Flying with Cassandra is always exciting. She knows that I can’t control when I become solid … unconsciously becoming substantial enough to maneuver small things, such as pressing my feet into the sand, but not necessarily able to choose when I want this to happen. When in flight, she likes to remind me how much I still need to learn about control, by flying through cliff faces or buildings … just to stop and wait on the other side with a smirk, so sure that I will stuck. Of course, she always knows beforehand, where and when I will become wedged. Part of me understands that she is trying to make me teach myself how to control my powers … but listening to her voice, filled with hidden smiles, irritates me to no end.
Always saying, “Focus on the parts that are stuck … think about floating through, and let your body remember, how you used to move.”
Through gritted teeth, calm broken, I always come back with the same response, “I’ll focus my foot right towards kicking you!”
This time, my foot is stuck on the inside of one of the domes at the monastery in Santorini, but Cassandra doesn’t smirk. She just looks at me with deep concern, flavored with something like disappointment and fear. “What? Why are you looking at me that way?”
She looks down at the whitewashed plaster of the building and then shifts her eyes to the white cross built into the top of the beautiful, blue dome where I am stuck. “Ellie, you have to learn to control this, and quickly … they know about you. I can’t teach you how to command this power; I don't have the capability to perform it myself, not much more than lightly flicking a candle’s flame. As a matter of fact, I don't remember anything quite so powerful, in one so young … at least, not from a peaceful Ho Thanatos. I’m afraid I can’t help you, and I don’t want to see you hurt, trapped by your inability to control what is happening to you.”
I feel the wind blowing off the water and smell the salt in the air. Gazing down at the waves breaking onto one another, my body starts to sway, to move back and forth in time with the waves collapsing against the rocks. I close my eyes and let the rhythm continue through me. When I feel Christopher’s arms around me, and the rise and fall of his chest against my back … I know what I need to do. I let go of all the yearning that has been feeding me for the past year; the longing to touch and be touched. I release the knowledge of how to make myself felt by Christopher, and allow myself to slide entirely back into the veil of ethereal mist. Never letting go of the rhythm of the waves, the flow of Christopher’s breathing, the pressure of his touch, I know I can go back to solid whenever I want … I have found the key.
When I open my eyes, I find myself hovering in front of Cassandra’s surprised and smiling face. She looks radiant when she smiles, her olive skin setting a luminescent background for her bright eyes and flaming hair. I can understand why she was so highly sought after by suitors in her time … her beauty and intellect must have been bloody mind-blowing, and a curse. She was seen as something to be possessed and controlled.
“Oh, Ellie, I knew you’d figure it out eventually. I wish I could be of more help to you, but I know so little about your gifts. Tell me, on your travels, did anyone else know anything about how special your gifts are?”
“When I left Christopher, I was in a fog … the exhaustion from our encounter made everything soft and blurry. When I finally recovered from my fatigue, I was greeted by Tokyo … of course I didn’t realize that’s where I was at first. Japan was not what I expected. I thought maybe I was in New York … all the skyscrapers and lights, so incredibly busy and colorful; it hurt my eyes.”
“What happened there?” Cassandra asks as she leads us to the cliff face to look out over the, now dark, sea.
I love Greece, the smells, the sounds, but most of all, the feel … cherished ancient with touches of modern, not like America, modern with touches of long-forgotten ancient. During the day, the water is the most amazing turquoise, and at night so black you expect it to be thick tar when it washes across the sand. The Ho Thanatos senses allow me to adjust my eyesight, seeing in the dark as well as in daylight. But my senses are still full of mystery, turning the sea at night into oil reflecting starlight. Then in awe, I watch as the sea crashes to the shore and sprays up the cliff-side, shining like the clearest, diamond confetti.
I lick my lips and taste the salty mist, trying to think of the best way to answer Cassandra’s questions. This is a role reversal that I am not used to; I always ask the questions and Cass always scrutinizes me before answering. I have the feeling earning her trust, enough for her to lower her defenses just a bit … is a prized gift, and I don’t want to disappoint her.
Have you ever heard of the Tennyo?” I am more comfortable being the student; and trying desperately to hold on to that role, I decide that asking more questions of Cass will serve a dual purpose: Giving me time to think, and a chance to reminisce about the meaning of everything I've witnessed.
“Tennyo? Hmmm, female Tennin, right?” I nod in response. “Yes, I know of them … though, I’ve never actually met one. They are Ho Thanatos, just like us.” Cass isn’t asking; she is just making a statement that reinforces her theory that ethereal creatures exist everywhere in all forms.
“Yes, I believe they are. As you’ve explained so many times in the past … there are many different appearances and roles for the Ho Thanatos to take; the Tennin are the Japanese apparitions. The one I met was incredibly beautiful; she was convinced that her kimono enabled most of her abilities. When she first flew up to me, I thought she had wings like an angel.” The vision of that unusual, pale face with dark, painted lips, and thin body wrapped in silk and feathers, she took my breath away.
“The long sleeves of her kimono were lined with the tail feathers of an albino peacock; sleek and iridescent, gracefully, she landed next to me. We stood not saying a word to each other, stoically staring out over the harbor. An incredible bridge lay before us, outlined in lights. The buttress's reflections glowed in the water, drawing my eyes to the boats drifting past underneath. The crafts had an elongated shape, and were glowing softly in hues of red and yellow … I could hear the tinkling of glasses and plates, and the chatter of the passengers. When the mesmerizing Geisha first spoke, her voice had a melodious similarity to the noises on the boats…
“You are new here?” Her dark hair shone with blue highlights, slick curls cascaded down her shoulders, while the rest sat on top of her head in a loose bun.
“I’m new to everywhere. At least, I feel that way … everything is so captivating.” I felt a little ashamed at admitting my wonder, but the look in her eyes made me feel more comfortable about recognizing my own innocence.
“Oh, by the look of you … you are not new. You are just wise enough to look, and see new things.” Cassandra always enjoys hearing about the philosophies of other cultures, so I am very careful to remember exactly what the Tennyo said.
Continuing with my story, I tell Cass, "We stood in silence for quite some time before either of us cared to speak again. When I heard the most phenomenal flute playing next to me, I had to smile; ‘music’, that’s what I needed. Looking at my companion as she played with her eyes closed, I felt an overwhelming calm flow over me and had to sit down so I could absorb the sounds. I placed my chin on my knees, and could have sworn I slept for a few minutes, only opening my eyes again when the music stopped.
“I asked where we were, and was surprised to find we were in Japan. I hadn’t even thought about how the rest of the world had changed since World War Two, but I had to admit that Japan looked much more welcoming than I imagined.” Cass nods slowly; I can feel that she is enjoying the story immensely.
“She sounds enchanting.” Cassandra’s voice pulls me from the memory of my meeting with the geisha.
“I was lucky to have her be the one who found me, when I first arrived. During our time together, she told me stories about a Tennyo who had her kimono stolen. The poor creature was trapped in a semi-substantial human form … unable to soar to the skies. I asked her, if she had ever heard of one of our kind choosing freely to become human? She said the lure of heaven was too strong for a Tennyo to choose anything, but this non-corporeal life. I think she knew more, but she made it obvious that she didn’t want to discuss it, so I didn’t press.” So many memories of my time in Japan; only a few months there had left an impression that will last forever: ancient memories of a timeless world.
“I believe I know of which tale she speaks: The swan maiden. A man stole her enchanted robe so that she wouldn’t be able to fly away. He forced her to marry him and serve him, until he fell in love with her, and gave her back her robe. Not willing to hurt her any longer, he granted her freedom.” Cass shakes her head as she sits down on the cliff’s edge and looks down at the water below. “Mortos! That is just another example of why we should not mingle with the living.”
Her gaze speaks volumes … her eyes shift back and forth as if she was dreaming with her eyes open, and her chest begins to rise and fall as if she was in the midst of a panic attack. I can see that she is trying to search through her thoughts, and finally coming to a decision, she motions for me to sit down.
“Ellie, how many Ho Thanatos have you met?”
“Not as many as I thought I would … James and V in America, two Tennyo in Japan, I met many in India, but none of them really spoke to me. The only other person that was as influential and kind as you was Zuvan. He found me during my time in Africa.” I think of how beautiful and unique many of the Ho Thanatos are … he was striking even in comparison to the most breathtaking one of us.
Intimidating in size but not personality, he taught me how to use my talents on other Ho Thanatos. “Up until meeting Zuvan, I naively thought Ho Thanatos couldn’t influence each other. But with his help, I realized that I was already using my talents; I just didn’t recognize the difference between feeling humans, and feeling Ho Thanatos. The interaction with our kind is so much more natural, even passing into our thoughts is as ordinary as breathing. When I was living as a human, everything was rough and jagged; evoking and coping was always a struggle … I fooled myself thinking that all communication through my talents should always be that difficult. Zuvan, like you, warned me that keeping others out was the difficult part; helping me to recognize my own influences was easy.”
Taking my thoughts out of Africa, I return to Cass’s question about how many Ho Thanatos I’ve encountered, “Then there was the group I met when I first arrived here in Greece … the ones that were laughing at me, when you first found me.”
“Yes, I remember … I know them quite well. Morons, every last one of them.” She sadly nods at the memory of her acquaintances’ cruelty. “How many total would you say you’ve seen in your travels?”
“Wait … about thirty years after I died, I returned home to England, to my Uncle's farm in Tickhill … I remember seeing fairies. I didn’t pay much attention, because I was in such a fugue state, until I met Christopher. Now though, I do remember thinking how amazing it was to see real fairies.” I lost so much time, lost so many possibilities by submerging my mind in a thick cloud of depression. Looking back at the memories of the family farm, something begins tugging at my thoughts … something important to do with my Uncle Edward.
Comparing how many more Ho Thanatos I've seen since my awakening with Christopher, to before I died … my non-existent understanding of the ethereal world is startling. Since finding the man I love, I now know that creatures like me are drawn to humans with abilities like him. My thoughts guide me toward questioning my own ignorance and the reasons for my mental unconsciousness from the time I left the human world, until I met Christopher. Why didn't I glimpse this world before I became part of it? Why were the fairies still going to the farm after I was dead? Who else in my family had the power, the ability, to interact with Ho Thanatos? Realizing, I am lost for a few moments in my regrets, recollections, and revelations. I turn to Cass, “Are fairies Ho Thanatos? They are, aren't they … creatures that once lived as humans, still relating to humans … drawn, as we all are, to those special individuals with abilities?”
“Yes, I believe so … Ho Thanatos seem to project the images that make the most sense to them, from when they were living as a human. To a Celt, fairies would be an appropriate manifestation of what we are … not dead necessarily, but able to interact with the living, attracted to those who are also magical. So many cultures have different stories, throughout history, of creatures like us … when we find ourselves passing through the ethereal veil; we try to bend our minds around what we have become. The result is turning into the things that make the most sense to each individual, usually shaped by the society, and time period, where we grew up. Inside that change comes fear, especially in the young ones … they cannot let go of their lives, their connection to Mortos, in particular their present families and future descendants. I believe that is why so many Ho Thanatos search for Mortos with talents … in hopes of being seen, acknowledged. At least, that is what I think … but I’ve been wrong before.” I have to roll my eyes at the last statement; not because I think Cass is always right, but because of her unfounded modesty. She is right this time, and she knows she is right … or at least she knows she has a handful of sand, on a beach the size of the universe, while the rest of us stupidly stand mesmerized by the glittering powder under our feet.
Looking at Cass again, I am reminded how powerful and confidant an entity she projects. I can’t help but wonder how she sees herself fitting into her theory of Ho Thanatos, creating her own image in the world.
Moving back to her original question, I say, “I think, in total, I’ve only seen maybe thirty or forty Ho Thanatos over the years. I see where you’re going, we’ve talked about this in the past, and I meant to ask about it earlier … the ratio is wrong between Mortos that should turn into ethereal creatures and the actual population of Ho Thanatos. Not to mention if we can live to be three thousand years old, as in your case, why aren’t there millions of us?” Ever since I woke up over eighteen months ago, I’ve been thinking about these exact questions. My queries have become more pronounced, playing around in my head for the past nine months … not only what are we, but what makes us turn into Ho Thanatos, and why aren’t there more?
Cass’s breathing starts to become ragged again, “I have wondered the same things. When I was new to the veil there were so many more of us … as time has gone by, fewer and fewer cross into our realm. The older ones begin to fade, and eventually become nothing more than specters, roaming senselessly before they vanish entirely. Then there are the young ones … I’ve seen such terrible things happen to the young ones. I’m surprised you survived as long as you have; especially when I think about the state your mind was in for the first sixty years of your time in the veil. You would have been an easy meal for the Daimonion To, the evil ones.” Finally, I am starting to see where the fear is coming from … there is something dangerous in the mist, and Cass, with her perceptiveness, has watched it devour our kind.
“Daimonion To?” It rolls off my tongue harshly with none of the elegance of Cass’s ancient Greek accent. “These are the ones you’ve been warning me about?”
“Yes, Ellie … those are the ones. I haven’t allowed myself to care for another in such a long time; when you asked me, so innocently, to be your teacher … I almost said no. I was afraid that I may start to fade soon, but finding you may have saved me … by giving me a reason to exist. Now that I have you, a true friend … I don’t want to see you hurt. I’ve seen such horrible things in my mind; there have been times over the years I’ve wondered if I was actually Daimonion To, just for entertaining the images.”
Tonight again, in so many hours, Cass has surprised me with her expression of concern. “Cass, you’ve referred to one in particular … ‘She already knows about you’, who is ‘she’?”
“I’ve only seen her in my mind; she is ancient, perhaps not as old as me … but still very old, and very powerful. She understands the powers we take for granted, and can present herself in any form she wants.”
“Cass, V could do that, too … so they’re shape shifters. I’m sorry, but that doesn’t seem too dangerous.” I can feel that shape shifting is just the tip of the iceberg when I look at the expression of Cassandra’s face.
“You don’t understand, Elizabeth Tickle; she can pass entirely through the veil just like you; but in any form she chooses. She has an appetite for Mortos as well as Ho Thanatos … and she has tasted you. She has shown up in folklore dating back at least fourteen hundred years; she may even be as ancient as me. You know the story of Beowulf? How about dark tales of the ekmetalleftis, umm vampires ... or witches that love the flavor of children?”
“That can’t be her … those stories aren’t real.” I try to laugh off the idea, but I can hear, and feel, the earnestness in Cass’s voice.
“She lies dormant now, obviously not wanting to play with humanity very often over the past couple hundred years. But every once and a while, I’ll hear a tale woven around a familiar shape … and then I recognize, she is hungry. She’ll feed and go back into hiding; she has only allowed me to receive two premonitions, concerning her antics, over the centuries. We were in Turkey during the same time; she sensed me and warned me off by allowing me to witness her hunt. The Evil One not only knows what and where the future will happen, but she knows how to force others to experience the coming horror.”
Cass relives the vision with such vicious clarity, it painfully plays across my corneas and sinks into my brain before I can try and deflect the images. Woods, cold and dark … I’m running; I can feel a fear as primitive as the earth itself. The blind terror behind the dread is timeworn and I understand immediately … this is what it means to be prey. I thought humans had grown past these instinctual feelings of being hunted; I feel small and defenseless … I need to run, to hide.
Within the vision, when I feel the entity behind me, my stomach lurches and all my muscles tighten, “Time to fight!” The words slide through my gritted teeth as I turn ready to claw at whatever is unfortunate enough to be in my path.
Nothing; nothing is there, just the trees lined up before me, and the soft eroding floor of the forest. Looking around I realize that I am in a time before machines … I can't hear the distinct continuous hum that my sensitive ears could pick up in the Sahara Desert. The darkness is absolute; to a human this place would be like encountering cave-darkness, disorienting and merciless. What a wonderful place to hunt, especially with Ho Thanatos senses, my mind whispers, in admiration and praise at the prime conditions for a vile and gory hunt. “My god, Ellie, did you just actually think about hunting a human?” The realization embarrasses me.
“No; that wasn’t my thought at all!” The sound of my own voice, in this vile place, echoed off of nothing, only reminds me that I am alone here … with ‘her’.
Speaking to the nothingness that hold mysterious and frightening ears, “I know you can hear me. How did you work your way into my head … through Cass’s vision?” No answer; I don’t expect one … not yet at least. The introductions will come, probably about the same time she is tired of playing with me. I think about my cat, Robin, and how when he was done playing with a mouse … he’d simply break its neck and leave it on the porch to rot.
Shuddering for a moment at the thought of being left, broken on someone’s porch, I don’t realize that ‘she’ is communicating. No spoken words, just emotions … and they are volatile and cruel. She is confirming we have an agreement; she is going to kill me, and I am going to cease to exist.
“Lovely!” I scream into the trees. She doesn’t appreciate my sarcasm, but in her irritation she lets the emotion slip … confusion. I am not supposed to be here.
“Ellie … Come back here right now! Elizabeth Tickle! So help me, if I have to …” I open my eyes to find Cass standing over me on the cliff’s edge. She is pale and visibly shaken; but a relieved expression lightens her face as she becomes aware that I am looking up at her.
Smirking at her, I ask, “So help you what, Cass? What were you planning on doing to me?”
“Look here, you little κουτσούβελο, little brat … you just about got yourself rolled right off this cliff. I thought maybe my story put you to sleep, until I noticed your trademark green threads reaching out to only the gods know where. Then you wouldn’t wake up …where in the name of Zeus were you?”
“You sent me to her, Cass … I was in her mind.” My thoughts spread out in front of me like fishing net, so many points are connected, one junction leading to the next, but I can’t make any sense of what is in front of me. The longer I stare at the idea, the harder it is to perceive … like only being able to see the curved lines between puzzle pieces, but not being able to make out the picture.
“Cass? If the stories about vampires and monsters are actually true … then there has to be more than one who can pass through the veil, becoming tangible enough to damage humans.”
“Yes, Yes, I know … but they can make themselves visible, while only parts of their bodies' become semi-solid: a ghost hand appearing to smother you in your sleep, only to disappear when you wake. That is why they are perceived as untouchable and so hard to catch … they tend to feed off of fear of the mind games. Beowulf’s foe, Grendel’s mother, feeds off not only fear … but gore. She will go into a society, and search for their deepest terrors, becoming their nightmares, whole and solid. She isn’t happy until she has destroyed every last citizen, in the most horrific ways possible.
The only saving grace for humanity’s sake is that the Daimonion To seem to kill each other with surprising regularity. Stupid territorial disputes distract them from their favorite treats … killing the young Ho Thanatos and torturing Mortos.” I can feel the anxiety pulling through her like an undertow. Cass is fighting the current, trying to keep me out of the visions that have been brought up by discussing the murders of the young Ho Thanatos.
I ignore the compulsion to ask more about our evil counterparts, and choose to try and sooth Cass by deflecting the topic, “We need to change the subject … do you want to hear more about Japan, or maybe Africa?”
With a touch of shame to her voice, and a bashful expression that crosses her face, she confesses that she doesn’t ever leave the countries around the Aegean Sea. We are talking so freely now; when I pick up on the sensitive nature of her statement, I don’t push any further.
“I think I would like to hear more about your time in Africa.” I can feel the excitement flowing through her … this is story time, for the lady in the bubble.
“I flew through Africa absorbing the sensations of such a primitive land, the earth itself felt wild and untamable. Many parts were at war … the hatred for fellow men was so intense that the air, surrounding some areas, tasted of blood. I came to rest on the banks of the river Chari in Central Africa. The villagers had moored boats in the mud of the river's bank. Wading into the water in between their boats, men were pulling spears and fish from the long narrow crafts of solid wood that looked similar to canoes. I heard laughing, and felt the sense of community that was bubbling out of the village; giving me a much needed boost of happiness after the cruelty of my flight.
“I decided to walk through the village, following a sensation I couldn’t explain. About a mile from the river was where I felt the source of the consciousness. I knew someone was there, even though I could only see the barren earth around me. So I stood calmly and absorbed the heat on my face, admiring the beautiful contrast of colors from the bright, blue sky and the sandy, tan terrain. After waiting for at least a couple of hours, the presence must have decided that I wasn’t going away. He formed, from the heat waves flowing upward off the earth, to stand right in front of me.
“When he grabbed a hold of my hand, his fingers looked as if they could wrap entirely around mine twice. Everything disappeared below my wrist as he gracefully enclosed my palm. Following the line of his forearm, his lean muscles flexed showing tight ligaments and tendons on top of his elbow joint. He easily stood two feet over my five-foot-six-inch height. Looking up into his eyes, I was surprised to find, drifting through the dark brown almost black, there was an echo of a slate blue-green. Slightly muted, his eyes reminded me of a thunderstorm rolling in over the sea, at night. His face was kind, and his stormy eyes smiled as he introduced himself.
“My name is Zuvan. I have never seen a Gabon as fair as you.”
“His English had a French lilt; I couldn’t believe my luck, to find we understood each other … then again, the Ho Thanatos always seem to understand each other no matter the location. When he spoke again his expression turned quizzical. “The light that surrounds you is shifting in colors like an iridescent feather. Why … je ne sais pas. Peut-être, you are not like me?”
“For the first time, I noticed the light that flowed eagerly out of his pores. Starting next to his dark skin as a deep blue, almost Payne’s gray, the glow quickly became a bright, hot-white halo encompassing his entire body. I wondered, why hadn’t I noticed the light when I first saw him?
“Beautiful and frightening, power oozed from his long, muscular frame. I was reminded of a time when I had entered Christopher’s waking mind and was torn down by the intensity of his emotions, collapsing on the floor … absorbing his fear and anger had crippled me. As I was lying there before him, Christopher watched my body expel his toxic emotions in some kind of light show. I wondered if that was how Zuvan projected this radiance: forcing emotions out of his skin. Shifting my perspective back through the cocoon of light ─ his dark skin was such a contrast; I had to squint to bring him into focus.
“The scars from past fights formed ropes on his flesh that ran across his cheek and down his neck, and then hid under his linen shirt. The scarring looked as though he fought lions, before his death; I knew better though … the cruelest animal on earth, humans, had made these. Yet his stance remained relaxed, only accentuating his kind face and friendly smile.”
Cassandra leans back on her heels with her eyes closed and a small dreamy smile forms on her mouth. “He sounds lovely, Ellie … tell me more about your time with Zuvan. Please.”
Looking at Cass, I start to understand the loneliness of her existence; I hope she will eventually tell me why she made herself into a recluse. When she raises one delicate eyebrow, waiting for me to continue, I recognize the hungry expression that only intense curiosity can create … so I continue.
“Zuvan and I sat on the warm ground; even sitting, he towered over me. But strangely enough, I didn’t notice, because his personality had such a calming, balancing effect. He smiled innocently and nodded as I told him my name, looking as if he had always known it. He kept touching my skin like a child intrigued by the fur on a caterpillar.”
“Zuvan, I know you have been exposed to fair-skinned people before … what is so fascinating about my skin?”
“Not so much your skin, as that you are ‘like me’, and I’ve never seen the shades of color that flow out of you. Every time I think I might recognize the hue, it shifts again with each new expression you show on your face. It is very beautiful; I do not think I’ve ever seen anything quite like it … except perhaps in oil spilled on the surface on water.” The look on his face was penetrating; oddly though, I wasn’t self-conscious under his scrutiny.
“What do you think we are, exactly?” I was looking for a teacher, and Zuvan seemed very capable of the task.
“For my people, we are Gabon. We are guardian angels to family … our present and future generations. To tell the truth, I have only met one other guardian during my travels, as I followed my familial lines. The other was cruel. Even though I was curious about him, I did not like being around him; especially after I watched him spread a plague through a village of his family’s enemies. He could make people believe they were sick … sick enough for their bodies to show real symptoms; but with no way to heal the illness, they would inevitably die. I learned quickly that not all Gabon are fair or just … we are as open to temptation and vindictiveness as any living human.
“Ultimately, deciding to leave behind his brutality, I went in search of ma famille; those being slaughtered, fighting against impossible odds. I found what I was looking for in the north, where the rebels have been constantly at war. Then I saw you fly over … and I had to follow; the curiosity was overwhelming, I must admit.” He smiled sheepishly and looked at the ground as if embarrassed to admit his inquisitiveness.
“I do think we are alike; although, I do not think I’m actually a Gabon. I lived in London during my human life, and died during World War Two … but I think our connection is not where we lived or died, but that we were both gifted in life, and passed ‘here’ after death. Zuvan, did you have any special gifts when you were alive?”
“Yes, I can control fire … that, which gave me a sense of power in life, is also what took my life from me. I think you may be correct, we are alike … but we are still very different. What was your gift, my dear friend?”
“Zuvan was the first being I had met who could manipulate elements; everyone else I’d met, influenced minds, not environments. I started to think that maybe he would be the one who could help me return to Christopher; the one who could help me become solid enough, for long enough that I could stay firmly with Christopher forever.
“I can feel others’ emotions, and touch minds to ease psychological pain … but I can’t seem to do that with our kind, only humans.”
“Ha, oh, Ellie, you have much to learn then … we are alike, we are all connected in this world. Understanding and communication should be as simple as falling asleep … hmmm, maybe, you should try to relax.”
“Zuvan sat patiently with me, meditating, and allowing me to experiment on his mind, until I could read his thoughts as well as my own. I asked questions the entire time and he gave me answers; but in every statement made, he prepared me to understand that his answers were only opinions. I needed to find my solutions, for myself. When I was able to overcome my own limitations, and understand just how simple it was to read his emotions, I tried to go deeper than reading, and reached out to touch his mind.
“My stomach twisted, as I watched the pain of his personal history unfold: images of death, bloody and gruesome scenes that I could never imagine. I wondered how he could possibly have become such a kind soul. I saw that under his linen shirt he was hiding the mottled scars of destroyed flesh all across his back. The cause of those scars showed me the scene of his torture, while learning to control his gift as a boy.
“He was showing me what he wanted me to see; I had no power to poke through his thoughts. He was allowing me to witness only certain parts of his pain. The images were so intense that I didn’t realize I was screaming louder than the burning boy in his memory … until Zuvan pulled me away and forced me to breathe. Looking into his eyes, I couldn’t stop my tears from falling; fire still seared my back painfully… even though, I was no longer in contact with his horror.
“He lifted me on to his lap and wrapped his long arms around me, whispering the entire time, “You’re okay now; just breathe … I’m so sorry, Ellie. I had no idea you actually feel what I feel. I thought maybe you were an observer, a witness … not a sufferer. Mon dieu! Comment peux j’être si stupide? I am so stupid … please forgive me.”
"As I sat embraced by Zuvan … the pain started to subside, and I gently probed at my back to see if I was now, also, covered in burns. The reaction had been so sudden and overwhelming … I started to think, maybe, my mind had been protecting me from the intensity of touching another Ho Thanatos.
"As a form of apology, and to take my mind off of the pain we now shared, Zuvan led me to a park in southern Chad. It was one of the most beautiful places I had ever seen. The Zakouma National Park, there in the middle of a country that has known war for generations, was one of the most welcoming and friendly nature reserves you would ever want to visit. They had set up a restaurant and huts that mimicked the local villages, but with all the amenities. I marveled at the ingenuity, and Zuvan joked that I hadn’t seen anything yet." I can see Cassandra daydreaming about where I've been and what I've seen.
Starting the story again, I let my memories pull me back to Africa, "I drew in a breath quickly from surprise, 'Zuvan…those are elephants!'”
He replied while laughing, “You are truly a master of stating the obvious, Ellie. Yes, yes, they are elephants … beautiful, aren’t they?”
"His smooth baritone voice quivered as he laughed at me. The laugh was loud, and kind, and contagious; it was the first time I laughed like that, since I left Christopher and Lune. I am still grateful to that laugh; my heart ached with holes wanting desperately to be filled; Zuvan lessened the ache to a dull throb … for a little while at least.”
Cassandra looks at me strangely, “I’m sorry to interrupt, but how long were you with Zuvan?”
“I lost track of time, but I think about three months. I stayed in the Zakouma Park most of my time there, because the surroundings gave me a break from the toxic emotions all around me. When I ventured out, I liked to visit the smaller local villages. The people there, with their bright smiles and beautiful children, always lifted my spirits. Zuvan felt he had a preordained responsibility to his relatives, and checked on them every day. He never wanted to discuss what exactly he did for his extended family. When he would return, all he wanted to do was talk about what I had seen in my travels, what I had done over the years, and most of all, what it felt like to fall in love with a human.
“After hedging around my questions for weeks, he finally admitted that he didn’t want me to think any less of him for his actions when he was visiting his relatives. I asked him if those actions contained any malice or disrespect for human life, or was it more likely that they were defensive and protective. As an answer he asked me if I felt like seeing for myself.
I didn’t think I could handle placing myself in the middle of war again. When I stalled, he picked up on my dilemma; he then asked if I felt like I could handle touching his mind again.
"Entering his thoughts and feelings was smooth and natural, as if I was always meant to touch only Ho Thanatos minds. I was blasted by emotions clearly enough to not only hear thoughts, but see glimpses of the events that brought about the strongest of his feelings. He withheld the intensity as much as possible, telling me that he didn’t think these memories would be as painful, since he was a Gabon, therefore not as fragile as he was as a human.
But he was wrong; as such a sensitive and humane creature, what he had to do, had to witness in order to protect those he cared about … hurt him deeply. He showed me a village; very much like the ones I enjoyed visiting, with families, and children … a community. Then I saw the bright fire, thick with smoke … screaming babies, mothers running … Zuvan’s hands became ridged before my face … no, before his eyes. I was seeing through his eyes.
"Watching his memories, through his perceptiveness, I could see the bright, hot halo, that usually surrounded his form, was being forced through his arms and out of his hands. In an intricate ballet using only his hands, I watched him sway his strong, lean fingers, delicately communicating with the blaze. He was manipulating the fire; pulsing and dancing, the flames obeyed his command like a candle being gently blown out. Then he turned to where he knew the fire had started, to where he knew the enemies were waiting to send in the next level of assault. Instead of blowing out this portion of the fire, he ordered it to turn on its makers. I felt the shiver run through his long frame as he listened to the screaming of his family’s would-be attackers, but he held the flames on them until all their protests stopped … no more screams, whimpers, or pleading … no more life … and then he simply blew out the killing fire.
“He looked in my eyes, waiting for my condemnation. When I smiled with understanding, his face became extremely confused. That’s when I told him, 'Zuvan, I have lived through war, and to tell the truth, if I could have protected my family from the immediate threat, with my gifts … I would have, without a thought. And if I could have protected them from future threats, future attacks, by making a preemptive strike, I would have without a thought. I cannot judge you; I can only respect and admire your strength, and stand in awe over your sympathy for your enemies.' As I patted his arm, he shook his head, shook the confusion from his face and beamed an exquisite smile.
“He responded, still beaming, 'I do not know exactly what you are, Ellie, but I’m glad to have met you. You have asked me questions on what I think we are … I still do not have an answer for you, I am sorry. But I do think that in our world there is good and evil … you are good, and that is enough for me. I know you are looking for a teacher, and as much as it hurts me to face the possibility of losing you … I am not that person for you. Thank you for giving me so much: a friend, a confidant, a sister … I hope very much that you find your Christopher. Please, find me again, mon amie, Je vais manqué toi … I will miss you very much.'
“When I answered his honest observation, my heart cracked just a little bit more, 'You’re right of course. If you don’t think you can teach me anymore … then I must begin my search again. You have taught me so much though, and you gave me a sanctuary to return to; I can never thank you enough. I promise to return. I see you as family now … if we are Gabon, then we are preordained to stand by each other forever.'
“At first, I almost felt as though he was pushing me away; but I realized as we spoke, reading his emotions, he had become very attached to me and my hope for success. He wanted with every part of his being for me to be happy; and for a creature who knows you have to fight to make good things happen, no matter how much he would miss me, he knew I had a long journey ahead to reclaim my true happiness, to fight for my future.”
“When he reached down to embrace me, I started to giggle; he had to almost bend in half to truly hold anything but my head. Zuvan, maybe you should stand on your knees.'
'Ha, maybe you could hover up here … petite fille!'
“I enjoyed the warmth of his chest, the smell of Gardenias and smoke, the rumbling sound of his infectious laughter, and the knowledge that I had a brother and a sanctuary in one of the most war-torn continents in the world. At that moment, I wanted to share this irony with Christopher so badly; I had to pull away from Zuvan and obsessively begin my search again. My search to find you, Cass … my mentor, my sister.”
She still holds a dreamy expression on her face, and when I call her my sister, she smiles brightly out towards the horizon. When she turns to me though, there is a deep sadness in her eyes. “I don’t think I deserve the honor of being your sister … very bad things happen to those I care about, to those who care about me.”
She closes up again, and I can only feel shadows of her emotions. Fearing that we are sliding backwards in our relationship, I try to change the subject. Speaking as I rise to stand next to her, “Perhaps, we could go for a late-night flight and you could show me more of your beloved Greece.”
Looking into her eyes, I notice that the clear, startling green in Cass’s gaze has become overcast, by the thick, muggy clouds that usually signal a hurricane on the horizon. When she speaks, I expect the wind to pick up and slam me to the ground. “Ellie, how much do you know about my life? This isn’t my beloved Greece; I’m only here, to be close to them.”
