by Emma Hamm
The quiet hum of song died down, drifting like fallen leaves until they touched the ground and then there was nothing left at all.
Sigrid felt her own breath slowing with theirs until a cumulative gasp escaped them all at once. The woman at the altar lowered her arms, opened icy blue eyes, and captured Sigrid’s gaze with her own.
She didn’t know what to expect. Would the woman shout and throw her off the edge for interrupting what was clearly a sacred ceremony? Would she be angry that Sigrid was here, or would she welcome her with open arms?
They stared at each other for long moments before the woman raised an arm and beckoned her forward.
“Come, child. Let me look at you.” Her voice was soft, like the first snow gently touching the earth.
She found herself moving toward the woman as if in a trance. Her feet were careful to follow only the path, until she stood in front of the strange Beastkin woman who must be the matriarch of all clans.
“Sigrid,” the woman said, pressing a hand against her own chest. “My name is Aslaug, matriarch of all clans.”
“A pleasure.” Sigrid dropped into a curtsey, even though she knew it would seem odd to them.
“You’ve traveled a long way to see us.”
“I didn’t really have a choice.”
“I find that hard to believe.” Aslaug smiled, and the wrinkles around her eyes grew deeper. “News of your deeds has reached even here. The woman who brought all clans of Beastkin together, after so many years apart. It is not a feat many could have achieved.”
“And yet, I am here. Not with them.” Sigrid glanced around at the others who remained at their pillars. One of the bird-like women smiled at her, while the man with the wolfen face gave her a nod. “I fear I am lost, Matriarch of all.”
“Why is that?”
“I have brought them together, and yet, I cannot control them. They grow more and more volatile every day. They forsake what makes us human, embracing only the animal and slowly falling into chaos because of it.”
“Hungry dogs will bite the hand which offers them food,” Aslaug replied, her expression grim and her voice deep. “They see only their own anger, mistreatment, and madness. This is the way of the Beastkin since the ages of old.”
Sigrid looked at the woman who had to know the truth, and saw the same world weariness that resonated in her own gaze. There was an exhaustion in leading people like this. A kind of sadness that echoed from deep within the belly.
A mixture of guilt, perhaps, and age old knowledge that no matter how hard they worked, there would always be something more to mend. It burned inside Sigrid like a poison shredding her body. She wanted to repair whatever was broken. She wanted to take them under her wing and nurture them into a people who would be respected and loved.
They discarded her at every chance. And then what had she done? She’d left them. Let them believe she was dead as a means to her own end. Was that cruelty? Or was it a kindness rather than let them know it was they who had driven her away?
Aslaug’s knowing gaze watched the emotions flit across Sigrid’s face as she struggled to find the words. The woman in front of her was more than just intimidating. She was a beast unlike any other. Kindness radiated from the very pit of her being, wrapping Sigrid in a warmth she hadn’t felt in a very long time.
“Why are you here?” Aslaug asked, her voice carrying in the ancient cavern. “Perhaps we should start there.”
Sigrid struggled to answer the question. There were a thousand answers in her mind, but none of them seemed right. Each one didn’t have enough meaning behind the words. She was lonely, she wanted to know where she came from. She wanted to know her history, because if she knew there were ancestors out there somewhere then maybe, just maybe, she could… be someone.
Finally, she settled on, “I don’t know.”
The words felt fractured, and shame flushed heat to her cheeks. How could she not know why she was here? Why she had traveled across half their world just to greet these people. There were so many better answers than she didn’t know. So many more words that would have given them the respect they deserved.
And yet, Aslaug didn’t laugh or jest. Instead, she smiled softly in that sad way, then held out her hand. “Let me show you, dragoness.”
She couldn’t think, could hardly breathe when she reached out and grasped Aslaug’s hand. Together, they strode from the place of standing stones and down the other path. There wasn't a waterfall here. Instead, a wall of vines obscured the doorway Sigrid didn’t see until they were upon it.
This one had a door. Had there been any actual doors in this place thus far? She couldn’t remember any. Every archway had been marked, but there hadn’t been a barrier preventing people from going where they pleased. Perhaps the other houses were marked in a similar manner. But somehow, she thought they likely weren’t.
These people lived in harmony not only with the world around them, but with each other. That in itself was something that fascinated her.
Aslaug opened the door and brought her into a room lit only by torches. There was a small hole at the top where light filtered through and smoke filtered out. She couldn’t tell if it was the outside, or merely dim light struggling through layers upon layers of ice.
The beam of light illuminated the center of the room in cold white. The rest of the room glowed with oranges, yellows, and reds as the torches flickered and brought the paintings to life.
Like in the cave where she’d spent the night, these were all hand-painted. Each more intricate than the last, they depicted battles of old, Beastkin from every kind of creature, and dragons flying in the sky.
Aslaug left her side, striding to the center of the room and allowing Sigrid to look her fill. Slowly, Sigrid lifted her hands and pressed them to her lips. She couldn’t fathom a world like this. Where the Beastkin lived without fear or wonder what the others might do to them. She’d never seen anything like it, had never dreamed of a world where they could live so openly. So freely.
She turned to the matriarch and blew out a deep breath. “What is this place?”
“This is our history. The world unfolded. We call it the cave of memories, but perhaps you would have a better name for it.”
“I have no words for a place like this.”
Aslaug smiled and gestured with her hand. “Come, Sigrid. Let me show you the history of our people, and perhaps then you will understand why you are here.”
She strode to the other woman’s side, then allowed herself to be pulled toward the first wall. Aslaug pointed to a familiar set of standing stones. “In the beginning, there were only the first six Beastkin. The wolves of the Earth, the birds of the Sky, the dragons of the Flame, the whales of the Deep, and the twins of light and dark. Together, they created harmony on this barren rock. They fed each other, they dug claws into the land, and they made it something new.”
Aslaug nodded to the dragon flying high in the sky. “She was the first of your kind. Her name was Amunet.”
Sigrid frowned. “That’s not a name I recognize.”
“It’s an old name, one not from here and perhaps more suited to Bymere than it is Wildewyn. Then, there were not two kingdoms. Only one that lived in harmony, because they worked to make it perfect. A world where Beastkin could flourish.”
They walked down to the next part of a painting, where she recognized depictions of man.
“Then, the humans came to these lands. They arrived on boats at first, finding a safe haven on our shores. The Beastkin who were here, the children of the origin six and others who had flocked to this place, allowed them to stay.
“At first, we worked together with them. They were kind, and they were generous. They wanted our help, and we wanted to help them as well.”
Aslaug nodded at a man with a spear in his hand.
“And then they weren’t.The first war between Beastkin and man came shortly after their arrival. They had no need for us anymore, once they had settled onto the lands
and wanted more for themselves. They didn't want powerful creatures who could easily kill them in their sleep around their children and their wives.
“We fought for years, and then things died down when we retreated to the mountains. Let the men have the lands we had built. We could do it again.”
She pointed at a particular figure. A golden dragon flying above all the others.
“She was still alive then. Amunet, the first dragon and the mother of all. It was her choice to leave, her choice to take all the others and bring them here where the old ways could still remain. Some of the Beastkin stayed in the lands who did not want them. Most came with us. There was safety in numbers, and our numbers were growing smaller. The age of man had arrived. And sadly, that meant the age of the Beastkin was over.”
Tears burned behind Sigrid’s eyes. It was sad to think that all these people had fought for, the lives they had struggled to build, were all for nothing. They’d disappeared into the mountains, never to be heard from again by their family and their friends.
She cleared her throat, “If most went to the mountains, how did so many end up with the humans? Were those the ones who decided to stay?”
Aslaug shook her head and brought her farther down the great mural. “The Bymerians stayed. Those were the ones who didn’t want to make the trek to the mountains, and I cannot blame them for that. It’s understandable that times become rather difficult in these moments.
“The Beastkin in Wildewyn are a different sort. We struggled here, much like you are struggling with your people. Eventually, a group of holy men and women left the mountain and returned to the Earthen Folk who so hated them.”
Sigrid could see it now. The many masked Beastkin who had made the long trek down the mountain. They were all painted in dark colors, their faces obscured by masks, like Eivor’s.
“They were medicine men?” she asked. “Why do they wear masks?”
“They are like the one who brought you here. Soulkeepers and stealers of hearts. No one can look upon their face without losing their souls. It is the way of it.”
“So the masks…” Sigrid’s words trailed off, her heart thumping in her chest and anger making her eyes burn. “They came from you?”
“The masks were a way to show the highest of honors to the Beastkin men and women who wore them. Those who walk the path of the holy do not turn into one animal, but as many as the spirits they hold.”
“Then how did my people end up the way they did?”
Aslaug pointed to the last painting on the wall. “The Beastkin dedicated themselves to helping the humans. Those who left were certain there was good in the people who had forsaken us for so long. They wanted to show the humans what we could do. That we could be something more than just the animals they thought we were.
“It didn’t work. The longer they stayed in the human realm, the more they gave and gave. Eventually, they were nothing more than beasts of burden, too exhausted to remember the old ways and too tired to teach the younglings.
“They lost all that made them holy. Bit by bit, they began to change into only one animal, the one they were born with, the one passed down from their mother’s mother.”
Sigrid watched the paintings blur as tears gathered in her eyes. She refused to let them fall. She didn't want to seem weak in front of the matriarch but… this couldn’t be right. It couldn’t be possible that they were such a strong people, such powerful men and women, and that had been beaten down by the blunt tool that was human.
“Then what?” Sigrid asked, her voice thick with unexpressed emotion. “What happened after that?”
Aslaug pointed to the next piece of the painting. “Amunet cried. She cried so much that she used the air itself to express her sadness, draining all the water from Bymere and flooding Wildewyn until there was nothing left of the kingdom. The Beastkin forgot who they were entirely, but they kept the masks in hopes that it would help them remember who they were.
“The masks have never been a trap as so many of your people think. They were never meant to hold you in a cage as they did. It was our gift to all of you, a way for you to come home to all of us who waited for those who were strong enough to endure.” Aslaug turned and touched a hand to Sigrid’s shoulder. “For you to come home to us.”
Sigrid couldn’t think with all this information going through her head. How did one even hear her own voice when a thousand others were screaming in her mind? This wasn’t right. It couldn’t be right.
She was so exhausted. She’d traveled across half the world to get here, only to be told that her entire history was built on the back of labor and mistreatment.
That she’d been wrong, and so many others of her kin had been right.
“Then,” she whispered, licking her lips and trying to strengthen her voice, “everything I have done is for nothing? The humans do deserve the war which is brewing at their doorstep. They deserve the Beastkin to rise up, because they took everything from us so long ago?”
Aslaug’s brows furrowed and she squeezed Sigrid’s shoulder tight. “No, dragoness. That is not what you are meant to understand from this story. The humans were at fault, but we are a forgiving sort. Even Amunet allowed her people to leave, to learn their own path, and then gave her body so that she could continue to guide us even in death.
“This story is not meant to upset you. It’s not meant to fan the fires of anger, hatred, and fear. Now you know where you came from, what history you need to overcome, but this is not your path. You were not meant to continue the mistakes of your ancestors.”
“Then what was I meant to do?” A tear slid down her cheek. “I’ve been searching my entire life for meaning to my existence, and every corner I turn is just more and more confusing.”
“You have a lot of growing still to do,” Aslaug replied, then wiped the tear from her cheek. “You don’t need to find the meaning to your existence, little one. It will come to you as the sun rises on the horizon each day. It will drift from the sky like a feather from a bird long gone. The meaning to your life is defined by you and you alone. It cannot be found, only received.”
She felt herself tear at the seams. The mere thought that this woman couldn’t tell her what to do, where to go, or how to be… Well, it made sense. Of course they weren’t going to make every decision for her. But gods, how was she supposed to do it herself?
Sigrid was flying apart at every corner, and she didn’t know where she was going to go after this. There were too many broken pieces in her soul, and she didn’t know how to put them back together in the right way.
She’d started a war. She’d saved her people, but lost someone good in the action.
Nadir.
The name ghosted across her mind like a physical touch. She’d forced herself not to think of him, hoping that in the absence of thought that he wouldn’t haunt her. But there he was. At every step she took, he followed closely behind, because he’d never really left her side. Not yet.
Wasn’t she supposed to have forgotten him by now? The sultan who had stolen her away from her people, who had persecuted their own kind. The boy who had slowly turned into a man in front of her eyes.
She missed him. The laughter in his eyes, the surprise when he did something he finally felt was right. The way he’d squeeze her hand and the way he always thought she wasn’t quite beautiful but strong, and that was all that mattered in this life.
A small sob choked her throat as she tried to speak, and she pressed the back of her hand against her mouth.
She wanted to say that all of this had been in vain. That every choice she’d made had only brought her farther and farther away from happiness and she didn’t know how to grab onto that thread and drag herself out of this ever-sinking hole.
Aslaug reached out and pulled Sigrid’s hand away from her mouth. Slowly, the matriarch drew her into her arms and touched their foreheads together. “Easy, child. You’re here now, and you don’t have to leave until you find yourself again.”
&
nbsp; “I just want to make the right choice,” she whispered.
“For yourself, or for your people?”
To answer the first felt selfish. She’d carry that guilt with her for the rest of her life, knowing that she’d chosen to be herself while the rest of her people were in pain. But the second made her soul ache and her heart clench. She couldn’t do that either. She couldn’t choose them again while knowing it would only end in more heartache.
“Myself,” she whispered, another sob shaking her entire body within Aslaug’s arms. “I want to choose myself for once.”
The matriarch breathed out a sigh that feathered across Sigrid’s eyes, chilling the tears there.
“Then we will teach you, dragoness. We will teach you how to choose yourself.”
14
Nadir
Wind blasted the sand up into his face, burning his skin and stinging his eyes with the power of its rage. Nadir lifted an arm up to cover his face then swore under his breath. This journey was meant to be easier than just wandering through the desert, and yet, here he was.
His lips were cracked from lack of water. His skin was so dry and aching that he was certain it had split open in a few places under the layer of his clothing. He desperately need to drink and eat.
Hadn’t Solomon said this would be an easier journey? He vaguely remembered the man saying that, or maybe the man who eerily looked like him had simply meant that it was a journey. He didn’t know, and wasn’t exactly thinking straight at this point.
The wind brushed by his cheek again, but this time it felt like the soft velvet of hair. He’d felt it before, so many times while he made this trek that he sometimes had a hard time figuring out whether it was real or not.
Sigrid. The damned woman was still here, whether he wanted her to be or not. She was in every step he took through the desert.
Sometimes he saw her standing on top of a dune, beckoning him in a direction he hadn’t thought to go. And every time, he made sure he followed her. She’d never led him wrong before, and it didn’t matter that this version of her was a mirage.