by A. E. Watson
Things are simple and pure, I can feel it. My hunger has subsided with the harmony and plainness in everything. Nature might have cruelty in her but the intention to harm for the sake of hurting is what’s lacking. It’s more about survival and less about just being evil. My parents’ selfishness and their inability to admit the mistake they made ruined an entire world.
But not yet. Not in this place in time.
This world—this moment is silent.
Not like the future that is being born here with every day my parents refuse to end their lives. This is a place they should not have come.
My feet touch the dirt and sticks and my heart beats faster with every step.
The silence and purity make me feel like I echo.
I swear I’m the only thing making any noise for miles.
The year is sometime in the beginning because we were the first. Regardless of what science has taught us, we were the first humans here. We beat Adam and Eve. My mother corrupted them to spite her father.
I can’t even recall a moment of any of the classes I have taken that might have educated me on this moment because science, mythology, and the Bible couldn't disagree more. I don't know what is truth or lies or confusion. I just know we walked on this earth long before any other man.
We were alone here once. Alone with the beasts and the wilderness and maybe even the cavemen we should have evolved from.
And now I am alone, hunting my family as they are evolving here in the beginning.
This world scares me.
I don't know what my enemy is.
Lucifer won’t know who I am. Lillith won’t either.
Holding only the dagger as a weapon, I’m certain if anything scary comes out I will die here before I find her—me.
Liana.
Us.
I’ve seen her face so many times, but I don't know that I’ll recognize her here. She should be a bit younger. The whole point is getting—killing her before the taint sets in.
We must all become one.
It’s Willow and Fitz’s great plan.
If I kill my sisters, the other versions of me, I will claim their powers for my own. The magical dagger I have in my hand must absorb each of their life forces. But only if they are still clean with the purity that filled them before they ate anything evil.
The soullessness of them must be in the blade, ready to take in the innocence that was sacrificed four times.
Then it’s just a matter of stabbing Lucifer when he is inside Wyatt. The blade will absorb him as well, trapping him inside it. With the devil gone, Constantine and Willow believe Wyatt can be saved.
This is our plan.
It’s all we’ve got.
It’s also why I’m walking through an unspoiled version of the world—Liana’s time on earth.
My stomach tenses, almost like I might have to go to the bathroom, but I have a feeling indoor plumbing isn’t an option here. Shaking it off, I grip the dagger’s hilt harder and listen to the wind.
There is nothing.
Nothing but my doubt that the stupid mirror didn't bring me to the right place. Which of course means I didn't think of Liana the right way and the mirror has brought me to some other time.
Maybe the dinosaurs are still alive. I honestly don't know the real timeline as far as my family is concerned. I feel like maybe we exist outside of time. Maybe it’s why I am able to travel it.
“Constantine?” I call him again even if I still don't smell him. I wish I did. I don't know that murdering a young girl is a possibility for me. If he were here he’d be able to help me kill my sister. He has less of a soul than we do.
“Constantine!” I whisper harshly.
There’s nothing.
“Great!” Sighing and losing most of the minimal faith I’d placed in the stupid mirror and my ability to work it, I sit on a stump. I’m in the middle of the forest, completely lost, and starting to get a bit cold.
“This is shit!” I drop the dagger into the dirt with a flick of my wrist. The urge to go to the bathroom hasn't let up, which means I will be peeing in the woods. I don't even know how to get back to the mirror. When I came out of it, it was gone. I was standing in the middle of a lush forest with nothing around me.
I’m here, alone and cold and eventually I’ll have to squat in the woods like a dog.
I close my eyes and listen to the sounds around me, noting that something has started up.
Creatures.
The forest is more alive as though the little things—God, please let them all be little—have started to trust me in their space. They were silent and now they’re moving and making sounds.
Something moves close to me. My eyes pop open and my hand lowers for the blade, but I pause when I see the eyes. They’re mine, mine looking back on me. The girl, hiding and staring at me, has dark hair and gray eyes and looks just like our mother.
Hidden amongst the branches and leaves and the tall bushes, I would know her eyes anywhere. She doesn't look sick with the taint and evil of our parents’ sin. She’s too young I think.
“Rayne?”
“Yes.” I can’t believe she knows me, even though she shouldn't.
“Why are you here?” She doesn't come closer. She stays hidden, and yet asks boldly, clearly realizing I shouldn't be.
In my mind, on the walk through the woods, I had planned on maybe lying or tricking her. But there is so much pure honesty in her face that I cannot bear it. So I speak as plainly as I can, choking and aching with each word, “I need to end your life before the evil is put into you. One of the reasons Lucifer is so strong as a spirit is that he has killed you twice and absorbed some of you. It’s making him a demon in his death.”
She stands from where she’s crouching, completely naked. My eyes dart to the canopy above us as she walks straight for me, hiding nothing. There is no shame in her. The shame that is inside me is not even something she recognizes. Her eyes draw upward with mine, looking for what I am focused on. “Do you see our father, the creator? I see him sometimes,” she whispers. “In the shadows when he thinks I am not looking.”
“No. I never see or hear him. He doesn't speak to me.” I realize in that moment that it bothers me he expects so much and offers me nothing and yet speaks to her. Perhaps it is her innocence. I do not have any of that. The only time I have ever seen or heard from him was in the garden.
“I hear him in the wind sometimes too. He whispers that he is sorry and that he loves me and when it’s all over I won’t remember any of this.” Her voice is melodic. It doesn't match the bravery inside her, sort of like Luna Lovegood. So sweet and soft and yet fiercely brave.
Tears start to stream from my eyes as I realize why I am here.
It hadn’t really hit until this moment. The realness of her here makes me see that her death will be real. Not some act or image in a mirror, but a real death.
She sits on the log next to me, leaning in so our arms touch. The feel of her skin against mine is a dagger to my heart instead of hers, but it’s her words that slay me, “I already forgive you.”
“Please don't.” I shake my head as the tears become sobs. “I am so-so so-sorry. I never knew it would come to this.”
“This is not your intention. It is not your deed. It is our burden. Our father demands a sacrifice because our parents were selfish fools. I have known this my whole life. I thought it would be him that killed me. I’m glad it’s you.” She reaches for the dagger in my hands, firming up my grip. “I will help you.”
“No!” I pull back. “If you’re strong enough to take the dagger I can be brave enough to not make you do it to yourself.” My face is soaked and my eyes cloudy from the tears filling them, but I turn and look straight into her beautiful little face. My jaw shakes with my hand as I lean forward, pressing the dagger into her chest. My angel strength pushes it through her like she is made of butter.
She jerks, lifting her hands to the dagger as the hilt becomes slippery with her blood.
“I’m finally free to be a willow tree by the river.” She gasps at the pain, her eyes widen, and she shakes. With my other hand, I wrap around her, closing my eyes and holding her as the knife pulls every bit of her into it. The exchange hurts us both; I hope me more than her.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper into her earthy-smelling hair as she goes limp. The grip she had on me is gone. It takes all the light and the purpose from her.
But I don't let go of her the way she lets go of me. I cling to her, shaking and sobbing.
Her warmth is still there in my arms when I blink and realize I am a puddle of tears and sadness, but I am not in the forest. I am in the painting, and she is gone. The blood is gone. But the smell remains as if she is in me.
Willow rushes over, wrapping her arms around me, but I push her away, shaking my head.
Tears fill her eyes instantly. “I am so sorry, Nene.”
“I can’t do this.” I shake my head, wanting so badly to give her back her blade.
“You have to, or Liana just died for nothing.”
The door opens and Fitz gives us a bewildered look from outside. “A bloody willow tree just popped up in the yard, by the creek. Came from nowhere, like someone’s adding to the painting.”
Willow scowls. “Maybe it’s for me.”
“It’s Liana,” I murmur. “She wanted to be a willow tree by the water, listening to the river.”
“Interesting.” Fitz closes the door and leaves the three of us there.
Constantine gives me an empathetic look from the corner. His eyes stay with me. I know he understands this pain. He’s probably the only person who does.
“Time for Ezara,” Willow mutters painfully. There is nothing we can do. It has to be done.
I force myself to stand and glance back at the mirror. “Fine.” My swollen face and desperate sadness look back at me.
“I can’t come with you, love. I tried but the mirror brought me back to this place.” Constantine saunters into the reflection. “We think maybe I can’t be in the world until I was born too. You are connected to the other girls so I think you have a loophole. I’ll be there for the next two.”
“Okay.” I don't know if a piece of me died with Liana, but I feel like less when I walk to the mirror for the second time.
Chapter Twelve
There is more noise and more smell, but the world is still not what I’m used to. This is not the same forest Liana lived in, or it’s just different now. There are fewer trees or the ones that are here are just much larger. The canopy looks like it must touch the sky, it’s so high.
I cling to the dagger and listen as a cold shiver settles in.
This was my life where Lillith left us, and I—Ezara, lived mostly with Lucifer. I know wherever she is, he will be nearby. And because I killed Liana before he got to, he might be ready for me this time. He won’t know it’s me he’s looking for, but he’ll be more protective over her than he ever was.
Instead of roaming about in the jungle, I sit on a stump and wait for her to find me. I have a feeling she will. A small whisper in the back of my mind suggests it might be more of a hope and less of a feeling. Liana might have found me but it doesn't mean Ezara will.
But I hate wandering about in the woods. I feel eyes on me, even when there aren’t any.
The tears and grief for Liana fade as I sit and listen to the birds and animals around me. My butt eventually goes numb and my fingers get cold, but still I sit and wait.
Finally, I can’t take another second, and it’s about to get dark, so I stand and turn, deciding on a direction and hoping she’s that way.
Like a true chicken, I take the path leading to the lighter side of the forest. It clears into a field with a small hut or cabin. I have no memories of this place, and yet here I am, as if the mirror knows better than my mind.
The sun touches down on me, warming me as it sets. I’m thirsty and needing a snack and maybe a nap by the time I get across the huge field. When I knock at the small wooden door I’m scared Lucifer will answer. I don't have the energy to fight him.
Thankfully, he doesn't answer.
No one does.
After waiting for several minutes, I push in on the door, scraping it along the dirty floor of the hut. There are two makeshift beds and some wooden blocks that might be tables and stools. It smells of meat and dirt and other things I don't like the scent of. It takes a second for me to realize there is another stench here. It’s subtle but I can catch the vileness in the air.
It’s pure evil.
There isn’t much, but it’s still tremendously more than in Liana’s world. This reminds me of standing downwind from a fair or a barbecue. The roasted meat and grilled burgers are delectable, but you only get a whiff every now and then because it’s just too far away to really savor.
The smell isn’t from the cabin. It’s from somewhere else.
I don't know why I’m here if Ezara and Lucifer are not, but the smell in the air turns my head. I’m hungry and exhausted on several levels. I don't feel the burst of life force I should have from killing Liana. If anything I feel weak and beaten down.
Leaving the little hut behind, I trek back across the field, following the smell the way Wyatt does. The similarities in us are all becoming more obvious. There are vast differences too though. Like the fact I cannot just kill someone because it's the right thing to do. Wyatt has never had an issue with that. He knew the rules of the Van Helsings, and he followed them until the day we met. He never waivered in his ability to slaughter something like me. It is exactly the opposite of how Willow raised me.
And then there’s his temper.
We do not have that in common either.
I am too much like Willow to be like him, or Lucifer.
But I suspect the fact his mother had the same issues that our father did, didn't help him fight the odds of having it. Whereas I was born from Lillith who lived in the garden like a coward. Her spinelessness has certainly contributed to my passive nature.
But no matter Wyatt’s flaws or the differences between us, I can’t help but love him. And not like a brother—not the way I should. I think it has me exhausted as well. There is no happy ending in sight. Each footstep through this lonely world is one less for me. My time is up and my end is near. I was born with the world and I will die with her too. Saving Wyatt is the only hope I have that I will carry on in this world, even if it’s just as a memory.
His dark eyes and beautiful smile roll about in my head, taunting and teasing me. I hate that there is no way around the fact we are something akin to brother and sister. I hate that even saving him will not make him mine.
The only thing saving me from going crazy over the fact we won’t ever be together is the likelihood I will be dead long before I get to grieve the end of our relationship. And he will remember it with love and fondness. And I will exist in his heart.
And that has to be enough.
At the far side of the field, to the right of the forest I came from, is a path. The smell of food and evil leads me to it. The sun vanishes and the chilliness of the evening sets in. It’s not cold but it’s cool enough for me to wish I had on more than my sweater. Truth be told though, anything more than a sweater and my wings actually rip it from my body when they burst out the back. Fabric cannot hold them back.
The dusty path and the silent night make me feel lonelier than I have felt in a long time. I just want it to end. I want to end all of this. In a sad and lonely way I too just want to end. Without love it feels like there is nothing for me.
But as the glow from the sun fades and the sky turns baby blue, something I haven’t ever seen before comes to life. When Coldplay said, “A Sky Full of Stars,” they were talking about this time and place. Somehow they came here and witnessed the miracle of the worlds around us. The openness of the land surrounding me gives way to the most remarkable sight ever seen.
Fortunately, there’s no moon for the start of the darkening of the night.
&n
bsp; Just a trace of landscape at every edge and then a sky so large I can’t take it all in. I spin slowly, trying to catch the lights as they twinkle on when enough sunlight has gone. Tears fill my eyes at the beauty and simplicity of billions of lights sparkling just for me. There literally is no one else here. And for the first time I understand something about the past. Something that was explained to me over and over in class, but I never got it. Now I do.
Every culture that believed the stars were their ancestors looking down on them saw this. This is the sky at the beginning, before man filled the world up with false light—before man ruined the sky by dimming God’s magic. I see now how people believed those lights were love and hope and ancient magic. They are majestic in a way that only something meant to be more than we can comprehend is.
Standing here alone on the plains, touched by nothing but the cold evening air, I lose the feeling of being alone. The lights of a trillion stars guide me. My family and friends are here, watching me. They are giving me hope and love and guiding me.
There is magic in this sky.
Magic we were meant to see and appreciate.
Magic we killed off with every one of the lights we turned on.
It’s easy to believe, here in this moment.
I believe I will win and God will show mercy on my soulless body.
In this moment, I believe in everything.
A shooting star brightens my view, heading in the direction I am walking, and I trust it’s a signal that I should walk the way it soared.
Primitive man—even the caveman—was not stupid. He was open to the possibility that magic was simple and part of everyday life. He didn't take anything he saw for granted. He wasn't jaded by seeing the stars so many times that they stopped being something special.
And he wasn't so self-important that he believed the light he’d made was better than the light God had made.
That type of pious reverence is born the moment I see it all for the first time.
My feet pull me along, though my eyes stay with the sky, trusting my feet or God’s hand in guiding me. I don't know which, maybe both.