Ch 10: Trinity
She was walking, scouting, trembling. The land was broken and shattered, cracked from power and hate. The soil, once rich and fertile, now fell away like paper, rustling weakly under her bare feet. Scattered sparsely across the dead, barren earth were skeletal shrubs, nothing left but the black bones reaching up for salvation to the storming sky like the hands of wounded soldiers left on the battlefield to die. Black clouds, edged with red and streaked with the pale charcoal of dead flesh, roiled and battled above across all the sky she could see. Thunder far in the distance rattled across her bones, and before her very eyes, the strong shock of the crack widened the wounds cut into the earth. Far in the distance, a formidable mountain range stood shelter for the war of lightning that roared across its peaks. The lightning wasn't the pure white she knew; it was stained, almost like thirsty spears still strong enough to draw more blood.
To her left stood the charred, crumbling remains of a tree. Something, some old knowledge left abandoned, drew her closer. Brushing her hand across what had once been bark, she gasped as it flaked off on her hand, leaving a black stain on her skin. The tree started to cave in, its collapse catalyzed by her touch. As she watched, the tree crackled and shivered, and as the trunk shattered, it emitted one final cry, the death peal of this world. Then, it fell silent, nothing more than a pile of ash at her feet.
Without warning, a wicked shriek of wind screamed across the plain where she stood, consuming everything in its path. Dry earth, little more than sand, flew like snow in a blizzard, slicing at her skin like blades once the wind reached her, enveloping her. It quickly swept up the remains of the tree, and cocooned her in grey earth and black tree ash. The wind tugged at the shorn ends of her short hair, biting eagerly at her exposed skin. Crouching down and covering her head with her arms for protection, she tried to wait out the wind storm. But as it tirelessly continued, hidden tears fell. Her whispers were destroyed by the wind, but uttered nonetheless: "When did it all die?"
-_-_-_-_-_-
It was a bolt of light that awoke Ana from the dream that trapped her. Blinking desperately as the resonating cobalt light seemed to split her skull, Ana didn't realize the whimper that tore through her throat, too weak to raise her hand in defense. She could faintly make out a figure silhouetted by the glow. Arms were spread wide, a cloak that clicked a drowning memory flapping gently in a spell breeze. It turned, and some part of her brain, overwhelmed by the cries of pain, recognized the tall, slim creature as Felix. He moved forward, crouching down to bring his face close to her's. His features swam sickeningly, dark-lashed eyes refracting to collide with a long, straight nose, while his cheekbones crashed together over his full mouth. A strong jaw smashed against his high forehead, and Ana faintly registered that her eyes were rolling, her consciousness slipping.
Through it all, she could feel gentle fingers brush over her forehead and cheeks, feather light and echoing fear. As she slipped away, Ana felt Felix gather her close, whispering, "It's all right, Ana. They're coming."
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She was home, happy and warm. Outside, a gentle snow fell, ushering in the holidays with a quiet cheer. Standing from the deep-seated chair by the roaring fire, she turned while keeping a hand on the back of the chair, smiling at the family gathered around the large oak table. A tall, strapping auburn-haired man played cards with two small children, eerily alike in appearance even for siblings. Both had the man's clever brown eyes, but bore a shock of blond hair, ringleted on the little girl, that beautifully contrasted their dark eyes.
The man seemed nervous, and was often scolded by the children for not paying attention. They called him Papa, and he would flash them a sheepish, charming smile before returning his attention to the cards fanned in his hand. An older man sat at the end of the table between the father and his children, an excited gleam in his eyes as he alternately studied his cards and the other man. The only thing that betrayed his age was the rare few silver hairs that threaded his hair at the temples and laugh lines around his mouth and at the corner of his eyes.
When it was finally the older man's turn, he triumphantly splayed his cards on the table in front of him, eliciting groans of disappointment from the children. The father tried to look disappointed, but his gaze kept straying to the stairs over at the right side of the room. Ana followed his gaze, and saw a young man enter from the kitchen. For some reason, his presence elated her, joy bubbling in her blood as he winked at the children, joking with the man who had won.
He clapped a hand on the father's shoulder, saying a few comforting words about patience before his eyes met her's. It was only a moment, but it was their's. However, it was broken, when a woman the game winner's age came running down the stairs, shouting some excited news. The father shot to his feet, fear and ecstatic joy fighting on his face as the young man wrapped him in a heavy bear hug before turning to toss some comment at the game winner. Trying to look angry, money passed hands between the two. The father turned to the children, tears of joy in his eyes as he gathered them close, carting them up the stairs. Everyone followed, and she moved to join them. However, as soon as her hand left the chair, she felt herself being pulled away. Her man beckoned, but she was slipping away, losing grip…
-_-_-_-_-_-
A crash of thunder dragged Ana up from the dreams the second time. She sensed her eyes flashing wide, but was horrified when she saw nothing. Her utter terror summoned enough strength to weakly wave her hand in front of her eyes. But not even the faint flash of flesh could be seen. She wasn't in the dark; she was blind.
"Papa?" she whispered, fear trembling in her voice. It was the only thing her mind could dredge up. Where was her father? She called out the childish query a second time, adrenaline and fear summoning enough strength for the sound to carry. Faintly, she heard steps approaching, and was immensely relieved. Her father was coming; he would help her.
"Ana? What is it? Ana, can you hear me?" The relief drained, leaving Ana empty and stone cold inside. Who was this man, and where was her father? Soft hands gently ran over her shoulders and down her arms. Ana flinched, weeping at the pain it caused to shift away from the contact and wildly wave her hands in front of her.
"Ana! It's me! It's Felix," the stranger said as he caught her hands, holding them against his beating heart. "You're all right, Ana, you'll be fine." The fear in his voice strangely dimmed her's. It trembled through his tone, even as he valiantly tried to sound reassured and calm. Ana curled her fingers into the cloth under her hand, feeling the fast, fear-driven beating of his heart under her palm. Suddenly, she remembered. There was no rush of recognition. Like the click of a lightbulb, the memories were there.
"Felix," she whispered as his hold on her hands gentled, "I—I can't see." He didn't tense as she had expected. She didn't know what showed on his face, but he didn't feel surprised. He ran his thumbs over her knuckles, one hand leaving her's to gently run over her hair. She flinched from the touch she couldn't see coming, but Ana felt guilty when his hand quickly withdrew.
"This sometimes happens. It shouldn't be permanent, Ana." She didn't have any time to be comforted by Felix's statement, however. Within a heartbeat, Ana started coughing violently, wheezing and hacking like a dying person. Felix levered her upright, but it didn't help. No matter what she did, she couldn't seem to get enough air. Ana's lungs were killing her as they tried to breathe. Just as she started to feel light-headed from her gasping attempts to draw air, Ana felt a hand pressed over her heart. A warm glow, one she knew now to be associated with healing, spread along her skin. As she dropped back into the black that had held her for so long, Ana could hear Felix coughing.
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She was walking again, this time over grass rich with health and age. No one walked beside her; her mission as her's alone. In her hands were three blooms—a delicate blue thiman, a small ivory ice tear, and a cluster of strong purple fidetions. Known in her world as a forget-me-not, a snowdrop, and heliotropes. True love and remembrance, hope, devotion and faithfulness. She walked up a hill, just shy of steep. When she finally reached the crest, she could look down on a small town she didn't recognize. What she did know was that it was alive, and celebrating.
The war had been won, and in this place, this time, this small town had survived. They had every reason to celebrate. And every reason pay homage. For it was in this small pocket of free, living land that the grave had been chosen. The cemetery for the warriors. The soldiers that had died so that this town, and many others like it, had reason to celebrate.
Turning away from the joy below that so clashed with the sorrow within her, she made her way down the other side of the hill to a small cup of green, where the gray stones broke the earth with strength, and pride. They had every right—they had earned this place. Winding her way through the stones, some crammed tight with names, dates, and long quotes, while others bore nothing but the crossed swords of a soldier, leaving this world with only the distinction of their sacrifice.
There, beyond the strict rows of the warriors, was the grave she sought. Sheltered by the gentle shade of a willow was a solitary marble stone, carved beautifully along the edges. The words across the face of the stone were elegantly scripted, and his long name made her smile through the tears.
Felix Gideon Jenkins Pendragon
Son of Howl, Father of the Rebellion
When I used my strength in the service of my vision
it made no difference whether or not I was afraid.
In her I am reborn
Carefully, she placed the three flowers on the grave, brushing the petals of the yellow daisy no doubt placed by his parents with gentle fingers. Crouching down, she ran her hands over the last line of text. Only she knew what the line meant. Her name meant resurrection, and through her memories, Felix would live on. It was his final outreach to her, and a small comfort to hold when she mourned the breaking of her heart. Pressing her fingers to her lips, then to the cold stone of his name, she stood, turning to walk away. At the top of the hill, she looked back at the swaying branches of the willow. Leaving the tears on her face untouched, she turned away, and left the dead behind.
-_-_-_-_-_-
Ana awoke slowly, drifting out of the sorrow of her dream, the remnants of the powerful emotions clutching at her like the soft fingers of fog. For a moment, it was a challenge to focus her eyes. Everything was bathed in a gentle sort of ivory light. Slowly a black shape came into focus, the movements slow and mystical. Ana wasn't sure if it was the figure or her sight that was so measured. A person stood bathed in the light, a wind billowing the long cloak as he waved his arm in long strokes above his head in a beckoning gesture. Beyond him a giant form landed on the ground with a thundering crash that shook her bones with a rolling violence.
Turning, he moved to her with the quiet grace of his slow movements, Felix's eyes glowing from the unfocused plains of his skin, hair, and clothes. Kneeling beside her, he gathered her easily in his arms. Ana went with the soft obedience of a child, fighting the pain that rippled through her as she lifted her arms around his neck. Slowly, like through water, he turned, carrying her to the bright light that washed over and away anything to be seen. Felix lowered his head, whispering into her ear gently, "They're here, Ana. It'll be alright."
Pressing her ear to his chest, she could hear the slow, strong beats of his heart. Felix's blood rushed under his skin like a river, and she knew that in this beat of life, this slow moment of time, she trusted no other person more than the man that held her. She didn't know where he was taking her, but she believed that it would be as he promised. It would be alright. She slipped away to the rhythm of his stride.
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Ok, I'm sorry, I kinda lied. This chapter isn't an explanation like I promised. In fact, it may be more confusing than the last few chapters. Symbolism and deep meanings galore. Just stuff to pretty much remember at this point, not analyze. If you figure it out, I applaud you. But don't beat yourself up. It's pretty much a huge jumble of foreshadowing and possibilities and… other stuff. Remember, reviewing doubles your chances of seeing a chapter within a week. It doesn't guarantee it, but it sure does stack the odds in your favor, so give me a holler. In all honesty, it's up to you readers to keep me going. So, hope you like it!!