by Maya Daniels
“I did not mean to scare you, but you need to tell me what you know.” I lift my hand to stop her from interrupting me and she closes her mouth. “If I don’t know what I’m dealing with, I cannot help Alexia. I suppose you are correct in your observation that I did not see the bigger picture in all this. It sure feels that way at least. The witch had me fascinated hundreds of years ago, but she never stayed alive long enough to satisfy my curiosity. That is why I offered my help. I see there is something bigger at play now, for I do not doubt your words. There must be something you can tell me without bringing change to the events that are to pass.”
I impress myself with the calmness in my voice. I did learn that these creatures will go to their own doom for those they claim as their own. The witch upstairs is a pure example. It has made me wonder many times what is it like to have someone value your life above their own and for what reason. They call it love but it is not true. Through millennia, I have watched humans claiming love for each other, only to turn around and make the other suffer when they claim to love someone else. I do not think they understand the emotion—or maybe it’s just as twisted as their feeble minds. I want to laugh when I hear them use it to justify their poor choices. They confuse passion for love, yet looking at this whole situation makes me feel as if I am the one not understanding something. It makes me want to lash out at humanity, which would at the least give them good reason to fear me.
I wait, watching the old woman. I know she’s fighting an internal battle. Is it right or is it wrong? Am I good or am I bad? Ah, the pathetic existence! I almost laugh, seeing the battle rage in her eyes.
Ha! There it is!
Decision has been made.
She juts her chin up as if she is defying the Source itself. If she weren’t so focused on it, she would see the gleam in my eyes as knowing comes that whatever she says will bring me closer to figuring this whole situation out. I love playing the game of chess, but I myself have no intention of being one of the pieces. This little victory is very sweet.
“The balance has been lost for many years, angel. In the eternal bickering between the gods about who can outsmart whom, many things went askew. It brought suffering to everyone, including them, but they were too arrogant to notice until it’s too late.” She looks at her cup, shaking her head. “The more the balance was tipped one way or the other, the more they did not realize they were losing their power, and with it their immortality. How many have been forgotten? They sit in their realms foolishly believing the humans are lesser creatures until they fade into nothingness and blend back with the Source as if they never existed—and they believe it is they who pull the strings and play the games, just like you do now. Alexia never lived long enough in any of her lifetimes until this one, because someone made sure she did not. Not because she was foolishly following her heart. Inanna chose wisely when picking herself a vessel, but not because of who Alexia is. She chose wisely because of what Alexia is. The Dark Mother chose her because she is the one to even the scales, and you are needed for that, too. Darkness does not destroy the light, it defines it, my dear Light bearer, and while I tell you things that you should’ve already known, her soul is being torn apart and you will need to mend it together. You are more closely connected than you think. I am not sure you are fit for that task since you have no idea what stands in front of you when you look at her.” With those words, the old woman stands up, walks to the sink, and washes the cups of the long-forgotten tea while my mind swirls with what she just said.
She spoke in riddles, saying a lot yet saying nothing, but I understand the implication. It cannot be! I have existed since the beginning of time and I believed it was just a foolish story. The balance has been tipped one way or the other through the years, but that is not a secret. It’s an eternal battle and it’ll continue to be so forever, as long as this universe exists or a new one is created in its place to pick up where this one left off. Such is the cycle, and it’s never ending.
What she says brings all my hopes and dreams blooming in my immortal heart and I cannot stop it. It also brings dread because what I think is a power play to keep gods and angels on their toes is much more than that. But how? How did I not see this? Maybe the old witch is correct and I am a blind fool, dwelling in my self-pity and high on my arrogance. When the light and dark unite, time will disappear, melding the realms together to exist as they were meant to be from the time of creation: in perfect balance. The Time Maker will lose its grip on us all. My hands tremble as I remember her words earlier about how I will regret it if I don’t wake the witch up. I bolt up from the chair and in one step I’m at the
bottom of the stairs.
“It’s a bit late now,” she whispers.
I hear her, and my heart is in my throat. What have I done? I should’ve known. I should’ve recognized the signs. Fool! I scream at myself in my mind as I reach the door and throw it open. In two steps, I’m next to the bed and I freeze with my hand halfway to her shoulder to wake her. There is a glow around her like shimmering lights and her face seems otherworldly. It's not changed much; the witch always stirred my attention since there is something primal in her she does her best to suppress, but now, even I can’t move.
Her hair fanning around her head, her face tilted to the side, and her lashes making dark crescent shadows on her high cheekbones cause her to appear almost elven. Stupefied, I stare, the urgency to wake her all but forgotten. Her brows crease in a slight frown and I snap out of whatever has me frozen in place. The blood drains from her face and I grab her shoulder rocking her frame.
“Alexia, wake up, witch!” Her body trembles like it’s in shock and I grip her harder. “Wake up, witch!”
The shivers stop and she slowly opens her eyes to focus on mine. I am suspended in space and time as dark blue stormy orbs focus on me, and I feel like a mortal man dumbfounded by a nymph. As I watch, they change from deep ocean blue to her dark brown color with blue circles around them. Her eyes started doing that after she woke up from her ordeal with the bleeding—integrations of energies and powers take time, but this is different. Something fundamental has changed. I prod at her energy with mine, trying to see what to do and how to act, and I realize her life force is holding on with a thread to this lifetime. I panic.
I was not aware over my very long existence that I could panic like this. When she almost bled to death, I was angry that I couldn’t solve the puzzle. This is different. If I were mortal, I would’ve died right this moment, with her.
Softly she speaks, and the air whooshes out of my lungs like I have been punched. “Save my sisters from Tomorith’s realm. Promise me!”
“We will both save them, Alexia.” My voice is hoarse and I’m struggling to keep my panic at bay. I’ll kill her myself if my power unleashes itself. I squeeze my eyes shut and grind my teeth, breathing like I have ran for miles at high speed.
She whispers again, and I hear the sadness in her voice. Her soul is almost visibly ripping out of her physical body. I feel my own rattle in return. “No. I need you to promise! I have to go, Lucifer. If nothing was real, at least do this one thing for me. Promise me you’ll save my sisters.”
She smiles, but it doesn’t make me feel better. What has happened? I need to know so I can fix it. I want to roar at my own arrogance while the words of the old witch haunt me into berating myself for not letting her wake Alexia. The emotion almost makes me faint while I struggle to hold myself under control.
“Don’t you dare, Alexia! I will hunt you to the abyss and drag your ass back here, do you hear me?” I growl through clenched teeth.
“Promise me,” she repeats, begging with her eyes that change from blue to brown and back.
“Witch, if you let go, I swear to you in my own immortal existence, I won’t just bring you back, you’ll be indebted to me for it for eternity. You hear me?” I’m angry and my fingers tighten on her. She laughs without humor. It sounds eerie to my ears.
“Promise.” Her barely audible whi
sper that makes my control almost slip from me.
“It had to unravel like the Fates had it set, Alexia, but I promise we will get through this. Just don’t let go. We will save them together. I will not leave your side. Look at me!”
She’s watching me like an equal, straight in the eyes as she never did before, and I’m not sure if I’m happy or scared of the effect she is having on me.
“Promise!” she prompts.
Something tickles on my face that she watches with such focused fascination, and it takes me a second to realize it’s a tear sliding down my cheek. That makes me panic even more. Angel tears are never a good sign, and I wasn’t even aware of it. Her palm cups my face, and instinctively I lean in closing my eyes. The implications of the old witch’s words are clearer now than anything else in my existence, and I hear Alexia whisper one word.
“Goodbye.”
A roar like I’ve never uttered in my long existence rips from my chest and my control slips from me. I sense veils shrink and expand, the fabric of life tearing slightly while my voice echoes through space and time, but I’m powerless to stop it. Alexia’s body tenses under my fingers and I grab on to her arms, trying to keep her awake by sheer will. I feel the bones break under my fingers like twigs, and I’m terrified that I’ll end up killing her instead of bringing her back, so I wrap my arms around her and slam my mouth on hers.
I was not jesting. I will drag her back into this realm and life if I have to stand against the Creator itself. My energy surges through her, and her back bows off the bed, pressing her against my chest. I lift my head and search her features. My thoughts about how I would stand against creation itself to bring her back hit me so hard in my gut that I drop her on the bed and jump away like she just burned me. I breathe like a freight train, lightheaded from it all while holding the witch unconscious but still alive on the bed. What did I just do? In the distance I hear my own voice sounding strange to my ears.
“What kind of sorcery is this?”
Chapter 10
My whole body hurts. If I’d known you could hurt this much in death, I would’ve fought harder to stay alive. I can’t focus my thoughts. I get snippets of huge spiders, owls, dark temples that look like castles, cloaked monsters, Inanna screaming at me, and Lucifer crying, but I can’t make heads or tails from it all. The pain is so great that it’s almost numbing me inside and out. I have an uneasy feeling that my subconscious is jumbling my thoughts to protect me from something, so I let it be for now. I hurt too much to worry about what I am being protected from. I’ll think about it later.
Trying to open my eyes doesn’t seem to work until I realize that my eyes are open, only I see nothing. Pitch black! Blacker than black, since black is a color and this is like an all-consuming abyss.
On second thought, apart from the excruciating pain, I feel nothing else, either. I wonder why that is. Maybe from that blast of energy Lucifer slammed me with, which obviously didn’t work. I would laugh if I didn’t hurt so much. Sore loser, that angel. I guess I messed up whatever plan he had going on.
Now I wonder if this is what will become of me for the rest of eternity: thinking about stupid things while I sit in the darkness in so much pain. Something doesn’t feel right. I can’t put my finger on it, but I’m sure of it. Did I merge back to the Source? I hear my grandmother’s voice from days long past. “The universe is mental, all is mind.” If I’ve merged, it makes sense, but that does not explain the pain. That makes me think … Every cause has an effect and every effect has its cause. It’s all connected—as above, so below. Thinking about Hermetic principles will not explain things, though.
I don’t know how much time passes while I’m trying to figure out what is going on and I want to scream when I’m startled by my reflection in a mirror. As I watch, my face is cleared of my features. I have no eyes, nose, mouth, or eyebrows. I watch numbly as my identity is stripped from me and it hits me at that moment. It’s the void! The abyss! But how did I get here?
As if someone is reading my thoughts, my image flickers and just the lower part of someone’s face floats in front of me, smiling. I’m not sure if it’s a good smile or bad smile but I’ll go for the latter. I’m not sure anything good will come from this, but I’ve been known to be wrong on many things. I hear a chuckle and the half face disappears, showing me my faceless reflection again. It flickers like a bad TV signal back in the ‘70’s and ‘80’s when one had to slam their TV so the picture would stop shaking.
The faceless image disappears, replaced by a shadow. My shadow. Dread fills me and the chuckle echoes again. If I could feel my body, I know I would be shaking, so I’m grateful I’m only a consciousness. At that thought, the voice—or voices for all I know—laugh in amusement and I forget about the fear and pain. Anger rears its head in its stead.
Before I form a thought, the shadow separates and a gold glowing aura comes out of it. It’s my aura, so I concentrate on it. Anything but the damn shadow and that creepy voice. My aura and my shadow separate before blending multiple times, almost like they are fighting. Who will win? The light or the darkness? It scares me so much, so I try to encourage my aura with my thoughts, but as soon as I try to push my thoughts towards it, it stops frozen standing shoulder to shoulder with the shadow. The mirror separates in many pieces and they circle me while I stand in the center, surrounded by it on all sides. The next second, they spin so fast I can’t make out which one has my shadow reflection and which one has my light.
Then I hear the voice again. “Choose!”
The word echoes around me like it’s repeated by a million voices and I panic at first, but then out of nowhere, calm envelops me, and I have no idea how, but I hear my words spoken out loud with conviction. “No! I will not choose.”
I don’t know why I don’t choose my light. There is a loud screech and I’m jerked out of there. I feel my body now, still in agony, and I cry out. My eyes pop open and I frantically search around, trying to see where I am. I’m in my room on my bed, I plop down and try to calm my breathing. As my heartbeat slows, the pain fades.
Movement out of the corner of my eye gets my attention and I turn my head to see what it is. Lucifer is standing in a corner of the room looking at me warily, his arms crossed across his chest. It takes me a second to realize what strikes me odd, and my eyes widen when I understand it. His posture is defensive, like he’s afraid of me. I take a second, searching through my brain for anything that could’ve caused the angel to act this way, but I come up with nothing.
“You okay there?” I ask, the huskiness of my voice shocking me. It almost sounds like a purr that reminds me of Inanna. I shake my head, clear my throat, and try again. “What happened? Did I do something?” I ask him, but he only stares at me and doesn’t say a word.
I close my eyes and try to think. My memories are still jumbled, and it hurts my head when I combine them. Reaching up to rub my temples, pain shoots across my arms. I moan.
He moves like a flash and takes my hands, gently putting them next to my body. “Give it a few more minutes for the bones to set properly. I healed them, but the pain needs to go away completely before you move,” he mumbles and when I glance at him, there is guilt in his eyes.
“Ok, I won’t move for a few minutes, but can you please tell me what happened? My mind is jumbled, and I can’t remember why I’m in pain.”
“You don’t remember anything?” He is scrutinizing me with doubt plastered all over his face, as if I have nothing better to do than lie to him.
“No. Well, I remember you walking out saying you’ll come back to talk after I rest, but that’s all. I don’t understand why I’m in pain … that reminds me. I want to say I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything bad by saying I forgot you were in the room. You have to understand that there is an overload of information in my head from the initiation, so it’s hard to distinguish what is mine and what belongs to Mother. On top of that, with everything that happened and what Daisy was saying …” I sigh, glanci
ng away. “It hit home hard, the realization of what has been happening throughout my lifetimes, not just this one.” Pausing, I turn my focus on him. He only gazes back mutely, and that makes me wary. “Can you say something? Please?”
“I’m giving you time to remember. It’ll come. Just stay quiet and breathe, witch,” he mumbles again like it’s hard for him to talk to me.
“I was in the void just now.” I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “I don’t know how I got there, but it was unnerving, and luckily I got jerked out when I did. It was asking me to choose.”
“Choose what?” his voice is closer, like he is next to me, but I didn’t hear him move, so I open one eye to see where he is. Cracking my eyes open, the fear in his takes my breath away, lifting my lids all the way up.
“Why are you afraid? Nothing scares you. Can you please tell me …” I trail off because memories slam so hard into me I almost lose consciousness again. Everything is now back. Everything.
“Alexia! Are you okay?” he asks frantically, touching my shoulder.
I shrink back in the bed. “Don’t you dare touch me! What the fuck did you do to me?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” he says defensively, and I focus on his eyes, which widen from whatever he sees in me. He staggers back a few steps.
“I remember everything now,” I say with a calm that surprises even me. I watch as he closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, slumps his shoulders, and leans on the wall behind him.
“Care to share what happened on your travel, witch?”
“Sure, right after you tell me what you did to me when I got back. And why you kissed me.” I narrow my eyes at him, but my voice is even, calm.
He rolls his eyes. “It was not a kiss, witch. You were ready to throw the flag, and I couldn’t let you do that. So I made sure you lived. This is the thanks I get for the effort. Ungrateful mortals!” He spits the word “mortals” like it’s vile, but there is no heat in it. No. There is something, but it’s not anger for sure, so saying noting I wait.