AN: I own nothing. This is set in the Dark is Rising universe, with no
actual characters referenced.
She stood at the edge of the shore, staring out at the moonlight glittering on the surface of the ocean, lost in thought. The tide lapped gently at her bare ankles, tugging back sand underneath her pale feet. The ocean air blew salty and cold on the late October night, whispering through the sleepy fishing town, and returning to hover around her like an uncertain child, offering bare comfort. Yet she, dressed only in white robes, showed no sign of either cold or comfort, only stared at something that no one else could see.
A casual observer might have remarked that her stark white figure looked vulnerable, alone in front of the deep dark ocean tossing uneasily in its cradle. But her face, although physically young, was reminiscent of something ageless; her large stormy eyes held the weight of the secrets of the earth; and on this night, even the most oblivious person would have sensed the enormous pressure of a power older than Time itself in the girl, a power that no ordinary mortal could hope to wield and still live. But she wasn't mortal, hadn't been mortal for a long while, and her mind was troubled with things that no mortal had to concern themselves with.
She sighed as she stared out at the black restless waters, tucking strands of long black hair behind an ear decorated with small silver hoops. She had known about this day for years, had been seeing the signs for even longer, and yet she was woefully unprepared to deal with the reality of it. Physically, she was ready- she was certain of that- but the horror of the day to come would be immeasurable.
For she knew of a terrible strength building in the west, a force so ruthlessly dark it would consume the earth if she and her fellows could not stop it. She was not afraid for her own life, or of pain. A long time ago, when she was a mortal who knew not of those who protected her, of her own power, the dark energy had frightened her; she had sensed it only, an intensely bad feeling when the power swelled and struck out. But she was beyond their control now, and she feared only for the lives of those she and her kind loved, and of the destruction of her mother, the earth itself.
"Fancy this night for a walk," came a quiet voice behind her, deep and rumbling.
She whipped round, momentarily startled. The ancient man in front of her raised his eyebrows. "I did not mean to alert you," he said evenly, his voice accented by a language long dead. He, unlike her, was very much dressed for the weather; his tall, thin frame was covered by slacks and a dark green sweater. He wore a cap over his shoulder-length white hair, and a muffler round his long neck. He tilted his head as he looked at her, eyes cool, questioning, and not untroubled themselves.
Sighing, the young woman crossed her arms, seemingly noticing the chill for the first time, but he knew that it was merely a reflex; she didn't feel the effects of the element. "Are you here to evaluate my mental health?" she asked, her voice surprisingly harsh. "I am in perfect condition. I'll reason out my thinking to you, if you want."
He didn't say anything, and she blew out her breath, letting her arms drop. "I'm sorry," she murmured, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the silver dolphin pendant dangling from her left ear. "You didn't deserve that."
"No," he agreed. "However, I know what you are feeling. All of us do."
"It's different for everyone," she murmured, her dark blue eyes searching his reptilian gray. "We all have different things at stake. And even if we defeat them now." she trailed off.
"No use thinking about it," he said, echoing a statement they had heard all too often. "It will happen the way it will."
"Indeed it shall."
They were silent, listening to the crashing of the waves in the distance.
"I can feel their fear, you know," she said suddenly, tugging at a lock of her long black hair, restless. "The creatures of the sea. They were fighting, at first, but they're weak. They wait for us to free them."
"We shall," the man said, and his voice was not that of wistful comforting, but assertive in the manner that comes from quoting a passage engraved on a memory.
"They have their prophecies as well," she said quietly, correctly interpreting his tone. "None can be sure of what the future holds."
"Ah, young one, but life wouldn't be as it is if everything was already played and told," he said gently. "For better or worse, it has been designed this way." For all her experience, she knew him to be wiser than she, and she considered his words before she answered.
"It would dash hope," she acknowledged. Her eyes met his, challenging. "And yet it was Hope that Pandora managed to keep in the box, the only evil she didn't release on the world."
"Perhaps that is why none of us know the future for certain," he said, nodding. Then, softly, "What keeps you out here, ocean soul?"
That was the real reason he had left the comfort of the home they and their kind had crowded into. Sighing, she raised her head to look at the full moon hanging swollen in the sky.
"I kept hearing her name," she said, her voice adopting a hint of desperation. "Whatever reason she was put here. she's not finished yet. She still has a role to play in this."
When she glanced back at him, his expression told her that he had known this, anticipated that her dead sister had not left. But she had been with him and his kind too long to become angry with him for failing to tell her, and she merely looked back at the ocean.
"I won't be directly involved with whatever she has to do," she said, and her voice adopted the tone he had used earlier, an echo of knowledge of things to come. "But she is here. she haunts me."
"Her soul lingers here," the man said quietly. "But."
"She is an echo." The young woman's voice was bitter. "Merely a shadow of what she was."
"She is soon to be something else entirely," he said. He hesitated, wondering if she was ready for what he had to say next. "And. your age- mates wait for you to return tonight." They need you, was the unspoken message.
"I know," she said.
And for a long time, she stared at the ocean, her mind quieting, calming, organizing. At last, she turned to the man beside her. "Thank you," she said simply, knowing that the subtle comfort of her mentor's mind had helped her sort out her thoughts. "I'm ready to go back, now."
Arm in arm, they walked back to the large beach house, back to their kind and the comfort that comes when one is surrounded by a gathering that shares one's purpose. And somehow she knew, as she settled down to speak with her age-mates, that she would play in her game of Fate, and she would win.
She stood at the edge of the shore, staring out at the moonlight glittering on the surface of the ocean, lost in thought. The tide lapped gently at her bare ankles, tugging back sand underneath her pale feet. The ocean air blew salty and cold on the late October night, whispering through the sleepy fishing town, and returning to hover around her like an uncertain child, offering bare comfort. Yet she, dressed only in white robes, showed no sign of either cold or comfort, only stared at something that no one else could see.
A casual observer might have remarked that her stark white figure looked vulnerable, alone in front of the deep dark ocean tossing uneasily in its cradle. But her face, although physically young, was reminiscent of something ageless; her large stormy eyes held the weight of the secrets of the earth; and on this night, even the most oblivious person would have sensed the enormous pressure of a power older than Time itself in the girl, a power that no ordinary mortal could hope to wield and still live. But she wasn't mortal, hadn't been mortal for a long while, and her mind was troubled with things that no mortal had to concern themselves with.
She sighed as she stared out at the black restless waters, tucking strands of long black hair behind an ear decorated with small silver hoops. She had known about this day for years, had been seeing the signs for even longer, and yet she was woefully unprepared to deal with the reality of it. Physically, she was ready- she was certain of that- but the horror of the day to come would be immeasurable.
For she knew of a terrible strength building in the west, a force so ruthlessly dark it would consume the earth if she and her fellows could not stop it. She was not afraid for her own life, or of pain. A long time ago, when she was a mortal who knew not of those who protected her, of her own power, the dark energy had frightened her; she had sensed it only, an intensely bad feeling when the power swelled and struck out. But she was beyond their control now, and she feared only for the lives of those she and her kind loved, and of the destruction of her mother, the earth itself.
"Fancy this night for a walk," came a quiet voice behind her, deep and rumbling.
She whipped round, momentarily startled. The ancient man in front of her raised his eyebrows. "I did not mean to alert you," he said evenly, his voice accented by a language long dead. He, unlike her, was very much dressed for the weather; his tall, thin frame was covered by slacks and a dark green sweater. He wore a cap over his shoulder-length white hair, and a muffler round his long neck. He tilted his head as he looked at her, eyes cool, questioning, and not untroubled themselves.
Sighing, the young woman crossed her arms, seemingly noticing the chill for the first time, but he knew that it was merely a reflex; she didn't feel the effects of the element. "Are you here to evaluate my mental health?" she asked, her voice surprisingly harsh. "I am in perfect condition. I'll reason out my thinking to you, if you want."
He didn't say anything, and she blew out her breath, letting her arms drop. "I'm sorry," she murmured, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the silver dolphin pendant dangling from her left ear. "You didn't deserve that."
"No," he agreed. "However, I know what you are feeling. All of us do."
"It's different for everyone," she murmured, her dark blue eyes searching his reptilian gray. "We all have different things at stake. And even if we defeat them now." she trailed off.
"No use thinking about it," he said, echoing a statement they had heard all too often. "It will happen the way it will."
"Indeed it shall."
They were silent, listening to the crashing of the waves in the distance.
"I can feel their fear, you know," she said suddenly, tugging at a lock of her long black hair, restless. "The creatures of the sea. They were fighting, at first, but they're weak. They wait for us to free them."
"We shall," the man said, and his voice was not that of wistful comforting, but assertive in the manner that comes from quoting a passage engraved on a memory.
"They have their prophecies as well," she said quietly, correctly interpreting his tone. "None can be sure of what the future holds."
"Ah, young one, but life wouldn't be as it is if everything was already played and told," he said gently. "For better or worse, it has been designed this way." For all her experience, she knew him to be wiser than she, and she considered his words before she answered.
"It would dash hope," she acknowledged. Her eyes met his, challenging. "And yet it was Hope that Pandora managed to keep in the box, the only evil she didn't release on the world."
"Perhaps that is why none of us know the future for certain," he said, nodding. Then, softly, "What keeps you out here, ocean soul?"
That was the real reason he had left the comfort of the home they and their kind had crowded into. Sighing, she raised her head to look at the full moon hanging swollen in the sky.
"I kept hearing her name," she said, her voice adopting a hint of desperation. "Whatever reason she was put here. she's not finished yet. She still has a role to play in this."
When she glanced back at him, his expression told her that he had known this, anticipated that her dead sister had not left. But she had been with him and his kind too long to become angry with him for failing to tell her, and she merely looked back at the ocean.
"I won't be directly involved with whatever she has to do," she said, and her voice adopted the tone he had used earlier, an echo of knowledge of things to come. "But she is here. she haunts me."
"Her soul lingers here," the man said quietly. "But."
"She is an echo." The young woman's voice was bitter. "Merely a shadow of what she was."
"She is soon to be something else entirely," he said. He hesitated, wondering if she was ready for what he had to say next. "And. your age- mates wait for you to return tonight." They need you, was the unspoken message.
"I know," she said.
And for a long time, she stared at the ocean, her mind quieting, calming, organizing. At last, she turned to the man beside her. "Thank you," she said simply, knowing that the subtle comfort of her mentor's mind had helped her sort out her thoughts. "I'm ready to go back, now."
Arm in arm, they walked back to the large beach house, back to their kind and the comfort that comes when one is surrounded by a gathering that shares one's purpose. And somehow she knew, as she settled down to speak with her age-mates, that she would play in her game of Fate, and she would win.