Aila
His hands felt warm against my freezing skin, with a bit of an odd texture, just like his silky dreamsand.
At first, I didn't realize what he was doing, and I nearly yanked away. Then, his eyes glanced down to his memory cylinder. I stared at the blue diamond as realization turned my body to stone.
Sandy drew my hand closer to the cylinder.
What would I see? What if I didn't like what I saw?
I almost drew back, but he hesitated first. I suddenly realized his hand was shaking. I looked up, and he was staring at me with those wide, golden eyes. I could almost see the thoughts bouncing around in his head as he searched my face.
He was afraid. I wasn't sure how, but I could just tell.
Finally, he released a pent up breath and shut his eyes. He guided my hand towards the blue diamond, and this time, I followed, my attention still glued to his face.
Our fingers pressed the memories together.
The diamonds on the cylinder began to shimmer. Then, suddenly, my entire view was blocked by the glinting shapes. When they cleared up, I was looking at a field, wet with morning dew and covered in a layer of mist. There were birds twittering in the trees, and sunlight was just beginning to streak across the sky.
I saw him.
The little boy didn't look much like him... he was just a regular boy, if a bit short, with messy blonde hair and honey colored eyes, dressed in a baggy shirt that was obviously a hand-me-down which didn't quite fit yet. But I could still immediately tell it was Sandy. He had the same demeanor… the same genuine smile you could see in his eyes, the same loose benignness in the way he wandered about, admiring every bit of nature that passed.
Before him there was a giant brick building, nearly a castle. He headed around the back, where there was a wall surrounding a beautiful garden of colorful trees and flowers and a water fountain.
He shot a glance back and forth, then scrambled over the fence, barely making it with his short legs. He tripped onto the other side, getting a face full of dirt, but brushed himself off and hurried along, glancing back and forth like he was looking for something.
He slowed at the water fountain, and a puzzled look crossed his face. He turned around and scanned the entire garden.
"Boo!"
Sandy leaped in shock as a little girl swung from the tree, hanging upside down by her legs. He crossed his arms, and she laughed gleefully. She lightly shoved him, but lost her balance. She fell from the tree with a scream and a thump.
Sandy helped the girl up, and I could see she was a bit taller than him. She had pale skin and was covered in freckles, and her red hair was tucked perfectly into two braids despite its naturally curly state. I always had been particular about how my hair looked.
I watched the pair for a little while longer as they played in the garden. At one point, my younger self pulled out her medical book. She sketched a diagram of a bug as the two lounged under the shade of a tree.
I couldn't help but realize the way Sandy stared. My younger self hadn't noticed, of course. She was too busy with her diagram. But Sandy just watched her from the side, his expression one of pure serenity, but also excitement, as if he couldn't wait to see what she would do next.
The shimmering diamonds crowded my vision again, and for a disappointing second, I thought it was over.
But the next few memories came in small moments. There was one of young me dissecting a bug and writing my findings in my medical book as Sandy grimaced behind me (I had always been a strange kid), one of us trying to catch fireflies in the garden, and one when we got lost in the woods at night and I leaped into Sandy's arms when there was a strange noise in the bushes. He'd been fierce even then, it seemed, because he stepped in front of me, just a tiny kid ready to fight no matter what met him.
Sandy was pushed around for being mute, as I saw from a memory when a group of bampot kids called him a burden to his parents. When I stood up for him, they called me a freak. Sandy didn't react to the torment at first… at least, not until I was teased. Things escalated pretty quickly when the other kid shoved me. I was surprised to see how swiftly Sandy was able to knock someone to the ground.
I watched as we grew up together. Sandy had become a dashing young man, still with that messy blonde hair and round face. He had finally hit his growth spurt, but was still only an inch or two taller than me. Years of difficult labor had bulked him up and toned him.
In one memory, I tried to teach him to ride a horse. He fell off and broke his arm, which I tended to and healed.
In other memories, we would sneak off together at night just so we could lay in the field and watch the stars.
Eventually, I began to see my patients. People were coming from all over to be seen by me, mostly because I never charged for my healing. I didn't need to. My father had enough money.
Of course, the doctor in town did not like that. In one memory, I saw him glaring at the two of us as we passed his empty office. My younger self was too busy gushing over my new medical supplies to notice, but Sandy returned the glare right back to him.
Looking back, I should've seen the warning signs by then.
It all started when Sandy was eating dinner with me and my father. My father kept shooting him disdainful glares, though Sandy tried to make light of the awkward situation by making a face at me, puffing out his cheeks and slowly releasing his breath. A tiny grin pulled up at the corner of my lips, but I lowered my head so my father didn't see.
Finally, my father cleared his throat. "Who cursed you and your family that you were born mute?"
"Father!" I exclaimed, dropping my spoon.
"Was it a witch?" my father ignored me. "I hear they have been making trouble recently." He cast me a strange look that, at the time, I didn't understand.
We continued to grow older, and I continued to grow busier. Every day, there were more people to heal. Sandy helped out as much as he could, but I began to see he was on a different mission.
In the next memory, he was standing in a shop, clutching a worn bag. He dropped the bag onto the counter, and hundreds of coins spilled out.
The man on the other side smiled. He reached down below the counter, then handed Sandy a cloth. Sandy peeled back the fabric, and there, caressed in his palm, were two beautiful rings.
He just stared for a moment with a dumbfounded smile, like he couldn't believe what he was holding. They were dazzling pieces of jewelry, one thin with a small but brilliant diamond shimmering atop, the other a matching band. Sandy beamed. He tucked them safely into his pocket.
Distant thunder rumbled, ushering in the next memory. This time, the scene opened up in a drenched field. Rain was pouring, and the night was particularly dark.
I immediately recognized the harsh environment, and my heart twisted with dread.
Sandy trudged through the muddy field to the old garden greenhouse where I met with patients. He threw open the door.
I was inside, kneeling on the ground. My skirts were slick with mud, and my hair was frizzy and soaking wet. Equipment, clothing, and other random belongings were scattered on the floor around me.
He knelt beside me, and I fell into his arms. I sobbed into his shoulder, and for a minute or two, he just held me.
This was the night when the town doctor showed up unannounced at my house. He and my father accused me of being a witch. I tried to tell them it wasn't witchcraft. It was medicine. I refused to stop.
My father kicked me out of the house.
Sandy helped me pack my supplies and clothing in a bag. We just stood there in the doorway together, our foreheads touching. Finally, I threw my bag over my shoulder, and headed out into the rain. Sandy followed me. I kept waiting for him to turn back towards town, but he didn't.
Finally, halfway across the field, I whipped around towards him.
"You can't come with me!" I shouted.
Sandy's brow scrunched determinedly, and he grabbed my hand. I knew that look. There was no talking him out of it. I tried anyway.
I snatched my arm away from him. "Go back!" I cried. There were tears gushing down my cheeks. Lightning cracked across the sky.
Sandy didn't budge, and I shoved him. "Go back!"
He still didn't leave. I wiped tears from my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "There's no going back from the place I'm headed. You can't sacrifice your whole life for… for me! You have no ties to me whatsoever!"
The words rang in the air for a moment. Sandy took a step back. For a moment, I almost thought he was about to turn around. But something in the way his eyes bore into me said otherwise.
Horror dawned over my face. "No," I whispered. "No…"
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded up cloth. He lowered onto one knee.
I staggered and my hands flew over my face.
He uncovered the ring. Thunder rumbled.
In the next memory, we were running through woodlands at night, hand in hand. We came to a small church hidden in the mountains, and I recognised the pastor immediately. I had brought his daughter back from the brink of death when the doctor in town refused to see her because he couldn't pay. No doubt the pastor was stunned when he opened the door to see the two of us huddled together under one blanket, full of mud and out of breath, and yet with beaming smiles on both of our faces.
I heard an echo, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.
Then, the next memory rolled in. We were dancing in the church as the pastor played a tender song on the piano. The gentle melody echoed through the chapel. We swayed back and forth, pressed against each other's chests. Sandy buried his face into my hair.
We leaned back. I saw my face.
I barely recognized myself beneath the unfamiliar expression… there was a beautiful peace in my manner, like nothing else mattered except that moment. I just stared at him, barely blinking as if I didn't want to let him out of my sight for even a second. We pressed our foreheads together.
Several images flashed by next. I saw us running through the woods, chased by shouting men carrying torches. Then Sandy watched me as I tended to the fatal wounds of a young boy. Next, Sandy brought me breakfast in bed on a morning when I was sick. Of course, I was worried I would be a burden to him, but he leaped at any chance to tend to me with a beaming smile.
There was another memory when the same doctor who had initially accused me of witchcraft broke into the house where we were staying. Sandy was already up, and I had been laying in bed alone. Seconds before the man could thrust his sword into my stomach, Sandy appeared and slammed him into the wall.
After that, everything went dark. An odd smell filled my nose. The sound of crackling and snapping began to echo in my ears. My throat felt irritated.
It was smoke.
The strange sounds grew louder… and louder. Finally, the roaring fires and creaking timber became deafening.
Sandy's eyes shot open, and I was above him, shaking him. He shot upright, and horror filled me as I watched the memory. There was fire everywhere.
Sandy leaped out of bed. I threw a blanket around my shoulders, and he ushered me out of the room. He shoved the front door open. The two of us froze. There were lines of men in the front yard, waiting for us. They thrust their torches into the air. "Hand over the witch!"
Sandy pushed himself onto the steps in front of me. He extended his arms and clenched his fists.
"Stand down, man!" someone in the mob shouted. "Can't you see this woman has taken your voice?"
A wooden beam collapsed just inside the door. I screamed and stumbled into Sandy. The two of us collapsed down the steps.
The mob bombarded us immediately. Two men grabbed either of my arms, and they drug me into the crowd as I thrashed and screeched for Sandy.
Sandy immediately charged. He tackled the man on my left. The other on my right pounced on him, and I was thrown into the dirt.
Sandy and the two men rolled over each other. He pinned one to the ground and tried to subdue him, but he wasn't quick enough. The second man grabbed him under the arms and lifted him into the air, then slammed him against the ground multiple times. One of the horse riders threw him a whip, and he used it to tie Sandy's hands behind his back.
The two of us made eye contact for a heart stopping moment. Sandy, his face streaked with mud, fixed me with a pleading expression. He began to jerk his head to the side, begging me to run.
Of course, I didn't listen.
I leaped on top of the man's back and threw my arms around his throat right before he finished binding Sandy's hands. The two of us staggered. I barely had a chance to gasp before he fell backwards, crushing me between his back and the ground.
The man pulled out a knife.
Sandy ripped his hands free. He cracked the whip, then snapped it around the man's arm. He yanked him off me, then leaped forward to punch him.
The man raised the knife, and Sandy suddenly jerked, his fist frozen in the air. There was an awful gurgling noise, and then he looked down. The knife was in his stomach.
I screamed and lurched forward, but it was too late.
The man ripped the knife out and kicked Sandy away. He sank to the ground, curling around his wound.
The man prowled towards me. I scrambled backwards, panting. He spit on the ground, then snatched one of the torches from someone beside him. "She's too dangerous to be left alive any longer. We must kill her now."
The crowd cheered, and even watching the memory, I felt my heart begin to race.
Sandy heaved himself to his feet. I hadn't gotten a good look at his injury, but I knew he should not have been able to stand. And yet, somehow, he did. He staggered for a moment, but then I felt a powerful emotion overtake his entire body. The pain ebbed away. His vision narrowed to only me.
He hurtled past the men, nearly slamming them to the ground, and then scooped me up. He raced back into the house. Just before we ducked through the door, there was a whoosh as someone shot a bow.
He weaved between piles of burning wood. The house was caving in by now. Burning planks collapsed around us, I was coughing and choking, and I buried my face into his chest. But nothing phased him.
He charged out of the back door, and seconds later, the house crumbled inward. The mob remained out front, their cheers echoing through the field. They were so busy celebrating, they did not realize we had escaped and snuck into the woods.
Sandy continued to sprint through the trees, whipped by branches and tripped by roots.
"Stop!" I wheezed. "Please, stop!"
Finally, his legs gave out. We careened forward, and Sandy curled under me so he took the brunt of the fall. There were a few seconds when we tumbled down the side of the mountain, then skidded across the leaves.
Sandy's vision was swimming at this point. The adrenaline had worn off. Still, he propped himself up on his elbow. He blinked hard, trying to clear his sight. Finally, he found me. I was laying on my side a few feet away, back facing him.
Sandy tried to push himself up, but his legs wobbled. He fell forward. Using the last of his strength, he drug himself towards me with his arms.
"Sanderson?" my voice whimpered weakly. I rolled over. There was an arrow jutting from my ribs.
Watching the memory, I physically felt the agony split through my chest. His agony.
Sandy finally collapsed. He wheezed, clutching the wound on his side.
Despite the arrow, I forced myself upright. Tears erupted from my eyes.
"I can fix this." I insisted as I leaned over him. I nearly tipped over, but I caught myself. My words slurred, "I can… fix this."
Sandy grabbed my hand. I sniffled, struggling to stay upright. At this point, I was gasping for breath. I collapsed. Still, Sandy managed to catch me. He lowered me down to his side.
Things seemed to slow down. I'm not sure how long we laid like that. We just stared at each other, barely able to move, unable to speak.
Sandy lifted one of his trembling hands from mine. He cupped my cheek in his palm, using his thumb to brush the soot from my face.
Again, I was able to feel his emotions, so powerful they nearly brought tears to my eyes. Regret. Shame. It was like a parasite, eating away inside and leaving an agonizing emptiness.
Black began to edge his vision. His other hand squeezed my fingers tighter. I heard two words echo in his thoughts…
I'm sorry.
Then everything turned dark.
But somehow, the memories were not over. Sandy's eyes opened, and all I could see was the moon.
It seemed like it was growing closer. But no, Sandy was rising towards it.
And suddenly, Sandy was the Sandman. He was gold and round, made of shimmering sand. He was stumbling through the remains of the burned house. By now, it was nothing but a shell… a few brick columns and some singed wood full of fungi. Everything was covered in vines, and a tree was wrapped through a hole that was once a window.
Sandy stumbled to the fireplace. He yanked one of the huge rocks out of the wall and scooped up my medical book from its hiding spot. He brushed the ashes off of it. Somehow, besides a bit of decay, it had survived.
He collapsed to his knees, clutching the book to his chest. Tears overflowed down his face. He withered over the pages, pressing his forehead against the ground.
The scene disappeared.
One last montage of moments played.
We were curled up together on a lounge, me writing in my book, leaning against Sandy's chest as his chin sat on my head. His hand sliding the ring on my finger. The two of us laughing, me tending to a cut on his face when we were children. Then, we were swimming together in a pond, and we were at one of my parents' balls where I was trying to get Sandy to sample all kinds of fancy foods.
Finally, we were dancing in the church. Sandy leaned down into a dip. I found myself staring down at my own face, glowing with the biggest smile I'd ever seen across my lips. I looked so… happy. I looked like myself, completely undeterred, completely full of hope.
He grinned playfully, then his eyes flicked down to my lips. We leaned in closer.
The glittering diamonds began to overwhelm my vision. Slowly, the memories disappeared.
And suddenly, I was back inside the gazebo, staring into Sandy's eyes.
It was like seeing him for the first time. Those honey colored eyes… the admiring, earnest expression… the touch of his hand against mine. It was familiar.
I tried to speak, but what could I say? For some reason, the only thing that came out was, "You saved me."
Sandy's face fell. He shook his head, suddenly seeming to crumble.
"What?" I huffed. "What do you mean no?" Without even thinking, I used a finger to pull his chin up. His expression had gnarled into pain and… regret.
"Do you know what they did to people they thought were witches? You saved me from torture. You protected me my entire life, and because of you… I died peacefully."
He finally met my eyes. He reached out, hesitated a moment, and, when I didn't flinch, he brushed his palm against my cheek. I touched his hand.
"You protected me," I whispered. "You are a Guardian."
