Mod Post

Finals for the next two weeks. Pretend I am dead.

Much to Learn

“We will pick a shorter name for you in time,” he said. “But perhaps it’s best if you keep that one for now - we will change it to suit the people we are among when the time comes.” He stood up.

Dakshana rose as well, reluctantly shedding the comfortable furs so she was standing in her plain shift. “When what time comes?”

“The time for change. Now come on - we have work to do. You’re stronger and faster now than you ever were as a mortal, but you clearly have much to learn. Up a mountain is best. Let’s go!”

Name Exchange

His brow furrowed, and he tapped his chin thoughtfully. “My name? I’ve used so many over the years that I cannot remember what I was called through mortality.” Then he grinned. “I shall just start with a new name. You may call me Old Master.”

“Old Master,” Dakshana echoed. It wasn’t a name so much as a title, but she’d been taught to respect her elders, and if that was what he wanted to be called, she would abide by it.


“What’s your name, then?”

“Dakshana.”

He mouthed her name silently to himself a few times. “That name’s too long.”

In The Meantime

He caught her wrist and wrenched, hard. She yelped and tried to squirm free, but then he had the knife and it was right at her throat, and she stopped breathing.

She gazed into his eyes and saw - shadows. The kind that had ringed the edges of Chadstone’s world. Her blood ran cold.

But then the old man sat back on his haunches and considered the knife. “Nope. You don’t know how to use one of these. We’ll start without weapons first, I think. In the meantime, eat up.”

Dakshana stared at him, confused. Finally she asked, “What’s your name?”

Immortal and Human

Dakshana felt something in her shift - and fall into place. She reached out and traced a fingertip across her thigh where the wound had been, but the skin there was flawless, untouched.

“It hurt,” she said. She was puzzled.

The old man looked at her a moment, then threw his head back and laughed, long and hard. “We’re immortal, but we’re not inhuman. We can still feel pain.”

“Oh.” Dakshana studied the knife intently, admiring the glitter of firelight off the metal.

“Do you know how to use one of those?” the old man asked.

Dakshana tried to stab him.

Watch the Close

“Earn the right? How?” Dakshana asked.

The old man held out the knife. “Trust me. And trust yourself.”

Dakshana stared at the shining metal blade. It wasn’t stone or obsidian like the elders used, but metal, like the knife Chadstone had.

“Do you trust me?”

She looked at him.

“Do you trust what you are?”

She took the knife from him, and stared at it a little longer. Then, quick as a snake striking, she drove the blade into her thigh. It hurt. It burned viciously, but she forced herself to pull the blade out. And watch the wound close.

Earn the Right

Dakshana paused. “I - but those shadows were -”

“An accident? A once-in-a-lifetime event? I assure you, child, they have been around for many lifetimes, more than I have lived.” The old man smiled. “With the power that shadow prince gave you, you could unlock the gates to worlds untold in order to shape this one.”

Dakshana sat back. “I - no. Even if I have this power, it was given to me as a trick. A fluke. I have no right to use it as you suggest.”

The old man hummed thoughtfully. “Perhaps you’re correct. Earn the right, child.”

All We Have

“How can we possibly change time?” Dakshana asked. “Time moves, even if we are as you say we are - immortal. It might move without us, and how could we possibly hope to change anything? Humans are humans. If you saw ten nations fall, was anything gained by it? Did humans learn anything?”

The old man leaned forward, brushed a curl off of her forehead. His touch was gentle. “Sweet child, you really are more fierce and bright than those foolish villagers ever knew. No wonder a prince of the shadow chose you. But who says humans are all we have?”

Change

Dakshana paused. “What sort of proposition?”

“Do you know how long this world has existed?”

“No.” She’d honestly never thought about it.

“Do you know how long it will continue to exist even after everyone you know has returned to mother earth?”

She hadn’t thought of that either.

“I don’t know, but I know this - in my time I have seen ten nations rise and fall, tribes and chiefs and petty warlords, and it has all been in vain. What if people like us, people who see time for what it is - what if we work together to change it?”

Proposition One

The soup tasted even more wonderful than it smelled. “But you have something to gain from being nice to me?”

“One should always be kind to one’s fellow beings whether or not one seeks gain,” the man said. “How is it?”

“It’s very good,” Dakshana admitted. She was still watching him with wary eyes. He looked old, and his voice creaked like winter winds, but the fire in his eyes was full of the vigor of youth.

“I’m glad my years of improving my cooking have finally paid off.” The man slid closer. “I have a proposition for you, actually.”

The Finer Things

“Soup?” Dakshana echoed. “If I’m immortal, do I need to eat?”

The man was already ladling something wonderful-smelling into a hollowed-out turtle shell. “No, but why waste the finer things in life if you can still enjoy them?” He handed her the bowl.

She accepted it from him and went to take a sip, then paused. “How do I know this isn’t poisoned?”

“Poison won’t kill you.”

“But it would hurt me.”

And another smile blossomed on the man’s face. “You have a very quick mind. It’s not poisoned. I have nothing to gain from hurting you, child.”

Then This is Not a Dream

Dakshana recoiled sharply. “No.” She shook her head. “No. This is just a dream. I collapsed and the Elders caught me and now I’m breathing in their noxious smoke and --”

The old man swung at her. Dakshana automatically brought an arm up to block. The impact of his wrist against hers jarred her all the way to the bone. She blinked at him in shock. She hadn’t thought so old a man could move so fast.

But he just smiled at her. “You have lovely reflexes. Did that hurt?”


“I -- yes.”

“Then this is not a dream. Have some soup.”

Closing Wounds

Dakshana pushed herself up onto her elbows. “Immortal?” He must have been mad.

His smile turned enigmatic, and she saw him reach for something at his belt. A knife. She recoiled sharply, one hand out to shield herself, ready with a rune. She could only watch in stark horror as he drew the blade across his forearm, drawing blood in a smooth line. He was mad.

“Sir - you’ll hurt yourself - let me -” A binding rune would help, wouldn’t it?

And then, before her eyes, the wound began to close.

He kept smiling. “You see? Immortal. Would you like to try?”

Another Immortal

Dakshana lay there, pinned by his gaze. “Who are you?”

“I’ve been alive so long I hardly remember my name,” he said. “He told me I’d find you.”

“He who?” Dakshana felt - lethargic. Hungry. Thirsty. But certainly not as if she’d been dead.

“Don’t know. Skittish fellow in white robes. Bleeding from a shoulder wound but didn’t seem much harmed for it. He said I wouldn’t be the only one of my kind for long - that I’d find another.”

“Another what?” Dakshana sensed he was a man to be feared, but he meant her no harm.

He smiled. “Another immortal.”

First Time Dying

“So that was your first time dying. Pretty dramatic, don’t you think?”

Dakshana opened her eyes.

She was - alive. Lying on a nest of furs. In a cave while a fire crackled in the background. But there was no hum of magic, and no otherworldly-beautiful boy gazing at her with broken-hearted eyes.

An old man huddled beside the fire. His hair was white, long, tied back neatly out of his wrinkled face. His smile might have seemed facile, but his black eyes were sharp, missed nothing.

He leaned over her and said, “You really did die, you know.”

Interlude 1

He stood over her and watched the blood pour out of her, stain the ground. Then he knelt and pressed cool fingers to her throat. She had to die all the way before he could know, so all he could do was watch and wait.

He ran a hand through hair bleached-white from the sun, colorless in a colorful world. The wounds at his shoulder - seven slashes, as from a seven-clawed beast - bled sluggishly. Gingerly he tugged his sleeve up to cover the wounds and waited for her to die. For one moment, his colorless eyes were blue.

Warm Welcome

The sun was high in the sky, bleaching the world white and free of shadows. The plains were dead, the grass scorched beneath her numb feet. She hadn’t seen the village over her shoulder in hours. She was finally free. Free to close her eyes and imagine a darkness that was warm and welcoming, without shadows and hissing eyes and a broken promise to love forever.

Or maybe it was the ground that was warm, and the darkness that closed over her when she could no longer stand. The hot stickiness of her own blood welcomed her, and she died.

Human and Frail

Dakshana had abandoned the fur cloak long ago, and her bare feet were raw, sore, from the walking, but she had to keep going. She could see the glow of the village fires on the hill over her shoulder; she had to walk until she couldn’t see them any longer. Why was she still walking? She’d deserved to die. She was weak and human, had been a mere doll in the web of ancient shadows, creatures without souls. One of them - the youngest, weakest, most foolish - had claimed he loved her.

But she was human and frail, a toy.

Human.

Get There First

It was the whispering that drove her from sleep. The chanting had stopped, and the elders were asleep on the floor around her. Her hand burned, but her mind was clear, and she knew there was only one answer. Chadstone had failed her, had tried to save her, but damned her to the cruelty of mortality. All it took was a whisper and a rune and the cords fell away, and then she had the crystal shard cradled in her palm as she crept across the floor.

The elders wanted to kill her. They would fail.

She’d get there first.

Close Your Eyes...

They wouldn’t let her have it. She didn’t know if it was days or weeks that they kept her here, only letting her up to wash and occasionally eat thin soup. But there was always smoke, always chanting, and the elders constantly telling her that she was tainted, that she was evil, and they had to cleanse her. The smoke made her coughing worse, and the wound on her hand refused to heal.

When she closed her eyes and surrendered to the darkness, she remembered Chadstone’s eyes, and his hands on her skin, and the way he whispered her name.

The Answer

One of the elders pointed a trembling hand. Someone had placed the crystal in a woven cage in the corner; it still gleamed.

“The thing is evil and will not be destroyed. Touching it will only taint you more,” the elder said.

Dakshana closed her eyes and remembered the swift lines on the crystal, how they twisted and turned and lived, and she remembered the pulse of a heartbeat against hers when she wore the crystal around her neck. The crystal was the answer.

“It’s not tainted,” she said. “What’s tainted is your selfishness and ignorance. Let me have it.”

Screaming In Your Sleep

“See? She is mad!” an elder crowed.

“Dakshana, stop this,” Minka said. She lowered her voice and whispered in Dakshana’s ear. “We told the elders we were merely lost in the woods, that the dire wolf killed the hunter who courted you. They believe you mad. You’ve been screaming in your sleep about shadows and other worlds, about Chadstone.”

Dakshana’s eyes blazed with fury. “They know I’m not mad - they just don’t want to admit what they’ve done. What did you do with his name?”

Minka’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“Chadstone’s name. Where is it?”

“She means the crystal,” Srina said.

Possession

The world swayed, and then went black.

When Dakshana awoke, her hand burned with fierce pain, as if the wound was infected. She coughed. Her house was filled with smoke. She tried to scream - her house was on fire! But then she realized it was heavier smoke than fire, as if someone were burning herbs. Spices.

A holy fire. The damned elders were cleansing her.

Dakshana struggled to sit up, and two people immediately leapt on her, pressed her back down. Srina and Minka. Traitors. Dakshana thrashed.

“She is possessed by demon spirits!” one of the elders cried.

Dakshana shrieked.

Stay Back

Dakshana hadn’t realized the crystal cut her, was mingling rainbow-iridescent blood with her own. Her head was dizzy and she was feeling faint, and she began to sway on her feet. Minka took another step forward.

“You’re hurt. Let us help you -”

“Like you helped my parents?” Dakshana asked.

One of the elders frowned. “What about your parents?”

“You set them on fire!” Dakshana waved the crystal shard warningly. “You killed them because you were afraid of them because Ashoken lied to you! I know what you’ll do to me. Stay back.”

Minka shook her head. “Dakshana, you’re ill --”

All of Them

“Dakshana, please,” Minka said. She approached cautiously, hands held out, as if to placate a wild animal.

Dakshana brandished the crystal. “No. Stay back. I won’t let any of you touch me. You did this to me!” All of them had done it - Ashoken’s widow, the elders, letting him experiment with the shadow-beings, letting him kill her parents. And then they’d just stood by and watched her struggle to survive alone. If they’d watched, if they’d cared - she wouldn’t have been tainted with this magic, with the runes dancing up her spine, in her blood.

Her blood. Dripping. Dripping.

Thrice Dead

The elders stared at her, horrified. Some of the women and children were screaming and crying. They’d seen what she’d done, what magic she’d wrought. Minka and Srina broke from the crowd. Srina was crying and went to throw her arms around Dakshana, but - what if it was another trick.

Dakshana stepped back, bringing the crystal shard up like a knife. In the real world, it only gleamed dully, the runes dead, the name dead, the man - dead.

“Stay back!”

“Dakshana,” Minka began.

And then the elders spoke.

“She has been tainted! We must purify her!”

Dakshana shrieked, “Stay back!”