[italics/] "Lili, there's something I must tell you. We haven't much time, but I need you to know before I go."
Lisha couldn't read her mother's face, longer than usual, sadder than she'd ever seen it. Her scratching at the bark in the roots of a tree quite forgotten in an instant, Lisha hopped up to comfort as best she could. Perhaps she was too little to help, she thought when her mother stepped back, shaking her head.
"No, Lili. Listen."
Lisha stopped in her tracks, confused but obediently hanging back. "What is it? Have I done something?"
"Of course not. You remember the dragon, don't you? When Father went away to keep it from catching us?" When Lisha nodded, her mother hesitated. "Well I- That is, it- Lili, I've done a terrible thing."
A terrible thing? Her blood felt quite cold all at once. The image of her father flashed before her, head hanging low, eyes so very sorrowful as he made them promise him they wouldn't try to find him. It was the only way, he'd said, the one way that he could think of for the dragon to leave them alone. The two of them would remain and hide where the dragon wouldn't think to look, distracted by its captive. Mother couldn't have—but her eyes said otherwise. "But.. but he said," Lisha whispered.
"I couldn't keep hiding forever! We were meant to run. I need to run. But," her mother added in an odd, new voice, "I knew you would be willing to stay put if it was to be safe."
"Don't leave me." Fear stirred up a storm in her as she began to understand a little. Her eyes filled with tears. "No."
Her mother only shook her head once more, stepping back further, ready to bolt. "Just remember, Lili. No matter what it says, you mustn't change back. Take the form it hates, and don't change back. Never ever. Then, you'll live always." And she was gone, lost in the trees almost before Lisha knew it.
"Mother, wait! Will you come get me soon? Mother?" But only silence answered her calls. She was alone. [/italics]
Lisha woke where she had settled in the roots of a comfortingly large tree, tired after a day of tracking Meera's travel at a distance. She stretched and looked up into the branches high above. It had been a long, long time since she last dreamed of the day the dragon had snatched her up. Perhaps it was the angry thoughts she'd had falling asleep, remembering the first time Meera had turned her way with huge, dark eyes bleeding tears like ink, and said those same words: 'Lish, there's something I have to tell you.'
The branches creaked above her, swaying in the wind just loudly enough to cover her sigh as she stood, testing her limbs—thankfully free of soreness—and strode away. Meera's scent was mingling with that of faint salt, so she was nearing the sea. The thought bothered Lisha. A siren-blood shouldn't be anywhere near such a place, even though she knew it wouldn't harm her. Not in and of itself, anyway.
It was the things Meera went to do that were the problem. She'd said that time, 'there's something I have to tell you. You're not going to like it, and I hate it, but I'll do it again.'
Maybe it wasn't even the things she did that were the problem. The problem, really, was what the things she did, did to her in return. And maybe that said more about Lisha than it did about her. She'd listened while Meera cried in her arms, but all she could think about was how she was glad it wasn't Meera whose blood was spilt this time. It wasn't Meera who was lost.
Good.
She changed back and shook out her mane, then set off at a relaxed clip after the trail once more. Her mother had been right, unicorns were meant to run.
'When I look in the mirror I see you,' Meera thought at the rippling reflection staring from the hanging water's-surface portal charm on the wall. That was her mother's nose, the same resolute mouth and eyes so dark the pupils were hard to discern. Maybe they weren't even there. Even a drop of siren's blood made some features hard to shake after generations of dilution.
She liked to think she could see a small difference in colour, and that if she one day had a daughter of her own, that girl would have eyes quite strikingly normal. But she wouldn't though, that girl would never exist because Meera could only be the last.
And that meant it had to be her who would finish rectifying all the havoc Riphian had caused when loosed on the world. The weight of worlds' worth of chaos pushed down on her whenever she thought about it, which was almost always. It's not the kind of thing you forget—rather, it consumes you little by little. When she was small it was a scary story, then an explanation for the dreams she had, and when she learned to dance it became a promise she ignored, choosing to live her life as best she could in the shadows of titans, the women who came before her. She didn't want to spend the rest of her years living for the mistakes of another so long ago none remembered.
But the dreams came for her. They came and they didn't leave, Meera waking up gasping and clammy with cold sweat. She never remembered more than hints and feelings after she woke, but she knew that was the way of things. Her mother never prodded her to begin the journey, but she watched, dark eyes waiting always. She'd have taken on the quests herself if she could, Meera knew.
Only Meera could accept quests given to her by the dreams. They foretold events where the hidden pockets of chaos would unfurl, wreaking havoc where it wasn't righted by the blood of the siren. Those of the blood would never remember every detail of the dream upon awakening. They had to set out and find the dream, recalling steps and stages as they followed a feeling. They couldn't explain it to another and have it taken from their hands. Each followed her own path.
It scared her, that she might leave to find pain and destruction, and she couldn't know. It made sense—hiding it made each siren-blood less likely to run away from certain harm, but it was something she only resented and hid from more, the less she knew. That someone else had caused this generations-lasting calamity and had the gall to bring into the world a child to inherit her sin and carry it forever, that angered her. As did the rest of the chain, including her own mother. How dare they choose this life for a girl they would each create for no purpose but to continue to suffer for a woman long gone?
She'd never make the same mistake.
It's what she always thought. She wouldn't go out and follow the dreams, she wouldn't listen, and when the pull tore her apart, she would hide in a corner and hold onto her head, waiting out the screaming within. That was the way it would be.
That's what Meera had thought. But her mother had disappeared on yet another quest. The difference was, it had been a year now. Meera had learned to care for herself through the times before, but now she knew she was the last one left. She knew because she'd begun to see the shadow her mother had spoken of, to hear his voice: 'You're finally free. It's what you wanted isn't it? No one can tell you to serve anymore. Stay put. Hide forever.'
And suddenly, she knew it was all down to her. She donned the red hood her mother had made her, as every siren-blood before her had, and just like that she couldn't hear him anymore. Meera stopped to gaze at her reflection on the way out.
'I hope you're happy,' Meera thought with a heavy feeling in her chest, 'because when I look in the mirror, I see you.' It was her mother's long, thin nose she saw, the same hard pressed mouth, and the dark eyes, so very dark that the pupils were hard to discern. Maybe they weren't even there.
She wasn't sure where she was going or why, even what she needed to find. All she knew was that her eyes were open now, the last tendrils of the dream relinquishing their hold on her and retreating into the dark corners of the room. But they were still there.
'It runs in our blood, Meera,' her mother used to say often, so long ago. Prophetic dreams were their bloodline's core thread, connecting mother to daughter, and leading all back to the same place. Home.
But first, there were other stops, places that needed something. Or places she needed, herself. Blankets pooled around her legs as she sat up, then hesitated. Lisha breathed quietly beside her, a perfect picture of peace with her long lashes resting on her cheeks and hair white from the moonlight spilling over the pillow like a river. Meera stopped herself before her fingers could brush a smooth cheek. She couldn't just leave Lisha without a word. She couldn't, but...
But the last couple of quests had taken a toll and when she'd returned from the last with one eye less and a number of new scars, Lisha had tried to persuade her never to accept a new one. And that wasn't an option.
'Why not?' Riphian's high, whispery voice slithered through her head. She closed her eyes, breathed in, and slipped from the bed, pretending she couldn't hear him, nor see the shadow standing near the door. She would not choose to become the first of her blood to fall to his taunts. It was their duty to the world to undo all that he'd done after the first of them had unleashed his chaos upon it and brought Time into existence. He might've been tethered and bound, unable to act, but listening to him changed that. It broke things that should not be broken.
'If not for me, you'd have never found Lisha,' he called after her, but she was already halfway down the hall, pulling a shawl about herself. He followed. 'She would have been lost forever. You said so.' Meera cursed herself silently for letting herself get used to sleeping in a simple shift rather than half dressed. She couldn't get out the door soon enough. But it had been a year since the last time she'd dreamed prophetically, and Lisha's gentle coaxing had worn her down.
Riphian went on, despite her unresponsiveness. 'I guess we're going to pretend you haven't already gone astray once and seen it turn out well.' Her hands fumbled and she was slower in the effort to not wake Lisha, but at length she was laced into a travel-suited dress, gloves, and boots, pulling a well worn dusty-red hood over her head. A sigh rushed out of her at the sudden quieting of his voice.
It didn't matter, none of it did. She needed to go, because the sooner she did, the sooner she'd see her wife again. When she looked up, he was frowning, childish features furrowed, but mouth unmoving. He'd given up, for now at least.
As the heavy wood door shut behind her with the quietest click, Meera reminded herself that she wasn't making a mistake. The dream clung to her heavily, but she'd return just as she had every time before and life would go on. It might just be a longer trip than those before.
In the dark of the bedroom, a pair of the palest blue eyes opened, glowing with resolve. Since the last quest, she'd slept lightly, unwilling to miss the call of the next quest. Weeks came and went, months went on and nothing came. A season, then two, then three, and four. Here she waited still. A year had passed, her anticipation wavering as she wondered whether that terrible journey truly had been the last, ever.
But just as she'd known, it had indeed come again and she was to be left alone, as every time before, the curse of blood chipping away bit by bit the one person she held dearest in the world. All she could do was watch, and wait, tending an empty home just as she'd tended the dragon's lair for years, destined to be a child of waiting. She'd thought it was over when she was found and taken away to a happy life, yet still here she was left waiting every time.
Not anymore. This time she was ready. This time, she'd make certain herself that Meera would return unharmed.
