Author's Note: Another one!
Tsyeyk is half dead. His body cold, breath shallow, the light of his freckles dim, faded. His body is fading, blood all around him, yet none of it was his. Yet he was in a near-death state. He would awaken periodically, hearing his parents talking over him. His mother rubbing his chest, trying to wake him. Smells in his nose meant to stir him but all it would do would shut his brain off again.
He was stuck. Like his body had become a cage he couldn't escape from. And the longer it took, the harder it was getting to wake up again.
He may be only half dead now, but the longer they wait, the closer to the Great Mother's embrace he gets. He wants to wake up, he tells himself. But he knows what is waiting for him when he does.
Sylwanin is completely dead. Her life stripped from her with shards of metal lodged in the soft tissue of her brain and the bones of her spine. Through her temple and through her chest, heart and then sticking into her spine in two places.
They couldn't wait for him to get better before releasing her soul back to the Great Mother. And a part of him is thankful. All energy is borrowed, but it didn't feel right that they were the same soul and yet, half was already gone. His twin sister went back to the Great Mother's side, and yet... she feels so close. Like sometimes, between the bouts of consciousness, he can hear her. Whispering to him. Telling him that she was sorry. Begging him to help her. Telling him that she lo-
Yet she never finishes. And the word is swallowed up by the darkness choking Tsyeyk.
His mom is desperate. She spends countless hours poring over him. She prays to Eywa. She begs Tsyeyk to wake up, Eywa to set her son free. She argues with his dad, both stressed, losing their son in slow motion while still mourning the death of their eldest daughter.
His dad tries to be strong, but Tsyeyk feels him when his dad holds onto him. Cries softly into his braids or his chest, gently rubbing at whatever flesh he touches, trying to rouse him awake. But he tries not to do it in front of others, still trying to be strong for them, yet Tsyeyk's heart breaks for his dad, knowing that he's trying his best, and yet he feels as though he failed his children. But Sylwanin would never think that, and Tsyeyk certainly doesn't.
Neytiri talks to him. She holds his hand and tells him about what's going on with the clan while he sleeps. How everyone is worried about him, how they mourned the loss of their own. Seven children died. Three were Sylwanin and her friends. The other four were simply caught in the middle. Grace and Ms. Arty tried to protect them, Neytiri tells him that Ms. Arty covered their bodies with her own while Grace tried to get between the doorway and the classroom. They tried to help, but it wasn't enough. It didn't save those that were felled.
Seven children were sent back to the Great Mother's side and the clan still mourns the loss. Tsyeyk, if he doesn't pull through, will be the eighth.
Tsyeyk is dying because Sylwanin is gone. They are the same soul in two bodies and now one of them is gone, and slowly but surely, he is being pulled to the Great Mother's side with his twin sister. It took some time, but eventually, Tsyeyk found it within himself to fight. Maybe it was his dad's soft sobs, his mom's begging, his sister telling him that she needed him, but she would understand if he had to go too. Maybe it was all of it, he doesn't know, but eventually he found strength. Enough to hold on. Enough to stay.
Sylwanin felt so close, yet so far, but still, he pulled from her and instead of being mad, she understood. He even felt her at his back, urging him on. A promise to look after them torn from his lips at her insistence. And then it felt like he was finally able to sever himself from her, or at least, from the unbreakable tether that pulled him closer and closer to the Great Mother, but it felt... wrong. Like he had done something that he shouldn't, but he couldn't stop now. He had to keep going. He had to go back so that he could protect them.
His parents. His sister. For them, he would be strong. He would stay to keep them safe. It's what Sylwanin would want - what he knows that he must.
So, he fought with all of his strength. With every bit of energy that he could muster to come back into himself. He's not sure how long it took, or why it hurt so bad, but eventually, he finds his way back into himself. But he left something behind, a part of him that he can't get back. A part of himself that was perhaps part of him at one point but was put into another body. The piece of him that was left with Sylwanin.
And it's gone forever.
Tsyeyk opens his eyes to see the darkness of his family hut. On one side he can hear Neytiri's soft breathing, and on the other, his parents. His body hurts, his mind hurts, everything hurts. But nothing so much as the agony of a part of him missing. Like the part of him that Sylwanin occupied was carved out of him, and the agony was unbearable.
Tsyeyk sobs, hard enough to shake his body. His mom's hand rested over his heart - no doubt to make sure it kept pushing on even as she slept - and she jolts at the sound. Then she's wrapping around him, holding him tight as he sobs brokenly, feeling weak. She kisses his forehead, rocking him back and forth as Neytiri grabs onto his arm and his dad moved to place his hand on Tsyeyk's shoulders while he leaned into his mom. And they all cried, huddling together.
"I...I..." Tsyeyk stammers, his voice raspy and weak. He keeps pressing his hand to his chest. "She... she..."
"Shh," Mom rasps back, kissing his forehead and squeezing him tight. "I know, my sweet boy. I know."
"She..." he whines, voice cutting in and out, his throat burning. "She..."
His dad nuzzles the junction between his neck and shoulder, offering comfort. Tsyeyk sobs again as a stab of pain lances his chest. Mom kisses his forehead again, rocking him back and forth.
"I know, Tsyeyk. I know."
He spent the next two days sleeping, eating small nibbles and sipping water, just... trying to survive. Waking up wasn't enough. He had to crawl his way back into himself. It took more than he thought it ever could from him. He had to fight for every moment, every breath, just to make it to the next one. His parents and Neytiri stayed by his side to help him. To see to his every need. Even just to keep him company as he slept. Safeguarding his dreams.
Tsyeyk knows that his parents have forbidden Sky People from entering their lands now by his father's decree, turned away Grace and Ms. Arty when they tried to explain because the truth didn't matter. It didn't change anything. It didn't bring back those dead kids. It didn't alter the Omatikaya's view on the Sky People. It was an excuse, and they weren't interested in hearing it. They closed down the school too, no one wanted to go back. Tsyeyk didn't ask about it. He didn't care to know, as he didn't intend on going back either.
His dad was right, they never should have trusted the Sky People. Ms. Arty and Grace were their friends, this he still believes, but everyone else is the enemy. Just because two people had good intentions doesn't mean that the Omatikaya - that Tsyeyk and his family - can afford to forgive. It is done. The Sky People have shown who and what they are, while Grace and Ms. Arty aren't to blame, nothing more can be done. It has to be a clean break.
At some point after the second day, Arvok came to see him. Tsyeyk only barely remembers opening his arms and his best friend crawling into the blankets beside him, wrapping around him tightly.
"Thank you, Great Mother," Arvok whispers softly, hugging him close. "Thank you for waking up. Thank you."
"Arvok," he rasps, pressing his face into his best friend's neck. "I miss her. I want her back."
Arvok holds him close, running his hand up and down Tsyeyk's back, soothing him. "I know," he rasps, rubbing his cheek against Tsyeyk's braids. "I know. I miss her too. I'm just so glad that you're okay. You scared me."
"I'm sorry," Tsyeyk whispers, not sure who exactly he was speaking to. His best friend? His parents and sister, who were sitting close by? His dead sister, who he still feels like a hallow space in his chest? He's not sure. He just has to say it, praying that it was reaching the person that it was meant to. He keeps hoping that he'll open his eyes and Sylwanin will be there, that they will be able to comfort one another. That this horrible nightmare would come to an end.
It doesn't, of course. And Tsyeyk is suffering for it.
Tsyeyk cries, the pain of his body, heart and mind is too much for him. It hurts so bad. Arvok holds him tightly, and he feels his mom's hand run over his braids, offering him comfort. But he can barely feel it. All he can do is hold tightly to his friend and cry. He should go out and see to the clan. He should fulfill his duties as heir to the Omatikaya, but he can't. He's in too much pain. He needs just a little bit more time before he's able to face them. To face the reality of all that they lost. Not just Sylwanin but the others too. He's not the only one hurting, he has to remember that.
"It hurts..." he wheezes. "It hurts so bad..."
Arvok holds him tightly, nuzzling his braids. "I know. I know."
Tsyeyk knows that today is the day that he's going to face the clan since that day at the school. They've known that he woke up for days prior, but this was the first time that he was walking amongst them again. He got up far earlier than usual and left the deep darkness of his parents' hut, crept down through the dark of Hometree and into the forest beyond. It was transitioning from night to dawn as he makes his way to the watering hole to clean up. He made himself presentable being sure to clean off days of filth from himself. He didn't stop to think about anything other than being methodical about cleaning himself up. He undid his braids, opting to just put a comb in his hair to pull it out of his face.
He braided his kuru again before heading back.
The clan was stirring while he made his ascension back up the spiral to his parents' hut to drop off his things. His dad was already gone, back to work bright and early as always, whereas Neytiri and his mom were there, cleaning up and getting ready for the day.
"Morning," Neytiri says, catching sight of him. "You went to the watering hole? Why didn't you wake me? I would have gone with you."
"I don't need a babysitter, Neytiri," Tsyeyk says, quietly. "I just needed a bit of time alone."
Neytiri's shoulders droop, but she nods. "Yeah, okay."
"How do you feel?" Their mom asks after a few beats of silence, her keen golden eyes watching him. "You're still moving slow. Lethargic?"
"Yeah..." Tsyeyk sighs.
"Want me to braid your hair for you?" Mom asks, moving to her feet.
Tsyeyk nods. "Yes, but later. Can we do it tonight? I'm starving and just... don't want to hang around here all day again. I need to get out there. I need to do things." His mom and sister both thankfully appear to understand.
Neytiri perks up at that. "Want to go out hunting with me?"
Tsyeyk wasn't sure what he wanted to do with his day, but he definitely didn't want to be alone. So, he just nods, rubbing at his tense shoulders before looking over at his mom. "Did you need anything while we're out?"
She watches him closely but shakes her head. "No. Check in again before you leave in case I think of something."
Both of them nod. Tsyeyk steps backwards out of the hut, waving for them to follow. He has to stop his eyes from searching for her. From asking if she left early to get to school. If she's with her friends and will meet with them later. He doesn't ask, but every word not spoken digs a deeper hole in his chest. His hands shake, but he tries not to think about it. He has to remind himself that she's gone, and it hurts.
That empty pit in his heart and gut grows wider, deeper. He tries not to look for her, knowing that he'll see all the signs of her life - her bedroll, her blankets, her adornments and her storage chest - but not her. All signs that point to her being somewhere, just not there, when the reality is that she's long gone. She's with the Great Mother. He knows that she's gone, he's just not ready to face it.
Tsyeyk and Sylwanin were at the age where they were bouncing back forth between sleeping in their family hut or the hammocks with the rest of the young males and females transitioning between adolescents still living with their parents' and becoming fully recognized adults. Tsyeyk was more than excited to go out on his own, gaining some level of independence, while Sylwanin was a lot more hesitant. She wanted to keep around their parents and he respected that. He still came back every few nights so that they could all be together.
Neytiri isn't quite to the age yet. She hasn't gone through her iknimaya so she still has to stay with their parents, but she was practically almost there. Ready to tame her own ikran. They were just waiting a bit until the whole family could go. Guess that's not going to happen this time.
He steps out of the hut and heads toward the spiral, glancing down to see where the bulk of the clan was moving to get breakfast before starting their day. He crosses his arms over his chest, feeling cold and weak. Lethargic, like his mom had said.
He sighs, running his hands over his head, brushing shorter strands of hair framing his face back from his eyes.
"Ready?" Neytiri asks him from behind.
"I'm ready," Tsyeyk sighs, turning to face her. "Let's go."
Neytiri and their mom stops, staring at him. His mom's face twists while Neytiri's eyes widen in horror.
"Great Mother... no..." Neytiri whispers, eyes welling up with tears. "Why would... why would she..."
"What?" Tsyeyk asks, panic running through him. "What happened? What's wrong?"
Mom's face crumples in pain as she walks over to him, hand outstretched. Tsyeyk wasn't sure what she was going to do when she got to him, but it surprised him when she placed her fingertips against his chest. He looks down at the skin of his chest, seeing a discolored white mark, like a star over his head, and a second one just below it, close to where his ribs divide.
"Wha... what is this..?" Tsyeyk asks, touching the skin too, but it's colder compared to the rest of his skin. Smoother. Not like a normal scar. And it feels strange to him, where his mother's fingers touch. Sensitive, like the skin is almost... new. "Where...? Where did I get this?"
"It's..." Neytiri whispers, "...like hers. It's the wounds that killed her."
Tsyeyk gasps through the lance of pain through his chest, stumbling back. His mom and sister grab at him so he doesn't fall off the top of the spiral. "I... It... I... What..?"
Two... two shards of metal in the chest... just like Sylwanin... and one... one...
He reaches up to touch his temple. His mom follows the movement, brushing strands from the side of his face and closes her eyes, agony striking across her features and Tsyeyk knows it's there too.
"You weren't hit," Neytiri rasps. "That's what we didn't understand! You weren't hurt! Why? Why is her wounds..? Mother? Mother, why?"
Their mother doesn't respond, tears leaking down her cheeks as she tries desperately to compose herself. She pets his cheeks, then his shoulders, like the action was calming for her. It was helping her frayed emotions, which Tsyeyk was glad for. He, himself, felt numb. This fear laced panic left only numbness in its wake. All that Tsyeyk could think about was how cruel the Great Mother was to allow this to happen.
First, she severs his soul in two, only to take one piece to her side too soon. Then, as punishment for not going with her, for choosing to stay when he had no right too, she left the wounds that killed his twin on his skin to mar him forever. A reminder of the life that he outlived - that he didn't deserve to live on without her.
Instead of going to see the clan as he intended, Tsyeyk moved past his mom and sister back into the hut, the panic fading to numbness once more. He crawled under the blankets into a small ball, and cried, unable to bear the thought of looking at himself in disgust and a deep-rooted pain in his heart and gut that just dug deeper.
It took many days before Tsyeyk finally did leave the family hut. He was spiraling for a time, unable to look at himself, unable to think about how his sister's death was written across his skin. How they also learned that his glowing marks filled out as his health returned to him. His markings and Sylwanin's combined on his skin, creating an intense, complex design across his skin. Tsyeyk hated it. He hated what it represented.
His mom spent a lot of time sitting by his side, talking to him about the Great Mother. About how this wasn't a punishment. That it was Eywa's way of giving her back to him, linking them together once more. But Tsyeyk didn't want that. He would prefer it over how he feels now - hollow and empty - but he didn't want her to become a part of his flesh once more. He wanted her back. He wanted her alive and well. He wanted to hug her and tell all of his thoughts and feelings to her, but he couldn't. She was gone. Forever.
And even though so many days passed, he still couldn't fight the pain welling up inside of him. It wasn't fair that his gentle, kind sister should be gone, but not him. His sister was going to be Tsahik one day, was going to be the voice of the Great Mother, yet she took her. Took her voice back to her side way too soon. It's not right, it's not fair. Why did she do this?
Instead of breakfast with the clan, Tsyeyk, his parents and sister went to where Sylwanin was laid to rest.
"You need to face this, my son," his mother had said, holding tightly to his arm as if he was going to run away if she didn't hold him in place. "You need to see that she is really gone and make peace. Then we will go to the Tree of Voices." Her voice shook with emotion, but she managed to keep her expression as even as possible. He didn't want to do this, but he knew he had to. The pain of losing Sylwanin was never going to go away, but he couldn't keep laying in the family hut. He had to figure out how to move on. How to make peace, as his mother said.
He cried, seeing the place his sister was buried, close to all the others lost that day. Seven small bodies put into the ground too soon. His parents and sister all held onto one another, wrapping around him as he cried himself hoarse. Neytiri sobbed into his shoulder, hugging him tightly. Their parents wrapped around them, holding tightly to the two children they still had left.
Tsyeyk fought hard, not able to bare it, going to the Tree of Voices, but his parents dragged him there. He needed to go; he knows that he did. But it was too scary. It was too painful. But they dragged him there. They would go to see her together.
When he saw her, sitting out at the perch overlooking the massive waterfall that she loved, she looked right at him, smiled, and said, "I love the waterfall. It makes it look like a hundred tiny rainbows are falling off of it." A puff of air, her fingers splayed wide as she turns to look at it. "Have you ever seen anything more beautiful? It compliments each other, the water and the rainbow, like us!"
A crash of emotions hits him hard enough to take his breath away. He's been crying so much recently that he can't believe there is any more tears left in his body. He's exhausted, in unbearable pain, yet he knows that he has to do this. He has to see her at the Great Mother's side. He has to understand that she's gone. That this is the only place that he'll ever see her again. Feel her.
Tsyeyk sits down at her side, resting his head onto her shoulder, tears streaming down his cheeks as he stares out at the waterfall. She felt so real. He could smell her familiar scent. They slotted together perfectly because they were two halves of the same soul. He thought that they would live out their entire lives together, ruling the Omatikaya as Tsahik and Olo'eyktan. Finding mates of their own and raising their children together. He always thought that they had all the time in the world to be together. Yet it was taken from them, far too soon.
He wanted to ask her if she went to the tree that morning. He wanted to know what had caused all of this - to at least have some idea of what she had intended on doing that morning painted for war and angering the Sky People. He wanted to know why she did what she did, but he couldn't. He was scared. He didn't want to see her no more than maybe a few hours before her death. It was bad enough that her dead expression was forever burned into the back of his eyelids. He wasn't ready to see her like that again so soon. He needed more time.
He can't focus on that now; it hurts too much. He can see the world around them flickering as his wandering mind is drawing him to that moment. To the time he doesn't want to see. He pushes it away, focusing on the waterfall before them. It was one of their places. They had a few, but this was one of her favorites. They've brought Neytiri here before, but that comment that she made to him, it was his memory they were in.
"I'm the water... right?" he rasps, throat aching from all of his crying.
She laughs, leaning into him as Neytiri sits on her other side, their parents standing a few feet back, arms around one another. "No, silly. I'm the water. You're the rainbow, Tsyeyk."
"How could I be the rainbow when you're the one that is the one that shines?" Tsyeyk whispers, choking on a sob.
"I might shine, but you're the one that holds all the colors of the world. The Great Mother made you vibrant. Made you colorful. I have to work for what I do, Tsyeyk, but you just are. You are a product of all that is around you. Everything compliments your beauty."
"That doesn't make sense," Tsyeyk says, sucking in a shaky breath, knowing that she'll laugh before she does.
"So what? It's the truth," she says, her smile wide. She shakes her braids out a bit, twisting to look at Neytiri as if seeing her for the first time. "I'm glad that you're here, Neytiri! This can be out place from now on."
Neytiri nods, sniffling a bit. "We should. Just for us."
Sylwanin, beautiful, gentle, kind, just wraps her arms around both of them. "Someday, we should come at night to see it. There won't be any rainbows, but I bet it will still be beautiful. We should do it."
They never did. They never had the time. Tsyeyk is going to regret that forever.
"We should," Neytiri whispers. "It will be beautiful, I know it."
Sylwanin leans into Tsyeyk, struggling to look at his face. Her beautiful face twists into a look of confusion, finally taking in his expression. Creases form between her eyes as she gently asks, "Are you okay, Tsyeyk? Why are you crying?"
"I just..." he whispers, blinking globs of tears from his tired eyes. Even now, as a figment of his imagination, he couldn't bear to make her sad despite the pain in his chest, the desire to rip his heart out just so that it would stop hurting so bad. "I'm just so happy to see you, sister."
It was as close to the truth as he could bring himself to say.
Sylwanin pulls from Neytiri enough to hug him tightly, kissing his braids. "I'm happy to see you too!"
They sat there for a long time, just staring out at the massive waterfall. Sylwanin quietly hums a hymn of their people, one about finding joy in passing. Probably supposed to be about the passing of the world around them and not in death, but the irony of it cut Tsyeyk to the core. He knows that he needs this. He knows he has to come to terms with losing her, and he knows that he should be able to, in time, but he can't yet. It hurts too much.
"I miss you, Syl," Tsyeyk says softly, finally pulling away to look at her. "I miss you so much."
Sylwanin looks at him with gentle golden eyes, her smile brighter than the sun. "I'm right here, silly. I'll always be right here." She reaches out and places a hand on his chest. "I'm no place you don't take with you. That's what makes us special, Tsyeyk. I know that you'll always be with me, and I'll always be with you. You know why the Great Mother separated us? Why we weren't born as one?"
Perplexed, Tsyeyk shakes his head. "No, why?"
Her smile crests her eyes. "Because you are meant for great things, Tsyeyk. She has shown me this. One day, you will show everyone just how great you are. You will lead the clans to peace. You will find that your heart can feel love far greater than even my own. That's the thing I've always adored about you, brother. Everyone has always said that I was the nice one of the two of us, but that's not true. You are the nice one. You are the one with the endless depths of love in your heart. And no matter how bad it gets, how down you become, I know that you'll find a way. Love will always lead you back."
Tears slide down his cheeks as he shakes his head. "I don't... I don't understand. What do you mean?"
She leans forward, pressing her forehead to his and he shakes with the lance of pain in his heart at the action, sobbing brokenly. "You need someone who sees you as I do. As the rainbow."
"But... But... Syl, I..."
"Shh," she says, grabbing hold of his hands between her own, giving them a squeeze that hurts his head. "Don't cry, Tsyeyk. I know that it's hard. I know that it hurts. But you just have to hold on. Just for a little while longer."
"Hold on..?" Tsyeyk rasps. "For what?"
Sylwanin giggles, her eyes crinkling. "You don't just need water to make a rainbow, silly. You also need sunlight."