Girl of Myth and Legend

by Giselle Simlett

  ‘Hate him all you want; it won’t change anything.’

  ‘Then what do I do, Sersu? What do I do?’

  ‘You are the Pulsar.’ She grins. ‘You can do anything.’

  ‘Hah. Doubt that. Apparently, Sebastian Crato’s word is absolute.’

  She steps closer to me. ‘Do you think the people of the Imperium would follow someone like Crato when they have a new, shining light in front of them?’

  I almost blush under her heavy gaze. ‘What?’

  ‘You don’t get it, do you? It hasn’t clicked yet, has it?’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Do you think Crato is hiding your existence from the people to protect you?’

  ‘Well, it makes sense—’

  ‘It may make sense, but it doesn’t mean it’s the truth.’

  ‘Then what is the truth?’

  ‘Crato is scared of you, Leonie. He’s scared because you could easily sway the people of the Imperium, whereas he has to push them down and crush them so that they’ll have no choice but to follow. You’re a Pulsar, and back when the Pulsar were around, they were the voice of the Imperium, a symbol. You could be a lackey, a malicious Pulsar, a cruel one, but I’ve met you, and you’re none of those things. I don’t know what you are yet, but I know you can be something if you choose to be. You were born in another world, brought up in another world. You aren’t someone who’s been controlled all their life. The people would listen to you.’

  ‘Why does this matter? What has this got to do with anything?’

  ‘Crato wants to punish you for your existence. He wants to mould you into his puppet. That’s why he redeemed your father and then took him away. All of this is to show you he is the one in power, that he is the one pulling the strings.’

  ‘Even if that’s true,’ I say, looking away from her penetrat-ing gaze, ‘that’s not going to help me now.’

  ‘You want your father’s freedom? You want your voice to be heard? You want lives to be spared? You could do all of that, Leonie, if only you fully understood who you are.’

  There are so many thoughts in my head; I can’t focus on her words, their meaning. I shake my head, and say, ‘I don’t… I don’t have time for this.’ And I turn from her and go.

  _________________

  ‘Why does January have to be so damn cold?’ I grumble, hugging myself.

  ‘You’re the one who came out here,’ Korren points out.

  ‘You’re the one who followed. How d’you find me, anyway?’

  ‘Even in my human form I can easily track your stench.’

  ‘Are you trying to give me a complex?’

  He ignores my comment. ‘Why did you come out here?’

  I shrug my shoulders. ‘Looking at things from a distance usually relaxes me.’

  ‘Today is an exception?’

  I nod my head, resting my chin on my knees.

  ‘I thought you’d go to the forest,’ he says.

  ‘Yeah, well.’

  We’re sitting on a hill behind the temple, the sun still high in the sky. I can see the faint outlines of the moons waiting to shine.

  ‘About… last night…’ he begins.

  ‘Oh, would that be the detestation tantrum I had to listen to?’

  ‘What I said, while it was true, I… that is… it was maybe too much…’

  ‘Yeah, wishing someone’s existence “never was” is pretty diehard.’

  His eyes narrow. Maybe he’s having an inner debate on whether to pursue my forgiveness or not.

  ‘Look, forget it,’ I say. ‘Yeah, it was, like, extremely crappy for me to hear, but it was how you felt, right? I’d rather you speak your mind, so let’s just leave it at that.’

  He looks at me again with that piercing curiosity. I’m guessing he doesn’t understand why I can be this forgiving. He’s wrong if he thinks that: I’m not that forgiving, I just can’t comprehend the depths of his suffering, and I don’t think I ever will. Even if his words did wound me—and I’m not saying they did—I think it’s wrong to hold a grudge against him. He doesn’t want to be here with me and yet has no choice. Of course he’s going to have a tantrum. Hell, I know I would.

  ‘Did you get very far with your father?’ he asks me.

  ‘Does my happy face tell you otherwise?’

  ‘No, then.’

  ‘No.’ And I tell him about what I saw.

  ‘You don’t look surprised,’ I say, once I’ve finished telling him.

  ‘It’s nothing to be surprised about.’

  ‘Let me guess: you’ve seen a lot worse.’

  He looks at me. ‘Yes.’

  I can’t stop the shiver that runs through my body. I turn from him and kick some snow with my foot. ‘This whole thing has made me start regretting coming here.’

  ‘I’m surprised the Council have been keeping you here for so long,’ says Korren.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘The rebels that attacked you, for one. Then again, you’ve got a lot of protection, and what happened was unusual.’

  ‘What about underfens? Can they attack me here?’

  ‘No. This place is too well protected.’

  ‘Do underfens exist in the human realm anymore?’

  ‘Some do. I’ve had to kill the odd one in the past.’

  ‘So they attack normal people?’

  ‘How else are they going to survive? If they’re in the human realm, humans are all underfens have to feed off. Haven’t you ever wondered about abnormal murders, unexplained suicides?’

  I see a spiral of blonde hair, a smile that was as warm to me as the sun, a line of red.

  ‘Nothing in this world scares me anymore.’

  I shake my head. ‘Um, so what about maidens? What are they like specifically?’

  I think he must have noticed my short silence, because he’s looking at me strangely, a look that’s almost like… sympathy.

  ‘You can’t see a maiden when it’s not attacking,’ he says. ‘They can hide themselves in weather formations, like tornados or thunderclouds. You can only destroy it if you can see its true form, and you can only see its true form when it creates a haze.’

  ‘A haze?’

  ‘When a maiden selects a victim—we’ll say O’Sah—’ and his lips twitch a little, ‘the maiden will create a mirage, which we call a haze. When inside, his reality is warped and he’ll be subjected to unfathomable terrors. Sometimes the maiden even uses your own memory against you. It feeds off your despair, your energy, which is strongest in a Chosen.’

  ‘No one can survive it?’ I ask.

  ‘They can, but at a price. It really depends on the power of the maiden. The weaker they are, the more likely a Chosen, or even a human, can survive the haze before the maiden exhausts its energy and destroys itself.’

  ‘It destroys itself?’

  ‘If a maiden attacks, they have to acquire a certain amount of energy from their victims. If not, they die. Attacking is always a risk for a maiden.’

  ‘And they almost always succeed?’

  ‘It depends. The stronger they are, well, the less likely you’ll survive. Like I said, you can survive it, though you’ll never walk out of a haze with quite the same level of sanity you had before. That’s why it’s convenient to have a kytaen. We aren’t affected by maidens.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘No one knows. We can be drawn into a haze, but can keep our mind our own. A maiden is unable to trick us with their visions and ruses of despair. It may take a while, but if the kytaen can find the form of the maiden, then it can destroy it and the haze.’

  I lean back. ‘Hmm.’

  ‘I’ve been wondering…’ he begins.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Before your father was taken, though you had no choice but to go to the Imperium, did you want to go?’

  ‘If I didn’t, d’you really think I’d be so willing to do that meditation crap?’

  ‘But then…’ he begins.

&n
bsp; ‘What?’

  ‘Why are you so willing? You’ve never known anything but the human realm.’

  ‘Anywhere is better than there,’ I say eventually, staring at the distant lights.

  ‘Than there? There is a paradise, to live so free and far from the Imperium.’

  ‘For you maybe. I know you think I’m ignorant, and you’re right, but I didn’t care what I had to do or where I had to go in order to leave that place. Anything is better than a life of routine. Anywhere is better than a place where I’m constantly reminded of the past. And what better place than the Imperium? That’s sure to take my mind off life there.’

  ‘And what exactly are you trying to take your mind off?’ he asks. ‘What are you running from?’

  ‘What are you fighting for?’ I respond.

  ‘Fighting for?’

  ‘Why else would you be so resolved to fight against me all the time?’

  He stiffens. ‘That’s not your concern.’

  ‘And neither is my life yours.’

  The sun begins to lower, the faint outlines of the moons pushing the bright skies away, ordering it to sleep.

  ‘Soon,’ he says.

  ‘Soon,’ I agree, because neither of us can run from the soul-binding.

  ‘Ae’anad,’ he says.

  ‘What did you just call me?’

  He’s silent.

  ‘Tell me. I command you,’ I say.

  ‘Now you’re discovering the ways of a keeper. Well, I’ll comply once, little lion.’

  I blink. ‘Please don’t tell me you’re giving me a cute nickname?’

  ‘Cute, you? Impossible. And “little lion” isn’t a cute nickname either. You’re a ferocious animal who happens to be small.’

  I glare. ‘I don’t like it.’

  ‘That makes it all the better.’ He whacks my copper curls. ‘These, for example, are like a lion’s mane.’

  ‘Hmph.’

  ‘I don’t know why I didn’t come up with this before. You really are a little lion.’

  And soon, Korren, very soon, I will be your keeper.

  KORREN

  WHAT BINDS US

  ‘Stop looking at me like I’m a piece of meat,’ she snaps.

  ‘Why wouldn’t I when I’m about to take your delicious soul energy?’ I lick my lips. ‘I’m starving.’

  ‘You’re disturbing.’

  I am, in fact, running low on energy. Almost a week away from Aris is equivalent to a week of running with no stops, no food and no sleep.

  Despite her arguing and repeated refusals, the little lion has been forced into ceremonial clothing, as is appropriate for a Pulsar. She wears a large-sleeved, crimson gown brimmed with gold satins. Robes cover her body from the ground to just above her chest with a knot wrapped around her waist. Over this she wears a thin dark-red outer coat that ties together at the bottom, a long scarf-like material draped around the arms. On her head sits a magnificent crown, worn only by Pulsar. It is adorned with gold-coloured dragons, flowers made from pearls and gemstones, and has two golden rods extending from each side, red beads dangling from them. The large golden necklace she wears glitters, jewels of different shades of red embellishing it.

  It’s strange to see her look like, well, a Pulsar. She is a girl from another world who knows nothing of our traditions and way of life, and yet she stands before me now like all the other Pulsar I have been forced to soul-bind with.

  I frown. What is this feeling creeping up inside of me? Disappointment? Is it because seeing her dressed this way further confirms her status, what she is? Is it that no matter what she’s said to me, and no matter how she’s made me feel because of those words, we are not and never will be equals?

  We’re standing in the forest where we met. Strangely, the wind is not as harsh, and I try not to attach any significance to it. O’Sah is talking to another Throne as the little lion prepares herself, though all she’s doing is rubbing her temples, saying, ‘Give me strength. I’ll need it being bound to this parasite.’ I would pray for the same, except it’s me who will need strength. She’s arrogant, infuriating and will drive me into despair. I couldn’t imagine a worse fate than being tied to her until she dies.

  I watch her mumbling to herself. The words her father said resound in my head: ‘What she is doesn’t determine who she is.’ My face softens. Yes, she’s infuriating.

  But… she’s different.

  ‘Are you ready, my Lady?’ asks O’Sah.

  ‘Give me a minute!’ she shouts, turning her back on him.

  ‘Your fingers will go into your skull if you keep rubbing it,’ I comment.

  ‘Shut up. Moron,’ she adds. ‘You have no idea what I’m going through. How many times have you done this, old man? Like a thousand! I’ve done this zero, zilch, nada. How can this be happening? Soul-binding. Binding my soul to you, old timer. How could I do that? Ack! The whole thing is cliché and, to be honest, slightly pervy. Just saying. And why the hell do I have to even wear this? I’m itching all over! And I mean all over. I can’t even move! God. God. This whole thing is stupid! I don’t even know what to do, how to begin, how to end it. Yeah, yeah, I know O’Sah explained it but, OK, I wasn’t listening! I admit it. I switch off whenever he talks. And what if I give you too much energy? What if I spontaneously combust or something? Poof. Just poof, and I’m gone, while you get to be energised for the next 84.5 years or whatever the hell it was. It’s just this is too weird for me to handle! What if I mess up—what if, what if, what if? I just… I-I don’t know! I just—I just—!’

  I grab her arms and pull them, because she’s digging her fingers so much into her temples that she’s left red marks there. ‘It’s all right.’

  She gapes at me.

  ‘It’s… it’s all right,’ I repeat, rubbing my neck and looking away. ‘I’ve dealt with this before. It’s no easy feat to bind your soul to someone you don’t even know. So just…’ I hesitate. ‘Just take your time and you’ll be all right.’

  She stares in a stupor, and I can feel my face growing hot. So I was nice. Surely it’s not that big of a shock? But she keeps staring at me in wonder. I grit my teeth, and snap, ‘And what was with all those old references? I’m not old!’

  Her surprise soon changes to a grin and she folds her arms. ‘Age complex?’

  ‘I think that we should begin now, my Lady,’ interrupts O’Sah, coming to us.

  Since the beginning of soul-bindings there has existed the harusi, a scripture that came into existence when the Chosen who would later found the Imperium, Imperi Atum, and Ehlmand made their promise. It’s said that Ehlmand infused Her magic within each word, and it acts as Her summons. Magen are trained to learn the harusi’s unique language so that they don’t need to carry the scripture with them to a soul-binding, so O’Sah must have had to be a quick learner.

  As the last traces of sunlight flicker away, the clouds slowly disperse, uncovering the great white moons. Yesterday they hung in the sky as they do every night. Tonight, however, they bring with them a mystic glow, which to me is such an ominous sight, swathed in beauty. As O’Sah recites the harusi’s words, I feel a piercing but familiar pain in my chest. The girl cringes as she too feels the pain. It feels like your whole heart, your whole being, your whole self is being torn from you, and you yearn for it to return, for without it you are nothing, just a hollow soul with no purpose, no meaning. A wisp of silver vapour, beautiful like silk, reaches out of me and entwines with the little lion’s, which glimmers like gold. I feel her soul brushing against my own like fingertips, and I shiver as if she’s actually touching me. The colours coagulate into one before bursting out. The forest melts away and we are standing upon the shimmering surface of a lake, immersed in stardust and light. We’re alone, and even the moons have vanished from the star-dotted ocean above us. She looks around in wonder, and I notice she’s naked.

  Now I know where the moons’ light has gone: she is their light, and the moonshine around her body glows with such
divinity. Her hair curls down her body in the same chaotic way, but instead of a copper colour, it is red as if flames have lit the moons on fire. Her burgundy eyes are shining, reminding me of the first night she visited me, and that pull I have felt many times comes and holds my gaze, rendering it impossible to look away from those windows of mystery. She is magnificent. I cannot deny it.

  Most times, Chosen know what to do at this part, having been prepared for a soul-binding from youth, but she looks at me helplessly, an expression I’m not accustomed to. Her clumsy hands reach out to me in confusion. I grasp them in my own. Her hands are warm. I feel as if I am holding an ethereal being.

  I can’t run from this. To run at this point is to face death as a punishment by the Imperium. I can’t die yet, not without making an impression, not without destroying something that the Imperium hold dear. I have to live in chains in order to break them.

  She comes to us in the form of an orb, bright and as powerful as a star. We turn our gaze from Her, momentarily blinded. When the light dims we see the outline of a woman. She is transparent, a ghostly being, so Her features are indiscernible. The little lion is staring at Her, mouth open. I, however, stare at Her with both loathing and adoration. It courses throughout my body in an unclear disorder.

  Ehlmand, stargod of kytaen, greatest of comforts to kytaen—and our greatest traitor. She knows of our suffering, yet, She, a supreme being beyond that of the Chosen, only acknowledges our pain and pities us, weeps for us—nothing more.

  Since the beginnings of the kytaen and soul-bindings, Ehlmand has been the one to initiate them. The harusi is Her summons, and She comes without fail, without considering who She may be binding the kytaen’s soul to. I haven’t seen Her for over two hundred years, but at the sight of Her I’m aware of how insignificant I am, and of all the thousands of kytaen who’ve been bound in the past by Her. I’m nothing, really. How could I ever have hoped to escape my fate?

  I notice that She is directing Herself towards the little lion, which is unusual, as with all my bindings Ehlmand has never been hesitant. Hesitant. Is that what it is? No, I’m probably thinking too much.

  She raises Her arms as if to embrace us. I look to the girl. Her gaze remains on the ethereal being before us, her brilliance unnoticed by her. I swallow. My fate is about to be set in motion, like a pawn brought upon the chessboard by its master.