Author’s notes: Another spin-off from my story “Brother Sun, Sister Moon”, but it can well be read alone.

It deals with the events resulting to a certain characters birth and might explain some things regarding his bloodline. It takes place about 250 yrs before the events taking place in the above mentioned story (if that was not a spoiler, I don’t know what is, hehe). Again, knowledge of the character in question is not necessary for reading this story.

Enjoy, and tell me what you think.

The flames that were his eyes.

The wind whispers secrets over the hot desert sands.

Either by the wail of the sandstorm or by the sigh of the warm night breeze, the wind carried the memories of dreams and lives lost in the depths of time, the memories of people who had long perished. Nothing remained to remind their existence, not even the pearly whiteness of a bleached, shattered bone.

The young woman glanced out of her bedroom window. Kimerlin, the midnight star, was high in the sky and the much needed comfort of sleep still evaded her. She sat up and leaned her brow against the wooden wall of her home, watching the dark river waters reflect the starlit sky. The sleeping man beside her stirred but did not wake. Yolan stared at him for not more than a moment and then turned her attention back to the mysteries of the night.

It felt as if the darkness had nested on her chest, for she felt her heart heavy, as if something dear had been lost. Yet she had no reason to feel that way. Her life was full. She had a decent, hard-working husband and six sons. Although she had wed very young, neither time nor childbirth had blemished her beauty. Her hair was dark and soft, perfumed with scented oils. Her figure was slender and her skin soft, since she avoided the scorching sunlight, tending to the household.

Yolan was respected and admired among her village folk. But only she knew of the secret of her ailing heart.

She was lonely.

Yolan had never loved her husband. She had married him in a tender age as it was accustomed among her people, an arranged marriage between her father and the man who became her husband. He was a silent man but treated her with caution and respect. Bearing him sons completed their family and his pride for his offspring sparkled in his eyes every time he stared at them from across the table. But even her children did not ease the ache of her heart, for as soon as they could work the hoe or the net they would join their father at the fields or at the boat to earn their living. The daughter she had wished for never came and Yolan spend her days in the comfort of their home and her nights in the arms of a man she felt little for.  

At nights like this, when the warm desert breeze murmured words of devotion to the palm trees, Yolan recalled the tales her grandmother used to tell around the fire when she was a girl. Being the Keeper of their people’s lore and tradition, the old woman could recite from memory songs and stories and charms and curses passed on to her by her mother and the women before them. Among the crone’s memories, Yolan had treasured mostly the stories regarding an ancient race that once dwelled in the jungles around the great river. Her home now was close to the site of these old legends, tales of a great city that reached as high to the sky as deep to the earth below. Its walls were said to be imbued with spells and enchantments and strange creatures walked its streets. Its inhabitants had acquired divine statue in Yolan’s young mind as she dreamt of tall, beautiful and pale people with soft white hair and red eyes.

Ever since she came to live to the banks of the great river with her husband, she had longed to explore the dense forests. But she did not dare to venture far, for she would have trouble explaining her actions to her family. Her only chance was during the harvest season, when her husband and sons would stay at the fields for about a week. It was a wild plan Yolan could not follow in the past due to her pregnancies.

But this year, she was without a child in her womb and the song of the distant jungle was more alluring than ever.

This year, Yolan would go in search of a dream and a memory.

~*~

The woman watched in silence as the men of her life sailed down the river to the narrow piece of land among desert and jungle that provided them with their crops. She knew from experience that it would be at least five days before they returned, because the grains and vegetables would have to be sorted and packed carefully before reaching the markets down the river. For the next few days, she would sleep alone.

Her heart fluttered in anticipation as she entered the hut. It took her only a few moments to pack a few things. A heartbeat before crossing the threshold, the thought that she was making a mistake fleetingly crossed her mind. But like a breeze of desert wind it flew away fast and Yolan made her way to the jungle.

As if in a dream, she walked through the snake-like trails, lost in myriad scents and colors. Strange plants grew around her and distant sounds of birds and wild creatures sang the same tales her grandmother had once recited. Yolan had the faint feeling that there were eyes watching her every step, eyes that glowed like coals from among the dense plant life. But in her heart she knew that the jungle held no danger for her.

She was coming home.

The sun had begun its descend when Yolan reached the feet of a hill and a clearing littered with broken masonry. The boulders were decorated with strange symbols and were forming a semicircle around the clearing. The sound of running water nearby made her decide on camping there for the night, among the remnants of the ancient people that had walked her dreams for long.

Close to her campfire, Yolan dined on the humble meal that the jungle had provided, fruits and roots and flowers that grew all around her. Resting her head against a broken pillar that bore the sign of ravens and skulls, she closed her eyes and surrendered to a deep sleep.

And she dreamt.

He came out of the shadows like a sigh of the desert breeze, pale and ethereal as she had envisioned him in countless dreams. He flowed close to her with caution, haloed with an argent residue of ancient magic. Yolan could not see his face clearly, for strands of silver hair dancing to his mystic wind veiled his features. But she could see his eyes, eyes that burned her heart and reached inside her soul, awakening emotions she had never suspected. A fire woke in her veins, a need fueled by the burning depths of his eyes.

Her heart wailed in agony as the need to touch him became unbearable. But release never came, for he soon vanished back into the shadows that had spawned him. As the sunlight caressed Yolan’s lids, she emerged from her night vision with a hunger she had never felt before. Her body was numb and her mind foggy. Her life, her home and her family were nothing but a distant memory of another existence. She wandered aimlessly for the rest of the day until darkness fell and she drifted away to sleep, longing to meet the man of her dreams.

And once more he came.

He sat close to her, glowing and sad like the soul of a dying star. He stared at her, his crimson eyes tracing her frame, drinking from her dark hair and her tanned skin. And still he would not touch her. Yolan felt her heart howling in despair, until she could no longer endure his denial and she reached out to feel his skin.

A shadow of terror darkened his fiery eyes as he pulled his arm back with a fast, liquid motion. Wordlessly, he turned his back on her and retreated to the shadows of the hillside. And Yolan started from her sleep with a fierce pain ripping her chest. She was certain that her audacity had insulted him and she would never see him again.

But her mind protested to the fear of her heart. You cannot possibly offend a dream. Right?

But her rationality betrayed her, for he did not visit her dreams during the coming night or the night after. She only dreamt of ashes and silence, as her feet led her through the remains of a deserted city among broken statues and shattered walls. The fire inside her rose higher, singing laments over the demise of a people she had never known. And as the time of her return came closer, Yolan knew that she would lose her mind if she never saw him again. She would rather spend her days among the wild creatures than return to her colorless life without having felt his touch. In anguish, she rested her brow against the moist earth and forced herself to sleep.

And he came.

But he stood among the shadows of the forest, nothing more than the memory of a ghost. She strived to speak to him and beg his forgiveness, but her throat was numb and her voice denied her commands. And Yolan reached out with the only thing she had left; the fire he had borne inside her.

A shiver ran through the night air and the pale man flinched. Cautiously, he stepped out of the shadows and stared at her with wonder in his demon eyes, as if he had never seen her before. He walked closer and with every step he changed. The starlight danced around him, bathing him in a silver mist that matched the argent glow of his flowing hair. He held his head high and Yolan saw his face; it was the face of a long forgotten childhood dream. His ethereal features were delicate but handsome, like the jungle flowers. And much like them, there were hints of the deadly poison that protected them from becoming prey. There were traces of arrogance behind his perfect face, shards of darkness that crawled under the light that seemed to ooze from his frail, transparent skin.

And Yolan knew she would never love another.

He knelt beside her, unsure if he should touch her. But once more it was her hand that reached out first. She sensed him tense, but they had long crossed the point of no return. As her fingertips traced the outline of his hand, the strangest feeling overwhelmed her. It felt as if time moved backwards and she was summoned back into her mother’s womb and even further back in time, until her existence was nothing more than a fruit on the branches of the Goddess of Dreams. And she saw a woman, with features that resembled her own, lying under the starlit sky with a pale, radiant man. Raising her gaze to the flames that were his eyes she knew that he had shared her vision.

And he smiled.

This time he did not move away from her touch, but he leaned closer and kissed her, making the fire inside her dance. He smelled of incense and dust and his lips held the stingy taste of exotic spices. But soon her senses surrendered to his spells and Yolan could no longer tell them apart. She drank his scent and inhaled his sighs; she lost herself to the sound of his trembling flesh and his light filled her bloodstream, making her soul complete.

In the depths of her consciousness, she reminded herself that it was nothing more than a dream. The fingers that brushed against her skin were nothing more than the night breeze and the kisses of the jungle shrubs. But do dreams tremble when caressed? Do they moan softly when tongues entwine under the moon? Can visions make one’s flesh cry out in pleasure and pain as if kissed by tongues of silver fire?

Dark skin brushed against pale limps, mixing gold with silver on the forge of desire. Yolan had no way of knowing where the dream ended and reality ensued, or if there was indeed any difference between them. Yet she drank hungrily from his light, knowing that the memory of this coupling would be her single thought until her dying moments, the image with which she would step into oblivion. And after the passion was consumed, she rested her head on his musky, transparent skin and drifted away to a sleep within a dream.

When the sunlight warmed her face, Yolan open her eyes to find her lover gone, having dissolved under the sun like the dream he was. As she prepared herself for her return home, her body and her heart were in dispute with her mind, for the night’s passion had left more than a memory. Light headed, she walked through the jungle paths back to her house to await her family’s return.

But her heart was no longer with her. It had remained among the wild creatures and was still lost in a dream.

~*~

The moon waxed and waned and Yolan still watched the midnight star rising over the horizon. Her thoughts drifted away to the past and into the secret she held in her heart. Unconsciously, her fingers stroked gently her lower abdomen and a faint smile curled the corners of her lips.

Dream, ghost or demon, her pale lover had left more than a memory inside her. He had left his seed and with every day that passed she could feel the fire chuckling inside her veins, murmuring and singing lullabies to her unborn child. Her heart knew that the infant would bare his father’s features; pale skin and blood-red eyes. And although she might never see her lover again, she would always drink from his flame through her son’s eyes.

And she would never be lonely again.