Cast Your Soul to the Sea
© HonorH
Note II: I must give credit to Keith R.A. DeCandido and Marina Frants at this point for their wonderful Methos Chronicles. They speculated that Xena would meet her death in Thespin’s Cave while imprisoning Ares, and that’s where this idea comes from. Oops—did I just spoil something?
Well, at least we’re making good time. The coast roads can be slow going, but it’s better than an overland route that would take us straight into Roman territory. We don’t need the Legions making this trip any harder. We’ve got enough in store for us already without adding trouble.
Damn Ares! Why couldn’t he go gracefully?
Stupid question, especially coming from me. Gabrielle would no doubt give me one of her patented patient looks if I were to speak that thought aloud.
Gabrielle. I knew it was pointless to try and keep her from coming along, but I had to try. The second those creatures attacked the Amazon village, I knew something was different this time. Something’s going to happen, and it will more than likely mean my death. I don’t want Gabrielle here.
No, I do. I hate myself for wanting her here, but I do. We’ve been a unit for the past ten years or more—I stopped counting awhile back. We’ve grown so together I can’t imagine being without her. Can’t imagine facing Ares without her.
How stoic she seems, riding beside me into battle. She finally let her hair grow out again after keeping it short for the longest time. The short hair, I thought, made her look older. More like a warrior. That wasn’t true. Even with her hair long, she carries the same look. How you’ve grown, Gabrielle. For a time, I regretted the change in her, but then I realized she’d have grown up anyway. She took control of that growing, though, when she left her home in the middle of the night to follow me. It was her choice then, as it is her choice to come with me now.
But how I want to keep her safe!
~~~~~
At last, something different after nearly a month of sameness. An old Temple of Athena stands ahead of us. I see a storm coming across the ocean and shout to Gabrielle over the winds to head up there. By the time we reach the temple, we’re both soaked to the skin. Inside, the temple is quiet and warm. Gabrielle and I eat a simple dinner and bed down.
We’re not talking much. Perhaps it’s just the strange, heavy weight of this mission that’s upon us both. I don’t feel any distance from her, though, as I have sometimes when silence comes between us. In fact, I feel closer to her now than ever. Before falling asleep myself, I lay one arm protectively across her sleeping form.
Sometime in the night, I awaken. There’s light in the room, like candlelight. Turning over, I get the shock of my life. Someone’s here, and I never heard her come in.
She’s tall, this woman, and dressed in a white robe like a priestess. She’s holding a candle in one hand. Before I can wake Gabrielle, she holds one finger to her lips. For some reason, I obey her wish to stay quiet. She turns and walks toward one doorway, beckoning me to follow.
There’s something about her. I don’t trust her, but I’m curious enough to follow. As we enter the adjoining chamber, she turns to me, setting the candle down.
She’s beautiful. Her hair is auburn, her skin golden, and her eyes a green to challenge Gabrielle’s. She’s very nearly my own height, too. I note the sword slung by her side.
"Who are you?" I ask.
"I am called many things," she says. I can’t tell where her accent is from. "Xanthra, once, long ago and far away. I am Cassia to the Romans, and to the Greeks, Cassandra. Thou mayest call me as you wish."
"The prophetess Kassandra?" I ask. I’ve heard of her—the prophetess cursed to always speak the truth and never be believed.
The woman smiles. "Nay, not she of whom thou thinkest. But indeed I am a prophetess, and my name is Cassandra, in this lifetime at least."
Something about the way she says it sounds familiar. "You’re Immortal, then."
She looks surprised. "Thou knowest my kind?"
"A few." I don’t see any reason to mention the names of the few I know.
She drops the preliminaries and raises her hands, palm out, and starts declaiming like a bard:
"Xena, daughter of Cyrene, I bring thee a message from one I have served. Pallas Athene has interest in thy mission. The goddess will speak using this Oracle."
I don’t want to hear anything from that gold-plated bitch, but Cassandra gives me no time. She turns and walks around the brazier behind her. Then she lowers her head. A moment later, the brazier leaps into flame. When Cassandra raises her head again, her green eyes have turned gray.
"Xena," she says, and it’s Athena whose voice I hear. She drops the archaic speech. I appreciate that. "I know you have no great love for me, but know that I wish only to aid you in your mission to stop my brother."
I’m not buying it for a second. "Sure you are. The mother of the one who brought about the Twilight. Or did you decide all that’s just water under the bridge?"
Athena doesn’t look discouraged in the least. "I know you won’t believe me, Xena . . ."
"Why should I?" I snap. Or maybe snarl. "Last time I saw you, you were trying to kill my daughter!"
She isn’t giving up easy. "And tell me, Xena, if you heard that your race was about to die, what would you do to save it? To save your family? To save your loved ones? Or Greece?" She pauses for only a moment. "If you heard that the death of only one would prevent the deaths of all you loved, would you kill that one? Even if that one was . . . a child?"
Okay, that hurt.
Athena lets that sink in. "The Olympians were a family, Xena. I believed in who we were and what we did. We nursed humanity through millennia, and even if we did get drunk on our power, we were still your parents." She looks away. "But all things come to an end. The Pantheon has fallen, and the gods have faded from this worlds-realm. I fought it as long as I could, but it’s happened nonetheless." She looks back up. "But Ares remains. I don’t want to see his vision of the future any more than you, Xena. If you will let me, I’ll aid you."
She’s persuasive. I’ll give her that. And it was no secret that there was no love lost between her and Ares. I decide to bite. "What are you thinking?"
The flames in the brazier seem to flow outward, leaving a glowing structure in their wake. "This is Thespin’s Cave," Athena explains. "It holds the Eye of Hephaestus. You can use it to imprison Ares."
"That’s in Macedonia," I say. Like she doesn’t know it. "That’s a long way from where Ares is right now."
"He’s paying attention to you, Xena," she reminds me. "He’ll be interested in what you do . . . where you go. You can get to Macedonia much more quickly than he can move his armies there. On the other hand, he is likely to come himself. If you can lure him into the cave, strike the Eye of Hephaestus with your chakram. The cave will be sealed with him in it, and he will not be able to escape for millennia."
It sounds right. Everything she’s said makes sense. Best of all, it’s all stuff I can do myself. But one thing bothers me.
"You don’t want to foist him off on future generations?" Athena must have read my mind. She smiles. "That’s where I come in, Xena. I can bring you back to fight him as often as is necessary. Years, centuries, millennia—whenever Ares threatens to break free, I can bring you back to stop him . . . but it will require a great sacrifice on your part."
"The greater good must come before me," I tell her. "I’m willing to return as often as I must."
She nods and says, "Give me your chakram."
I take the chakram from my belt and give it to her. The flames leap up again in the brazier and surround it. I watch as my weapon seems to melt and run like water, and a peculiar wrench takes place within me.
Athena reaches and takes the chakram from the flames. It’s changed—it looks now like it did before I united the Light and Dark Chakrani. There’s more than that, though . . .
"Xena, this is your soul," Athena proclaims. "When it is broken, you will rest. When the two halves are joined and held by your descendent, you will return to this realm to fight Ares." With that, she hands it back to me. She looks tired. "My Oracle is strong, Xena, but even an Immortal cannot hold my presence for long. She will instruct you further. I must bid you farewell." Her eyes seem to fade. "As long as your line remains, I will have a foothold in the mortal world. I thank you, Xena . . . and I salute you."
Her head drops, and the flames go out. The candle is the only light left in the chamber.
Cassandra raises her head, and her eyes are green again. "There is much I must tell thee, Xena. Other things must needs be told to thy companion, the beloved Gabrielle, but this must be kept from her: I see thy death, Xena, daughter of Cyrene."
It’s no great shock to me. I always knew I’d die fighting Ares. Cassandra’s words confirm it. "I’m willing."
Cassandra nods. "I know thou art."
I have to ask, "What about Gabrielle?"
A look of sadness touches Cassandra’s face. She takes up her candle and looks through the doorway to where Gabrielle lies asleep. "The beloved Gabrielle must live, Xena. She must have children of her own, for her line is destined to grow beside thine. But I fear thy death will be a harder burden than her gentle soul can bear."
"Can you help her?" I’m begging, but I don’t care.
"I cannot," she says. "I am too far away, and mine own soul is far too wounded." Her eyes, when she looks at me, are haunted. "Dost thou know of one who would help her, Xena? She will be wounded. She will need not only a healer, but one willing to care for the wounds of her soul."
I don’t have to think for long. There’s someone who both loves Gabrielle and happens to be the finest healer I know. "Shall I send word to him?"
"Nay. It will not be necessary," she says. "Thou and Gabrielle have seen both sides of death. Thou shalt be able to lend her strength, to guide her on her journey. Thy soul is too tightly bound to hers to do otherwise."
I walk softly over to where Gabrielle is sleeping. I know that nearly losing her drove me out of my mind. She’s so strong, but what pain she’ll be in! I want to grab her and hold her and not ever let her go . . .
"Xena, thou must release her," says Cassandra’s voice.
"She’s my soul," I whisper.
"Release her, Xena," Cassandra repeats. "If she is to live, she must not know of that which I have revealed unto you this night."
I remember all too vividly Gabrielle’s solution to the Fates’ prediction I’d die killing Hope. No, she mustn’t know about this.
"Thou hast chosen thy path, Xena," says Cassandra. "Gabrielle must choose hers. There must needs come a time when she will release thine own dear memory. When that happens, thou must release her. Love can do no less." She waits for a moment. "Rouse her now, Xena. Morning comes nigh, and there is much I would discourse unto both of you."
So I wake her. And surprise, she and Cassandra seem to know each other already. Cassandra shows us a map and points out the quickest route to Thespin’s Cave. I don’t like it.
"That’s Roman territory," I tell her. "I’m too well known to the Romans; I’d have to fight every inch of the way."
"Thou art in error, warrior," Cassandra says. "Thou and Gabrielle shall be disguised, and one comes soon who shall make thy disguise even more convincing."
"Who?" I’m getting sick of her archaic speech and predictions.
"Thou shalt see anon," she says primly.
Oracles!
We wait a bit, and I finally hear the sound of a horse on the coast road. Cassandra steps outside. I go with her.
Great. It’s a Roman. He spots Cassandra and turns his horse. When he’s within speaking distance, he dismounts and draws his sword.
"Marcus Ilius Constantine," he announces.
"Cassia," she says.
I remember where I’ve seen this little dance before. Constantine’s not just a Roman; he’s an Immortal.
He walks toward us a little. I think he must recognize Cassandra. He’s tall and handsome, but looks older than Methos physically. No telling what age he actually is.
"Cassia," he says. "I didn’t expect to see you again."
"Yet here am I, friend. There is a task for thee, one of them I have foreseen in times past." She sounds so serene as she says this. Does she have any idea, I wonder, how much people like me and this Roman soldier hate having our futures predicted?
Constantine looks about as happy as I would’ve predicted. "You foresaw an end to my warrior days, Cassia. That day has come. I will fight no longer."
"Thou art not called to war, friend Constantine," Cassandra says gravely, "but to peace. Thou mayhaps will prevent a war by thy actions this day."
Constantine’s eyes find me. He doesn’t look any happier to see me than he should. "Why, then, is this woman here? I know you, Xena. I know your hatred of Rome. What are you doing here if you’re not trying to undermine Rome in some way?"
"The presence of the Warrior Princess is a necessity, friend Constantine," Cassandra answers before I can say anything. "She is sworn to a mission which will, in time, bring peace to this unhappy place."
Well, he’s not happy. Don’t blame him. We follow Cassandra back inside. It’s there that what she has in mind comes out: Constantine is to accompany Gabrielle and me to Macedonia.
"Thou needest a man to make thy presence unremarkable, Warrior Princess," says Cassandra in that irritating dialect of hers. "Constantine would make many a woman a fine husband; thou wilt seem privileged to have wedded him." For some reason, that seems to amuse her.
I’m not amused. This grates. What grates even more is that she’s right. Two women traveling alone isn’t something you see often, and when you’re as well known as Gabrielle and I are, it wouldn’t take much for the Romans to figure out what was going on. We settle it that Constantine will pose as my husband. Since he’s a nobleman and I’m supposedly his wife, Gabrielle’s going to play my lady’s maid. Cassandra produces some fine clothing—apparently, she’s been waiting for us to come here for over a year, and she’s had this stuff in reserve.
New names come with our new clothing. Constantine will keep his name; he’s well-respected and has been gone long enough that no one will bat an eyelash at him having taken a wife. My new name will be Xanthia, and Gabrielle will be Genessa. I take some time going over the map with Constantine. I’ve gotta admit—if I’ve got to travel with a Roman, it could be a lot worse. Constantine’s got a brain on him.
We spend one more night in the temple. In the morning, I wake up to the sound of singing. I follow it outside. Cassandra’s standing there looking out over the water and singing. Her song is sad, infinitely so. She finishes her song and looks at me.
"How old are you, Cassandra?" I ask her. I’m not sure why.
"Over one thousand years old, I think," she says. "I don’t know exact numbers."
I blink. "What happened to your dialect?"
She smiles and looks so young. "I am no longer acting as an Oracle, Xena. Formality gets to wearing on even me after awhile."
It’s nice to know she’s human. Gives me hope she’ll actually answer my next question. "Cassandra—you said you’d seen my death. What did you see?"
She looks away again. "I serve a prophecy that’s larger than any of us. I came here directed by that prophecy, and soon I will leave to aid the prophecy in another place. Sometimes, I am allowed to see what will happen as the prophecy is fulfilled. I knew when I came here that you and Gabrielle would be involved, as well as a third person. I knew I needed to bring the clothing with me. When I saw you here, I felt the shadow of your death on you, and only you, Xena. And as I spoke to you, I realized who the third person would be. I’m sorry, but I cannot be more specific."
Disappointing. I hoped to have some warning of what lies ahead. "Are you going to stay here?" I ask her.
"No." She keeps looking out at the ocean. "I have other places the prophecy needs me to be. I will go north."
Irritating dialect and all, I find I’m sorry to see her go. She helps us get our bags packed. Gabrielle and I get into our disguises, and a little while later, Gabrielle, Constantine, and I are headed out.
When I look back, the Oracle is standing by the temple, her sword held high.
~~~~~
I’ve gotta admit—we’re making great time. No one questions General Constantine. General. I’m glad Cassandra didn’t mention that little piece of his pedigree to me before I got used to him, or I’d have taken his head myself. Constantine’s a quiet one. Gabrielle thinks he’s sad. She’s probably right.
The trip is much smoother, traveling like this. I’m the wife of a general. A few glares from me and a little posturing by him and people practically beg to lick our boots. Legionnaires salute, brigands make themselves scarce—I haven’t had to bash even a half-dozen heads in the past month.
Gods, I’m bored!
I’ve taken to amusing myself by playing passive-aggressive games with jerks in taverns. There were two who were making a harried-looking wench’s life miserable last night. As I walked past them, they both managed to find the floor with their noses. Another drunken loudmouth had ale spilled all over his lap, and some of it found his head, too.
I’m still bored. Trying to pick fights with Constantine is no fun. If I insult Rome, he’s more likely than not to point out that Greece had the same problem I’m criticizing Rome for, and in such a reasonable way that I’d sound like a harpy if I tried to push it. He and Gabrielle have made a rudimentary board game of some sort that they play at night while I’m sharpening my sword and practicing rude looks. I’d almost swear she likes him.
Gabrielle keeps giving me that amused look that says she knows exactly how stir-crazy I am. Worse yet, she’s gotten Constantine in on the act. They’re laying bets on how I’ll react to the next tavern jerk we meet. I’ve started calling her Genny just ‘cause I know she hates it.
If she starts calling me Xanny, she’s had it.
~~~~~
It’s the nights that get to me. When we’re stopped at an inn, Constantine takes the "lady’s maid’s" room while Gabrielle and I share the larger one. Gabrielle always drops off immediately. I can lay awake for hours. I know my death is coming. Logically, it doesn’t matter how much of the time I’ve got left I spend sleeping, but something in me wants to hold on. So I lay awake, watching Gabrielle sleep and thinking about all the people I’ll never see again.
My family: Toris, my mother, Lycea. Friends: Joxer, Hercules, Iolaus, Autolycus, Salmoneous, Methos. My Amazon sisters.
It’s thinking of them that really hurts. I don’t mind dying. I’m ready. But never to see my sweet Lycea again, not to watch her grow up . . . . I see her in my mind’s eye. Blue eyes, like mine, and the type of fair hair that will darken as she grows older. She’s already tall for her age. My beautiful, beautiful girl. How I wanted to see what you’d grow to be. But I’ve got to leave you in order to make the world safe for you.
Gabrielle’s caught me crying a time or two. She just holds me close. If Constantine notices my red eyes some mornings, he’s wise enough not to say anything.
~~~~~
The day finally comes when Constantine parts ways with us. He’s continuing north, to Gaul, I think. To my surprise, I’m sorry to see him go. He’s been good company. So I tell him he’s not all that bad, for a Roman. He actually smiles—the first I’ve seen from him—and tells me I’m almost tolerable, for a Greek. Then he leaves.
As we turn to continue on our way, Gabrielle starts talking. "Methos once told me there comes a time in every Immortal’s life when he or she realizes mortal values can’t be held anymore," she says. "They see the uselessness of patriotic wars, of holding onto what can’t last. It’s a time of disillusionment. Some Immortals turn that disillusionment outward and become evil. Others turn it inward and sink into melancholy." She looks thoughtful. "I think that’s where Constantine is right now. He’s still holding onto his Roman identity, but he’s realizing it can’t last forever, and it hurts. That’s why he’s sad. That’s why he’s stopped fighting."
I nod. I think I understand what Constantine’s feeling. Greece won’t last forever. I’ve watched it disintegrate for the past ten years. Much as I wish I could drive the Romans back to wherever they came from, I know I can’t. All I can do is fight for a better world for my descendants.
And that’s exactly what I’m gonna do.
~~~~~
Not much going on in this region. Gabrielle and I ran across some brigands yesterday, and that was fun, but I’m still tense, waiting. So many times I’ve wanted to tell Gabrielle goodbye and tell her how much she means to me, and then tell her to leave. Go back to the Amazons, take care of Lycea, and look for some man worthy of fathering her babies. But she wouldn’t go. I know that.
We’re in this together. Try as I might, I can’t feel bad about that.
We travel on, moving deeper into Macedonia. Finally, we start seeing the markers Cassandra told us about. Thespin’s Cave is near. More than that, I feel Ares watching. He wants to know why we’ve chosen to come here, of all places. I know the confrontation is coming, and soon.
Gabrielle and I are resting now. She’s asleep, her head on my shoulder and her arm looped protectively across my waist. I know she fears for me.
My mind wanders back to the temple and Cassandra. She spoke of a prophecy that she serves. I wonder if she’s spent her whole life—one thousand years—following it. How much longer will she live and die and live again for it? I wonder how many times I’m going to die and live to keep the world safe from Ares. Maybe one or two millennia from now, I’ll meet Cassandra and we can compare notes.
I need to sleep. On this, the last night of my life, I need to sleep and prepare for tomorrow.
The last night of my life.
~~~~~
Thespin’s Cave doesn’t look too interesting from the outside. Basically, it’s a big hole in the ground as far as I can see. My neck is prickling. We’re being watched. Gabrielle fashions a torch and we head inside. Doesn’t look too impressive from the inside, either.
"He’s here," I say.
"I know," Gabrielle says in response.
There are designs etched on the walls. Cassandra said we could follow them to the center, where the Eye of Hephaestus waits to trap Ares.
"Why are you here?" asks a voice. It’s a very familiar voice.
Ares has decided to show himself at last. He looks even stronger than he did the last time we saw him.
"Sightseeing," I tell him. It drives him nuts when I say things like that.
The God of War looks around. "I’m gonna make you an offer, Xena," he says. "I’ve got an army in the south. You’ve got your family and your Amazons. What say you take them north? Your whole lifetime could pass before I conquer the Northern Steppes. Why not live in peace?"
I shake my head. "Doesn’t work that way, Ares. I won’t deny others peace just to keep myself safe."
His face darkens. He’s at his most dangerous now. "You’re a fool, Xena. You think these Romans are a threat? They’re nothing! Sure, they’re conquerors now, but when they’re satisfied, peace will set in. Your precious peace, Xena. They’ll get drunk and fat and weak. Before you know it, the Goths will come knocking, and the Romans won’t be able to keep them out because they’re at peace. War is strength, Xena. You knew that once."
I’m all geared up to rip into him, but Gabrielle’s voice gets there before I do.
"War is death, Ares," she says. "War is pestilence. War is famine. War is children without parents, mothers wild with grief because their babies have been torn from their arms. War is wanton cruelty. It is every kind of ugliness that infests this world." She holds her arms up, palms out, and her voice is like thunder. "Hear me, Ares, God of War! You have one of two destinies ahead of you: to become the most reviled and cursed name in all time and space, or to become as nothing, to be lost and forgotten. Either way, you will be alone, unloved, and without the worship you have so craved. Your destiny awaits you, Ares, and it is as you have made it: a curse."
Gabrielle’s curse echoes through the empty caves, and I know that we have won before the battle has even started. The ground seems to shake with Ares’ impotent rage, for he knows as well as we that Gabrielle has spoken only the truth.
"So be it." The words, so softly spoken by him, can be heard the world round. Then his sword is in his hands.
No, there are two swords. Gabrielle and I are both his targets, and it is all we can do to defend. The towering rage of the god seems to sweep over both of us, like a hot, stinking wind. He thrusts me away.
A flare of brightness. I hear Gabrielle’s cry of pain. She is against the wall, and flames are shooting from Ares’ hands at her. Her screams madden me, and I thrust wildly into his body.
It doesn’t kill him, of course, but it makes him turn away from Gabrielle. I pull my sword free and face him. Our swords clash again and again.
Gabrielle is there with me again. Her sais are drawn and she fights him with a fury I have never seen, save for when she slaughtered eight men to protect my dying body. She succeeds in wresting one of his swords away.
One of his feet lashes out. He kicks me into the wall, and something breaks. A stabbing pain cuts through my body. I can’t stop now, though. We have to reach the Eye.
Through my pain, I see Gabrielle thrown through the air to land in a crumpled heap against the cave wall. There is only Ares in my field of vision now; all else matters not a bit. I attack him as though possessed by the Furies themselves. We rage through the corridors, too tight quarters for him to use his powers.
Somehow, my sword and his are both lost. The battle continues, hand to hand. The lancing pain in my side is unbearable, but I cannot stop. He strikes me again and again, but I will not yield. I know my injuries are critical. It doesn’t matter anymore. With my last breath, I’ll fight him. Beyond my last breath, I’ll fight him.
The cave suddenly opens up. There is some kind of empty room here. It is to his advantage, I know. His open palm strikes me in the chest, and I am flying through the air . . .
I don’t know where I am any longer. I cannot stand, I can hardly see, and I can barely breathe. Somehow, I force my head up.
He’s standing there now, looking at me, many emotions working their way across his face.
"You poor fool," he says. I almost think he’s sorry to do this. "Why couldn’t you have learned, Xena? You have never overcome me. You will never overcome me. Your life has been wasted, Xena. You should have been by my side all along."
He’s wrong. The proof that my life hasn’t been wasted is behind him. The Eye of Hephaestus glows in the darkness, lighting my path.
My chakram is in my hand now. I don’t remember drawing it. There are spots in front of my eyes, but they don’t matter. My soul will go into this one last throw. I coil every last reserve of strength, draw upon every source I have, and let the chakram fly.
Ares sees it coming and avoids the throw itself, but it doesn’t matter. My aim was not at him, and it is true. The chakram strikes the Eye.
For a moment, all is silence. I realize the chakram has broken. The two halves clatter to the floor. Then the Eye’s glow begins to brighten, filling the room with a harsh radiance and a rumbling roar. The glow surrounds Ares.
His eyes find mine, and they are wide, realizing what I have done.
"NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!" he screams.
It is too late. The Eye draws him into a coffin, and the lid slides shut. The shaking continues. I hear a scraping sound. There is a door behind me, and it is descending to shut me in. I’ll be buried here with Ares.
But then someone is with me, her arms around me. We’re moving toward a light of some kind. It is Gabrielle, pulling me away from Ares one last time, drawing me to freedom, as she always has. Gabrielle, my soul . . .
She’s screaming at me now. The tunnels around us are shaking from the power I released. Her strength buoys us as the light grows stronger and stronger . . .
Something explodes behind us, and we’re hurled forward. All turns to blackness.
All is quiet now. I can see the sunlight, feel open air on my face. The pain is gone. I think I’m floating. There’s a voice, someone saying something.
"See what thou hast wrought, Mother of Peace." It’s Cassandra’s voice, speaking as the Oracle.
A great plain seems to open up beneath me. I see a land at peace. A land benefitting from an end to War.
"Pax Romana," whispers Cassandra. "Cast thy soul to the sea, Mother of Peace, for truly thy life has found its completion." And then she is gone.
And now it is Gabrielle whose voice I hear, Gabrielle whose arms surround me. My life is complete.
I hear the sea.