WritingTheDance

The Dance

Around her, the weathered stones gathered blue light from the moon and cast it on the grass beneath her knees. She was a wraith in white silk, seemingly caught in the moonlight for only a moment, something from another world. Her head was bowed, her silver hair cascading down to hide her from any who would peer in from the darkness just beyond her sanctuary. Her slender hands were clasped in front of her as she sent her thoughts away, beyond this place that was her home and out into the world that was her responsibility. Never before had there been a Guardian so young. Never before had such a weight been placed on shoulders which had endured the weather for less than a score of years. The world, however, had not thought of this when the last Guardian had died. It had not paused to think that perhaps this new apprentice was not ready for the reigns of leadership when The Darkness had prevailed against her mother and she, barely a woman, still a child, had been left alone in this circle of stones to listen, listen, listen, for the cries of the Little Ones. Listen, listen, listen, for signs The Darkness was moving again. She sat, so still as to be almost stone, and tapped into the wellspring of power her mother had left for her. Listen, listen, listen. Listen in fear that one day the cry she listened so hard for would actually be heard. Then she would have to rise up and face the same threat her mother had faced. Face it and be proven too weak, too young, too afraid. Face it and fall forever into the darkness beyond the world, never again to see the Little Ones or hear the music wafting gently up the hills toward her circle of stones. She lifted her head, drawn out of the thoughts, the same thoughts that circled endlessly in her mind. Music was indeed wafting up the hills towards her lonely perch, and a soft smile touched her gentle lips as she fell into the music, into the joy of the Little Ones down below her in their villages. They would be around the lake, she knew. A sacred place she did not dare to go, the place her mother had danced and danced and fallen to the force of The Darkness. The memories crowded around her there, the scenes and scents from yesterdays she could no longer revisit. She could not stand the pain that blossomed in her heart at any thought of the days passed. And so she sat, so still, and listened, listened, listened. Let the duty wash away the thought. Let the duty wash away the pain. Let the duty wash away the girl, and leave the Guardian. Only the Guardian.

Another night. Another moment which will soon be a memory like so many others. A memory of star-kissed skies and blue moons shedding their gentle light on the girl, on the Guardian, sitting so still as to be stone. Then�oh, then. The cry like a knife in her mind, the screams of fear and pain and desperation and her name on the wind. Her name shouted in her mind from miles away. �Guardian, Guardian, Guardian, save us! Save us!� The fear intensifying and burning out the self, burning out the girl. Hesitation, their fear and her fear mingling together in a macabre dance, dance to the music of malignant laughter in the darkness beyond, dance inside herself, duty and girl and duty and girl, and duty that knows it must fight and so she rises and then she is running, running through the grasses which kiss her feet with a cool dampness, the darkness all around and The Darkness all around like a suffocating wave but still she runs. Her lungs bursting with fire and pain and desperate, desperate need she runs, the glimmer of the waters in front of her and the cries of the Little Ones all around her and then she is there, at the lake, and what a sight to greet her. Little Ones, their soft fur stained and dark, their large eyes catching the moon and radiating their fear, their mouths all crying, crying her name crying their need and crying, crying, crying.
She passes them, not pausing to heal their wounds, not now, not now, not now. Now that the darkness is closer and closer and she jumps from the shore on to a lily pad, and for a moment the fear overwhelms her and her mother�s screams fill her to mingle with the sounds that suffuse her and then she is back, she is Guardian, she is duty, and she dances. She leaps and spins and twirls from lily pad to lily pad, drawing the magic and the power from the land, from the sky, from the heart of hearts of every soul, and she dances and she weaves the power around her, and the laughter of The Darkness echoes around her, and it is all she can see and all she can hear and she ignores it and she dances, dances, dances. Dances to save the world the way her mother danced to save the world, danced and saved it and could not save herself. Yet still the Guardian dances, dances, dances, but nothing happens and nothing is better and she does not have the strength, it is locked away inside her, the key long lost in pain, in grief, in loss. A face, out of the darkness, right in front of her, a mother�s face stained in blood and twisted in pain, and the girl pushes past the Guardian and to the front, reaching for this mirage of suffering. The girl misses a step as she reaches for the past and falls, falls, falls into the darkness and the freezing cold of the lake and the Little Ones cry out amidst the laughter of The Darkness.
The water dulls and numbs and freezes and tries to rush inside and The Darkness pulls her downwards and The Guardian fight, fight, fights for control and pushes away the girl, the girl who only hurts and cannot help and has a hole where her heart should be. The Guardian has no heart. The Guardian has only duty. Duty, duty, duty. Duty to the Little Ones and to herself and to her mo�no, not to that. Never to that. The Guardian pushes away the girl, pushes her deep inside, and The Darkness laughs as the heart and the power get pushed further and further away from Its enemy. An image, silvery and fleeting, appears in front of the Guardian. A mother, from long ago, from before pain and before suffering. The world is getting darker now. The cold is moving further away, to some other part the Guardian no longer sees. She tries to push away this mirage, this fragment of the shattered past, while the girl calls to it from where she is locked away inside. A flutter in her broken heart cries out for this mother, this mother from the ages past. The Darkness tries to swallow it, to lose it, but it comes closer, drawn by this hidden call. The image smiles. A memory, from when the girl was small. She remembers�she remembers even while the Guardian tries to focus on survival, on the present, tries to push away the past but the past is here and cannot be lost and the image speaks to her, to the girl and the Guardian and the heart and the duty, in a voice that is love and comfort and strength and silken silver song.
�Some day, my love, you will be a Guardian. You will stand in this circle of stones and look out over the Little Ones as they live.� Yes, there, a circle of stones, appearing out of The Darkness, though it tries to swallow it. The fire is burning now, burning her soul, and it hurts, and the image speaks and the Guardian is drawn to it and the girl is drawn to it and The Darkness and the pain aren�t so important as this voice fills her up. �There is something you must always remember, when I�m not here to remind you. Something you can�t ever forget.� She kneels, now, this image, this lovely lady from a forgotten dream. �You will always be my daughter. You will always be her, even while you are a Guardian. That is where your strength lays, my love. In your heart, and your soul, and the fire I see always burning in your eyes.� She leans down, this image, this mirage, to kiss her daughter�s forehead. She doesn�t feel it, doesn�t feel the kiss, doesn�t feel at all. The cold of the water is inside her now and The Darkness steals away the mother, the mother from the past, the long gone mother, but she is whole, now. The girl and the Guardian and the love and the duty are whole, because she loves the Little Ones who are her duty, she loved her mother with everything she was and she will not let her death be in vain!
She is struggling, she is fighting, she is winning, while The Darkness is trying, trying, trying to hold her back. But she is stronger, she is whole, she breaks the surface of the water and she breathes. A cry of hope, of love, of warmth goes out from the Little Ones, the Little Ones who had been so afraid that she was lost, and she climbs out of The Darkness, out of the water, to restart her dance. She is Guardian and she is girl and she laughs as she dances, and The Darkness cries out in pain as her light, her light locked away for so long without a key, bursts forth from her and bathes the lake and the shore with an illumination it had thought lost forever. She dances, dances, dances, and the Little Ones dance and The Darkness cries again and retreats as she dances from lily pad to lily pad and the power blazes through her. The Little Ones are safe, she is safe, and the Guardian and the girl are inside her, finally at peace. She is still young and her heart still aches for what she has lost, but look, look, look how the moon shines on the water! Look how the Little Ones exult in the dance and the freedom and the world! Look at all there is to see outside of her circle, her sanctuary, and the girl thirsts for the knowledge of the world and she knows she must see it, must see it all, all her Little Ones and all her music. For now, though, for now�dance, dance, dance.