Dreaming Awake
Page 36
"Hello, Ronan," she whispered. "Welcome to the world."
"A good name," a voice said, deep and melodious, lilting with a strange accent that brought to mind Alaric Eide. "She'll have Stellan's power, but Ronan's heart. I know. I've seen his whole life. And yours." Anaka jumped, clutching Ronan tight to her chest.
A young woman sat in the corner of the tent, dressed in black form-fitting clothes much like Anaka's assassin's gear. She had long black hair, dark eyes and skin pale as snow. Devastatingly beautiful, she looked so much like Stellan they could have been twins. A sister? Another daughter? More secrets of his, coming to life before her eyes.
"I've heard so many stories of the Black Hand, Anaka Vilente. They say nothing could break you. Cold as the sea, dark as the night, merciless as death itself. But there's another side to you, one you let no one see. A softer side."
"Who are you?" Anaka asked.
"You know already." She has seen their whole lives...Seeing skips a generation...and her black eyes were slightly slanted, like Anaka's. Like Ronan's.
"You can't be my daughter," Anaka whispered, looking down at Ronan, and back up to the woman.
"But I am. With Stellan's power of dreams and your seers' blood, I can look into the past and make it real once more. My father would call me the Nameless, but he would be wrong. There are two of us, you see. From two times, two worlds, two universes. Talia the Nameless and Arie the rebel. That's what they call me, Arie. R.E. Ronan Elspeth. Every word the Oracle told you was true."
"You're the one who will save the world," she repeated. Could it be true? He'd promised her actions were important, he'd guided her to a life with Stellan, to a timeline where Ronan was born and Anaka would betray him to save her. To a future were Yeraz had fallen because of it.
"Will? I don't know. Can? Maybe. The future is blurred with endless possibilities, all contingent on the tiniest of decisions. Talia is more skilled at picking them at than I am, but she's lived over three-thousand-years and I haven't had quite as long. You took me away to Kenar, we lived a quiet life and when she came for me, for you, I wasn't ready," she paused, her voice wavering for a fraction of a second.
"You can't let that happen again, Mama. You can't. I came back to tell you, to convince you to stay with Alaric. He will propose a deal with you. You won't want to, but take it. Please." Anaka's mind reeled. Her daughter stood before her, grown to nearly her age, begging her to alter time. No matter how insane it seemed, somehow Anaka knew she spoke the truth. Maybe a mother would always know her children, in any circumstance. Maybe she was losing her sanity.
"Alright. I'll do it. Whatever you ask."
"Thank you, Mama. I miss you so much. More than words can express. But our time together is done. Love her like you loved me," she said, turning and leaving the tent.
"Wait," Anaka called, following the woman outside. Dusk had fallen over the camp, the soldiers stopping their work for the day, lighting fires and cooking meals. She turned back – Arie, Ronan, her daughter – and granted Anaka the tiniest of smiles, a slight curve in the corner of her mouth.
Then she vanished, escaping into some unknown universe, a window in time, a power Anaka could not fathom. She was alone again, Ronan asleep in her arms. The violet sky hung over the dark grasses, the evening shadows stretching toward everlasting silence.
"I will do anything for you," she whispered, eyes drawn to her sleeping daughter. "I tore the world down to keep you safe, and I will never stop."
ABOUT:
E.F.Joyce lives in Alaska and studied creative writing at the University of Alaska, Fairbanks. For more information and upcoming projects, please visit www.efjoyce.com
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