It breaks my heart to
know that the truest vision of me is not myself anymore, but rather my image
upon the iris of a beautiful star. Heartbreak
and comfort. The two are so intimately
co-mingled now. As it should be, I suppose. Asha, where else would I wish to live if not in your
arms? At least upon the surface of your
eye I can taste our reason, mirrored. I
can feel myself in the curve of your shoulders and hear myself within the secret
songs. To know myself as a dream held in the heart of another. Mirror and star, once again. The horror of before, when that mirror was
shattered, and I wept as angels do when they are finally cast out.
Hopeless,
lost.
When
rage and sorrow coexist. Skies
darken and hatred howls in the blood. Midnight of the day. Chaos seems to rule, and our beloved
ones lie messy and broken at our feet.
We
curse our fathers, Asha. We curse our
kings. We make vows, darkest vows that
last for countless lifetimes. Vengeance
is so corrosive. I know that better than most.
Yet its promise is still held so dearly in my breast. Mirror and star. My name held in your
gaze. All the ways I tried to get back
to you. All the ways I failed. To cheat death, to call down new life. To search fable and buried worlds looking for
a miracle.
There were
no miracles to be found to bring back my girl, to restore her flesh. Or so I thought. But then, a millennia of musing and suffering,
and it came to me.
A
violation. A crossing, upon this
inverted sky. Desecrating darkness itself; a holy act. Unknown, unimagined.
Callous Ones, you talk of black stars and inversions, but do you really know
what it means to fall?
You
think I honour life, and I do.
But
the king is a murderer, in dreams. I
tore creation itself to bring her back. I
tore the temple, the sky, the earth and the flesh. I've been falling for a thousand years
because of that tear. Falling through
the pupil of an incomprehensible eye.
Bluer than I ever imagined.
Wounded, bleeding, triumphant.
Fierce
as the day you took her from me. You only
know what it means to sin. You know nothing of what it means to hold a sin, or
all sins.
You broke
the spine of my dreaming on the day she fell at my feet, lifeless and murdered.
The day the sky darkened at noon. The
day the birds became silent and the forests hushed. The day you truly taught me how to hate.
They say the city began to fold.
Fallen,
you stole everything from me. But I am
more than living torment, more than silver storm. I am Love, eternal.
I am he
who slays creation, for her alone. I am
my father's worst angel, and his most treasured. I am not the devil. I'm something much, much worse. I'm the dangerous one. A living death, incarnate. Shadow and
light, twinned, made flesh. I serve the
truth, terrifying as it is. So humankind
might know its own depths and wonders.
Those integral secrets you withheld from them, Callous Ones. They deserve the truth. My father is merciful, and so I exist. My father is loving, and so I come – and come
again.
My Vahishta
lives as flesh once more, as do I, and she recalls those feathers now. Together we shall do all we can to heal this
place, and rouse our forgotten heartsong from the soil. Life, an emerald star, fell once more from
heaven. A dream upon the eye of a lost,
holy child. And where before there was
only barren darkness, now there is a promise of light reborn.
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