I should be afraid. I have never faced much by way of physical pain, and I know that is about to change. I should quake with fear, my body trembling at the thought of facing the all too familiar depths of mental anguish. I have been so far down, and the initiation is meant to drag me deeper than I have ever been. But looking into my father’s crimson eyes, a calm knowing washes over me. No matter what, he will be waiting for me on the other side of this journey.
I am not the first to answer his call. I stand witness, watching and waiting and breathing, just breathing. I should know the faces of everyone who walks into the cave, but almost all are strangers to me. I suppose if all goes well, they will not be for long. Mari, though, she walks into the darkness and emerges the first of the Sisters. I smile at her, love and pride shining from my dirt-brown eyes, and that smile falters a little at the lingering distance between us.
Now.
As another unfamiliar girl walks back out into the light with a complex and beautiful scar on her shoulder, I feel a gentle pulling, like a rope wrapped around my heart drawing me forward. I look to my father, meeting his gaze once again with a solemn nod, and then answer the call and step into the entrance of the cave.
Ah, the dark, the sweet, gentle dark. It wraps its arms around me, so familiar, so cool and soothing as it swallows me down. I walk deeper, feel a sudden sharp slash of jagged rock against my skin, one little stroke of knife to flesh and blood begins to trickle down my shoulder. Neverwas. a voice I can’t place croons gently in my ear, and I flinch more at the sound of my name than I did at the parting of my skin. Another shallow slice along my flank, and I gasp as blood seeps from another wound. Neverwas.
“I’m Nevi,” I mutter back, denying the name and all that it ever meant. Another step forward, another shallow slash, and the voice returns. Neverwas. A flash of a face long forgotten, a woman who didn’t deserve the title of mother, a stranger who stitched sorrow into my soul with the weight of the name she gave me. The only thing she taught me was that I was never meant to be.
Another slice, deeper this time and colder, and I bite back a quiet whimper. Hazel eyes stare through me, a familiar stranger’s face dispassionate as she takes in my whisper-thin form, shadows and mist, dirt and ash, little more than a wraith. That one’s not meant to last. Never was. It cuts me again, and another jagged rock reaches out to dig through my skin and spill my blood. The cuts come faster and faster, my name echoing in my head with every touch of ice and rock to flesh. Tiny trickles of blood, each just a tasted, just a taunt, and then one cuts deeper.
Neverwas. An innocent little boy voice, speaking my name for the first time in three years. Black as the dead of night, with legs that look like he lept into a puddle of starlight. I remember each star in those constellations, each dot’’s fixed pattern on his skin seared into my brain in the space of that short first day. He’s not my brother, that little boy voice continues, growing into a man even as he says the words. His voice distorting, deepening, getting richer and darker and somehow so Rile’s. He never was. A stab to my chest, an icicle wedged in deep and blood streams from the edges of the wound, its flow stemmed by the ice that breaks off the wall and remains lodged there, slowly melting, the pain searing me with every step.
“I’m Nevi,” I say again, and the words come out louder. Sharper. More desperate. Neverwas neverwas neverwas is a constant hiss in my ear, two voices now that my twin’s has joined my mother’s, and every time they speak my name another cut slices through my skin, another whimper creps past my lips, and I start chanting my nickname like a ward against evil.
“I’m Nevi, I’m Nevi, I’m Nevi,” I murmur, dragging myself forward through the dark toward a faint glimmer of light. The end of this tunnel. Step after step, and each one bringing a new dagger-sharp slice of agony along my face, my neck, my shoulders, my sides, my hips until red hides the dirt and shadow color of my coat and saturates the ash and mist of my mane. And still that endless hissing whisper, neverwas neverwas neverwas.
I’m shaking and sobbing by the time I reach the light, countless tiny slices and great gouges and jagged gaping wounds pouring out more blood than should fit inside a body as small as mine. The ice and the rock dig deeper, resisting as I try to push the last of the way through, and I scream, scrambling at the ground and trying to break free from the last of the spikes. “I can’t do it,” I sob, and I would fall to the ground if I weren’t being held up by jagged shards of ice and rock piercing my flesh. Blood begins to pool beneath me, and I choke on the weight of my failure.
It’s not your fault, little love. It never was. I raise my head, looking up into angel eyes, and feel her boundless love washing over me. And on her lips, my name means something new. Something clean and whole and finally unbroken, and I want it so badly I can’t breathe. So I try one more time. The whispers drown to nothing, shadows chased away by the light in her eyes. And I step toward my mom, the only mom who has ever mattered. The only one who has deserved to be called mine. With one last wrenching, desperate pull, I tear free of the jagged rocks holding me captive and stumble into her embrace.
It is a long time before I can pull away from her soothing touch, but when I finally see where we are, something shifts in my chest, a wide-open tearing that lets Mom’s light into all the dark places. The cave opened out onto the craggy peak I climbed to after the wolf attack. The day I almost ended everything. “It’s not your fault,” she murmurs again, stroking my hair with gentle little touches of love and acceptance. “It never was.”And this time, when I stand at the edge of oblivion looking down into the dark...for the first time, I start to believe.
* * * * *
I slowly come awake, light just starting to filter through the entrance of my little cave to dance along the floor and in my eyes and coax me to wakefulness. Today is the day. I will join the Tundra, enter the cave and come out a Brother, and make my father proud. The moment he calls, I head to the gathering at the entrance to the cave that will leave me scarred, that will mark me as a man of the Tundra for the whole world to see.
I should be afraid. I have never faced much by way of physical pain, and I know that is about to change. I should quake with fear, my body trembling at the thought of facing the all too familiar depths of mental anguish. I have been so far down, and the initiation is meant to drag me deeper than I have ever been. But looking into my father’s crimson eyes, a calm knowing washes over me. No matter what, he will be waiting for me on the other side of this journey.
I am not the first to answer his call. I stand witness, watching and waiting and breathing, just breathing. I should know the faces of everyone who walks into the cave, but almost all are strangers to me. I suppose if all goes well, they will not be for long. Mari, though, she walks into the darkness and emerges the first of the Sisters. I smile at her, love and pride shining from my dirt-brown eyes, and that smile falters a little at the lingering distance between us.
Now.
As another unfamiliar girl walks back out into the light with a complex and beautiful scar on her shoulder, I feel a gentle pulling, like a rope wrapped around my heart drawing me forward. I look to my father, meeting his gaze once again with a solemn nod, and then answer the call and step toward the entrance of the cave.
I am half a length from entering when that tug vanishes as if it never existed. I stop, confused, and look to my dad. Something has changed, between one step and the next. It ripples through the air, through the land itself, shaking and tremoring and nearly knocking me off my feet. The magic in the caves drains away, all the initiation scars both new and old fade into nothing, and I have no idea what to do. “Dad?”
I am not the first to answer his call. I stand witness, watching and waiting and breathing, just breathing. I should know the faces of everyone who walks into the cave, but almost all are strangers to me. I suppose if all goes well, they will not be for long. Mari, though, she walks into the darkness and emerges the first of the Sisters. I smile at her, love and pride shining from my dirt-brown eyes, and that smile falters a little at the lingering distance between us.
Now.
As another unfamiliar girl walks back out into the light with a complex and beautiful scar on her shoulder, I feel a gentle pulling, like a rope wrapped around my heart drawing me forward. I look to my father, meeting his gaze once again with a solemn nod, and then answer the call and step into the entrance of the cave.
Ah, the dark, the sweet, gentle dark. It wraps its arms around me, so familiar, so cool and soothing as it swallows me down. I walk deeper, feel a sudden sharp slash of jagged rock against my skin, one little stroke of knife to flesh and blood begins to trickle down my shoulder. Neverwas. a voice I can’t place croons gently in my ear, and I flinch more at the sound of my name than I did at the parting of my skin. Another shallow slice along my flank, and I gasp as blood seeps from another wound. Neverwas.
“I’m Nevi,” I mutter back, denying the name and all that it ever meant. Another step forward, another shallow slash, and the voice returns. Neverwas. A flash of a face long forgotten, a woman who didn’t deserve the title of mother, a stranger who stitched sorrow into my soul with the weight of the name she gave me. The only thing she taught me was that I was never meant to be.
Another slice, deeper this time and colder, and I bite back a quiet whimper. Hazel eyes stare through me, a familiar stranger’s face dispassionate as she takes in my whisper-thin form, shadows and mist, dirt and ash, little more than a wraith. That one’s not meant to last. Never was. It cuts me again, and another jagged rock reaches out to dig through my skin and spill my blood. The cuts come faster and faster, my name echoing in my head with every touch of ice and rock to flesh. Tiny trickles of blood, each just a tasted, just a taunt, and then one cuts deeper.
Neverwas. An innocent little boy voice, speaking my name for the first time in three years. Black as the dead of night, with legs that look like he lept into a puddle of starlight. I remember each star in those constellations, each dot’’s fixed pattern on his skin seared into my brain in the space of that short first day. He’s not my brother, that little boy voice continues, growing into a man even as he says the words. His voice distorting, deepening, getting richer and darker and somehow so Rile’s. He never was. A stab to my chest, an icicle wedged in deep and blood streams from the edges of the wound, its flow stemmed by the ice that breaks off the wall and remains lodged there, slowly melting, the pain searing me with every step.
“I’m Nevi,” I say again, and the words come out louder. Sharper. More desperate. Neverwas neverwas neverwas is a constant hiss in my ear, two voices now that my twin’s has joined my mother’s, and every time they speak my name another cut slices through my skin, another whimper creps past my lips, and I start chanting my nickname like a ward against evil.
“I’m Nevi, I’m Nevi, I’m Nevi,” I murmur, dragging myself forward through the dark toward a faint glimmer of light. The end of this tunnel. Step after step, and each one bringing a new dagger-sharp slice of agony along my face, my neck, my shoulders, my sides, my hips until red hides the dirt and shadow color of my coat and saturates the ash and mist of my mane. And still that endless hissing whisper, neverwas neverwas neverwas.
I’m shaking and sobbing by the time I reach the light, countless tiny slices and great gouges and jagged gaping wounds pouring out more blood than should fit inside a body as small as mine. The ice and the rock dig deeper, resisting as I try to push the last of the way through, and I scream, scrambling at the ground and trying to break free from the last of the spikes. “I can’t do it,” I sob, and I would fall to the ground if I weren’t being held up by jagged shards of ice and rock piercing my flesh. Blood begins to pool beneath me, and I choke on the weight of my failure.
It’s not your fault, little love. It never was. I raise my head, looking up into angel eyes, and feel her boundless love washing over me. And on her lips, my name means something new. Something clean and whole and finally unbroken, and I want it so badly I can’t breathe. So I try one more time. The whispers drown to nothing, shadows chased away by the light in her eyes. And I step toward my mom, the only mom who has ever mattered. The only one who has deserved to be called mine. With one last wrenching, desperate pull, I tear free of the jagged rocks holding me captive and stumble into her embrace.
It is a long time before I can pull away from her soothing touch, but when I finally see where we are, something shifts in my chest, a wide-open tearing that lets Mom’s light into all the dark places. The cave opened out onto the craggy peak I climbed to after the wolf attack. The day I almost ended everything. “It’s not your fault,” she murmurs again, stroking my hair with gentle little touches of love and acceptance. “It never was.”And this time, when I stand at the edge of oblivion looking down into the dark...for the first time, I start to believe.
I slowly come awake, light just starting to filter through the entrance of my little cave to dance along the floor and in my eyes and coax me to wakefulness. Today is the day. I will join the Tundra, enter the cave and come out a Brother, and make my father proud. The moment he calls, I head to the gathering at the entrance to the cave that will leave me scarred, that will mark me as a man of the Tundra for the whole world to see.
I should be afraid. I have never faced much by way of physical pain, and I know that is about to change. I should quake with fear, my body trembling at the thought of facing the all too familiar depths of mental anguish. I have been so far down, and the initiation is meant to drag me deeper than I have ever been. But looking into my father’s crimson eyes, a calm knowing washes over me. No matter what, he will be waiting for me on the other side of this journey.
I am not the first to answer his call. I stand witness, watching and waiting and breathing, just breathing. I should know the faces of everyone who walks into the cave, but almost all are strangers to me. I suppose if all goes well, they will not be for long. Mari, though, she walks into the darkness and emerges the first of the Sisters. I smile at her, love and pride shining from my dirt-brown eyes, and that smile falters a little at the lingering distance between us.
Now.
As another unfamiliar girl walks back out into the light with a complex and beautiful scar on her shoulder, I feel a gentle pulling, like a rope wrapped around my heart drawing me forward. I look to my father, meeting his gaze once again with a solemn nod, and then answer the call and step toward the entrance of the cave.
I am half a length from entering when that tug vanishes as if it never existed. I stop, confused, and look to my dad. Something has changed, between one step and the next. It ripples through the air, through the land itself, shaking and tremoring and nearly knocking me off my feet. The magic in the caves drains away, all the initiation scars both new and old fade into nothing, and I have no idea what to do. “Dad?”
(dream thing cleared with Cassi just in case)