Blood of the Sea, Chapter Seventeen

Chapter 17: Reflection

Dionne

Ryju skips across the waves like a pebble tossed with the strength of one’s fury, causing Dionne’s wet hair to slap across her shoulders with each leap. Even underwater, the current races by at such a pace that DIonne simply squints her eyes shut, allowing her ‘urga to go where they need.

The drag of the current slows, pulling Dionne from her thoughts, and Ryju twists to look at his E’len as she blinks open her eyes. Ryju bobs his head, prompting Dio to pat his neck and his back curves, slowing them further as their heads break through the water. The afternoon light, now undiluted by the salt water, falls in shafts through the cloud-scattered sky, illuminating some parts of the water, while leaving other patches in shadow. Dionne grips Ryju’s flank with her legs, twisting her hair over one shoulder and wringing out the excess water as her gaze alights upon Falun. This close, merely a ship-length out from the shore, she spots Eulla’s Voice waiting under the eaves of the temple. The priestess raises a hand in greeting, which Dionne returns, before the woman turns and slips inside.

Ryju puffs out a burst of air and grumbles in his throat, the sound warm and reassuring. Dionne rubs a hand over his neck and shoulder, patting his damp silver hide as he moves them forward, the water cresting around Dionne’s legs in his wake. Rather than having Dionne dismount in the water, Ryju leaps onto the stony shore with a flick of his muscular tail. He shakes, sending water every which way, but it is effective in bringing a smile to Dionne’s lips. She slides free of his back and hugs her arms around his neck, his chin tucked against her shoulder. “Thank you, friend.” Releasing the hydrurga, Dionne lets out a long, slow exhale of her own, bracing herself, before walking away from the water and toward the temple, softly glinting in the light of the dim, storm-burst sky.

Saltwater burns in her throat, leaving her mouth dry and her lips chapped. Her hair hangs heavily over one shoulder, laden down by both water and knots. Her clothes act like a second skin, plastered to her shoulders, back, and thighs, but she gives up on peeling the material away, instead focusing her attention to the piercing gaze of her Goddess as She stares Dionne down from the western pedicle. In her mind’s eye, Eulla peels back the stone, allowing the water depicted there to spill free, forming a waterfall through which Dionne must walk. There is, of course, no waterfall, as the carved, frothing water remains above her head, but it still feels as though the weight of the water swallows Dionne whole; her Goddess’ gaze laying heavily upon her shoulders.

The cool interior of the temple brushes against Dionne, bringing with it, the smell of a freshly lit candle, which the priestess is holding in one hand, the match lit in the other. She holds both lights out to Dionne, who takes first the match, blowing it out quickly, before she takes the candle; the base smooth and firm while the top slowly turns toward translucent, giving way under the force of the light. Heat brushes soft tendrils of smoke across Dionne’s cheeks, the silence backed by the shussssh of the waves heavy but meaningful.

Finally, the priestess speaks. “Dionne, daughter of Thiene, sword of the sea, knowledge seeker.”

Dionne bows her head under the titles given to her, offering a list in return. “Priestess, Voice of the Goddess, speaker of truths, watcher of the Waters.”

Eulla’s Voice smiles, and Dionne finds herself mimicking the expression, the corners of her mouth upturned. Eulla’s Voice takes the candle from Dionne once more and as she blows it out, Dionne hears the Goddess’s voice pull at her like a riptide. What it brought to light may never fully be erased. Though darkness may shield it, hide it, keep it, the mark stays. What the mind forgets, the heart remembers.

Blinking past the candle light, now extinguished, Dionne finds herself face to face with a reflection of herself. They both stand in the temple, though while Dionne reaches slowly toward her mirror image, the other version of her reaches for a sword she recognizes - the greatsword, the dark Caleo steel gift from Astrophel - strapped high upon her hip. Dionne freezes, as does the other version of her. She quickly takes in the crease of time-worn smile lines at the corners of her mouth and eyes, the silver of old scars unfamiliar to her, the strength that lies in her gaze and the surety of her grip on the pommel, and - most striking - the black lines and swirls creeping up her neck from under her clothes which speak to new tales inked upon her skin.

Dionne’s breath catches in her throat when she spots a star inked upon her reflection’s cheek near her left temple, and the smaller version of it which sits in the hollow of that same cheek. She slowly points to her own bare cheek and watches her reflection’s eyes darken, her jaw clench, and her fingers tighten around the hilt of the sword. Her reflection turns away from Dionne, staring out toward the sea.

It is strange, hearing herself speak. “Remember what you can, but let go of what you cannot. It will hurt regardless, but in this way, perhaps, you can lessen the blow. You serve not only yourself, but your tribe and its future.” The older version of her turns back to Dio, her thumb rubbing back and forth over the pommel as though holding onto something of comfort, and she steps forward, “Remember this. Hold it dear and close to you. Wear it like armor.”

Dionne barely breathes as the other version of her reaches out, cupping her cheeks, and presses a kiss to her forehead. Dionne swallows hard, closing her eyes against the tears welling in the gaze of her other self. One of those tears falls, dropping upon Dionne’s left cheek, and when she reopens her eyes, she is alone.

Dionne leans against the altar tucked under the western pedicle for a long time, watching the sun slip from its position high in the sky and on toward the horizon, soaking the sky in a slew of colors almost too bright to bear. It is then when Eulla’s Voice rejoins her.

Dionne’s voice bites through the air, rough from crying from a pain as yet unknown to her. “What happens to me?”

“A thousand things that happen in a thousand lifetimes. Love, grief, joy, perseverance…” Eulla’s Voice trails off, and she turns her attention from the sunset to Dionne. “You will have your magic. Not the magic of your parents, but your ancestral magic. Though, perhaps you will wish that you didn’t.”

Dionne grits her teeth, picturing the determination she saw in the older version of herself. She pushes to her feet and whistles for Ryju. Upon seeing his silver head pop through the waves, she takes a step closer to Eulla’s Voice, her words passing like a secret between them. “I will bear it.” She swallows past the lump in her throat, “Thank you for showing me that much at least.”

Dionne turns on her heel, leaving Falun and Eulla’s temple behind as she leaps from the rocks and into the water, letting the sea wash the tears from her skin. Wrapping her arms around Ryju’s neck, they set off. The chatter of the current is calm despite the storm of Dionne’s thoughts which rage silently inside her skull. She knows her place among the Five is secure, but she wonders what that means for her future. What is your plan, Eulla? What role do I play in your design?

Dionne returns to part of a sailing song she knows by heart, holding the lyrics close and drowning out her worries.

If we drown, it’s in silver

If we live, we de-light

The Goddess, she whispers

The tide is our life.

She repeats the last phrase over and over.

The Goddess, she whispers; the tide is our life.