was the acute and innocent voice of a child.
"Hey, it's okay," Folken pulled Van onto his lap. "It's only a nightmare. All you need is a nice breakfast. Mother and father are waiting for you in the morning room. Come on, it's just a dream."
Without having to look down at his own shrunken body, Van began to feel small, invariably weak and vulnerable. He wanted to yell and kick like a child in tantrum, to beat Folken on the chest and demand to know why he ever left Fanelia, left life. The quivering in his soul became more and more convulsive until he was unable to contain himself, and finally collapsed into his brother's arms.
"It was hell, brother," he needed to say it, he wanted to, no matter how uncomfortable the voice was. "So terrible. I dreamt that you, mother, father and Balgus all died, then Fanelia burned to the ground and I had to fight in a war. Then this girl…Hitomi, she was gone as well. I was so scared." He clutched Folken with a dying man's grip, his tearful eyes hurting.
"It is horrible, I know," Folken smoothed over Van's hair and kissed him on the forehead tenderly. "But it's not real, it's all over now. I promise you'll have a good day today, I promise. Now come on, get on my back." Before being able to organize a debate between dream and reality, Van found himself being carried down the familiar hallways, with Folken whistling a happier version of the folk song that echoed in the chamber of sacrificed love and sacrificed life.
Beneath the rosy veil of morn that flew in through the windows, King Goau and Queen Varie seemed ancient gods to their little son who gazed in breathless awe of immortality. Balgus stood stout and peerless, guarding the holy gates of Love.
"Mother, Van just had a nightmare," Folken reported as he set his brother gently on the soft ground.
The ethereal queen bent down and opened her arms wide. "Come, my darling, it'll be alright." Her voice rung like that of a seraph who forbids one to battle with one's own soul, and her hair seemed a heavenly river that flowed down to irrigate earth and humanity with everlasting beauty.
Without any reserve, Van ran – as he had dreamed of for the past fifteen years – into his mother's arms. "Oh my son, nothing can harm you now." Van immersed into her and breathed in her serenity. All earthly pangs were dissipated and he became fully receptive to the state of Heaven.
"Van," a strong hand was placed on his head. "You are my brave little prince, no trial will ever be too hard for you to bear." Looking up, Van saw the rough but ever-loving face of his father. This time, he consciously memorized his father's characteristic features, his sonorous voice and the Atlantean arms with which he embraced him.
"We will always be here for you." Folken walked over and joined the reunion sanctified by some force that stands omnipotent and omniscient beyond life and death.
Van's lean limbs, seared by an autumnal existence of strange sufferings, were pressed securely against his family. Life, recently fled, still left traces of lustre burning in his dark eyes that alone examined the dead and eternal all around him.
I must have died, he thought cautiously. I was finally defeated by loss. Perhaps it is never about death, perhaps existence is always about life, and always real, as real as this is far from a fantasy-vision. If there are two births, one of life and one of death, then why should humans fear one and not the other? The birth into death may be just as unconscious and laborious as that into life. Hell is but that fear, produced subjectively by a diseased mind, which fatally believes that the living life is the only breathing reality. Van was now in the realm created by the transcendent Anima. He wanted to shout, "I live!" loud enough so that Hitomi can hear him. But there is no cause to worry about her now. She is not among the blind and lethargic who can never realize Love. She will one day come to this place which he has found for them, a place where no outsiders, no Fate, no distance or Time may separate them. I wait for you, right here, always.
During breakfast, the veil, which endowed everything with a dream-like quality, was lifted, and the day proceeded realistically, normally. Yet it was this ordinariness of family life that struck Van as the most sublime. What a simple peasant may enjoy each day with his family was for Van the most cherished treasure, only begotten after a lifetime of separation, hatred, anguish and war.
Goau and Varie sat on either head of the long dining table, with Balgus on the king's left side, Folken and Van on the right. Soup was served, and Van was exhilarated to find that he still remembered the taste. During the bread and fruit, his father and Balgus began to discuss military matters, including Escaflowne. For reasons elusive but insignificant to Van, the word "Escaflowne" became somehow vague, but he forgot to pay attention to it after a while and instead concentrated on trying not to spill any food outside the plate. His mother had to patiently wipe his mouth, straighten his napkin, clean his hands, and Folken was responsible for getting him food on the far end of the table. By the time he returned to "Escaflowne", it echoed like some antenatal dream that he faintly felt in the depths of the subconscious. He frowned for a second in confusion but his mind was quickly switched to the desire of going outside and playing in the sun with his brother.
After a relaxed and airy morning, the king and Balgus hurried off to adult business, and the day was officially commenced. Little Van was reluctantly carried by his mother to the bathroom where he babbled endlessly about the games he planned to carry out for the day. He sucked his thumb juicily even when his mother forbade it. He yelled, "Ouch!" when she brushed his tangled, scattered hair. He argued defiantly when she suggested that he should study instead of play. Eventually, Varie smiled warmly at her son's passion for the sun and the grass, so allowed him to roam like a free spirit.
Filling the tranquil garden with excited calls of "Brother!" Van found Folken reading beneath a bough, and he immediately dived into his lap and clenched his small fists in favour of hide-and-seek. Upon his brother's consent, he flitted like a butterfly into the bushes, and hid with one hand over his mouth to conceal the giggles. After counting to twenty, Folken ran around the garden and tickled the little boy he found hidden in the bush.
The exuberant display of youthful energy occurred for numerous times until Van found a secret hole, which, he was convinced, his smart brother would never find. It was inside a tree bark, entered only after a crawl in the undergrowth. Carpeted with green moss and leaves, the hole provided a comfortable bower for the tired child, who cuddled into the foetal position and faded into a distant realm. As Folken came looking for him, their mother called him back into the castle for some household errands. Standing mid-way, indecisive about whom to go to first, he eventually looked beyond the bushes and smiled gently, "I'll be back for you, kid." As he ran back to his mother, he whistled that ancient cradle song, like rich, vibrating air wrapped within a bubble of light that floated across the boundaries between being and non-being.
Into Van's slumbering mind it glided, drowning out the susurrus of the leaves and flooding into his subconscious that received it lovingly. With each exhale, a gauzy and iridescent substance was effused from Van. Every inch of ground that the substance covered or passed over gradually metamorphosed into something slightly different but essentially the same. The outpour expanded softly, from the garden to the whole of Fanelia, to Gaea, to the universe. It unfurled its splendour like how the angel cast his healing wings over the wounded world. As the expansion increased in circumference, Van's being became more tremulous, as if it was forced to experience several existences simultaneously. Nevertheless, he managed to breathe tenderly, ready to receive whatever existence the substance has transported him to.
……….
"Van? Van? Are you okay?" An echoing voice, that of a young man, became more and more clear and up close, until the anxiety it expressed was projected onto a shaking of Van's shoulders.
Brother? Van felt inexplicably unstable. One second he had strength to do anything, the next second he felt ready to plunge to the ground. At length, he maintained balance and opened his eyes to vast blurriness. He looked down at his own hands that were holding a bow and an arrow. Wasn't I just sleeping inside the tree? Looking straight in front of him, he spied the figure of a man, an archer, facing him.
Thinking it must be Folken, Van opened his mouth eagerly. "Brother, what…" but he paused. A brittle, hoarse voice vibrated from him. The child was gone. He stopped breathing and blinked rapidly to regain vision.
Orion gazed wide-eyed in perplexity and distress. "Van, if you don't want to practice archery any more, just say so, it's not like I'd get mad." Pain and terror swelled to the brink of Van's eyes. "Whoa, don't look at me like that, it's scary. Here, you need to lie down." Just as Orion was setting down his equipment and reaching over to help, Van suddenly knelt on the ground and hyperventilated convulsively to recapture the oxygen he had lost for the past minute.
Looking up with the eyes of one who had just seen death, Van grabbed Orion. "I died, didn't I? You found me by the tombs. Then it killed me, right?" His imploring expression evoked unbearable sympathy.
Before Orion's gaping mouth could create any recognizable word, Merle, who had sensed the stirring of an unusual emotion, hurried to provide a trembling embrace. "Lord Van, don't scare me like this! Stop talking about death!"
He turned to her abruptly. "Tell me, Merle, what happened after Orion brought me back from the dell?"
"What do you mean?" she cried. "You act as if you remember nothing! You never died, Lord Van. You woke up and you've been fine for nearly a colour. What's happening now?"
Van pushed them both away and began to pace around in an unhinged state, so unexpected from a generally taciturn boy. "No, you're lying! I was in Heaven, yes…yes, I saw father, mother, brother and Balgus. Hitomi!" he suddenly shouted at the sky then stared intently at the ground again. "Hitomi…yes, she was taken away…no, I was waiting for her there. Brother was playing with me, then I…I hid in the hole, so how did I…"
He became stone on the spot, counting the hammering pulses of blood in his temples. Orion and Merle melted in terrible sadness upon seeing their friend so completely torn beyond…beyond what language can describe, mind can imagine. It was as if the vault of Van's psyche collapsed in on itself. Unlike others, they have always known Van to be a human, a gentle boy, unjustly coerced by tradition, chance and evil to lead a life of a thousand little deaths. Yet such agony and fragility seemed somehow beyond human capability, and made even more paramount the glories that this young soul has achieved. The reason for Van's mad outpour remained ineffable and need not be unravelled or even imagined. They just knew that he lacked, poorly lacked, and tragically needed.
Noticing the inappropriateness of their inaction, they rushed over to support the falling Van. With Orion on his right and Merle on his left, they guided him to his room. Not a word, a gesture, just Merle's muffled sobbing. They lay him on the bed and she cuddled up next to his catatonic body.
Orion stormed out. There was a word for this, for all the strange events of today, of yesterday, of their entire lives. Orion searched for this word as he climbed onto the roof. It must be "pandemonium" – an infernal, tempestuous sea of fire, surging up and overturning the earth, scorching all life turbulently. "There are no gods", he hazarded to declare. There is only the Devil. All his life, he asked nothing but the one question: "Why?" He knew that Van, Hitomi, Merle, Folken, Allen, Selena and even Dornkirk, had pleaded for the answer to this soul-wrenching and hateful question. Why do sad things happen? Why can't our dreams come true? Why? He wanted to scream it out at the sky and openly defy the distant and icy deities who sit mocking mankind. He refrained, however, knowing that his anger would only fuel the chaos, the torturous, blind, menacing chaos. Orion had never really cried – he sometimes took pride in this – not even when he found out from his childhood guardian, the deceased hunter Centurus, that his birth mother was a prostitute who abandoned her bastard baby boy to the hungry dragons. He wanted to cry after seeing Van this way, he wanted to but he could not and did not. He believed that tears obscure vision, and if Van was too hurt and too weak to see then someone has to be his eyes. Orion's sole purpose here was to provide Van with visions and he knew that there is always Hope, not slim but full like the Mystic Moon. Whatever tidal wave is to come, the reason and the truth will be fathomed someday. One must always smile at tragedy.
……….
Van scrutinized a water stain on the ceiling until meaning on the tablet of his mind shone like the sun. It looked like the crest of Fanelia, with the glaring head of the dragon. He remembered what his parents had just told him about always being here for him, about how he is the brave little prince. What was so can never be again.
"Merle, I'm sorry I scared you like that," he suddenly said, lethargically.
"Oh, Lord Van," she held him tightly, "Please don't do it again. I'm just glad you're alright."
"I can feel it, you know?"
"Feel what?"
"The thinness. It's becoming more stretched and gauzy by the minute. The thinness of Time." Upon announcing this, he felt the fluids in his body stir in a peculiar circulation, like the diffusion of ripples in a tranquil pond.
"What does it mean, Lord Van?"
"I'm not too sure." He closed his eyes and focused on the pumping of Merle's heart against his side. All he wanted for now was rest, a dreamless, insubstantial peace that retreats into the vacant caverns of things which have not yet come to pass.
……….
"The stirring in the heart of hearts is the most mystic and profound movement in life. We are born into the vast world incomplete and bereft of the crowning moment of Love, our souls yearn for that pinnacle in time when …" at this point, the young prince stopped writing. Unsaid and unutterable words choked his throat. In fury and shame, he madly tore up the sheet, flung the pieces upwards and then watched, amusedly, the airy snow-like dance of the paper spirit.
The one grey cloud in his unusually blessed, royal life had been the lack of glory. He shall never live up to his father's greatness, he lamented. When will he be the philosophic ruler to whom everyone turned? When shall he experience perilous and chivalric adventures that thunder the earth like the bursting of fiery lava? When can he hold the Love that awakens the Anima to the union of all things in the cosmos? His parents were fifteen when they first met – he calculated he had but five years before he reaches that point, and in naïve obstinacy, he was convinced that if he does not find his love at fifteen he shall never have eternity. For him, nothing ever bled. Therefore, in the idealistic and luminous ring of his existence, he sighed because of the longing, which passed on his chest like tears that could not be wept.
It was not that Valorick thought of kingship or adulthood as ever glorious – he understood it to be a journey. He would never dare question the unfaltering spirit with which his father traversed the uncharted terrains of life and death. Yet it is never just about living or dying, but attaining balance and acting justly, wisely. For these reasons, he thought of living gloriously as creating a piece of art, constantly forming, toning, shading and being expected to catch Pegasus without unfurling any wings.
"Val!" his sister's lark-like voice pierced his solitude and despite exasperation, he trudged to her room down the hall. "Yes, my princess Hermione?" he asked sardonically.
"Look!" the wet-cheeked little girl stood at the doorway and pointed inside. "I don't know what's wrong with Daddy. Maybe he's mad at me. He was just telling me the story but he stopped suddenly and became like this."
Prince Valorick gingerly turned into the room and saw, to his dismay, his father staring in bewilderment more intense than his own. Such an unnatural expression on the king's face was unprecedented and unaccounted for. "Dad, what is the matter? Are you not feeling well?"
Van examined the boy tentatively and tried to order reason and logic into this tempestuous sea. With the occurrences of the past few days, nothing can be daunting anymore. But this was definitely peculiar and curious. One minute he was resting with Merle, the next he awoke to a vivacious little girl who sat on his lap, clamouring to hear the story of Escaflowne. He had sensed something vaguely familiar about her but before he could observe further, he had run out to call this boy, Val.
"Are you still mad at me about the journal, father? I'm sorry; I didn't mean to read it. I just thought the poem was really good." Van's brows met in perplexity. "Hermione, go get Mom." Upon her brother's stern command, the girl nodded eagerly and ran off.
In silence and stillness, Van thought he was looking into a mirror. The image on the other side was smaller, the black hair was shorter, but everything was undoubtedly from the same mould. He wanted to laugh at the speculation that he had a little brother he never knew. Yet, the eyes, the emerald eyes, were different from his own, they were oceanic and mesmerizing, much like…his soul gasped at the thought and instinctively, he yelled, "Orion!"
"Dad, uncle Orion and the family have gone to Palas for a visit, remember? If you want, I can send for a messenger."
Van shook his head with a lapse of focus and quickly straightened his back, re-strengthening his grip on the chair's arms. He faded into a locus of notthereness and began to meditate on the nature of reality. Can things exist only when there is someone to look at them? Pains, joy, the wind, gravity all exist even though one cannot see them – they are felt. So why can't creations of the mind be as real as objective things? What is objective reality? Who is the judge of objectivity? Can Love, Wisdom and Truth exist in tangible forms? Such is the ineluctable absolute of the unfathomable. He had no answers, only a feeling – a sense that the veneer of Time has ceased to be thin. It has snapped.
"Mom is here." Van's mind was summoned back by the boy's announcement.
Never in his life has Van known serendipity, only terrifying consternation. But this was beyond wonder. The figure who walked in and stood before him glowed in his eyes and his soul flew above the reaches of divine joy. He stood as in a dream and disbelieved, not her, but his own fate.
"Van, what is the matter?" she inquired with a smile so thoughtful that it inspired potential answers to the universal mysteries. As if drunken with ecstasy, Van rushed to her side, knelt down and held her by the waist, his eyelashes trembling against her white, gossamer gown. "Hit-Hitomi, I missed you…so much."
"Van!" she laughed and patted his head. "That's ridiculous! You see me so much that I was afraid you'd be sick of me. Come on, get up before we confirm you to be insane." He clung onto her with even more passion. "Oh, you silly boy! It's as if you're afraid of nightmares like a child. Whatever possessed you to be so weird? Come on, you're scaring the kids." Her words, drifting out of the deep, were eddying about him in this far-off realm and they came like truant whiffs of aroma from enchanted vales.
The little girl, Hermione, approached softly and put her tiny hands on Van's broad shoulders. "Daddy, it's okay. All you need is sleep. I always feel better in the morning!" Van turned around and smiled lightly at her, noticing that her brown eyes look rather like his own.
"Okay, time for bed!" Hitomi announced brightly. "Van, I'm really tired, can you tuck them in?" Still lost in the haziness of impossible bliss, Van nodded unknowingly. Hitomi kissed the children goodnight and headed off, leaving Van standing sheepishly. He ventured to conclude that these will be his children, and more confusingly – and rapturously, he admitted with embarrassment – his children with Hitomi. The idea of him being a father was unsettling and laughable. Since he could remember his own father only nebulously, he had no definitive model of paternal behaviour. Out of desperation to end the freezing moment of awkwardness, he bent down and opened his arms. Hermione immediately leapt on and began to chatter spiritedly.
Not knowing where their rooms would be, Van gestured for Val to lead, and he followed nervously with a five-year-old in his arms. Holding someone so precious and fragile made him feel it was incumbent on him to be stronger, more like a true king who is not languished by loss and pain.
After Hermione was tucked in bed, Van leaned down clumsily and kissed her on the forehead, blushing as he stood up. He went outside and saw Val standing in the hall.
"You don't have to tuck me in, Dad, I'm old enough now."
"Oh," a sense of disappointment arose in Van. "Okay, then I'll walk you to your room."
"It's right here."
"Oh, right, of course."
"By the way, Father, I'm sorry about reading the poem in your notebook. I swear I'll never be sneaky again. It's really beautiful though." The boy's reassuring and peaceful smile reminded him of Folken's.
"It's fine…I guess. But I don't really write poetry," Van responded confusedly.
"Well, you should. Goodnight, then." As Val turned to leave, Van stopped him. "Wait, I…"
"Yes, Dad?"
From an unfamiliar cavern in his heart, Van wanted to ask one question, the one he secretly wished his own father had asked him. "Am I," he said hesitantly, "a good father?"
Val paused a second in shock then his face relaxed into that quiet, innocent grin. "Dad, surely you don't have to ask such a question. I hope that with all the respect and love we show you, you would know that you're the best father in the whole wide world. And not only are you our father, you're Gaea's." With that, Val approached Van and hugged him. In an instant, Van comprehended his own parents' protectiveness and care. For the first time ever, he felt it safe to declare that he is happy, happy in the embrace of his radiant child. He too, had created life.
……….
The palace hallway fell into silence after Val had gone to bed. In veneration of the holy peace, Van tiptoed back to his room, which he assumed to be in the same place where it always was. As he approached the door, his heart began to race riotously and his face shaded to scarlet. She must be in there, he thought, half with anxiety, half with child-like thrill. Thinking that a knock on the door would not only disturb the stillness but would also create suspicion on his part, he opened the door silently and crept in.
Hitomi lay softly asleep on a large, bed, one he has never seen before, except in Palas. Her body, cloaked in a shimmering white dress, was curved like a breeze-swept wave on a summer's day. She was turned towards the open window outside which the moon rolled stupendously in the vaulting heavens.
It was not desire which filled Van, but peace. The fact that such a goddess would lie waiting for him, Van, a tortured, weak, angry boy, meant that the universal harmony which Folken and the others strived for, is attainable. No life, no death, no fate shall ever blow out this ever shining lamp that beacons from this small room.
For the past five years, he had wished to hold her, gently and gracefully, not in some amorous trance, but in unmistakable, tangible, breathing reality. Smoothly, he crawled into bed next to her and with shivering hands, held her from behind. Hitomi made a little sound and shuffled a bit, as if acknowledging his presence. After she eased into sleep again, he confidently placed the weight of his arm on her waist. The wish was fulfilled in reality. It absolved reality.
Listening to the lyricism of her quiet breathing, Van was lulled into the misty beginning of their bond. During a time of exploding emotions, detonated by the unknown devils pounding in everyone's core, Van had rampaged in his own life and in the world. Love was for him a distant speck in the cluster of the sky, and both gods and men thought him too much of a superhuman to be in need of stardust. The tribulations at once scorched and froze him, shattered and scarred him. Then along came a strange young girl, a mystic visionary whose light burst through the seething steam. At first, he only glanced sideways at her boyish hair, weird behaviour and her earthshaking ability to see into the unknown. With time, a kind of beating drummed in his heart and he discovered the feeling of dreams. He forbade himself to think irrationally, to feel for her at all, but it somehow entered him as if it had always been a part of him, so eventually he let it seize him come ruin or rapture. He sat hurting and pining beneath the Mystic Moon until she finally, finally understood. Then the birth of sweet human love dawned upon the icy night of his spirit, and Escaflowne crashed to the ground along with hatred.
My love, my Hitomi. The mere thought of these words awoke in him a shuddering sixth sense, compounded of fear, heavenly bliss and a wild, inexplicable sentiment that resembled nothing so near as the pain of regret. He has always been conscious and even shameful of the way he initially treated her, and how he treated Folken upon discovering his betrayal. They had both hurt him in their own ways, but he had no right to summon the dragons. He should have been kinder to Hitomi from the start and he should have taken better care of her during these past few years. He also should not have stormed his brother with vindictiveness up to the moment of his death. Such regrets age him at a rapid speed, and at just nineteen, he sometimes felt death to be on the brink. As much as he wanted to reminisce, certain things in the bleeding caverns of memory just won't allow it.
But now he knows – not merely believes – that everything will work out in the end. He has discovered himself in the past, and now he has discovered himself in the future. Time has lent him strength and he may compensate for past losses, simply by holding her. Foreknowledge did not bother him – seeing the future is a burden, but it did not feel intrusive or sacrilegious. After all, what are human bounds and mortality to one who has seen heaven and hell? What is fate to him?
"I love you, Hitomi Kanzaki," he whispered into her hair. Her tears glittered in the moon river.
……….
A certain fragrance is attached to every poetic place. For Fanelia, it is the scent of trees after rain. It was this aroma that invigorated Van and stirred him from his sleep. He opened his eyes with ease and found himself to be relieved of the tension he usually feels upon waking. There was instead a sense of hope. What he had just experienced, he did not lose but is going to have. He looked around and realized that he had been napping beneath a bough, while Orion practiced archer nearby.
Van walked closer and observed his skilful friend shoot out arrows like a machine, and each shot had lightning speed and impeccable aim. For uncertain reasons, Van began to clap – something he has never done before. "That…that is amazing, Orion."
"So, Van Fanel, you admit that I can beat you at one thing?" Orion responded jokingly, eyes still on the target.
'Did I ever deny it?"
"No. I know, it's because I am the God of Arrows, ha ha ha ha!" Orion cackled weirdly. Van raised a brow in amusement.
"But seriously," Orion set down his bow, "You hardly ever pay a compliment, so thank you." He grinned his silly, sunny smile and resumed shooting.
Van turned to go inside but suddenly came back and asked in a steady murmur, "Orion, do you think I should go to her?"
"Let's just put it this way," Orion set down his bow and stared at the ground with crossed arms. "Um…say that someone dammed up the entire ocean in a gigantic mountain, don't you think that the water would want to rush down to meet heaven by the horizon? The horizon is meant to be permanent, so sea and sky should always meet. I know that was a bad metaphor, but you know what I mean, right?" Orion's eyes softened charmingly. "All you have to do, Van, is see. And as I've said before, I think you're already beginning to."
Orion resumed aiming and Van, inaudibly, thanked his everlasting friend. As he walked to his room, he felt the surging of a strange but potent force, not destructive but creative, germinating a torrential flow of beautiful words. Van immediately ran to his room and opened his notebook, in which he wrote things of a political or social nature. He let the streams and cataracts of emotions and phrases gush into his being and he projected them onto the page. Never before were words in such splendid profusion, since he had always believed words to be nothing but utterances or ink on paper. But now, these little alphabets formed a primal source of Love. "As once the angel-winged lover…"
After the river passed him, he sat in silence, staring at the scribbled page. He had never been a man of expression and he probably never will be again, because this was his one effusion and he would be satisfied with it. All he needed was to let out, once and for all, the being of dreams. He assumed that Hitomi understood his feelings even if she never reads the poem, because she is the sun in the galaxy into which he poured the words.
Just as Van smiled upon the thought that this must be the poem Val spoke of, Merle ran in spiritedly and leapt onto him.
"Lord Van," she licked his cheek adorably, "I've come to say good-bye."
"Oh, are you returning to the school already?"
"Yeah, I've been gone for two colours, and the kids will miss me. Besides, you're fully well now, so I don't have to worry anymore."
"Merle," he patted her head, "I'm sorry you ever worried. I hope you won't ever have to again."
"I hope so too." The brother and sister embraced. Merle got down and noticed his book. Before Van could snatch it back, Merle had begun to read it.
"Lord Van," she handed it back to him immediately, "I won't read it. It's for Hitomi, isn't it?"
"Yeah," he replied sheepishly, "I guess."
"You want to go to her, don't you, Lord Van?"
He looked down irritably. "I…I don't know."
"It's just like before, when she returned to the Mystic Moon. But you brought her back. You can do it again."
"Merle, it's not like before. It just…isn't right." He closed his eyes, and as he battled with his own soul, he imagined his mother telling him to follow his heart.
"Does it matter what is 'right' according to the gods? It won't be easy, but you have got to find a way out, together. I know that deep down inside you know it's right because what happened to you was not fair. See, Lord Van, I always figure out your feelings before you do." She closed in and kissed him on the cheek. "Just use Escaflowne's energist, okay?" After a pat on his shoulder, she skipped towards the door, saying, "Come to Fidell someday soon! The kids will love a visit from the king!"
He can see, and he was conscious of it, despite struggling to admit that Orion and Merle are right, always gloriously right. He also knew what he wanted and having seen the past and future, he wanted it even more fervently. There was no trace of her anymore, but she is somewhere, waiting for him. Closing his eyes in intense pensiveness, he seemed to see in his mind, her oceanic eyes, beckoning him with their azure smiles.
Then it came onto him burningly – he must go. He must leap beyond the bounds of both dreams and reality, and pursue, across the pathless desert of life, death, time, his love. He cannot lose her to the blinding light of some Numen. He must prepare to fight the war of his life. The other losses are irreparable, but this one must be saved.
Clinging to the blazing hope and determination, he ran down to Orion's room. Amid the myriad and pyramids of boxes, books, miscellaneous scraps, Van dug out a wooden box, painted black and sealed with red wax. He cut it open with his dagger and held in his hand, that rosy jewel, glowing with the blood and passion of the years. It had been hidden among Orion's cluster because Van had never wanted it to be necessary again. But now, Escaflowne will be re-enshrined as a god. Van remembered that it is not just associated with destruction. It is also a god of protection.
He enfolded his finger over the energist and journeyed, with winged steps, Olympus-ward to the Empyrean.
……….
'Swift', 'intense', 'animated', these were words to describe the music that summoned Hitomi back from her vacant dormancy. It had been a dreary trance, without texture or content. Her entire body throbbed with aches but she managed to prop herself up by the arms and leaned against the back of the bed. Her wan eyes gazed emptily at the khaki-coloured archaeology tent she was in. She remembered that humans need REM sleep that induces dreams, and without it the cognitive faculties will be damaged. Therefore, she must have dreamt during the long sleep. But whatever the dreams, they were bereft of him. He has become a fleeting shape, lost in the bottomless abyss of sleep.
Gathering her sense, Hitomi realized that the fast-pace song, which played from the radio outside her tent, had ended. The melodic prelude to a romantic song commenced in sad splendour:
"There are times, I swear I know you're here,
When I forget about my fears, feeling you my dear
Watching over me, my hope seeks
What the future will bring,
When you wrap me in your wings, and take me
Where you are,
Where you and I will be together, once again,
We'll be dancing in the moonlight, just like we used to do,
And you'll be smiling back at me,
Only then will I be free, when I can be,
Where you are…"
It must have been a song that her American friend, Sarah, was listening to. Hearing the lyrics, Hitomi was uncertain whether she should smile or cry. Neither came out, for the emotion was greater than both, even greater then the image of the seraph holding his love in his immaculate wings.
Sarah entered the tent all of a sudden, with some fresh flowers. Seeing Hitomi, she dropped everything and exclaimed, "Hitomi! Thank God you're awake! I gotta go get Yukari." She dashed out and returned a few seconds later with the wet-cheeked, swollen-eyed Yukari.
"Oh, Hitomi," she knelt down by the bed and clutched Hitomi's pale hands. "I was so worried. You lay here for two months already. We thought you'd never wake up. We found you in one of the houses in Akrotiri. The doctors in Athens could do nothing. I was so scared!" Yukari buried her face in the covers.
Jason came in, with an envelope in one hand. "Thank God, Hitomi," he said joyfully, though less dramatically than the girls. "I knew you'd be alright. Well, here…" he handed her the envelope.
Yukari's sobbing ceased, and the room died into unnatural soundlessness. Hitomi noticed how Jason's hand trembled as he held out the letter.
'What's wrong?" Hitomi asked hesitantly, intuitively knowing that she is about to hear something catastrophic.
All three of them stood in front of her silently. Finally, Jason cleared his throat and murmured with a lapse of tone, "It…the express message, came for you last week. We didn't open it. It…"
"The war, Hitomi," Yukari suddenly cried, "It's gotten so bad. Japan has been invaded, the neutrality completely broken. My brother died in combat."
Hitomi's eyes quivered with terror. She swallowed hard and held out her arm for Yukari. "I'm, I'm so sorry, Yukari. My family?"
"I don't know. There has been no letter from your mom, and I didn't tell her about your sickness. This letter probably explains."
She didn't want to read it because she instinctively knew what it would say. Before even opening the letter, tears ran down. The paper became soaked with brackish water; the blackness of the ink ran like dark fingers down the white sheet. Unable to remain sensible and steady, Hitomi jolted and flung the message away. Yukari picked it up:
"Dear Hitomi,
It gives me great pain to tell you the following news. It might kill you as it killed me, but I must tell and I will do so swiftly. The war has become uncontrollable. Your father died heroically in combat. Tokyo was bombed. Your brother is missing. Your mother lies fatally wounded in the hospital. Your uncle and eldest cousin have also passed away. Those of us who remain try out best to take care of your mother and we continue to search for the little one. It's too dangerous here, so don't come back. Do it only when it is safe. I will try to keep in touch.
Your Aunt."
Hitomi lay down as if from her dying wound and clutched onto her own shoulders. In this catatonic state, everything passed away for her. Nothing anyone said or did gave the slightest inkling of hope. The insanity of this world was tumultuous and ineffable. She was wrong to have thought Gaea to be the only world at war. Hell is immanent. She jumped from the Destiny War to the hell of losing Van, to this pandemonium.
In the middle of the night, when all else lay resting on this side of the globe, Hitomi packed everything and dragged her glassy body to the airport at Athens. She secretly wished, in a nihilistic depth of her mind, that she would be travelling towards her own death.
……….
From the height of the plane, Earth looked beaten black. Death-in-life is the desiccated carcass of war, Hitomi meditated. Gaea has Van, therefore it has hope. But Earth…Earth only has man, corrupted, malicious, hubristic and selfish man. They each foolishly believe narcissism to be the source of true love. Because of them, the world now dances feverishly to a phantamagoric death chant. Each person is an oppressed slave, a fool, and a coward, caught in the transient present, between the winding past and future. Poor, savage and insane, humans drain the Earth out of all vital waters, until they are forced to drink each other's blood to survive.
The stygian gloom of the re-opened black hole reached its skeleton fingers to Hitomi. She let it come. It was the monstrous progeny of war and lost love. In the stagnant process of the plane ride, Hitomi thought about Van, with hopelessness for the first time. Merely never forgetting him was not enough. What if their moment of eternity has already passed and will never return? She could not bear the thought of growing old and dying with just withered petals of memories plucked from the golden flower of youth. But it was undeniable that the adventure on Gaea had ended, and everything was over. She remembered an old Japanese proverb: "He would travel for love, and would find a thousand miles not longer than one." Over the years, she has often wished Van would come to her again, even if it were wrong to do so. She felt ashamed of such a selfish wish and she would never want him to abandon Fanelia, but she was simply too fragile. Where you are…Now, fragility was irrelevant because she has been shattered completely – she felt no soul left in her and she was convinced that he would never come.
The black hole exerted its final blow and swallowed her entirely. In that second, she began wondering if Van was real at all. Perhaps he was just fiction, or a dream vision that her mind created to ease her through the many storms of living. The more she tried to imagine reality, the more imaginary he, and Gaea, became. In the recesses of her half-numb mind, she seemed to have heard a faint echo of the phrase, "I love you, Hitomi Kanzaki", uttered in his sonorous, calm voice. The words quickly faded until where he is no longer mattered because "where he is" has become nowhere.
She looked passively out the window. The grey Pacific rolled beneath. The corner of her mouth sneered as she thought how ironic it was that the Pacific, literally meaning "peace", has now become a bubbling cauldron of war, overflowing with brackish blood.
As the plane flew over Southern Japan, approaching Tokyo, a foreign base that hid in the mountains on one of the islands, sent out a missile. The right wing of the plane caught on fire.
Before the explosion extended to the tail of the jet, a dynamic pillar of light shot through seat 325C.
……….
Just as Van set foot in the graveyard, before he held up the energist or reached Escaflowne, he was pulled, heads-down, by that golden, silver, sapphire column, retreating into the zenith.
Silence proclaimed, "The dell is now mine."
~ End of Part III ~
So what did you guys think? I'm more proud of this chapter than I am of the previous two. I've got the ending all worked out, so I just hope you will read on and find the finale a satisfactory one. Btw, there is also Book Two, which continues Book One ("Gaea Regained"), with an interlude in between. There are 9 chapters in Book One – the climax is at the end of chapter 8. I can give you a little preview if you want, just let me know. Hope you dream of your fav. Esca character tonight! My fav is Van – is it obvious?
Notes and points of interest:
The Vision of Eros is from Plato, basically it relates to how one lover can see the other in a heavenly vision, even when the two are separated by time and space.
A numen is kind of like a mystic god that presides over the invisible world.
Yep, the song near the end of the chapter is "Where you Are", sung by Jessica Simpson and Nick Lachey. I think this song is simply beautiful and it fits Van and Hitomi so well. Another song that fits the whole missing- you-to-death scenario is "To Where you Are" sung by the new sensation in music, Josh Groban. Maybe you don't like this kind of operatic singing, but the melody and lyrics are heavenly, so you should definitely check it out. I think it suits the mood of this chapter.
Hello readers! For those of you who have read this far, I really thank you, soooooooooo much;) It means a lot to me that you like what I have written so far. I also greatly appreciate the reviews I've received - you guys are the best. The story is getting more exciting now – I hope. It's hard to write with all this studying so please allow for confusions. I've included a postscript at the end of this chapter, to explain some references and points of interest – just in case you're curious. Please send me a message, and let me know how the story affects you. Happy flying!
1 III. The Vision of Eros
The visions fade before my sight,
Which Fancy pictures in the waste of air
Like lovely dreams ere morning's chilling light
And sad realities alone are there.
Ah, neither woe nor fear nor pain can tear
Their image from the tablet of my soul…
Percy Bysshe Shelley, "On Leaving London for Wales"
1.1 Is there a home where heavy earth
Melts to bright air that breathes no pain,
Where water leaves no thirst again
And springing fire is Love's new birth?
If faith long bound to one true goal
May there at length its hope beget,
My soul that hour shall draw your soul
For ever nearer yet.
Dante Gabriel Rossetti, "Insomnia"
Love is a matter of immensity and, sometimes, mystery. What is adoration can be seen as lust. What one calls truth may be the source of another's incredulity. All is a labyrinth for the pining soul, reaching after some promise that there is life, even in death. But there can be only one Eros. This is not a god of erotic fornication or shallow desires – this is the lover of Psyche the soul. When through the oceanic depths of emotions all hearts have gone, only a few will attain Love, over which Eros and all his amorous spirits preside. Whence such Love beacons, the sun, moon, stars will rise each day and night. This Love encompasses the bond between families, friends and lovers, their hearts forever mingled in a world with no horizon, a world where heaven and earth are intertwined. No one can say for certain why some loves are perishable with time and body, while a few are eternal. Call it Fate or Destiny, but call it a god first.
……….
Hearing her frantic scream, he bolted upright on his bed, and hyperventilated until he rubbed his own shoulders to calm himself down. A torrent of menacing images stung his mind as he felt an intangible object slowly enter his chest. Could she be…no, no, she is still there. But the reason for her horror could not be conceived, and only an imminent reunion will do. He must go to the dell at once.
The trees on the walls seemed garish in the summer morning, and the light paralysed his senses. Trying to refresh himself from the grogginess, he speedily went to the washing basin.
Nestor crept up from behind, stealthily, fearing that this might be one of the king's bad days. "Your Majesty,"
The razor sliced a little of Van's chin. "You startled me," he heaved crossly. "Well, what is it? It's early, you know."
"Actually, Milord, it's already time for breakfast. King Allen and Duchess Selena are waiting for you in the morning room. He has urgent business to discuss and bids you go at once."
"Tell him I'm busy. I have some place to visit. We can talk about it tomorrow."
"But…but," the role of messenger required him to continue, "His Majesty says this business is the reason he came to Fanelia. And, besides, he has to return to Palas soon."
Slamming the razor into the sink, he turned and shouted, "Tell him…" but he stopped. Nestor's troubled eyes reminded him that the world was already too full of worries. "Never mind. I'll go tell him myself. Wait for me outside."
What he turned back to concentrate on in the mirror was not his face, but the speck of blood on his chin, wet and crimson, dripping down to mix with the limpid waters beneath.
……….
Selena stood at the end of the long table, giggling at the ridiculous sight of Orion gulping down a plateful of food.
"My dear commander, how is it that you manage to stay so slender despite your overloaded diet?"
He mumbled something through his food, and then realizing she can't comprehend, swallowed first before replying, "I have the gift of beauty. Like you, princess." Her laughter was enough to inspire a lifetime of dreams. He would never mind appearing clownish in her eyes – at least then he will have an identity distinguishable from Van's.
Allen stood pensively by the window, folding and refolding his white gloves. When Van strutted in and sat down at the head of the table, he quit his contemplation and stood opposite him.
"Well?" said Van with intended curtness.
Nestor waved away the servant and followed them outside, closing the doors behind him. Orion set down his cutlery and Selena stood clenching her fists.
"You know I have to return to Palas soon. I can't leave Millerna all by herself. So, we are going to settle this matter."
"There's nothing to settle! I've made myself clear enough," Van interrupted and crossed his arms in annoyance.
"Van," Allen stepped forward, "Don't be so stubborn. It might as well be Selena than any other princesses or duchesses in Gaea."
"Brother, don't!"
"Selena, let me speak!" He signalled for her to step back. "Someone has to give you an heir. If it's not Selena it will be someone else!"
"Yes, and that someone else will be Hitomi!" He let the sharp tip of the pendant prick into his palm.
"Stop it! The war has long been over and her purpose here is done. It's been five years and she's not coming back. I miss her too, you know, but I've learned to move pass that. You should too. She might as well be dead to you!"
"What…what did you just say?" Van murmured as he rose from his chair slowly and steadily. Orion noticed how the autumn of his eyes turned into a bleak winter. "Did you just say that she might as well be …dead?" Allen looked down after realizing the harshness of his own words. "Well, let me tell you something, Allen Schezar, she will never be dead to me. You hear? Never!"
"You needn't raise your voice and point your finger," Allen was beginning to lose his usual calm. "I see you're still the defiant and unreasonable little boy I met five years ago. Look, I don't know what communication you still have with her…"
"That's none of your business!" Van snarled through his gritted teeth.
"Stop cutting me off, Van Fanel!" Allen retaliated
"Then you stop speaking to me in that tone! And how dare you call me unreasonable!" His chest began to heave violently.
"Fine, now calm down. Selena loves you, why can't you just return that felling? You're holding on to a dream, Van. Think about your people – what will happen to them if you ruin yourself like this?"
Van slammed his hands on the table, and all the plates clattered as if in terror. The pendant blazed, desperately imploring all the spirits to come and defend Love.
Orion stood up and walked closer to the two colliding mountains. "Van – breathe. King Allen, maybe you shouldn't…"
"Stay out of this!" Allen nearly pushed Orion away. "I will speak. Van, you are a king, but also a mortal. When you die, Fanelia will need a new leader. Besides, our countries will be united through marriage."
Van stared blankly pass his opponent, then shut his eyes in pain, and leaned forward against the table. Clench your fist and you will grasp nothing. Open hands receive the willing world – he remembered the old proverb and repeated it over and over in his mind, his body slightly rocking back and forth with the rhythm
Allen nervously ran his fingers through his golden hair. "I'm sorry. Look, I'm only trying to do what is best for Selena and you."
"What is best?" Van chuckled incredulously. "You think robbing me of my soul is good for me?"
"Van, she is not your soul."
"No, she," he pointed at Selena, "is not! Truth, goodness…" He tried to swallow the agony and continued in a torn voice. "All…all forbid that I should ever let go of her whose love is above the price of kingdoms." Selena began to weep.
"Are you saying that you will abandon your country, your world, for youthful adoration?" Allen hazarded.
"Shut up, Allen! How could you think it's only adoration? And don't you bring up the issue about an heir. I know very well that I will die one day, but that's a long time from now. And until then, I'm still the Triumvir, and you have no right to question what I do or don't do with my personal life!" In the face of grave adversity, the ever-humble Van resorted to titles, which he always held to be nothing but painted straws. He has lost it; the dragons are drawn.
"Are you pulling ranks on me? Don't you dare, Van Fanel!"
"Stop it!" The girl cried out in anguish too unfair for someone so kind and beautiful. "Stop it, both of you. Why are you fighting? Don't do it for me, I don't want you to. Brother, I think you should leave. Van, after hearing what you've said all this time, I finally understand now. I will give up my silly pursuit. Your love is so deep that I don't stand a chance. I should defend it instead and give up my unfruitful desire."
"No, Selena!" Allen shook her by the shoulders. "Don't let him do this to you."
"Selena," such gentleness in Van's voice made her want to die. "I…I'm sorry." Hesitating for a second in thought, his tone suddenly sharpened into fury. "You shouldn't so pretentiously say you understand when you really don't. If this is some trick you Schezars are playing then you both can get out!"
"But Van, I…"she whimpered, which only fuelled his rage.
"What! How could you think that Selena is pretentious?"
"I know what you're after! You want Fanelia, don't you? Is that why you want me to marry her?" By now, his hand was already gripping the hilt of his sword. Orion had always known Van to be capable of out-staring the lightning, and out roaring the thunder.
Then, the two of them began to shout simultaneously, demons of hatred and fear bound them in a Gordian knot that they either did not know how to untie or did not want to. The two men unsheathed their swords. Selena yelled, until Nestor burst into the room, and knelt down before the scene, praying like a frightened child.
Standing outside looking in, Orion was bent on ending this paroxysm. He stepped forward next to his inflamed friend, raised his fist and with a yell, punched Van down into the chair.
Nothing was heard except the clanking of steel against the ground. His nose bled the colour of life and death, its brackish taste stinging his tongue. A few drops fell, indistinguishable among the redness of his shirt.
"I did it for Folken and Hitomi." Orion whispered wretchedly. "They can't be here to hit you, so I did. You've forgotten, Van, you forgot what they taught you about conflicts."
The titanism of this act and of the entire morning, wrung out the last of Van's strength. The clamour and tantrum were executed. The room died into stagnant bewilderment.
None of them could recall how long they all paused thus. Orion did later tell Merle that they remained standing even after they watched Van embark, with heavy looks and steps, on his journey to the top of Olympus.
……….
That day, the cerulean sky allowed a faint showing of the Mystic Moon, hanging solitary within the vast domain of the universe. He closed his eyes and they came to each other again. He found himself inhaling afresh air, standing on a road painted with white and yellow lines. He has returned. Through the heat waves that blurred the colours all around, he spied a distant figure dashing across grounds of a burnt sienna hue. The hair, the muscles tense and quivering, the trail of wind behind – she, it is she. "Hitomi," he whispered under his breath, fearing that a louder announcement would chase away the dream.
He ran, every muscle in his body invigorated, ready to plunge at her and lock her in his arms forever. All the running in life amounted to this one goal.
She had not expected the sudden warmth pressed against her back, the comforting arms embracing her. This had been a dream about running, and nothing but running, or so she thought. There was no gasp but a quiet question "Van?" followed by an abrupt turn and a deep immersing into him.
"Oh Van, I knew you'd come, I called you."
His trembling fingers caressed her hair. "You know, I think we dream about each other so we don't have to be apart so long." Suddenly, he felt warm tears against his chest.
"I saw it, Van, I had a vision. I didn't want to. They're supposed to be over. What do I do?"
Taking her by the hand, he led her down to where there was grass and listened attentively to her anxious explanation of the horrendous and mysterious vision.
When she rounded off the last note, they sat in an unusual silence, gazing at each occasionally, or stroking each other's arm. Just when Van was about to express his thoughts, an effulgent pillar shot down from the sky, and hurled them upwards in its throbbing light.
With incredible speed, faster than either of them could think or feel, they were flung out of the blue tunnel, at the end of which was neither ground nor scenery. Holding each other, they fell into the darkness until Van sprouted his expansive wings, shining like two white suns in the unknown space.
There was no clue as to whether this was a room or not. All around was stygian black, yet they were visible to themselves and to each other.
"Where do you suppose we are, Van?"
"I really don't know. This doesn't feel like Gaea or the Mystic Moon. But don't worry, we'll find a way out." He enfolded her tighter.
"Look!" With widening eyes, Hitomi pointed to a distant dot that appeared out of the dark and seemed to be approaching them steadily.
To their amazement and fear, the bright spot was not a star, but a stellar being, encircled in blinding light, with no distinguishable face but a glowing frame. Hitomi speculated that this was the Atlantean from her vision.
In a reassuring voice that resounded all around the galaxy, the tall creature spoke. "Be not afeard, young ones, I will not harm you. This is not a dream. I have come to open the door for you, as it is the will of your true selves and of the Universe."
"Are you the one from my vision…Avalantis?" Hitomi asked timidly.
"I am a Numen. I have watched over you for quite a while my children, and now it is Time. You will soon face grave tribulation," – Van repositioned his hand slightly so he could reach his sword – "There is no need for that, young king. Trust me. All this is for the best. You must try to understand. Be brave."
With celestial majesty, the Numen opened his arms. An unseen and inhuman force came between Van and Hitomi. An image of the Empyrean flashed across both of their minds. But before Van could re-strengthen his grip on her, the force expanded in circumference and pushed them apart. Hitomi reached out desperately, hoping some more benign being will bear her into his arms again. Van beat his wings madly but something pinned him to the spot that he could not struggle out of even with utmost violence. The last thing he saw before his eyes were forced shut was the sight of Hitomi diminishing into the dark, carried by the Numen.
Van awoke to evening's chilling wind and to Orion's incessant calling at a distance. His heart was in a tumult, so riotous because it could no longer feel any trace of her. He was haunted by the grotesque conceit that the separation in the dream means that such reveries will never come again, that she is gone forever. Ineffable anguish spun webs around him, teasing out the suggestion that he, survivor of a blood-soaked war, has finally gone mad. Cold sweat dampened his wild strands. The gordian complexity of that one thought locked him to the ground, where he lay pining and pinging until the drowsiness closed down on that last vivid embrace. For a brief moment of eternity, he was convinced that the world was formed by feathers plucked from an angel's wings.
Prayer was for him a mystic communion with the holy, not a means to bargain for what he wanted. But in the face of bereavement, he prostrated. With the last drop of might in him he yelled, from the bottom of his soul, "Hitomi!"
Following the direction of the yell, Orion found the unconscious and half- dead Van, embedded in the murky grounds of the dell. Orion loaded the limp body onto his back and laboured step by step towards the palace.
All the healers in Fanelia were summoned, as was Merle, who hastened from the school with tearful eyes, fearing that her one nightmare has come true. Allen sat in the hall brooding, perhaps regretful of the morning's occurrences, and willing to stay and help lest Fanelia be in need. Selena knelt outside the room, with a stream of tears, and prayed relentlessly to whatever gods were out there. So long as he is safe, she would magnanimously give up any chance of being with him. Orion paced all around, occasionally joined by Merle, who clutched his arm and chanted with him, "Van will not die, Van will not die." For them, a world without Van would be like the universe without the sun.
Nestor, with red, swollen eyes, brought messages from the other court personnel, expressing their grief and anxiety. He offered for a meal to be prepared, but they all went to sleep that night in the waiting room, with nothing but pain in their stomachs. Neither the impending doom nor the serendipitous relief came. The doctors sighed, "Wait and see."
Fanelia became clouded with sombre heaviness, and the whole of Gaea took on a mourning gown. Each day, the healers tended to the motionless yet living body. For every meal, Merle would push liquid food down a tube into Van's throat, and Selena would join her in holding his hand and singing melodies until the Mystic Moon climbed to the zenith. Before sleep, Orion would clean Van's body with a wet cloth, and he would be horrified that no matter how hard he pushed the corpse-like body, no muscle or nerve would react.
Allen went back to Palas for a while and returned with Millerna, who issued more herbs and formulas. But not even magical incantations would bring more than a twitch of the eyelids, which the faithful friends took to be a sign that he was probably just dreaming and did not want to wake up.
……….
"Rise and shine, sleepy head," a voice that resembled the deep yet calm rippling of the pond washed away Van's dreamless dormancy.
Never has opening eyes or lifting an arm been such challenging and aching movements, as if the body disobeyed the mind's command to receive the light of day. Van concentrated as intensely as when he first tried to move Escaflowne – merely by picturing one simple twist of the finger. Terrible exhaustion pulled him back down into the comforts of the bed.
"Come on. Look, your little dragon friend is here!" the voice let out a ridiculous growl, mimicking an animal, as one would do to entertain a child.
Out of curiosity to affirm his speculation that the clownish voice must be Orion's, Van forced his eyes open and saw a green, stuffed dragon right before his face, being jolted around and the little growl continued, much to Van's displeasure. Suddenly remembering what has happened with Hitomi, Van disregarded all grogginess and focused all his energy on his right arm with which he swiped the doll away.
The face which appeared before him…No, it cannot be, it's impossible. I must be dreaming.
"What's the matter, Van? Did you have a nightmare?"
In times of mystery and shock, Van usually closes his eyes for a second before re-opening them with refreshed perception and logic. But mind is of no use for this. No amount of reflection could possibly explain why this fantastic current state did not feel like a dream. He simply gaped and unblinkingly scrutinized the greyish green hair and brown eyes of the person sitting next to him. "Br-brother?"
At the sound of his own voice, Van wanted to scream, "What is going on!" but was unreasonably afraid of hearing himself again. Instead of the resonant and steady tone of a young man, what came out of him was the acute and innocent voice of a child.
"Hey, it's okay," Folken pulled Van onto his lap. "It's only a nightmare. All you need is a nice breakfast. Mother and father are waiting for you in the morning room. Come on, it's just a dream."
Without having to look down at his own shrunken body, Van began to feel small, invariably weak and vulnerable. He wanted to yell and kick like a child in tantrum, to beat Folken on the chest and demand to know why he ever left Fanelia, left life. The quivering in his soul became more and more convulsive until he was unable to contain himself, and finally collapsed into his brother's arms.
"It was hell, brother," he needed to say it, he wanted to, no matter how uncomfortable the voice was. "So terrible. I dreamt that you, mother, father and Balgus all died, then Fanelia burned to the ground and I had to fight in a war. Then this girl…Hitomi, she was gone as well. I was so scared." He clutched Folken with a dying man's grip, his tearful eyes hurting.
"It is horrible, I know," Folken smoothed over Van's hair and kissed him on the forehead tenderly. "But it's not real, it's all over now. I promise you'll have a good day today, I promise. Now come on, get on my back." Before being able to organize a debate between dream and reality, Van found himself being carried down the familiar hallways, with Folken whistling a happier version of the folk song that echoed in the chamber of sacrificed love and sacrificed life.
Beneath the rosy veil of morn that flew in through the windows, King Goau and Queen Varie seemed ancient gods to their little son who gazed in breathless awe of immortality. Balgus stood stout and peerless, guarding the holy gates of Love.
"Mother, Van just had a nightmare," Folken reported as he set his brother gently on the soft ground.
The ethereal queen bent down and opened her arms wide. "Come, my darling, it'll be alright." Her voice rung like that of a seraph who forbids one to battle with one's own soul, and her hair seemed a heavenly river that flowed down to irrigate earth and humanity with everlasting beauty.
Without any reserve, Van ran – as he had dreamed of for the past fifteen years – into his mother's arms. "Oh my son, nothing can harm you now." Van immersed into her and breathed in her serenity. All earthly pangs were dissipated and he became fully receptive to the state of Heaven.
"Van," a strong hand was placed on his head. "You are my brave little prince, no trial will ever be too hard for you to bear." Looking up, Van saw the rough but ever-loving face of his father. This time, he consciously memorized his father's characteristic features, his sonorous voice and the Atlantean arms with which he embraced him.
"We will always be here for you." Folken walked over and joined the reunion sanctified by some force that stands omnipotent and omniscient beyond life and death.
Van's lean limbs, seared by an autumnal existence of strange sufferings, were pressed securely against his family. Life, recently fled, still left traces of lustre burning in his dark eyes that alone examined the dead and eternal all around him.
I must have died, he thought cautiously. I was finally defeated by loss. Perhaps it is never about death, perhaps existence is always about life, and always real, as real as this is far from a fantasy-vision. If there are two births, one of life and one of death, then why should humans fear one and not the other? The birth into death may be just as unconscious and laborious as that into life. Hell is but that fear, produced subjectively by a diseased mind, which fatally believes that the living life is the only breathing reality. Van was now in the realm created by the transcendent Anima. He wanted to shout, "I live!" loud enough so that Hitomi can hear him. But there is no cause to worry about her now. She is not among the blind and lethargic who can never realize Love. She will one day come to this place which he has found for them, a place where no outsiders, no Fate, no distance or Time may separate them. I wait for you, right here, always.
During breakfast, the veil, which endowed everything with a dream-like quality, was lifted, and the day proceeded realistically, normally. Yet it was this ordinariness of family life that struck Van as the most sublime. What a simple peasant may enjoy each day with his family was for Van the most cherished treasure, only begotten after a lifetime of separation, hatred, anguish and war.
Goau and Varie sat on either head of the long dining table, with Balgus on the king's left side, Folken and Van on the right. Soup was served, and Van was exhilarated to find that he still remembered the taste. During the bread and fruit, his father and Balgus began to discuss military matters, including Escaflowne. For reasons elusive but insignificant to Van, the word "Escaflowne" became somehow vague, but he forgot to pay attention to it after a while and instead concentrated on trying not to spill any food outside the plate. His mother had to patiently wipe his mouth, straighten his napkin, clean his hands, and Folken was responsible for getting him food on the far end of the table. By the time he returned to "Escaflowne", it echoed like some antenatal dream that he faintly felt in the depths of the subconscious. He frowned for a second in confusion but his mind was quickly switched to the desire of going outside and playing in the sun with his brother.
After a relaxed and airy morning, the king and Balgus hurried off to adult business, and the day was officially commenced. Little Van was reluctantly carried by his mother to the bathroom where he babbled endlessly about the games he planned to carry out for the day. He sucked his thumb juicily even when his mother forbade it. He yelled, "Ouch!" when she brushed his tangled, scattered hair. He argued defiantly when she suggested that he should study instead of play. Eventually, Varie smiled warmly at her son's passion for the sun and the grass, so allowed him to roam like a free spirit.
Filling the tranquil garden with excited calls of "Brother!" Van found Folken reading beneath a bough, and he immediately dived into his lap and clenched his small fists in favour of hide-and-seek. Upon his brother's consent, he flitted like a butterfly into the bushes, and hid with one hand over his mouth to conceal the giggles. After counting to twenty, Folken ran around the garden and tickled the little boy he found hidden in the bush.
The exuberant display of youthful energy occurred for numerous times until Van found a secret hole, which, he was convinced, his smart brother would never find. It was inside a tree bark, entered only after a crawl in the undergrowth. Carpeted with green moss and leaves, the hole provided a comfortable bower for the tired child, who cuddled into the foetal position and faded into a distant realm. As Folken came looking for him, their mother called him back into the castle for some household errands. Standing mid-way, indecisive about whom to go to first, he eventually looked beyond the bushes and smiled gently, "I'll be back for you, kid." As he ran back to his mother, he whistled that ancient cradle song, like rich, vibrating air wrapped within a bubble of light that floated across the boundaries between being and non-being.
Into Van's slumbering mind it glided, drowning out the susurrus of the leaves and flooding into his subconscious that received it lovingly. With each exhale, a gauzy and iridescent substance was effused from Van. Every inch of ground that the substance covered or passed over gradually metamorphosed into something slightly different but essentially the same. The outpour expanded softly, from the garden to the whole of Fanelia, to Gaea, to the universe. It unfurled its splendour like how the angel cast his healing wings over the wounded world. As the expansion increased in circumference, Van's being became more tremulous, as if it was forced to experience several existences simultaneously. Nevertheless, he managed to breathe tenderly, ready to receive whatever existence the substance has transported him to.
……….
"Van? Van? Are you okay?" An echoing voice, that of a young man, became more and more clear and up close, until the anxiety it expressed was projected onto a shaking of Van's shoulders.
Brother? Van felt inexplicably unstable. One second he had strength to do anything, the next second he felt ready to plunge to the ground. At length, he maintained balance and opened his eyes to vast blurriness. He looked down at his own hands that were holding a bow and an arrow. Wasn't I just sleeping inside the tree? Looking straight in front of him, he spied the figure of a man, an archer, facing him.
Thinking it must be Folken, Van opened his mouth eagerly. "Brother, what…" but he paused. A brittle, hoarse voice vibrated from him. The child was gone. He stopped breathing and blinked rapidly to regain vision.
Orion gazed wide-eyed in perplexity and distress. "Van, if you don't want to practice archery any more, just say so, it's not like I'd get mad." Pain and terror swelled to the brink of Van's eyes. "Whoa, don't look at me like that, it's scary. Here, you need to lie down." Just as Orion was setting down his equipment and reaching over to help, Van suddenly knelt on the ground and hyperventilated convulsively to recapture the oxygen he had lost for the past minute.
Looking up with the eyes of one who had just seen death, Van grabbed Orion. "I died, didn't I? You found me by the tombs. Then it killed me, right?" His imploring expression evoked unbearable sympathy.
Before Orion's gaping mouth could create any recognizable word, Merle, who had sensed the stirring of an unusual emotion, hurried to provide a trembling embrace. "Lord Van, don't scare me like this! Stop talking about death!"
He turned to her abruptly. "Tell me, Merle, what happened after Orion brought me back from the dell?"
"What do you mean?" she cried. "You act as if you remember nothing! You never died, Lord Van. You woke up and you've been fine for nearly a colour. What's happening now?"
Van pushed them both away and began to pace around in an unhinged state, so unexpected from a generally taciturn boy. "No, you're lying! I was in Heaven, yes…yes, I saw father, mother, brother and Balgus. Hitomi!" he suddenly shouted at the sky then stared intently at the ground again. "Hitomi…yes, she was taken away…no, I was waiting for her there. Brother was playing with me, then I…I hid in the hole, so how did I…"
He became stone on the spot, counting the hammering pulses of blood in his temples. Orion and Merle melted in terrible sadness upon seeing their friend so completely torn beyond…beyond what language can describe, mind can imagine. It was as if the vault of Van's psyche collapsed in on itself. Unlike others, they have always known Van to be a human, a gentle boy, unjustly coerced by tradition, chance and evil to lead a life of a thousand little deaths. Yet such agony and fragility seemed somehow beyond human capability, and made even more paramount the glories that this young soul has achieved. The reason for Van's mad outpour remained ineffable and need not be unravelled or even imagined. They just knew that he lacked, poorly lacked, and tragically needed.
Noticing the inappropriateness of their inaction, they rushed over to support the falling Van. With Orion on his right and Merle on his left, they guided him to his room. Not a word, a gesture, just Merle's muffled sobbing. They lay him on the bed and she cuddled up next to his catatonic body.
Orion stormed out. There was a word for this, for all the strange events of today, of yesterday, of their entire lives. Orion searched for this word as he climbed onto the roof. It must be "pandemonium" – an infernal, tempestuous sea of fire, surging up and overturning the earth, scorching all life turbulently. "There are no gods", he hazarded to declare. There is only the Devil. All his life, he asked nothing but the one question: "Why?" He knew that Van, Hitomi, Merle, Folken, Allen, Selena and even Dornkirk, had pleaded for the answer to this soul-wrenching and hateful question. Why do sad things happen? Why can't our dreams come true? Why? He wanted to scream it out at the sky and openly defy the distant and icy deities who sit mocking mankind. He refrained, however, knowing that his anger would only fuel the chaos, the torturous, blind, menacing chaos. Orion had never really cried – he sometimes took pride in this – not even when he found out from his childhood guardian, the deceased hunter Centurus, that his birth mother was a prostitute who abandoned her bastard baby boy to the hungry dragons. He wanted to cry after seeing Van this way, he wanted to but he could not and did not. He believed that tears obscure vision, and if Van was too hurt and too weak to see then someone has to be his eyes. Orion's sole purpose here was to provide Van with visions and he knew that there is always Hope, not slim but full like the Mystic Moon. Whatever tidal wave is to come, the reason and the truth will be fathomed someday. One must always smile at tragedy.
……….
Van scrutinized a water stain on the ceiling until meaning on the tablet of his mind shone like the sun. It looked like the crest of Fanelia, with the glaring head of the dragon. He remembered what his parents had just told him about always being here for him, about how he is the brave little prince. What was so can never be again.
"Merle, I'm sorry I scared you like that," he suddenly said, lethargically.
"Oh, Lord Van," she held him tightly, "Please don't do it again. I'm just glad you're alright."
"I can feel it, you know?"
"Feel what?"
"The thinness. It's becoming more stretched and gauzy by the minute. The thinness of Time." Upon announcing this, he felt the fluids in his body stir in a peculiar circulation, like the diffusion of ripples in a tranquil pond.
"What does it mean, Lord Van?"
"I'm not too sure." He closed his eyes and focused on the pumping of Merle's heart against his side. All he wanted for now was rest, a dreamless, insubstantial peace that retreats into the vacant caverns of things which have not yet come to pass.
……….
"The stirring in the heart of hearts is the most mystic and profound movement in life. We are born into the vast world incomplete and bereft of the crowning moment of Love, our souls yearn for that pinnacle in time when …" at this point, the young prince stopped writing. Unsaid and unutterable words choked his throat. In fury and shame, he madly tore up the sheet, flung the pieces upwards and then watched, amusedly, the airy snow-like dance of the paper spirit.
The one grey cloud in his unusually blessed, royal life had been the lack of glory. He shall never live up to his father's greatness, he lamented. When will he be the philosophic ruler to whom everyone turned? When shall he experience perilous and chivalric adventures that thunder the earth like the bursting of fiery lava? When can he hold the Love that awakens the Anima to the union of all things in the cosmos? His parents were fifteen when they first met – he calculated he had but five years before he reaches that point, and in naïve obstinacy, he was convinced that if he does not find his love at fifteen he shall never have eternity. For him, nothing ever bled. Therefore, in the idealistic and luminous ring of his existence, he sighed because of the longing, which passed on his chest like tears that could not be wept.
It was not that Valorick thought of kingship or adulthood as ever glorious – he understood it to be a journey. He would never dare question the unfaltering spirit with which his father traversed the uncharted terrains of life and death. Yet it is never just about living or dying, but attaining balance and acting justly, wisely. For these reasons, he thought of living gloriously as creating a piece of art, constantly forming, toning, shading and being expected to catch Pegasus without unfurling any wings.
"Val!" his sister's lark-like voice pierced his solitude and despite exasperation, he trudged to her room down the hall. "Yes, my princess Hermione?" he asked sardonically.
"Look!" the wet-cheeked little girl stood at the doorway and pointed inside. "I don't know what's wrong with Daddy. Maybe he's mad at me. He was just telling me the story but he stopped suddenly and became like this."
Prince Valorick gingerly turned into the room and saw, to his dismay, his father staring in bewilderment more intense than his own. Such an unnatural expression on the king's face was unprecedented and unaccounted for. "Dad, what is the matter? Are you not feeling well?"
Van examined the boy tentatively and tried to order reason and logic into this tempestuous sea. With the occurrences of the past few days, nothing can be daunting anymore. But this was definitely peculiar and curious. One minute he was resting with Merle, the next he awoke to a vivacious little girl who sat on his lap, clamouring to hear the story of Escaflowne. He had sensed something vaguely familiar about her but before he could observe further, he had run out to call this boy, Val.
"Are you still mad at me about the journal, father? I'm sorry; I didn't mean to read it. I just thought the poem was really good." Van's brows met in perplexity. "Hermione, go get Mom." Upon her brother's stern command, the girl nodded eagerly and ran off.
In silence and stillness, Van thought he was looking into a mirror. The image on the other side was smaller, the black hair was shorter, but everything was undoubtedly from the same mould. He wanted to laugh at the speculation that he had a little brother he never knew. Yet, the eyes, the emerald eyes, were different from his own, they were oceanic and mesmerizing, much like…his soul gasped at the thought and instinctively, he yelled, "Orion!"
"Dad, uncle Orion and the family have gone to Palas for a visit, remember? If you want, I can send for a messenger."
Van shook his head with a lapse of focus and quickly straightened his back, re-strengthening his grip on the chair's arms. He faded into a locus of notthereness and began to meditate on the nature of reality. Can things exist only when there is someone to look at them? Pains, joy, the wind, gravity all exist even though one cannot see them – they are felt. So why can't creations of the mind be as real as objective things? What is objective reality? Who is the judge of objectivity? Can Love, Wisdom and Truth exist in tangible forms? Such is the ineluctable absolute of the unfathomable. He had no answers, only a feeling – a sense that the veneer of Time has ceased to be thin. It has snapped.
"Mom is here." Van's mind was summoned back by the boy's announcement.
Never in his life has Van known serendipity, only terrifying consternation. But this was beyond wonder. The figure who walked in and stood before him glowed in his eyes and his soul flew above the reaches of divine joy. He stood as in a dream and disbelieved, not her, but his own fate.
"Van, what is the matter?" she inquired with a smile so thoughtful that it inspired potential answers to the universal mysteries. As if drunken with ecstasy, Van rushed to her side, knelt down and held her by the waist, his eyelashes trembling against her white, gossamer gown. "Hit-Hitomi, I missed you…so much."
"Van!" she laughed and patted his head. "That's ridiculous! You see me so much that I was afraid you'd be sick of me. Come on, get up before we confirm you to be insane." He clung onto her with even more passion. "Oh, you silly boy! It's as if you're afraid of nightmares like a child. Whatever possessed you to be so weird? Come on, you're scaring the kids." Her words, drifting out of the deep, were eddying about him in this far-off realm and they came like truant whiffs of aroma from enchanted vales.
The little girl, Hermione, approached softly and put her tiny hands on Van's broad shoulders. "Daddy, it's okay. All you need is sleep. I always feel better in the morning!" Van turned around and smiled lightly at her, noticing that her brown eyes look rather like his own.
"Okay, time for bed!" Hitomi announced brightly. "Van, I'm really tired, can you tuck them in?" Still lost in the haziness of impossible bliss, Van nodded unknowingly. Hitomi kissed the children goodnight and headed off, leaving Van standing sheepishly. He ventured to conclude that these will be his children, and more confusingly – and rapturously, he admitted with embarrassment – his children with Hitomi. The idea of him being a father was unsettling and laughable. Since he could remember his own father only nebulously, he had no definitive model of paternal behaviour. Out of desperation to end the freezing moment of awkwardness, he bent down and opened his arms. Hermione immediately leapt on and began to chatter spiritedly.
Not knowing where their rooms would be, Van gestured for Val to lead, and he followed nervously with a five-year-old in his arms. Holding someone so precious and fragile made him feel it was incumbent on him to be stronger, more like a true king who is not languished by loss and pain.
After Hermione was tucked in bed, Van leaned down clumsily and kissed her on the forehead, blushing as he stood up. He went outside and saw Val standing in the hall.
"You don't have to tuck me in, Dad, I'm old enough now."
"Oh," a sense of disappointment arose in Van. "Okay, then I'll walk you to your room."
"It's right here."
"Oh, right, of course."
"By the way, Father, I'm sorry about reading the poem in your notebook. I swear I'll never be sneaky again. It's really beautiful though." The boy's reassuring and peaceful smile reminded him of Folken's.
"It's fine…I guess. But I don't really write poetry," Van responded confusedly.
"Well, you should. Goodnight, then." As Val turned to leave, Van stopped him. "Wait, I…"
"Yes, Dad?"
From an unfamiliar cavern in his heart, Van wanted to ask one question, the one he secretly wished his own father had asked him. "Am I," he said hesitantly, "a good father?"
Val paused a second in shock then his face relaxed into that quiet, innocent grin. "Dad, surely you don't have to ask such a question. I hope that with all the respect and love we show you, you would know that you're the best father in the whole wide world. And not only are you our father, you're Gaea's." With that, Val approached Van and hugged him. In an instant, Van comprehended his own parents' protectiveness and care. For the first time ever, he felt it safe to declare that he is happy, happy in the embrace of his radiant child. He too, had created life.
……….
The palace hallway fell into silence after Val had gone to bed. In veneration of the holy peace, Van tiptoed back to his room, which he assumed to be in the same place where it always was. As he approached the door, his heart began to race riotously and his face shaded to scarlet. She must be in there, he thought, half with anxiety, half with child-like thrill. Thinking that a knock on the door would not only disturb the stillness but would also create suspicion on his part, he opened the door silently and crept in.
Hitomi lay softly asleep on a large, bed, one he has never seen before, except in Palas. Her body, cloaked in a shimmering white dress, was curved like a breeze-swept wave on a summer's day. She was turned towards the open window outside which the moon rolled stupendously in the vaulting heavens.
It was not desire which filled Van, but peace. The fact that such a goddess would lie waiting for him, Van, a tortured, weak, angry boy, meant that the universal harmony which Folken and the others strived for, is attainable. No life, no death, no fate shall ever blow out this ever shining lamp that beacons from this small room.
For the past five years, he had wished to hold her, gently and gracefully, not in some amorous trance, but in unmistakable, tangible, breathing reality. Smoothly, he crawled into bed next to her and with shivering hands, held her from behind. Hitomi made a little sound and shuffled a bit, as if acknowledging his presence. After she eased into sleep again, he confidently placed the weight of his arm on her waist. The wish was fulfilled in reality. It absolved reality.
Listening to the lyricism of her quiet breathing, Van was lulled into the misty beginning of their bond. During a time of exploding emotions, detonated by the unknown devils pounding in everyone's core, Van had rampaged in his own life and in the world. Love was for him a distant speck in the cluster of the sky, and both gods and men thought him too much of a superhuman to be in need of stardust. The tribulations at once scorched and froze him, shattered and scarred him. Then along came a strange young girl, a mystic visionary whose light burst through the seething steam. At first, he only glanced sideways at her boyish hair, weird behaviour and her earthshaking ability to see into the unknown. With time, a kind of beating drummed in his heart and he discovered the feeling of dreams. He forbade himself to think irrationally, to feel for her at all, but it somehow entered him as if it had always been a part of him, so eventually he let it seize him come ruin or rapture. He sat hurting and pining beneath the Mystic Moon until she finally, finally understood. Then the birth of sweet human love dawned upon the icy night of his spirit, and Escaflowne crashed to the ground along with hatred.
My love, my Hitomi. The mere thought of these words awoke in him a shuddering sixth sense, compounded of fear, heavenly bliss and a wild, inexplicable sentiment that resembled nothing so near as the pain of regret. He has always been conscious and even shameful of the way he initially treated her, and how he treated Folken upon discovering his betrayal. They had both hurt him in their own ways, but he had no right to summon the dragons. He should have been kinder to Hitomi from the start and he should have taken better care of her during these past few years. He also should not have stormed his brother with vindictiveness up to the moment of his death. Such regrets age him at a rapid speed, and at just nineteen, he sometimes felt death to be on the brink. As much as he wanted to reminisce, certain things in the bleeding caverns of memory just won't allow it.
But now he knows – not merely believes – that everything will work out in the end. He has discovered himself in the past, and now he has discovered himself in the future. Time has lent him strength and he may compensate for past losses, simply by holding her. Foreknowledge did not bother him – seeing the future is a burden, but it did not feel intrusive or sacrilegious. After all, what are human bounds and mortality to one who has seen heaven and hell? What is fate to him?
"I love you, Hitomi Kanzaki," he whispered into her hair. Her tears glittered in the moon river.
……….
A certain fragrance is attached to every poetic place. For Fanelia, it is the scent of trees after rain. It was this aroma that invigorated Van and stirred him from his sleep. He opened his eyes with ease and found himself to be relieved of the tension he usually feels upon waking. There was instead a sense of hope. What he had just experienced, he did not lose but is going to have. He looked around and realized that he had been napping beneath a bough, while Orion practiced archer nearby.
Van walked closer and observed his skilful friend shoot out arrows like a machine, and each shot had lightning speed and impeccable aim. For uncertain reasons, Van began to clap – something he has never done before. "That…that is amazing, Orion."
"So, Van Fanel, you admit that I can beat you at one thing?" Orion responded jokingly, eyes still on the target.
'Did I ever deny it?"
"No. I know, it's because I am the God of Arrows, ha ha ha ha!" Orion cackled weirdly. Van raised a brow in amusement.
"But seriously," Orion set down his bow, "You hardly ever pay a compliment, so thank you." He grinned his silly, sunny smile and resumed shooting.
Van turned to go inside but suddenly came back and asked in a steady murmur, "Orion, do you think I should go to her?"
"Let's just put it this way," Orion set down his bow and stared at the ground with crossed arms. "Um…say that someone dammed up the entire ocean in a gigantic mountain, don't you think that the water would want to rush down to meet heaven by the horizon? The horizon is meant to be permanent, so sea and sky should always meet. I know that was a bad metaphor, but you know what I mean, right?" Orion's eyes softened charmingly. "All you have to do, Van, is see. And as I've said before, I think you're already beginning to."
Orion resumed aiming and Van, inaudibly, thanked his everlasting friend. As he walked to his room, he felt the surging of a strange but potent force, not destructive but creative, germinating a torrential flow of beautiful words. Van immediately ran to his room and opened his notebook, in which he wrote things of a political or social nature. He let the streams and cataracts of emotions and phrases gush into his being and he projected them onto the page. Never before were words in such splendid profusion, since he had always believed words to be nothing but utterances or ink on paper. But now, these little alphabets formed a primal source of Love. "As once the angel-winged lover…"
After the river passed him, he sat in silence, staring at the scribbled page. He had never been a man of expression and he probably never will be again, because this was his one effusion and he would be satisfied with it. All he needed was to let out, once and for all, the being of dreams. He assumed that Hitomi understood his feelings even if she never reads the poem, because she is the sun in the galaxy into which he poured the words.
Just as Van smiled upon the thought that this must be the poem Val spoke of, Merle ran in spiritedly and leapt onto him.
"Lord Van," she licked his cheek adorably, "I've come to say good-bye."
"Oh, are you returning to the school already?"
"Yeah, I've been gone for two colours, and the kids will miss me. Besides, you're fully well now, so I don't have to worry anymore."
"Merle," he patted her head, "I'm sorry you ever worried. I hope you won't ever have to again."
"I hope so too." The brother and sister embraced. Merle got down and noticed his book. Before Van could snatch it back, Merle had begun to read it.
"Lord Van," she handed it back to him immediately, "I won't read it. It's for Hitomi, isn't it?"
"Yeah," he replied sheepishly, "I guess."
"You want to go to her, don't you, Lord Van?"
He looked down irritably. "I…I don't know."
"It's just like before, when she returned to the Mystic Moon. But you brought her back. You can do it again."
"Merle, it's not like before. It just…isn't right." He closed his eyes, and as he battled with his own soul, he imagined his mother telling him to follow his heart.
"Does it matter what is 'right' according to the gods? It won't be easy, but you have got to find a way out, together. I know that deep down inside you know it's right because what happened to you was not fair. See, Lord Van, I always figure out your feelings before you do." She closed in and kissed him on the cheek. "Just use Escaflowne's energist, okay?" After a pat on his shoulder, she skipped towards the door, saying, "Come to Fidell someday soon! The kids will love a visit from the king!"
He can see, and he was conscious of it, despite struggling to admit that Orion and Merle are right, always gloriously right. He also knew what he wanted and having seen the past and future, he wanted it even more fervently. There was no trace of her anymore, but she is somewhere, waiting for him. Closing his eyes in intense pensiveness, he seemed to see in his mind, her oceanic eyes, beckoning him with their azure smiles.
Then it came onto him burningly – he must go. He must leap beyond the bounds of both dreams and reality, and pursue, across the pathless desert of life, death, time, his love. He cannot lose her to the blinding light of some Numen. He must prepare to fight the war of his life. The other losses are irreparable, but this one must be saved.
Clinging to the blazing hope and determination, he ran down to Orion's room. Amid the myriad and pyramids of boxes, books, miscellaneous scraps, Van dug out a wooden box, painted black and sealed with red wax. He cut it open with his dagger and held in his hand, that rosy jewel, glowing with the blood and passion of the years. It had been hidden among Orion's cluster because Van had never wanted it to be necessary again. But now, Escaflowne will be re-enshrined as a god. Van remembered that it is not just associated with destruction. It is also a god of protection.
He enfolded his finger over the energist and journeyed, with winged steps, Olympus-ward to the Empyrean.
……….
'Swift', 'intense', 'animated', these were words to describe the music that summoned Hitomi back from her vacant dormancy. It had been a dreary trance, without texture or content. Her entire body throbbed with aches but she managed to prop herself up by the arms and leaned against the back of the bed. Her wan eyes gazed emptily at the khaki-coloured archaeology tent she was in. She remembered that humans need REM sleep that induces dreams, and without it the cognitive faculties will be damaged. Therefore, she must have dreamt during the long sleep. But whatever the dreams, they were bereft of him. He has become a fleeting shape, lost in the bottomless abyss of sleep.
Gathering her sense, Hitomi realized that the fast-pace song, which played from the radio outside her tent, had ended. The melodic prelude to a romantic song commenced in sad splendour:
"There are times, I swear I know you're here,
When I forget about my fears, feeling you my dear
Watching over me, my hope seeks
What the future will bring,
When you wrap me in your wings, and take me
Where you are,
Where you and I will be together, once again,
We'll be dancing in the moonlight, just like we used to do,
And you'll be smiling back at me,
Only then will I be free, when I can be,
Where you are…"
It must have been a song that her American friend, Sarah, was listening to. Hearing the lyrics, Hitomi was uncertain whether she should smile or cry. Neither came out, for the emotion was greater than both, even greater then the image of the seraph holding his love in his immaculate wings.
Sarah entered the tent all of a sudden, with some fresh flowers. Seeing Hitomi, she dropped everything and exclaimed, "Hitomi! Thank God you're awake! I gotta go get Yukari." She dashed out and returned a few seconds later with the wet-cheeked, swollen-eyed Yukari.
"Oh, Hitomi," she knelt down by the bed and clutched Hitomi's pale hands. "I was so worried. You lay here for two months already. We thought you'd never wake up. We found you in one of the houses in Akrotiri. The doctors in Athens could do nothing. I was so scared!" Yukari buried her face in the covers.
Jason came in, with an envelope in one hand. "Thank God, Hitomi," he said joyfully, though less dramatically than the girls. "I knew you'd be alright. Well, here…" he handed her the envelope.
Yukari's sobbing ceased, and the room died into unnatural soundlessness. Hitomi noticed how Jason's hand trembled as he held out the letter.
'What's wrong?" Hitomi asked hesitantly, intuitively knowing that she is about to hear something catastrophic.
All three of them stood in front of her silently. Finally, Jason cleared his throat and murmured with a lapse of tone, "It…the express message, came for you last week. We didn't open it. It…"
"The war, Hitomi," Yukari suddenly cried, "It's gotten so bad. Japan has been invaded, the neutrality completely broken. My brother died in combat."
Hitomi's eyes quivered with terror. She swallowed hard and held out her arm for Yukari. "I'm, I'm so sorry, Yukari. My family?"
"I don't know. There has been no letter from your mom, and I didn't tell her about your sickness. This letter probably explains."
She didn't want to read it because she instinctively knew what it would say. Before even opening the letter, tears ran down. The paper became soaked with brackish water; the blackness of the ink ran like dark fingers down the white sheet. Unable to remain sensible and steady, Hitomi jolted and flung the message away. Yukari picked it up:
"Dear Hitomi,
It gives me great pain to tell you the following news. It might kill you as it killed me, but I must tell and I will do so swiftly. The war has become uncontrollable. Your father died heroically in combat. Tokyo was bombed. Your brother is missing. Your mother lies fatally wounded in the hospital. Your uncle and eldest cousin have also passed away. Those of us who remain try out best to take care of your mother and we continue to search for the little one. It's too dangerous here, so don't come back. Do it only when it is safe. I will try to keep in touch.
Your Aunt."
Hitomi lay down as if from her dying wound and clutched onto her own shoulders. In this catatonic state, everything passed away for her. Nothing anyone said or did gave the slightest inkling of hope. The insanity of this world was tumultuous and ineffable. She was wrong to have thought Gaea to be the only world at war. Hell is immanent. She jumped from the Destiny War to the hell of losing Van, to this pandemonium.
In the middle of the night, when all else lay resting on this side of the globe, Hitomi packed everything and dragged her glassy body to the airport at Athens. She secretly wished, in a nihilistic depth of her mind, that she would be travelling towards her own death.
……….
From the height of the plane, Earth looked beaten black. Death-in-life is the desiccated carcass of war, Hitomi meditated. Gaea has Van, therefore it has hope. But Earth…Earth only has man, corrupted, malicious, hubristic and selfish man. They each foolishly believe narcissism to be the source of true love. Because of them, the world now dances feverishly to a phantamagoric death chant. Each person is an oppressed slave, a fool, and a coward, caught in the transient present, between the winding past and future. Poor, savage and insane, humans drain the Earth out of all vital waters, until they are forced to drink each other's blood to survive.
The stygian gloom of the re-opened black hole reached its skeleton fingers to Hitomi. She let it come. It was the monstrous progeny of war and lost love. In the stagnant process of the plane ride, Hitomi thought about Van, with hopelessness for the first time. Merely never forgetting him was not enough. What if their moment of eternity has already passed and will never return? She could not bear the thought of growing old and dying with just withered petals of memories plucked from the golden flower of youth. But it was undeniable that the adventure on Gaea had ended, and everything was over. She remembered an old Japanese proverb: "He would travel for love, and would find a thousand miles not longer than one." Over the years, she has often wished Van would come to her again, even if it were wrong to do so. She felt ashamed of such a selfish wish and she would never want him to abandon Fanelia, but she was simply too fragile. Where you are…Now, fragility was irrelevant because she has been shattered completely – she felt no soul left in her and she was convinced that he would never come.
The black hole exerted its final blow and swallowed her entirely. In that second, she began wondering if Van was real at all. Perhaps he was just fiction, or a dream vision that her mind created to ease her through the many storms of living. The more she tried to imagine reality, the more imaginary he, and Gaea, became. In the recesses of her half-numb mind, she seemed to have heard a faint echo of the phrase, "I love you, Hitomi Kanzaki", uttered in his sonorous, calm voice. The words quickly faded until where he is no longer mattered because "where he is" has become nowhere.
She looked passively out the window. The grey Pacific rolled beneath. The corner of her mouth sneered as she thought how ironic it was that the Pacific, literally meaning "peace", has now become a bubbling cauldron of war, overflowing with brackish blood.
As the plane flew over Southern Japan, approaching Tokyo, a foreign base that hid in the mountains on one of the islands, sent out a missile. The right wing of the plane caught on fire.
Before the explosion extended to the tail of the jet, a dynamic pillar of light shot through seat 325C.
……….
Just as Van set foot in the graveyard, before he held up the energist or reached Escaflowne, he was pulled, heads-down, by that golden, silver, sapphire column, retreating into the zenith.
Silence proclaimed, "The dell is now mine."
~ End of Part III ~
So what did you guys think? I'm more proud of this chapter than I am of the previous two. I've got the ending all worked out, so I just hope you will read on and find the finale a satisfactory one. Btw, there is also Book Two, which continues Book One ("Gaea Regained"), with an interlude in between. There are 9 chapters in Book One – the climax is at the end of chapter 8. I can give you a little preview if you want, just let me know. Hope you dream of your fav. Esca character tonight! My fav is Van – is it obvious?
Notes and points of interest:
The Vision of Eros is from Plato, basically it relates to how one lover can see the other in a heavenly vision, even when the two are separated by time and space.
A numen is kind of like a mystic god that presides over the invisible world.
Yep, the song near the end of the chapter is "Where you Are", sung by Jessica Simpson and Nick Lachey. I think this song is simply beautiful and it fits Van and Hitomi so well. Another song that fits the whole missing- you-to-death scenario is "To Where you Are" sung by the new sensation in music, Josh Groban. Maybe you don't like this kind of operatic singing, but the melody and lyrics are heavenly, so you should definitely check it out. I think it suits the mood of this chapter.