Layers of Tears

"What exactly do you mean?" I asked still recovering from the shock of his question.

"It looked like you were fighting. Did Keith say something to upset you?" he pressured.

"He told me some things he heard about your reputation in Zaibach. And he isn't my lover," I held back not wanting him to discover the real reason.

"Did that upset you?" he asked once more.

"No, that wasn't it," I stated walking to the fireplace to start a fire.

"I'm going to see if I can catch up to him," he insisted heading to the door.

"No!" I said a little too forceful as I clutched onto his left arm.

"What's wrong?" he asked turning around.

"You aren't ready yet," I simply declared.

"Ready for what? You're hiding something from me. Why can't I only go out during the day?" he demanded.

"It doesn't help you concentrate," I stammered an excuse. Any excuse would be good as long as he didn't go outside.

"You're lying and you know it," he accused pacing back and forth.

I stood there biting my lip.

"Shayla," he said sounding exasperated. He walked forward and placed his hands on my shoulders. "Please don't keep me in the dark, just tell me the truth."

"Your wings are turning white," I reluctantly uttered.

He dropped his hands down to his sides and stumbled backwards.

"No," he denied.

"They're still black but you have white around the tips. That's why I couldn't let you go out because somebody might see you and Keith said the sorcerers were looking for you," I blabbed on.

"You're lying," he concluded.

I went to my room and came back with a hand mirror. I held it in front of him so he could see the wings.

I wonder if this is a dream. I see myself in front of Shayla's mirror. I look like crap. My hair is all tangled and knotty and my wings are turning white. It took me a while to accept that I was going to die when they were black, but now that I have healed it's like I'm being tortured for the crimes I've committed. That's why it was easy to die because I didn't have to live with those things. I've realized that I was being punished.

"Why must they penalize me, haven't I already paid for my debts?" he asked shakily. His knees gave out and he sank to the floor. I dropped down to support him. He curled up into a ball like a kitten snuggling for warmth with its mother. I reached out my fingers hesitantly and stroked him hair.

"When I first saw you, you were dead," I started out slowly. "There was something that nagged me inside. I have been given a gift by the gods. They gave you life again, for a second chance to start over and make amends. I believe the reason why your wings are changing is because there is something inside of you that's still left and I can help you."

He stared at me for a long time and I thought he regarded me as crazy but what he said was truly genuine. "Thank you."

Two simple words but they touched my heart.

"You still can't go outside though," I pointed out as he sat up.

"Right… I want to find out what's left of the real me," he said determined.

"I just gave the speech a second ago and you want to find out now?" I said in shock.

"You said you'd help me and I have already put this off for 10 years," he complained.

"It might take weeks, months and even years. I have seen it help people but I have seen it destroy. Are you willing to take your chances?" I asked

"After what I've been through, I think I'm ready for anything," he settled.

I used to love my morning walks. I would make my rounds to the stream a mile away from the house carrying the buckets of cold water back and then sit in my garden watching the sunrise. Today there's nothing left in my garden because it's covered in snow. I watched the snowflakes pelt to the ground last night. I don't know how long I was staring at the ceiling thinking about Folken's request. I walked to the doorway just to see him pushing himself off his makeshift bed.

"I give you the test"

"Who did you learn this from?" I asked out of curiosity.

"My grandma Rose came up with it: it's more like an inner self reliance, She has only done the test once and she said to me sternly: Now Shayndel, don't try this until you're sure the person is prepared. That was the only time she scolded at me except the time when I jumped off the roof," she recalled starring through the side of the window.

"Shayla isn't your real name," I asked surprised.

She snapped out of her daze

"Oh, Shayla is the nickname that Grandma Rose gave me. Actually I'm not quite sure what my birth parents named me," she explained.

"Shayndel," I tested under my tongue.

"It's rather strange, isn't it?" She blushed in embarrassment.

"It's a beautiful name," I reassured her placing my hand over her.

"Literally," she muttered under her breath.

Then it happened again when our eyes met. We seem to communicate without the use of words. Mother was the only one who seemed to read me.

"Enough of this," she insisted. "Are you sure about this?"

I noticed she didn't take her hand away.

"Absolutely," I said again as she got up and disappeared into the other room.

She re-entered a few seconds later and had something behind her back. She took her seat and held out a fully- bloomed white rose.

"This is Grandma Rose's. I want you to look at it and tell what you see," she ordered.

I took the flower into my hands. There were so many petals all swirled together in a cyclone.

"It has many layers and the centre is its most inner core," I chose my words carefully.

"Do you think the different layers could represent a little of you," she probed gently.

I was hesitant but I still replied.

"I guess it could represent my teachings to succeed my father compared to when I worked for Zaibach."

"Tell about your homeland, Folken," she asked.

"Fanelia was known for its lush forests and the Espanola guymeleff Escaflowne. My father met my mother while he was fighting against Zaibach," I described allowing painful memories to surface up.

"What was your father like?" she wondered.

"He'd always have a serious expression but whenever he saw my mother his eyes would soften. He was kind and understanding. I tried to be like him: all calm and reserved making sure I never showed my true feelings. I wanted him to be proud of me," I replied.

"Your mother…" she added.

"My parents Varie and Goau were destined to be together by prophecy. After my father passed away, I was the one who held my family together. They depended on my strength but I let them down, my mother died because of me," I choked.

"I think that's enough for one night," she concluded standing up and collecting the dishes. I continued to stare into the many layers of the rose.

"Folken," she called out. I blinked and looked up.

"The water is on the table and blow out the candle when you are ready," she instructed as she rearranged my sleeping bed.

I nodded, not trusting myself to talk. She stood there for a moment before she stood up on her tiptoes and kissed me on the cheek.

"Sweet dreams Folken," she wished leaving me to wonder what our previous conversation was of importance.

They all expected me to be as good as my father. My sword instructor was always fed up with me because I was never good enough. Mother and father told me not to give up, they don't seem to worry, but everyone else around me whispers behind.

"He's nothing like his father."

"Maybe he inherited his mother's trait after all he is half cursed."

I hate how they judge my mother so quickly. I'm half-draconian but Atlantians aren't cursed. Look at my parents for example: they are happy. I am determined to do better. My instructor is pleased with my progress. I could care less of what he thinks. Mother tells me I will be expecting a sister or brother soon. I'm excited and hope for a brother so I can teach him all I couldn't accomplish. I want him to have all the opportunities as me. Van was only five when father passed away. He depended on me but I have to train with Balgus. I am nervous, repeating to myself to stay calm. After a few minutes, he knocks the sword out of my hand.

"I'm sorry, I'll practice more," I apologized.

"Pick up the sword, Folken," he ordered.

When we spared again, something in him changed. He began to taunt me calling me a weakling and other crude names. What's going on? I never remember this happening. I fall on my back as Balgus punches me in the solar plexus. He holds the sword to my neck.

"You are weak, just like your mother," he taunted.

"Don't say that about my mother," I said angrily.

"She went to find you when you never returned. She didn't know you were a traitor," he replied.

His face contorted to an image of Dornkirk.

"Tell me Folken, I chose well. When I gave you your arm you knew couldn't return. You would be a mockery," he sneered.

"Shut up, shut up!" I screamed.

I bolted up so fast that I shook the table.

"Folken, did you have a nightmare," Shayndel asked appearing at the doorway.

"It was so real," I whispered.

"Have some water," she urged tipping the mug to my lips. She touched my hair speaking reassuring words to calm me down. She stayed by my side until I fell asleep