Honor Them

Sees-with-fresh-eyes dances paths where stars tread listening to the emptiness and rejoicing. There is peace again. The stars are returning to their ancient holds, fewer than before, but victorious. 

Through the void, sees-with-fresh-eyes soars, passing the many globes of heaven, singing of this new beginning. It is a song of sorrow and joy, praising the valor of those who fought and remembering those who fell. On many of the worlds it passes, inhabitants emerge from their hiding places, faces turning toward the sky, listening to their song. 

Light returns to the universe. Slowly, at first, as the closest celestial kingdoms are re-ignited by their lords and ladies. Then, like a consuming fire, the stars cast their light once more upon the globes within their orbit. The universe wakes from its terrible slumber. 

On the crest of this new dawn, a lonesome cry finds its way to sees-with-fresh-eyes. No light is found on this desiccated orb, no master returns from the battlefield. Drawn by the wailing, sees-with-fresh-eyes surveys the darkness and marvels. 

A thriving civilization whose towers rose almost to the emptiness once lived there, but in the Darkening, its people were cast down and destroyed. When their star died, the people followed. All but one. One lonesome child, weeping amidst the rubble. One survives. 

Sees-with-fresh-eyes descends, its song transforming into a dirge. The child, a girl, looks up, aware that something has changed. Her weeping ceases as she is transfixed by the song. Gently, sees-with-fresh-eyes alights.

“Child,” they say. “What is your name?”

“Erutani,” replies the girl.

Sees-with-fresh-eyes smiles, hoping its strange features do not frighten her. "Weep not, little one. You are alone no longer.”

Erutani looks up, eyes wide with curiosity. “Will you take me away from here?”

“Yes, child.” Sees-with-fresh-eyes spreads their many arms around the child. “I will be your mother now,” he says. Then, with a flicker, swords and shields appear in its hands. “And I will be your protector,” she says.

Erutani gasps at the display. Then, she draws closer. “Why?”

Sees-with-fresh-eyes keens. “It is the way of my people. Though they are far from here and I am alone, I must honor them.”

“Will I honor my people?”

Sees-with-fresh-eyes puts away the swords and gathers the girl in his arms. “In time, little one. But first, we must depart. This place grows cold.”

Erutani shivers as though feeling it for the first time. Sees-with-fresh-eyes nestles her within himself, extending his body into a shell around her. Then, without a sound, they soar into the heavens, leaving Erutani’s planet behind. 

They travel far together, for that is their nature: to wander many paths, seeking new wonders to behold. There is much to see now that the war is over. Wherever sees-with-fresh-eyes goes, Erutani follows, wrapped safely in his embrace. And wherever they go, sees-with-fresh-eyes teaches Erutani the mysteries of the universe. 

They visit the Versian Rift and stare into the broken vestiges of a star’s kingdom. Greenish-purple gasses crowd around the open wound, and sees-with-fresh-eyes holds Erutani out to see the emptiness. The child returns with a thoughtful look upon her face. 

“Mother, what caused this?”

“The enemy besieged the star’s fortress and tore it asunder.”

The child frowns. “Everyone died?”

“No, many survived. They escaped on the wings of destruction while the star and her soldiers fought. Some of them still live.”

“Why are you showing me this?”

He wraps his arms around her tight. “So you know that you are not alone. Grief, sorrow, death are all a part of this existence. They may cause us pain, but we can survive and continue on.”

Erutani leans against his warm sides and considers. Finally, she asks, “Did you know the star?”

Sees-with-fresh-eyes sings a new song. The gasses tremble and congeal, forming a portrait across the darkness. A woman dark as the deepest night with tresses made of a thousand curls appears and looks on them, smiling. Erutani lets out a gasp and looks to her mother. Their ancient eyes study the form, one arm reaching out, but they are only vapors and there is nothing to hold. 

He embraces Erutani even closer and whispers, “She was strong and wise and beautiful. I wish you had been able to know her; as I wish I had been able to know your people.” It let out another low keen. 

Erutani strokes their face. “Do not cry, mother. I am here.”

Sees-with-fresh-eyes looks at the child. “Sometimes, it is well to weep.”

The child looks away, the memories of her own loss threatening to release the font of tears stored within. Sensing this, her mother lifts her up and sets her on their back. 

“Grief does not last forever,” they say, soaring away from the Rift. 

They continue on, visiting worlds of ice, of diamonds, of music. Erutani grows and learns of the many peoples of the universe, of the stories they tell, of the lives they live. She meets warlords, prophets, dream dancers, and fae. Once, they stay in the lavish demesne of the North Star, watching tournaments play out over ethereal grounds. In all that time, sees-with-fresh-eyes teaches her the song of the universe. 

While traversing the Paressial Expanse, a stellar storm rises, buffeting them with intense heat and fierce gusts. Sees-with-fresh-eyes takes refuge in the belt of the hunter, a massive collection of asteroids and planetary chunks where they find a cave in which to rest, watching as the storm passes. 

Erutani leaves her mother’s warm embrace and settles on a rock near the mouth of the cave. She has grown, doubling in size, but her skin is still soft. She has been uncomfortable of late as a great heat radiates from her flesh. Small patches of it have started to harden, forming a chitinous-layer over her skin. 

Sees-with-fresh-eyes watches her, silent. She is maturing. The physician with the sad eyes told them it was normal, but he left much unsaid before sauntering off.

“You are watching me, mother,” Erutani says. 

They blink, casting their eyes back to the storm. “You have grown so much.”

The girl smiles. “I am still your daughter.”

“Yes, always.”

They sit in silence, eyes on the coruscating display in the void beyond. Waiting for it to pass. They do not hear the scratching sounds over the howl of the storm. Not until the sounds are close. Sees-with-fresh-eyes feels them at its back and turns. 

A hundred eyes stare out from deeper in the cave. One voice, or many, say, “What do we have here?”

Erutani looks and her eyes narrow. There is an oily quality about the voice. Voices? 

“A delectably, soft-skinned girl.” They emerge from the darkness, long-limbed and lanky, seven in total.

“What are you?” Erutani asks. 

“Hungry,” they rumble. 

Sees-with-fresh-eyes becomes like a wall between her daughter and the creatures. She says, “They are Tro-va-mes-ta-ku-la-no. Scavengers. No need to fear, child.”

Erutani straightens. “I am not afraid.”

The seven siblings edge forward, sharp talons growing from their fingers. They eye the wall of flesh and the collection of weapons that appear in the many-limbed protector’s hands.

“We just want a taste,” they whine. 

Sees-with-fresh-eyes brandishes her weapons. “Begone.”

“Now that won't do,” they answer. “We're famished.” And they attack, talons flashing. 

Their cuts meet shields of stone and blades of bone strike back at them. Tro-va-mes-ta-ku-la-no is driven back, but they circle and attack again like a rushing river. Her arms spread out, slashing and blocking. 

“Let me fight, mother,” Erutani says. “I can help.”

“No, dear one. The time is not yet. You must learn endurance. The universe will test you in unnumbered ways.” She hisses as one of the talons rakes across her flesh. 

Erutani leans forward, eager to help. 

Bone blades sing, and one of the siblings tumbles to the ground, riven in two. The remaining six howl and renew their assault. Two more fall beneath her swords. 

Tro-va-ta-lan retreats, whimpering. “You wound us!”

“Depart before I finish you,” she commands. 

As one, the four siblings charge, screeching. Sees-with-fresh-eyes cuts down two more before taking a talon across her expanse, splitting her flesh. The cave fills with a howling. 

Va-ta chortles in triumph as she reels from the blow. The final two siblings split and attack, meaning to sever her many limbs one by one. 

Erutani screeches and leaps through the air, past her mother, onto one of the siblings. With the strength of a god, she tears Va apart, casting pieces about. 

Ta takes one look at the child and flees, leaving her sibling to perish. She only makes it three paces before a bone blade pierces her heart. Sees-with-fresh-eyes lowers the corpse to the cave floor and turns to her daughter. Swords and shields vanish as arms enfolded Erutani, pulling her away from the carnage. 

“Are you hurt?” He asks. 

Erutani shakes her head, sending gore flying. “Mother, you are bleeding.”

He lifts her out of the way and looks down. The wound already begins to close. “I will heal. You were reckless, daughter. You could have been injured.”

“Was I to stand by and watch you suffer?”

“Sometimes we must learn to bide our time. I am not so easy to kill.”

Erutani looks at the bodies. “Why did they attack us?”

“There is evil in this universe, daughter. We must learn to endure it, or it will overcome us.”

“And fight it.”

“When necessary.”

“How do you know if it is necessary?”

“Follow the call of your heart, daughter. It speaks true.”

They turn away from the bloody scene and return to watching the storm pass. It lasts another rotation, but there is nothing more to fear in that place, so they sleep. Once the storm passes, they continue their journey, passing planets made of fire, castles forged by a star's hand, vast open spaces where they soar unhindered. 

The further they travel, the stronger Erutani becomes. Her soft skin continues to harden until she is covered in a thick shell. She continues to grow to the point where sees-with-fresh-eyes can barely carry her any longer. With the hardened shell, Erutani no longer needs to be cocooned by her surrogate mother and protector. Side by side they soar through the vast emptiness, sees-with-fresh-eyes holding tightly to her arm and helping her fly.

Even so, they traverse the long path back to Erutani's birthplace. She grows wild and the wanderlust fades. Sees-with-fresh-eyes knows that the child who is no longer a child needs to return once more to her home, but it fears that she will only find sorrow and emptiness there. And yet, return they must. 

It is darker than before and cold, the last of the ambient heat from the dead star's fortress is gone. The globe is covered in ice that crunches under their feet when they land. Sees-with-fresh-eyes lets Erutani stand apart. It understands the need for her to face her people's demise. She is no longer a child. Still, he wishes he could fold her in his arms and comfort her. 

Erutani, now wholly encased in her chitinous shell, surveys the world of her people. The stories of their lives and deaths survive in her memory. She knows what comes next. The way of her people, she must honor it, and yet, she hesitates. 

Sees-with-fresh-eyes watches from afar, waiting for their daughter to return. It recognizes the sorrow in her posture. The sorrow of a being looking upon the end of her civilization. That pain is all too familiar. In all their travels, they never met another of its species, and though Erutani did not ask why, it suspects she knew the answer. 

Erutani turns away from the shambles of her people's kingdom and returns. “Mother, why could I not be your true-born daughter? Why must I be this?” She extends her arms, exposing her hardened shell.

They blink, seeing her not as a daughter, but as it once had, a frightened, lonely child of a dead world. Tears well in their eyes as they float toward her. 

His arms enfold her. “You are not alone, my child. I am always with you.”

They stand like that for uncounted time. As has been in the past, Erutani feels completely safe in his arms. That feeling summons tears to her eyes. Sees-with-fresh-eyes does not ask why she cries. He only holds her tightly. 

At last, Erutani pulls away and wipes the wetness from her eyes. “Tell me about your people,” she says. “They must be wonderful.”

They look up at the heavens and sing. Erutani recognizes some of the refrains; they were present in the song she first heard on the day her mother descended. Erutani listens with new ears, and she catches bits of the story. When the song concludes, sees-with-fresh-eyes looks at their daughter. 

“Were you a warrior?” Erutani asks. 

She says, “I was. I fought in the great war, beside gods and stars. It was glorious.”

“Did your people fight as well?”

“Some, yes. Most were gone before the war began.” It emits a soft whine. “The enemy struck the first blow.” 

“Why did you rescue me?”

Sees-with-fresh-eyes turns its gaze upon the child. “It is the way of my people.”

Erutani holds her mother’s eyes. “Must we always follow the way of our people?”

“The universe will pull you in many directions. Who you are is shaped by where you come from and by what you experience.” They consider for a moment. “Who you are is also what you want to be.”

“I can hear my people whispering to me. I am the last.”

“Yes, you should honor them.”

Erutani looks at her mother. “Will you hold me once more?”

“Of course.” His many arms circle around her, pulling her close. 

Erutani stares out over the desolation that was her home. Her people are gone, no more. It is her duty to carry on their tradition. She closes her eyes and feels the warmth of her mother, cradling her. Grief is not forever. Honor your people. 

The child takes hold of her mother and opens her mouth. Her jaw snaps and cracks as it elongates. Sees-with-fresh-eyes grows very still, suddenly uncertain. It tries to pull away, but the child's grip is firm, unrelenting. 

Erutani devours her mother. 

It is the way of her people.

Her way. 

Sees-with-fresh-eyes keen as it dies. Beyond the fear and betrayal is pride. The child has grown, has learned, and has become herself. 

Erutani stands alone on the frigid orb, tears pouring from her eyes. She feels her mother's presence, warming her heart. She is now the last of two peoples, memories of a thousand years flooding into her mind. The stories, the wisdom, all live on within her. 

The child, a child no more, ascends to the heavens, following the secret ways her mother knew. She is no longer a child of a dead world. She is reborn. 

Lives-to-honor-them dances away on those heavenly paths.

End