Revaramek the Resplendent: Chapter One Hundred Twenty Seven (Patreon)

*****

Etchka dreamt.

He dreamt of an urd’thin and his pup, wandering alone in a desert. He dreamt of the pup dancing across the dunes, of joy and song. The world itself danced with the pup, the sands rose and fell, the winds swirled around him, hand fruit trees bent and swayed, all in time to the music of existence. The pup sang the song of creation, without ever knowing why.

Pasts and futures unfolded in Etchka’s dreaming mind. Begun and ended and begun again, all in a slumbering breath. An endless cycle of life and death, renewal and destruction, beginnings and endings, all meant to keep the spiral turning. In the dream, some of the cycles turned upon him, as if Etchka was at their center, and set them into motion around him. Flashes of death and horror filled him, terrible loss, uncontrollable grief, and a shattered sky, and a cycle that turned again.

Etchka saw himself, growing a black flower with blue-white spots, at the edge of a mud puddle. He smiled at a female with pale-golden fur.

If I ever lose myself…

He saw his tribe, and his mate, and his son, and he saw them all again.

He saw a pup filled with terror and fury shatter the sky.

And he saw a great dragon, scales shining like resplendent emeralds and copper fire, help to cage a beast with the power to end everything.

He saw a smiling pup, holding out his hand.

Etchka reached for the pup’s hand, and awoke.

Waking felt wrong. As if he were not breaking free of the dream, but tumbling headlong into it. He sat up in bed, wide awake and yet for a moment, so sure he was still dreaming. Etchka took a breath, and the rippled, as if he could see it flowing into his muzzle. When he exhaled, it washed away from him, displacing more air around it. Curious, Etchka reached towards the air. It curled around his fingers, then spun above his hand, a tiny whirlwind.

“Etchka?”

The whirlwind dissipated. He turned his head, and Rain stared at him from the other side of the bed. Her ears were half flattened back, and worry shone in her eyes. Blue-green waves rippled around her, as though the air took on a different tint the closer to her it became. Etchka reached towards her, and when his fingers brushed the colored wash in the air, he sensed worry, and uncertainty.

“Etchka, how do you feel?” Mica took his hand in hers, and he in turn took comfort in her warmth.

“Strange. I…I can see your uncertainty.” He stroked one of her ears with his free hand, and the blue-green ripples emanating from her mind twisted together in the wake of his touch. “It’s…beautiful. The color of the deepest oasis water.”

Rain found it in herself to smile, and hints of purple and darker blue crept into the colors of her emotions. “You’re going to make less and less sense as this goes on, aren’t you?”

Etchka laughed, and his laughter left the air shuddering around him. “I think so. I…I tried to warn you.”

“And I told you, if this is who you are, suppressing it is only going to hurt you.” She leaned in and kissed his muzzle, then smoothed back the fur of his cheeks. “Let me get you water.”

Etchka shifted to sit on the edge of their sleeping mats as Rain stood up. As she went to the shelves, he gazed about their home. There were more figurines of sand atop the highest shelf, and he was certain they were not there the night before. When he stared at them, the figurines all sang to him, the same song from his dream. He looked away, and the song quieted, but did not cease. Soon, he heard it from the world beyond their house, from the sand and the trees and the sky.

“The world is singing to me, Rain. And the louder it sings, the more I feel its song in my bones.” He splayed a hand towards their home’s doorway. Beyond it, he perceived the shape of the village, all its houses, all its people. All their breath and beating hearts, they all formed a song, thumping through his blood. “All I can feel it all. Everything. Existence.”

“That’s…new.” Rain shuddered and hesitated, the water jug frozen in in her hands. She shook her head, and poured him some water, then brought him the cup. “Did…did you dream?”

“I think I still am.” Etchka took the cup from her, and sipped the water. “I had a lot of dreams, but…they all felt real. Like they were…things I had done, or would do. Like your theory is right, and…we have many lives to live, and I saw…not only the ones I’ve lived before, but the ones yet to come, all at once.”

Rain went back to the shelf to pour herself some water. “Was I in any of these dreams?”

Etchka nodded, and took another sip. “Some of them. Do you…you ever feel like…like we’ve done this all before?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve had déjà vu a few times, but doesn’t everyone?”

“I dunno. But there were other things, too. Not just us, but a pup…Vakaal, I think. And…some kind…monster.”

“Like a beast?” Rain settled next to him, gently rubbing his back.

“Not exactly. More like…” Etchka stared into his cup. A long peel of insidious laughter echoed back to him from inside his vessel. “Like a demon, who should have been an angel.”

Rain sipped her water, silent. Her ears remained swiveled towards him, intent on every word.

“Even now it’s…fading. But I think there was…In the dream, I knew what it was, the word for it and everything. Some kind of beast.”

“This demon, you mean?”

“No, he’s…different. This is something else, something…” Recognition clicked in Etchka’s head, and he rolled the cup back and forth between his hands. “A dragon! Like the scaled beasts used by Those Who Came Before. I think he helped to stop the demon.”

“So…” Rain rubbed his back again, her head tilted. “That was…all something you’ve…done before? Or will do? Or…just a dream?”

Etchka laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t know! It was all jumbled. And then I saw…I think it was Vakaal.” Rain went still, and he leaned against her, nuzzling her. When she returned the gesture, he went on. “Half grown, but still a pup. Maybe ten years old. He held out his hand, like he was…waiting for me. And when I reached for it, I awoke. And now…now I feel like I’m dreaming. As if everything else was my reality, and in that reality, I’ve been asleep for a long time, and this is all just…my dream.” Etchka stared across the room at the last dose of Star’s Blessing. “As if I’m dreaming myself, and the more I realize it, the deeper the dream gets, as if to keep hold. As if I try to wake, and there are only ever more dreams.”

“That sounds terrifying.” Rain rested her muzzle against his shoulder, sighing. “I wish…there were more I could do to help you.”

“I think you’ve helped me more than you will ever know, Rain.” Etchka turned his head to give her muzzle a gentle kiss.

“I’m glad.” Rain returned his kiss, then sighed, leaning against him a while. “So…you think we’ve…done all this? Before?”

“Not this.” Etchka waved towards the Star’s Blessing jar with his water cup. “I think this…is the furthest we’ve ever gotten, together.”

“What…what do you mean?”

“I’m…I’m not really sure. But this part…it feels…new.” Etchka took a slow breath. “I think I lost you, and…it tore me apart, and…so the dream started over. And then another time, we…maybe it was Vakaal, maybe it was grief, but this time I…I don’t know. It’s as though…I keep searching for a dream where you’re both with me…That…that doesn’t realy…make any sense, though, does it?”

“Nothing about this makes sense lately, Etchka.” Rain stroked his fur, her voice soft, and drifting. “I don’t think it’s a dream, exactly, but…you’re different than us, I know that. It’s as if you alone have the power to see what the gods intended for us all, and you keep trying to change the story they set out to tell. And…maybe in that story…we’re not all meant to see the end of it. And you just…you have learn to let go.”

“I don’t want to let go, Rain. Not you, not him.”

“Maybe that’s the problem.”

“Or maybe I just had to learn to control the dream.”

Rain laughed, a bittersweet barking sound. “It’s as if you know all our people’s stories, but never learn the lessons they teach us.”

Etchka glanced at her, looked at her cup. He could almost see through it, could see that it was water. But like the air, like her emotions, all at once he could perceive it on a different plane, understood its composition. It was as if he truly was but dreaming, and now, for the first time, the dream was lucid, and all its ethereal existence was his to change.

“What are you drinking, Rain?”

“Water, like you.” Rain took a drink, then licked her muzzle. “We should get to the oasis, get bathed, get some food. See how things progress for your mind, today, before your last dose.”

“I don’t think I need the last dose.”

“We’ll talk about that tonight.” Rain stood up, ruffling his fur with her free hand. “And we’ll talk about…all of this. Just not in public.”

“You’re drinking juice, Rain.” Etchka stared at her, his voice flat.

Rain snorted, flattening her ears. “I’m drinking water, I told you. I poured yours and mine from the same jug.”

“Yes, you did.” Etchka pointed at her cup. “But yours is hand-fruit juice. Go on, drink it. Tell me if I’m wrong.”

Rain gave him a strange look, her eyes narrowed, ears splayed. She glanced into her cup, then sucked in a breath. She sniffed it, stared at Etchka, and then took the slowest, most cautious sip he’d ever seen. Rain sucked in a long, wheezing breath. She stumbled back and dropped the cup. Halfway to the floor, the cup froze in midair. A broken stream of spilling juice hung in the air, a reddish arch of fat, misshapen droplets.

“How…how did…”

Etchka laughed as he stood up. He turned his own cup upside down, and all the water that poured from it froze in the air just the same, a trail of water that never reached the ground. He let go of the cup and hung where he released it. “I told you I don’t need the last dose. I’m not mixing things up, anymore, I’m just…trying to understand them.”

Rain circled around her frozen mug and hovering droplets of juice. “Don’t…don’t you think the last dose will help you understand?” She poked a single large droplet, and the fine fur around her finger absorbed some of the liquid, shrinking the droplet. She yanked her arm back, and the blog of juice split into many smaller drops, trailing in her hand’s wake.

“I think the last dose would just…erase Etchka.”

Rain sniffed at the juice on her finger, then licked it. “I don’t want that, but…I’m not sure you’re…better, yet, either.”

Etchka glanced at the cups, and the floated around the room, scooping up all the particles of water and juice. Then they set themselves down on the shelf. “Without Etchka, there may be no dream.”

“It doesn’t matter what you call yourself.” Rain walked over to the shelf, staring into each cup, ears back.

“That’s…not really what I meant.”

Rain glanced back at him, sighing. “I know. But the more we talk about it, the more…The more I wonder if this…dream, as you call it…isn’t your idea of what you want to be, rather than what shouldbe.”

“Can’t they be the same?”

Rain walked over to him, and took his head between her hands, her fingers twined through the fur beneath his horns. She leaned down, and kissed his head, her voice soft, and tinged with trembling fear and heartbreak. Purples washed across her. “Not always, my love. Even your own stories used to tell us, we rarely get the lives we want, and sometimes, all we can do is make the best of each moment. You and I have made the best of many, many moments. And if I must-”

“You should get to know him, too.” The words slipped across Etchka’s tongue before he could stop them.

“What?” Rain pulled back a little, more blue-green confusion and uncertainty swirling around her.

Etchka heaved a deep sigh, shaking his head. “In all these…dreams, or…memories…premonitions, whatever they are. It’s only ever me, or you and I, or Vakaal and I. The three of us, we’re…almost never…and when I dosee us, it feels like…it’s only another dream, as if it’s just…”

“What you want to be. Not what was meant to be.” Rain’s knees wobbled, and Etchka helped ease her down to the sleeping mats. He wrapped his arms around her, letting her rest all her weight against him. “When…when you healed me…”

Daggers of ice slipped into Etchka’s ribs. “I…felt it. I shaped something…fundamental, to the world. I…altered it.”

“It was…it was meant to be him, wasn’t it?”

“It should be both of you!” Etchka hugged her tighter, pain growing in his heart, cold and sharp. “It…it wasn’t…meant to be either of you, I just…I didn’t you to die, but…there was a moment, where…I…it was as if…existence was watching, and I had to make a choice, but I didn’t…I didn’t know! I didn’t know life had to balance death, or…why can’t life balance itself? Why do I have this power if I cannot…cannot save all those I love?”

“I don’t know…I don’t know, Love…” Rain pressed her muzzle to his, sharing shaking breaths. “But…none of us were meant to live forever, and…if in another life, our son could live, I would gladly give my own-”

“What if I can fix this?”

“I don’t think-”

“If I take the last dose, I think…I’ll just…look at it all too coldly, and…Rain, I want…I want my heart to choose.”

“But the heart doesn’t always get what it wants, and we both know what your heart will decide.”

“You should know him.” Etchka stroked the fur back across her muzzle, his voice a broken whimper. “Please…let me try to fix this. Don’t you want to know him?”

Rain slowly nodded, a few tears leaving dark streaks down her cheeks. “Of course…”

“Then tell me. If you had a chance to know our so? If there was a chance that change this, all of this…so that he lived…would you want me to take that chance?”

Rain took a deep breath, and finally let it out in a long, drawn out sigh.

“Yes, Etchka. I would.”

*****

Etchka and Rain bathed in the oasis, ate breakfast with the tribe, and gathered their things for a trek into the desert. They brought knives and tools, extra food, and several full waterskins. They told the tribe they were heading out to the dunes, together, and would not return until that evening, at the earliest. All the while, Etchka felt his reality shifting around him, as if he could perceive not just existence, but that which it was composed of.

At the edge of the village, Etchka took Rain’s hand. He smiled at her, and she returned it, her smile somehow nervous, hopeful, and accepting all at once. They walked in silence together for a while, sands shifting under the pads of their feet. The sky was clear and blue, and a steady breeze rustled their fur and kept them from the sun’s heat too intense.

When the village had faded from sight, Etchka stopped, and turned to Rain. “Would you like to see what it’s like to fly?”

Rain blinked at him, her eyes widening. “What?”

“Not really flying, just…remember when I saved Ibba, and I bound over the crowd to get to her?”

“Yes?” Rain gulped. “You…you don’t mean…”

“I think I can go far, far higher. And I promise, you’ll be safe.”

Rain took a steadying breath, and let it back out in a nervous laugh. “I suppose there’s a chance none of this will matter soon, anyway.” She checked her knife straps and everything else to make sure it was secure. Then she pressed herself to Etchka, her arms around him. “Go ahead.”

Etchka gathered his shaping. It felt different, now. As though he was no longer using shaping, not the way the other urd’thin used it. He was simply rearranging the world, and the way it functioned. As if the more he came to understand what he was, the more even the laws of nature were his to alter. He kissed Rain’s head, wrapped an arm tight around her, and then sprang into the air.

They hurtled towards the sky like a stone from a sling, propelled upwards by impossible power. Below them, a wave of swirling sand shot out in all directions, a storm kicked up by the tremendous concussive force left in their wake. Rain shrieked so loud it hurt Etchka’s ears, but he only laughed as they rocketed upwards. Wind flattened back their fur, but Etchka used his shaping to shield them from the worst of it, so it would not sting their eyes, or steal their breath.

At the apex of his leap, time slowed long enough for them to enjoy the view. The desert spread in all directions beneath them. Oases were strewn across it like aquamarine jewels set into a vast golden tapestry. Some of them were fringed in green, stands of thick reed that looked like nothing more than moss from so high above. In the distance, smoke from cooking fires smudged the sky above their village. The scattered buildings around the water looked little larger than pebbles, and the many urd’thin were but insects weaving amongst them.

For a single moment, Rain stared down, marveling at everything. Wonder shone in her eyes, and drifted in beautiful silvery waves around her head. “It’s beautif-AAAAAAHHH!”

Then they were falling, and Rain was screaming again.

“It’s alright!” Etchka nuzzled her ears as Rain dug her claw tips into him.

Their descent slowed as they neared the desert, and when they landed, the impact was no more force than it would have been flopping into a pile of feather-stuffed cushions at the end of a long, tiring day. Sand billowed everywhere, and the ground rippled beneath them like water. When the rippling stopped, and the sand settled, they stood in the middle of a depression, with newly risen dunes scattered around them.

“There…” Etchka eased his arm back, smiling at Rain. “That wasn’t so bad was it?”

Rain stepped back from him, gazing around. She looked at herself, then stared at her feet as if baffled to find they were completely intact. She took a few deep breaths, unhooked a water skin, and took a long drink. Rain offered him some, pouring cool water into his muzzle. She closed it, buckled it back against her body, and then flung herself against Etchka.

“Do that again!”

This time Etchka leapt even higher, aiming to reach the sky itself. Rain screamed again, but this time it was a shriek of pure, delighted excitement. She watched the ground fall away beneath them, gazed at the vastness of their world when they reached the apex of their jump, and then squealed anew as they hurtled back towards the earth. She took a moment to catch her breath, and then burst into incredulous laughter, asking for more.

Again, and again, Etchka carried her back into the sky. Part of him wished he had given into his desire to understand the limits of his power earlier, if only to have more time to share things like this with Rain. But the rest of him knew it was the looming truth of that power that threatened to upend their lives, or tear them apart.

But for now, none of that mattered.

For the rest of the day, Etchka cherished simply being with Rain.

Etchka showed Rain things she could only dream of. He carried her so high that the air grew frigid, and their breath came out as white clouds. He built entire villages from her out of sand. Then told her to describe an image to him, and sculptured it from the sand, and the earth beneath it. Etchka shaped a rain cloud in the clear blue sky, and brought a deluge to cool them down in the heat of the day. When they had enough of the rain, he sent the cloud across the sands, and built it into a towering thunderhead. Lightning scorched the distance in blistering, blue-white strokes. Etchka pointed at the storm, traced a single finger through the air in loops and spirals. Lightning followed his guidance, and cut across the horizon in the same shapes.

When they were hungry, Etchka grew palm trees from the ground. They sat together in the shade to eat, and talk. They spoke of memories and old times, and their first times together. How Etchka worked so diligently to court her all those years ago, and how surprised she was to receive such thoughtful attentions from someone she used to find passed out in the sand, drunk and naked. Etchka laughed and laughed at the memory.

After they were finished eating, Etchka built a small oasis, and drew cool water from the ground to fill it. He lined it with reeds, and with trees to shade the water. He walked to the shoreline with Rain, and when they reached it, she turned to him to unbuckle his knife straps, and his other supplies for him. He did the same for her, easing them away from her body, and setting them in the sand.

Rain did not stop at his supplies. She tugged his vest off of him, and soon opened his breeches. Before Etchka could reciprocate further, Rain was kissing him. Together, they fell against the sands, and before long, had shed their clothes entirely. They made love on the oasis’ shore, their first time in ages. When they were spent, they lay together a while, stroking each other’s fur.

Once they had recovered, they swam in the cool waters, playing like pups. They splashed and dunked each other, raced from one side of the oasis to the other, and back again. They threw mud and moss at once another and simply savored being alive, and being together. Then they floated on their backs awhile, alongside each other and gazing at the deep blue sky.

“I missed this.” Rain held his hand, just beneath the surface. “Just…being happy with you.”

“So did I.” Etchka turned his head, watching her float next to him. He kept them both just upon the surface with his shaping. “I know things have been…I wish it could always be like this. And for everything that’s happened, I-”

“Don’t.”

“Hrmm?” Etchka flicked his ears against the water.

“Don’t say you’re sorry. For any of it. You only ever did what you thought was right, and for that, you never need apologize.” Rain sniffed, and blinked back a few tears. “I could ask for no better life, than to have spent it with the one I loved. And whatever comes next, there was nothing about my life with you I could ever regret.” She brushed a dripping hand across her damp belly fur. “If it was never meant to be, than it was never meant to be. But I’d have far sooner regretted never trying, and never knowing…than trying, and watching it come to this. For whatever awaits us, whatever tonight brings, this day, this moment with you…” Rain pulled him closer in the water as they brushed up against the shore. “This has been perfect.”

Etchka smiled and kissed her, his heart somehow warmed and crushed at the same time. When Rain worked her arms around him and her fingers through his fur, Etchka kissed her harder. Her dull clawtips dragged down his back, and Etchka eased her up the shore a little before settling against her. They mated again, slower than before, dragging out their pleasure until each was exhausted. Once spent, they lay curled together on the shoreline, watching the sunset in silence.

The lower the sun dipped, the more of the world caught its flame. The fire glowed orange-red, and the sand shone from horizon to horizon, as if all the world were burning away. Drifting clouds were edged first in pink, then in vibrant scarlet, as the distant world slowly drank the sun. Little bit little, night’s purple gloam stretched across the darkening sky.

Rain squeezed his hand. “I don’t…I don’t think I want to go back. Not without knowing…”

“If I try…I might not be able to undo it…”

“Will it work?” Rain snuggled closer, laying her head on his shoulder.

“I don’t know…I think so, but…” Etchka turned his head to watch her, trying to memorize her face, every strand of fur, every curve of her muzzle, the lines of her ears. “I don’t want to lose you…”

“I don’t think you will.” Rain kissed his nose, smiling. “But…if all these memories you have are real, then if the worst happens…you’ll see me again someday anyway, right?”

Etchka swallowed hard, a whimper rising in his voice. “I...I don’t know.”

Rain took a deep breath. “You and I have…shared a wonderful life, together, until this. But…our son deserves a chance to live his life, too. If…if there’s any way you can make that happen, I think you should.” She shivered, her voice breaking. Tears glimmered in her eyes, glinting in the last of the light. “You told me that during the funeral, you saw him…like a star. A star, shining atop the pyre. Fallen to earth, and never given his chance to shine.”

Etchka sniffled, nodding silently.

“Well…” Rain sniffed with him, but somehow found the strength to smile. She waved at the sky, where a few pinpoints of light flickered. “The stars are coming out. Don’t you think it’s…it’s time for him to join them? Don’t you think…it’s time for our son’s story?”

“Rain…if I do…”

“Let him shine, Etchka.” Rain lay her head against his, gazing up at the sky. Each moment revealed a new star gleaming above them. “It’s alright. It’s alright.” Rain reached for Etchka’s hand, and twined her fingers through his. “Let our star shine.”

Etchka nodded once. He squeezed Rain’s hand, and lifted his other towards the sky. Existence trembled, awaiting his decision. “Our son…”

Everything slowed.

“Is still…”

The world froze. A single breath lasted an eternity. Birds hovered, frozen in the sky. Distant cook smoke lingered in unmoving coils. Beyond the desert, the cosmos watched, and waited. Etchka let out his breath, slow and steady. The air wavered around it. His shaping was as a physical thing, stretching across the world, and into the stars beyond it. All at once, he could everything.He was part of the cosmos, and the cosmos part of him. And all of it, he was about to change.

“Alive.”

Time wound forward.

Rain took a breath, and squeezed his hand, waiting. “Did…did it…I don’t feel different.”

“Neither do I.”

“Do…do you think-”

The earth shook. Sand rattled against sand. Rain pressed herself against Etchka. Far above them, a jagged line crisscrossed the darkened sky. A tiny thing, at first, but it spread, and spread, a network of tiny cracks that nevertheless grew, and stretched. In the far distance, the horizon glowed red. Distant, indigo lightning crisscrossed it. In its wake, bits of sky fell, like shattered pottery painted with stars, edges molten and a glow. From the earth, sand and trees were hurled up into the sky, cast in the gaping holes.

Rain sucked in a breath, and Etchka hugged her tight.

“What’s…what’s happening?”

Etchka struggled for understanding. More and more azure bolts cut through the edge of existence, and behind them, the sky crumpled to the earth, and the earth flung itself to the sky. Yet more streaking cerulean light knifed through the world to the west, and again, to the east. Unearthly thunder rumbled behind them, a horrible, furious shriek, as if their world was in agony.

Understanding came. “It’s…undoing itself.”

Now, in all directions, the horizon churned. Bits and pieces of the desert flung themselves towards the sky, even as the sky itself crashed against the earth. Indigo lightning was everywhere, swirling amidst the chaos, leaving fire in its wake. And all of it turned, rotating in a singular direction. Everything that crumbled from the sky, and everything drawn up from the earth all tumbled and spun through the air, a great and unstoppable maelstrom of undoing, of ruin bent to singular purpose.

“Everything…everything that’s happened since he died, it’s…it’s all being undone. It’s…going to undo everything, so it can…put it back together, I think. But I…I didn’t want…” Etchka slowly sat up. Lightning crackled closer, and the desert nearer them split apart. Rocks and trees and sand hurled themselves towards the sky, only to be sucked up into the greater spiral, an unending whirl of lightning, rubble, sky, and fire. “I just wanted him to live! I didn’t want-”

“Ssshh…” Rain kissed his muzzle, and eased him back against the sand. “It’s alright, Etchka. This story, this dream…it has been wonderful, but…if this is what it takes? Then let it end. Let him live, Etchka. Let Vakaal live.”

Etchka managed only a nod before he broke into tears, sobbing against Rain. “I’m sorry…I didn’t-”

“I told you.” Rain kissed his head, hugging him. Her own tears wet his fur. “Don’t say you’re sorry. I could not have asked for a better life to have lived. If our story must end, so that he might live, then let it end. At least…my story ends with you.”

“Our story ends together, Rain.”

Rain shook her head, sniffling. “I…I don’t think it does, Etchka. Not yours. But this story? I’d have it end no other way.” She kissed him deeply, and then lay her head against him, watching the world come apart all around them. “I love you, Etchka.”

Etchka took her hand, and squeezed it. “I love you too, Rain.”

Together, they watched their world end.