by P. Milisande
She looked at her orb. It sat silent and still.
What is wrong? Why do you not speak?
Ursula had believed time had forgotten her. She had dared hoped he had forgotten her.
He knows the stain of my sin. Of what I had done. I am as much a fool as he is to think that darkness and time will obliterate everything.
She stood up and fortified herself, fortified her fortress, strengthened it with her spells.
Separabis terram ab igne, subtile ab spisso...
She had chosen this path. She knew she would change nothing. Even in her utter loneliness, with feeble memories haunting her. Not the love she had felt, not the happiness, not the painful sacrifice. Or the sorrow that came after.
Her son. The earth perishing so everything would come to pass. For him.
So he will father a new world. So the prophecy will come true. I am but a necessary sacrifice. As is Atlas. As are the Sisters.
She knew she would do it over and over again.
But the darkness did not forgive. It did not forget. Doubts crept towards her. She knew she will have no rest. Not tonight. Not when someone could see her.
Maybe she should call upon her father. The time had come. But she knew he would not hear her. He was beyond her reach now, as he had promised. Everything was beyond her reach. Hope, desire, love.
CHAPTER 8
~
PARADISE IS IN THE space between disbelief and amazement. Often, the full enchantment of its beauty is realized only in hindsight, as an afterthought. When it has been irretrievably lost. When regret and bitterness have taken hold. When the rose-colored glasses of memory have been donned.
When what can be caught is just the wisp of its fading scent, or the sigh of its flailing breath.
It was then as it is now. The inhabitants of paradise did not know they were in paradise until they had lost it all. But I am getting ahead of my story.
Imagine endless oceans, the bluest of blue. In its middle, a jewel, sparkling and lush. The delight of its creator.
Where men and gods lived as one.
But paradise is not only a place. It is a feeling of utter peace, of ecstasy, of the union of hearts and minds. Where one knew one’s place and his part in all creation. One understood everything and coveted nothing.
Peace seemed eternal. But amidst its laughter, in the dark region of the soul where its light could not reach, there fermented discontent.
And so man had forgotten that he was nothing until the gift of life was breathed upon him. That in the beginning, he had no thought. He had no will, no desire, no goodness, no evil. Until grace – fire through the breath of the gods – touched him and gave him a soul.
A gift. An act of love.
The sum of his existence – to seek nothing, to feel only happiness and contentment. To not ask for more because there is no more that he could possibly desire. He was in paradise.
But something happened during that time of peace – the fire breathed upon him became feeble and weak. And the darkness he always had within him grew.
His soul struggled, but it lost. And he began to change, to desire.
The landscape changed with him. He began to create, to dream, to build. And though he reveled in his creation, doubt, confusion, and anger visited him. Emotions – conflicting and dark – blossomed within.
He thought strange thoughts, other possible existences. Was he not created in the image and likeness of the gods? Then was he not also a… god?
This became his strongest desire. To be a god.
To be free of the gods.
He nurtured this dark secret. As he grew even stronger in skill and thought, he grew bolder. One day, when both the moons hid, he sought to overthrow his masters.
In an epic battle which almost destroyed the known universe, he obtained his freedom.
The Ancients decreed him victor, and they gave him what he desired most: to be a god in his own realm.
They commanded that a wall be erected to forever close the world of men to the gods and to the existence of gods.
The Wall.
Man told himself he is ready to forget. That he is ready to begin again. He dreamt of a future, futures.
So he worked on the Wall, entombing spells within it, envisioning a peaceful non-union. Envisioning full freedom.
“So this is our story, Maman?” asked Asterope.
“Yes, my children. This is our story. This is why they are building this wall. This is why you all must go,” said Pleione, trying to keep emotion from her voice.
“I do not understand,” said Alcyone. “If the gods must go, why must we go ahead of everyone?”
“The Ancients have a plan for you. I do not know what it is, but you and your sisters all have a part in it.”
“But where are we going, Maman?” said Taygete.
“You are going to the domain of Hera, as instructed by the King. She will teach you and show you the path. She can teach you more than I could.”
“But I do not want to leave you, Maman. I want to stay here with you and with Papa,” cried Merope.
“We have to follow what Maman says, Merope,” said Maia, noting the sadness in her mother’s eyes.
“We will do what you say, Maman,” said Electra.
“Will we ever see you again, Maman?” asked Celaeno.
“You would. Someday. I promise you all would.”
Starlight streamed through big, tall windows in Ursula’s room. Lit by it, her profile appeared stark and arrestingly beautiful. She peered out, lost in thought, as she contemplated how she could win this argument with her father.
They called her willful after all. And her extraordinary abilities – they have given her the names Enchantress and Dream Weaver – made her more than a match for anyone. Even her father.
But today, it may prove difficult.
She needed to convince him she ought to stay in Valhalla. She had no desire to be anywhere else. The problem was she did not believe it herself. She had grown mildly curious about this other world they wanted to send her to. They called it their pleasure place, where they toyed with what they called humans. Those humans, made merely to serve gods, have recently waged a rebellion. This uprising so shook the gods because they did not expect it from a race of slaves. Her father needed to send her there as an emissary, to help her uncle Atlas reel the humans in. To put them in their place. To stop them from building their wall. She knew, however, that she was merely a pawn. What her father really wanted was to get the Pleiades – the Seven Sisters – of whom prophecies were made. And she was to be given in exchange. A temporary arrangement, they assured her. Her uncle would not give up his daughters without an assurance of their return.
She did not care for prophecies, did not care about anything or anyone but herself. And she did not like to be currency.
So – will she – play?
What’s in it for me?
She hated it, hated being a pawn, hated being ordered around, hated it when decisions were made for her. Oh, how she hated being a daughter!
Yet, she could not deny the prospect tempted her. But she will try not to give in without a fight. She will play this game.
“Ah, there you are. How is my lovely daughter?”
The King stood in her doorway, hands reaching out to her. She stepped down from the dais, giving up her slight advantage, to greet her father and kiss him. He always grew weak in the face of beauty lit by the stars.
“Are you ready to leave?”
“Father, why do you really want to send me there?”
“You are of age and it is about time you know more of the universe and those that are subject to our rule.”
“But they are no longer subject to your rule.”
“Ah, Ursula… My impudent one…”
“I am right.”
The King smiled. “You can think of it as a diversion from your life here at Valhalla. There are still many lessons, fountains of knowledge from where you can drink from, and I wa
nt all that for you. I know that is what you want as well.”
“Father, do not talk to me about my desires. We are so much alike. You want me to go there so you can get the Seven Sisters. Am I what Atlas has demanded?”
“My daughter… A step ahead, always a step ahead. I see. Nothing can be kept from you. So be it. Yes, Hera needs the Pleiades, she needs them trained, see if they are ready... And their father wants to hold you until they are safely returned to him.”
“Will the Pleiades return, Father? Will you return them? Will I be able to return here?
“Or will they be your wives like all the others?”
“Your insolence will get you in trouble one day. But I promise you, my daughter, I promise I will not do anything to harm them.”
“I have your word, Father. I will, of course, oblige and do my duty.”
“Thank you, precious daughter. Your brother Orion is waiting. He will take you there.”
“So this is earth.”
Ursula stood in the center of the grand hall. Everyone had their eyes on her as if transfixed.
“We hope what you see meets with your favor. My wife and I, we will do everything in our power so that you will be happy here, Ursula.”
“I am sure I will be happy here, Uncle. I know you will make it so.”
They heard them before they saw them.
The sisters rushed in, their hair plastered to their faces. Ursula knew that only a few minutes ago, they were laughing. Their faces still bore signs of that laughter, but they tried to look regal for Ursula. Ursula tried to hide her smile.
They are children. They pose no threat.
“Ah, so these are my cousins...”
“May I present to you, my daughters Maia, Taygete, Electra...”
Ursula smiled.
“I know all their names.”
She walked to them and touched each of their faces.
“You are all as beautiful as my Father said you will be. And so young. Have you never been to Valhalla? You will find that it is even more marvelous than this world. My Father and Hera will make sure of it.
“In the meantime, come! Tell me all you can about this world of yours!”
The Sisters shyly led her to the water gardens, while Orion silently followed.
From the window, Atlas and Pleione watched Ursula and their daughters.
“Atlas... is there nothing you can do?”
“The King has commanded me to bring him my daughters. I have no choice.”
“But the Dreamweaver...?”
“She is his favorite daughter. He will not dare do my daughters any harm if Ursula is with us.”
“But what does he intend to do with our daughters? Have you found out?”
Atlas remained silent.
“You have found out and you will not tell me!”
“Pleione, this is a matter that concerns me and the King. Please ask no more.”
Pleione looked at her husband, tried to see the man who would be king. She could not find him in the eyes that looked back at her. She felt only betrayal. And fear. Fear for her daughters.
She moved away from him.
Something is being set into motion, something ancient, something prophesied. It is something that will split the worlds. A mother knows these things.
She had to protect her daughters at all cost. But how? She could plead with Hera, but she knew Hera will be deaf to her. They knew only of what they want, she was nothing to them, they were all nothing to them.
She would have to go with her daughters to Valhalla, to Hera. She would try to convince Atlas.
A wife’s place is with her husband, she could almost hear him say.
But this time, it will not be so.
Forgive me.
In her new world, everyone looked at Ursula with awe. She was young, insolent, breathtaking in beauty, and ruthless.
The Sisters have gone and she grew bored out of her wits. She had her maidens in a mind-bind when a noise at the Wall made her look. She took a step and tried to see through it, something which her uncle forbade her to do.
She almost laughed at his audacity.
No one tells me what not to do.
She watched the movements at the Wall. Two humans argued in the distance. This is why they need us. They have so many petty concerns.
The Wall stood, but it was far from complete.
Intrigued, Ursula walked closer to it. She kept herself veiled to the humans so they would not see her as she regarded them with derision.
How weak they are! How slow! How feeble!
She took another step towards the Wall but saw that one of her maidens woke up. She closed her eyes, muttered an incantation, and strengthened her spell.
The maiden fell fast asleep.
She walked further, farther, and went through the Wall. She found herself on the other side. She had never been in their domain.
She considered her surroundings. It looked different from the other side but she could not say what made it different. Ursula shrugged and walked back.
Unremarkable. I do not understand why we want this back.
She walked back and stepped through the Wall. She felt someone staring at her.
It is impossible.
She stepped back, tried to see who it could be.
A young human? He could not possibly see me.
Ursula made herself more radiant. She looked again and there he stood.
So meek, so weak, so human. But there appears to be something different about this human. What is it?
She stopped before him, still hidden in luminescence. He looked straight at her as if he saw her. He then uttered strange words, words Ursula had never heard before.
…Fugiet a te omnis obscuritas...
Ursula flickered and fell. She found herself prostate and lying before the human. Visible and afraid, she tried to pull herself up.
“What was it you uttered? Who are you who dares look at a goddess!!!???”
The human – a mere boy – dropped to his knees.
Ursula looked at him, piercing his heart. This gave the boy terrible pain. She laughed at his agony.
Voices reverberated in her head: His name is Lamech and his heart is pure.
The Many Voices. The Ancients? Here? Now?
Ursula ceased her invocations, but the human continued to writhe before her. She touched him and his spasms ceased.
“Stand up, let me see you,” she commanded.
“If you will let me see you.” The human took her hand and lifted himself up. Surprised that he touched her, Ursula could not speak.
VeilOverAtlantis.com
Love does not know where it resides, or how it begins. It could be a flicker that is not there or a shadow that was. It could lay latent – hidden, unfree – but then it uncoils and catches one unaware.
One is never ready for love. It starts with the heart warming, and then an unbidden smile. It lights up the eyes, enlarges the soul, until an image is forever etched.
Then it is magnified, enflamed by the touching of fingertips. With conversations that never end. With innocent questions that go deep into the soul.
And answers that are answered with the same longing.
A shy smile, the quiver of light laughter, kindness, and though it could not be possible, oneness. The heart knows but it does not share its secret until it is too late.
One would resist. One must. But with surrender comes a flame incapable of being put out. Thoughts that are grave and deep have gotten true hold.
Knees quiver, hearts falter, dreams have acquired – in and of itself – a significance. A magnitude that is bigger than life.
Until desires are quenched, and though filled, remains unquenched.
CHAPTER 9
~
ELECTRA FOUND HERSELF MAROONED on an uninhabited island. Rudderless, she knew the emotions swelling deep within her brought her there.
She needed to be alone, needed time to think.
In the sky flew a
lone bird, white and minuscule, a mere a dot in the vast semi-darkness. But it enchanted her. A white vision in the almost-night sky.
Are you the sign I seek?
Electra reached out to touch it. But when her fingers touched the sky, it burst with gold and green colors. An electric luminescence could be seen for miles.
The bird flew away, unafraid.
That happens when I touch the sky? She laughed and could not contain her happiness. I love this world.
She had never felt this way. She shivered inside as if cold, but she was also on fire. She thought her heart would burst.
For her, every little thing in the world had grown more vivid, alive, tinged with red. She dreamt in color, felt in color. Strange thoughts filled her head. And she was utterly, inexplicably lost.
If there is a way we could be together, would I take the chance?
Tears welled in her eyes. She tried to reason with herself, to delve deep within but found no answer. She was half-confused, she was half-afraid.
I could not think about it. I could not think of him. Not right now.
Nahum, Nahum, Nahum…
She looked around, at the patch of darkening sea, and the mountains that surrounded her. Its peaks screeched. It called to her. Puzzled, she rose up into the air.
She hovered, a vision of white poised before the vast mountain wall. Figures in the dark rock strained and reached out for Electra.
They yearn to come out. What is this?
Strangely, she felt unafraid. She sensed only the impatient and overpowering urge to free the dark figures.
Searing heat filled Electra’s eyes. Blue fire spewed forth towards the moving bodies on the mountain. She hovered closer and caressed the rock with her hands and the fire from her eyes. She murmured words that have never been heard in the young earth.
Figures after figures sprung forth from Electra’s hands. Faces upon faces, bodies reaching out, its curvature defined, spines jutting out. From her hands spawned the caress of tendrils and deep crevices. When she finished, dark, austere faces – intense motion cast in stone – emerged from the mountain.