Ashes, Ashes…

Emmy plucked a flower from the garden absentmindedly. She was wandering around the gardens, not really seeing the bursts of color and the exotic shapes of the flowers around her. A gargoyle was shadowing her, keeping watch over her as Varin had instructed. She rubbed the flower’s petals between her fingers and noticed with delight that it was flourishing in her hand. The stem lengthened, spawned a second stem, budded, and bloomed with another flower. Its radiating fuchsia petals quivered as she held it, throbbing with the pulse of her power.

Kneeling, she dug a little hole in the soft garden dirt and planted the stem in the ground. As she watched, her fingers lightly touching the original flower, the plant took hold in the ground and other flowers began to pop up around it, creating a bevy of the bright pink flowers. She smiled, but suddenly she was tired. Everything was feeding off of her, and the pulse draining from her never stopped. Inside, she lent strength to the gargoyles, the goblin, Madeleine, even the flowers that sat in vases around the castle. Varin nearly sucked the power from her in painful bursts. Outside, the whole world drank from her wake. She wanted to go back to her origin and find a way to turn it off. Just for a moment, to remember what it was like to be normal, to not feel the throb coming from her heart, to not taste the milky sugar moistening her lips.

She closed her eyes. Was it something her mother had done in the making of her? Had there been a meshing of two ingredients that created this power, or was it something bigger, beyond the potion her mother had created? Was it in her bloodline? That she doubted, for her mother was no magician, and she had no father. She remembered asking her mother so many times where she had come from, what had made her, who had fathered her. Was it just her memory, or had her mother been vague yet teasing with her replies to Emmy’s various questions? Emmy shook her head. She didn’t know. She had been young, incomprehensive. If only she could ask the same questions now, process the answers again, study her mother‘s reactions more closely. She ran the memories over in her mind, searching for something she could have missed, listening to her own childish voice and her mother’s puzzling replies.

“Mama, where is my papa? Why doesn’t he come to see me? Does he love me like Mari’s papa loves her?”

Lavanya stopped washing the dishes and turned, her beautiful face smiling down at her little daughter. “Your papa lives far away, my dove, and he can’t come here. The keepers of his land are very strict. But he does want to see you so very much, love, and perhaps someday he will.” She sat on the soft wood of the kitchen chair and lifted five-year-old Emmy into her lap, smoothing Emmy’s raven hair away from her lily white skin and carnation cheeks.

“What does he look like?” Emmy leaned back on her mother’s arm and stared into her mother’s face. A play of emotion swept across Lavanya’s face, for a moment distorting it with pain, but then the beautiful mask was put back in place and Lavanya was smiling again.

“He is very strong and handsome, and he has black hair just like you, my dove.” She stroked Emmy’s hair rhythmically, rocking side to side.

“Why didn’t he stay with us, mama? Why did he go away?”

The pain rolled across Lavanya’s face again. “He had to go away because of war, dove, because people were fighting.”

“Why can’t he come back?”

“Well, dove, he is so very strong and capable that they need him there and he must stay to help them.” Lavanya stopped rocking. Emmy twirled a piece of Lavanya’s brown hair around her finger.

“Don’t we need him too?”

Lavanya picked Emmy up and set her down, standing to finish the dishes. “Go play, dove. Mama has things to do.”

But many years later, when Emmy had questioned her father’s absence, she had received different answers that contradicted the first ones.

“Mama, is my father dead?” Fifteen-year-old Emmy sat at her mother’s feet, staring into the fireplace at the dancing flames.

“You don’t have a father, Emmy.” Lavanya answered as she sewed another square onto the quilt she was laboring over. “Only me.”

Emmy frowned. “Then how was I born?” She had just recently learned that it took two to make a child, due to the drunken education of Andre Marek. Thankfully, the man had not been explicit, only vaguely explanative of the workings of childbirth and all that preceded it.

“There are ways.”

“What ways? Was he a wanderer, here for a night and then gone? Is that what you mean? Or do you just not wish to speak of him because he’s still gone in that strict land where they need him more than we do?” Emmy could not keep the bite from her voice. Whoever her father was, she held it against him that he cared more for a bunch of strangers than he did for his own wife and child. She hated him for it. Every time she saw a father with his child, her heart ached to have that connection, to look up to a man she could proudly call her papa.

“No.” Lavanya’s voice was irritated. “You do not have a father. He does not exist. He never did exist. I am your sole parent, the only participant in your making. There never was and never will be a father in your life.”

Emmy jumped from her spot and turned to face her mother. As much as she hated whomever her father was, it hurt even more that her mother would deny her any bit of information she had on the man. “Are you ashamed of it? Is that why you won’t tell me? Did you fail somehow in your life to bear me? Do you hate him? Do you hate me and wish I had not been born? Is that why you don’t admit I had a father? Why? Why won’t you tell me? What happened to the tales of the tall, handsome, strong papa that I used to have when I was five? What happened to him? Was he just a figment of my imagination? Did you just make that up to cover your mistakes?” She stopped her questioning and stared at her mother, wiping away the tears she realized were running down her face with a quick swipe of her hand.

Lavanya shook her head and looked away. “I…” She sighed. “Emmy, it’s… just too complicated. You don’t have a father. I don’t know how to tell you… I--”

“You know what, forget it, mama. If you can’t be honest with me, then I don’t want to hear your excuses. I’ve had enough of them.” Emmy turned and ran from the room, slamming the kitchen door as she escaped from the sudden stuffiness of the cottage into the colorful fall world outside. She barely felt the bite of the chill air on her cheeks as she ran, and didn’t care that the wind was cutting through her dress, that the fingers of the fall cold nearly froze the tears on her face and swallowed each breath with a puff of white burial. Her feet hit hard, unforgiving ground through the thin slipper-like shoes she wore, each step pushing her closer to her place of comfort: the woods and the stream.

When she reached her destination, she collapsed on the ground and took deep, calming breaths. It was here, surrounded by trees and serenaded by the trickling stream, that she felt most secure, most alive. There was a connection amidst the glory of the nature enclosing her that she held on to when times were hard. She stared up at the cloudy sky through the orange and yellow leaves, wishing that she could stay there forever. All too soon, though, she heard the footsteps of her mother, and wished she could leave. She sat up and kept her back to her approaching mother, gazing at the stream.

Lavanya draped a heavy coat around Emmy’s shoulders and sat down beside her. For a moment, she took deep breaths, as if gathering the strength to say something, and then she began. “When I was your age, I dreamt of getting married to the perfect man and having his children, growing old beside him, watching a our offspring grew and matured and married and gave me grandchildren.” She put an arm around Emmy’s shoulders and hugged her even as Emmy resisted the embrace. “But it never happened. I did meet a man, the man I used to tell you was your father, but he died in a senseless brawl. I loved him very much.” She stroked Emmy’s hair away from her face and gazed at her daughter’s profile. “He would have been proud of you.” She sighed. “You look like him. So beautiful.” A strange look passed over her face. “Anyway, as the years passed on, I yearned for a child. I needed you so much that I did consider a… loveless joining in order for you to be born. But I couldn’t do that. Not after having met the love of my life and watching him die. It would have dishonored him if I had done that.

“I knew a witch, a very old woman, who had once told me of a potion. It was a rare list of ingredients that were hard to come by, and the whole of the potion had to be pieced together. There were four different witches who had parts of the list, and only by finding all four of them would I be able to have the whole thing. Thankfully, the witch knew who had the four parts of the list, and she was one of them. The other three were spread far away, but I found them, and the list.

“It took me nearly ten years to find everything. I had to travel to faerie land and kill a sprite for her blood. Then I had to cross the sea to steal lavender from the garden of a queen. I had to attend several births before I was able to fill a bottle with the first tears of an innocent babe, and I had to sacrifice a child plagued with scarlet fever to the Lord of the Night for a piece of darkness. The blood or flesh of someone I had loved had to be gotten, and a perfect rose had to be found.

“I nearly gave up, my love, but I couldn’t. Not until I had the perfect child. It was hard, traveling through strange lands and then finally being pregnant without a husband. I settled here because this was the last place I had to come to. The rose is from a garden deep in the forest, and it was guarded by a fierce beast. I was almost killed. But I have you. And it was worth it.” She kissed Emmy’s cheek softly. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you from the beginning, but you see how confusing it is. Would you have understood at five years of age?”

Emmy shook her head slowly, processing the complicated history of her birth. Was it all really true? But who would make up such a story?

“Come, my dove. It’s cold.” She stood and pulled Emmy to her feet. “Shall we make soup?”

Emmy smiled and nodded. “Yes.”

Lavanya began walking, but Emmy stopped her. “Mama?”

Lavanya turned and looked at her.

“Thank you.”

A twig snapped, and Emmy jumped, whirling in the direction of the sound. A man stood not five feet away from her, the gargoyle sitting listlessly at his side as if it were sick or in a trance. He smiled at her lazily, his pale blue eyes friendly beneath white lashes.

“Hello.” He said in a pleasant, husky tenor voice.

Emmy looked him over slowly. How had he gotten there? “Who are you?”

“My name is Rune.” he smiled again. His short ginger hair was mussed slightly, and it complemented his pale skin and the many freckles that dotted his face.

Emmy glanced at the castle. She was utterly alone with this man, and she did not trust him, for all his friendliness. “What are you doing here?”

He stepped toward her, and Emmy hoped that Varin would appear soon. “Oh,” He looked down at the gargoyle as it followed him, and petted its head. “I just came for a visit.”

Emmy backed away and started towards the castle’s door. “I’ll go get Varin.”

“No, no.” He stopped her, quickly coming to her side. “You need not do that.” He touched her arm, and Emmy suddenly felt dizzy. “You feel very, very sick, my dear. You had best go lie down.” He smiled again, and led her into the castle.

Emmy tried to take a breath, but her throat felt clenched. Her stomach began to churn. “What--” She gasped, “What are you doing… to me?” Her attempt to take her arm away from him failed as he led her into her room and sat her on the bed.

“Just lie down, sweet.” He pulled the covers gently from under her and brought her feet up onto the bed. Emmy felt her head fall back, unable to resist the heavy weights that pulled her down into the pillows.

“Drink this.” He calmly lifted her head and shoved the tip of a bottle into her mouth, forcing her to swallow or choke. The liquid was bitter, and her mouth burned in its wake.

“Go away. Leave me alone!” She tried to say, but all that came out was an agonized croak.

“You’ll feel…” He pulled the covers up to her chin. “…different… in a few hours.” With a hand that was uncommonly soft for a man, he stroked her forehead as she struggled to stay conscious. “Sleep.“ He crooned. Emmy moaned as loudly as her body would let her. Her skin felt on fire, her stomach felt as if it were about to burst, and her head felt heavy as lead. She closed her eyes, turning her face away from the man whispering nonsense over her. As she lost her consciousness, she realized he was singing her a song. She had heard it somewhere before…

“Away we wander in the black forest, the beast is yonder, beware…!”

xxx

A woman cries out. There is a flash of darkness, and then a light so bright it is blinding.

“Emmanuelle…” Someone calls my name. Is that my name? I cannot remember…

I cannot see anything through the light, except the shadows. They were one and many, uncountable yet unseparated. I stare at the grey mists swirling around me. Blinding, blinding. The Ancients. How I know who they are, I cannot tell, yet I know. There are many things I know now, memories, pictures of the past, things I can recall yet not name. Stolen… they are not my memories…

But then, I am not myself…

And I cannot find what I am looking for. They told me it would be buried, but I have dug for so long, and all there is is ashes. So many ashes… they burnt the dead and scattered them everywhere…

“Come, love, come and have tea!” The beautiful red-headed woman is here. Or is she a mirror? I cannot tell. But I can follow her through the glass. There is tea, set on a broken log with glass cups that are filled with scarlet blood. Whose blood is it? The ashes of the dead are scattered everywhere… I cannot walk over them. The dead will kill me.

“Sit, darling, drink!” The woman, is she a reflection of me? She is drinking the blood of the dead. There are ashes everywhere, in her hair, on my hands. Stains of scarlet…

“Solanthe!” That is not my reflection’s voice. She is drinking her tea. I must leave the mirror. He is calling me. A tall, beautiful, terrible man with hair black as sin and skin white as snow. Terebinth. Why do I remember? I do not know him. Yes! He is my lover. Solanthe. That is my name…

The ashes of the dead are scattered everywhere… they are a blizzard. Terebinth! Where are you? Stained… I am stained. He must not touch me! His fingers will dissolve my flesh. Ashes… ashes… everywhere…

xxx

Varin felt the fur on the back of his neck bristle. There was an intruder in the castle. He paced towards the kitchen, but smelled no one that should not be there. Who was it? He felt a chill run down his back. He recognized the waft of scent that came from the direction of Emmy’s room. Picking up his pace, he went back to his room and changed into a man, dressing as he ran out the door. Emmy was in trouble. The closer he got to her room, the more the feeling rose in his chest. With a loud shout of her name, he burst through her door and stopped in his tracks.

The room was in complete disarray, clothes strewn over the floor and bed, jewelry hung over the bedposts and on the doorknobs, drawers outturned, blankets and pillows jumbled against one wall, books scattered on the floor with pages torn from them and crumpled into balls.

“Emmanuelle?”

Emmy was crouched before the fire, her fingers digging frantically at the hot ashes blow the grate. “Ashes… ashes…” She muttered. The skin on her hands was blistering. A scarlet ribbon beaded with rubies encircled her neck, like drops of bright blood against the pale white of her skin, and her figure was draped in a deep violet robe that fell from one shoulder and opened at the thigh to show her long, white leg. She looked up and saw him. Her huge purple eyes had a strange, brownish tint to them, and the expression there was a quick succession of fear, confusion, recognition, pain, anguish, and then happiness. With a smooth movement, she rose to her feet and walked to him, her eyes roving his face. Her eyes had the glint of a wild animal.

“Emmy?” Varin frowned slightly down at her as she came up to him and leaned against him, laying her head on his chest like a small child and wrapping her arms around his waist.

“I can’t find it.” Her voice was sad, almost petulant. She drew a hand up and began to fiddle with one of the gold and emerald buttons on his jacket. The tips of her fingers were not healing. They were still red and blistered. “There’s just ashes, ashes… they burnt the dead and scattered them everywhere…”

“Emmy…” Vain grasped her arms and pushed her away from him slightly to look into her face. “What are you talking about?”

She blinked at him for a moment, the sadness in her eyes fading out to nothing, and then she smiled almost seductively and tipped her head to the side. “That isn’t my name.” She lifted both hands to cup his face. “And you…” Her wild eyes searched his face. “You are beautiful.”

Suddenly, Varin realized that her touch no longer sent a painful sweetness through him. He stared at her, realizing, as she curled her arms around his neck and kissed his lips, that her power was gone. There was no shock of rose-flavored sugar, no curling of honey and fire through his veins, and the plant on her bedside table was slowly dying. Something was very wrong. He grabbed her arms and jerked them from his neck, pushing her far enough away so that she was not touching him, and then he grabbed her jaw and forced her to look in his eyes. She struggled to get out of his grasp.

“Stop.” He said gently. He glanced at her chest, ensuring that the red petal was there and it was indeed Emmy. The scarlet mark nearly glowed beneath her collarbone. But her power to heal was failing. Her fingers were painfully red and chafed. “Emmy?”

She stilled, gazing at him in confusion. “What’s happening to me?” She whispered. Recognition entered her eyes again. “Help me, Varin… help me!” She choked out.

Varin gently closed her in his arms. “I don’t know how.” He whispered against her hair. She no longer smelled of roses. She shuddered.

“Have you seen him?” She whispered, then again, “Have you seen him?” She pushed away from Varin.

“Who?” He asked gently. The intruder, perhaps?

“I have to find him!” Her voice took on panic. “He’s here, and I can’t find him!” She ran from Varin to the door and yanked it open, hurrying to the room next to hers. “I must! I must!” She called back to Varin as he followed her.

“Who, Emmy?” Varin caught up to her side. She flung open the balcony doors of the room and ran out onto the balcony.

“Terebinth.”

Varin bristled at the name and grabbed her arm. “Emmy, come back inside.”

“No! Let go of me! And that is not my name!” She jerked her arm from him and quickly climbed up onto the foot-wide railing, spreading her arms wide. “I must find him! I need him! I can just fly…” She tipped forward and Varin caught her just before she tried to jump from the rail. “No!” She screamed at him. He ignored her cries and carried her over his shoulder back into the castle and her room. “Please…” She whimpered.

He set her down gently and closed the door, staying between her and her escape route. She was sobbing brokenheartedly. What was wrong with her?

“They burned the dead and scattered their ashes… nothing but ashes!” She cried loudly. “My babies! My children!” She looked up and crawled to him, grabbing his hand. “Have you seen my children? Three daughters, he killed them all! Have you seen them?” Then she gazed into his eyes and slowly stood. “Oh…” She touched his face almost reverently. “Terebinth?”

Varin shook his head and stepped back. “No. Varin.”

Emmy’s eyes were clouded, the color muddy, and a tear trickled down her cheek. “But why?”

Varin frowned slightly, unsure of what to say. She did not wait for a reply, but turned away and slowly walked to the window, spreading her hand against the slightly foggy glass.

“He loved me once…” Her voice took on the tone of one he had heard long, long ago. “I was his idol, his goddess, his queen. We shared so many nights of bliss. He told me he would never love another. But then he cast me aside. Why? He never told me why…” She sighed deeply. “And then he killed you.” She turned and held out her hand to him. “Terebinth…” When he did not take her hand, she came and touched his face again. “I will always love you.” She gazed at his face for a long, long while, and then walked to her desk, pulled out a penknife, and stared at it. When she looked back at him, her eyes were soft. “I come to join you, my love.” She put the knife to her heart. “Goodnight.”

Varin lunged and knocked her over. The knife went flying across the messy floor. Emmy lay still beneath him, her eyes closed, her face peaceful. He looked at her, feeling the beat of her heart and the rise and fall of her breathing. When she opened her eyes, he nearly jerked away in shock. The irises that had once been beautifully purple irises were now bright green. She blinked a few times.

“Terebinth!”

A/N: Sorry for not having updated in so long! I was at a loss as to how to intro Rune into the castle for a looong time. I know this chapter has a lot of memories/dreams, and it might be a little strange... maybe even confusing. But I hope you all like it anyway! Hopefully my next update will be sooner than this was. ;) (P.S. In case you noticed, Rune didn't just disappear, he'll show up in the next chapter.)