Minartha

Minartha

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Steps bled into each other. Paths walked before. Footsteps taken. Flesh of her feet fell into the huellas, as if they were always meant to tread that space and time.

Dirt spread between toes. And the sunlight made it all feel warm. Did not matter how cold it all really was. How distant and fragile. It kissed her skin all the same. Bled into those spaces none else could touch. How it felt like such a sweet memory. But she could not reach it. Slipped through her fingers like ash. Turned to mud as it sank. And if she followed she would drown. For her body forgot how to swim.

"Are you still with me, Solon?" she would say to the air. For how was she to know that the man had truly come back from oblivion? Each part of him reformed, smithereen by smithereen.

Hand as black as the truth, wreathed in flames of every color.

Was that just another dream?

She could not wait. But to step forward. Unto the day. She could not look back. For what if he was not there? And the path only went forward. She could see it. Sure as her feet fell on with their steps.

But her eye was tired. Her limbs heavy. And they had both marched for so long.
 
"I am, young one," he gives her reassurance and places a heavy hand on her shoulder. A reminder of his presence and that she was not alone. A reminder that she never would be so long as he drew breath.

His old mentors in the order and his harsher father before them had placed callouses on his soul. Ones that remained even after he was unmade and brought together again. He'd seen oblivion and yet somehow Saren Raye's harsh hands and cruel lessons stayed with him. And in guiding little Minartha, he was reminded of his specter. As Light should, he endeavored to be a kinder teacher. And as light should, his tone lit the way.

"Treks such as these make one stronger. Your legs shall curse you now and thank you when you must walk proudly and again."

Oblivion rested beyond his smile. For even in his encouragement, there was a hint of pain. A scar that would remain forever as he remembered all of the colors he saw upon his death in the infinite. It was one and yet many. He saw darkness as well as many colors. So much so that he could no longer fear either. But he would teach her to never fear as well. For he'd gone to the end of existence itself for this child and would have nothing less than paradise at her ending.

Nothing mattered more.

"Know you any songs, sweet girl?"
 
Stronger. Curses that would turn to thanks. Pride.

Hand sure about bone and flesh. Warm as it was heavy.

He was a voice as sure as victory. Triumph at the end of things, left in his wake. From the ashes, of possible beginnings, all his eyes ever looked for, sweet tongues of green come up through the fore.

"Songs?" what songs had she heard her mother sing? Of dragonflies and damselflies, come skimming off the clear water. Of silver strings crying out their song, to the quiet faces on high. "I know songs," her eyes lulled fractions closer to shut. Her steps slowed.

Ease whined into bands so stretched and bent between joints. All flex and push up the path.

Third eye came closed. Two came after. Muscle settled against bone. Lungs drew breath full of green pine and earth supped full of snow melt. She stilled one easy moment. Shoots of silver blue needles bright and dusty opaline. Sun curls radial from the glory of her golden brown skin.

"Do you have songs?" she asked, voice a hush between the branches yawned, two eyes looked up to him, all amber and garnet against the dapple day glow.
 
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"I do, little one. My father used to sing me songs of a place far away. Songs that I keep in my heart," he responded to her gently because her soul was gentle. He had seen the sum of it at the peak of all emotion. Where her rage let him know the contents of her soul more than kind words ever could. She was gentle as he once was. Before Solon learned the truth about death and how it scarred the mind-flesh for forever and a day. Hands that guided her along the path moved to lift her into his arms so that her legs could rest. When morning came, she would learn strength again. Once she was rested and closed all three of her eyes.

"My father, Saren had seen much. He loved hard and battled harder. He laughed loudly and taught me hard lessons with the back of his hands. I feared him when I was small, but..."

He missed him. Was that something he should say as a man fully grown? When guiding this little one, was there a place in the world for softness. Should she look upon him after all that she's seen and wonder if it was safe to do the same? He feared he might make a misstep. That she would learn something from him that he should not. That he would prepare her in all of the wrong ways for what was to come. In her, he saw all of the things that could be. Should be. How could he make her understand when she was so young?
Solon sang a soft tune to the wind...
I recall a time, an age of gold, A story that the starlight told. Your hair was streams of silver grace, Your eyes held moons, in time and space. The world was young, the skies were deep, A vow my lonely soul would keep.
​
Mina would never know, but he thought of home. Of the slow smile of his one true love. Sharing drinks with knights and laughing loudly even though his father's dead eyes were on his mind. All of the things that made him who he was. His essence was carried in every note, though he knew not how he sounded. He just remembered how his father sang to him so that his baby boy might sleep. And this girl that was his only companion on this long road would remember the same some day. When Solon had returned to the dust of the world and the Mother-of-All bid him join her.

Oh, Moons of Yore, my lost, fae queen, Glimmer now in memory's sheen. My heart is yours, my love so true, I've wandered worlds in search of you. Beneath the eight, I swore my vow, And I am yours, then, then as now. ​
 

"Saren," the young woman of three eyes burning spoke the name like the start of a song. Soft as whisper. With a flame's crackle there where sound rolled.

She felt the warmth in Solon's words. Sweet as the mother's sorrow. Her clouds gathered heavy overhead. Her winds, warm as the sobs that fell from pressed embrace.

A longing.

But she let their breath fill the air between them. Let the beats of their hearts thump. The aches. Sunk like steps in earth that turned to mud between their toes.

Come the breeze.

Turn the song across his tongue. Spill the verse across his lips. Her eyes of three transfixed upon him.

As the sun dappled through the leaves. As the birds stirred, and the mayflies buzzed their wings.

And she could hear the roots themselves, dig through the earth. The branches, reach for the stars. And all the leaves of green, stir against the sky.

Her eyes came to shut. And Minartha would see the flames dance across distant sands. See how the sun burned across each glistening speck of sand that yearned to turn to glass.

Cool as the dark skies held the pale moons' light.

And she would see herself. Mirrored there. Eyes of pale gold. Strands of moonlight silver. Standing beneath the very sands of time she stood upon. An inversion. Not her. Something else. Made.

Her eyes cracked open. Bright as the sun itself. A breath.

The song still sang. Sweet as mother's breath.

My heart is yours, my love so true, I've wandered worlds in search of you...

Water rolled from her eyes. Warm and saline. From the third eye, a stream poured down across the bridge of her nose. Her head bowed. She wiped it away.

And I am yours, then, then as now.

How the words echoed through her.

"But you are not mine, Solon," she struggled to say. "I am no ones," she bit off. Hands balled to fists. "I am nothing!" she shout as she thrashed her hands, and shook her head. Voice cracked and ragged. Parched. Legs forgot how they hurt with spent, and she pushed her feet against the earth so hard it felt like the ground would tear itself apart behind her.

She ran. Into the woods. Into the dark. Eyes forced shut as the streams poured out. Legs wobbled and pained until they felt undone. Like some gangly thing, just plopped unto the world, she fell in a heap. Sobs so angry her whole body shook. Fingers dug through the mud. Gripped through the earth. Grabbed.

For what.

She couldn't say. But felt. The scrape against her legs. The grit against her tips. The tears across her face. The pain inside her chest. The hole, gaping and wide, at the core of her.
 
If there were any that understood the hole at her center, it was he. So when she ran away, his chase was not frantic because he understood the footsteps. When she sobbed, he did not sob because he'd cried those tears. When she was aimless, he had aim as he'd been aimless in the past. So full of anger at a face he knew but did not understand. Perhaps in looking for her now, he searched for the boy that had been lost so many years ago. A boy that was found and given a new purpose outside of loving a father that couldn't love him the way he should have been. A boy that was given a firm hand instead of a harsh one... And gods he missed the face behind that harsh hand so much. How often had he laid awake at night and wished that his cruel father would love him in all the ways he was missing? When Minartha ran away, he did not scream after her for that was too harsh. He did not curse her, for she was deserving of better. He would not chastise her because he had once desired to simply be held and told he would be okay.

Her footsteps were small compared to his own and the sounds of her grief gave him all the trail he needed. Solon Raye was no small man and his steps carried him farther than her smaller ones could ever hope to. When he found her, he didn't ask what it was she was doing. A part of him understood there was no rhyme or reason behind pain and if there was, it would only be something that little Mina could understand.

And so he sat by one of the roots of a great tree and watched her dig herself bloody. Solon let her spend all her pain and all of her sorrow and tears because he understood the need to be rid of it. And after a time he moved to kneel in front of her. He shushed her a bit. A reminder that she did not have to go through all of this alone. She could not unless she decided to obliterate him again. He'd felt it once and so death held no sway over him anymore. A part of him felt lesser because of it.

Fear of death was a human experience, after all.

"You speak foolish words, young one," he said as calloused hands grabbed her own and healed them from their folly fueled by sorrow.
"You are everything, do you not know that? Who told you that you were nothing, hm? The world is full of demons. Full of hate... You must listen where love is. Do not cry. You are not alone, do you hear me? ...As long as I draw breath, you are not alone. Be strong now. For that is all that is left to those of us who move on through pain..."
 
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