News travels fast in Zalen-a small land in the magical, and dangerous, world of Arici. But its inhabitants refused to believe the rumor that the mercenary army which had terrorized them had disbanded, and that the lady who led that army had given up her life of darkness and was striving to lead a normal life. That is, they refused to believe it until the killing stopped.
Then they knew the truth: the deadly night angel who had ravaged the land for over a decade, was dead. In her place stood a lady of nineteen years, confused and lost, forced to deal with the aftermath of the destruction she had caused.
Though the people of Zalen were unwilling to welcome the reformed warrior, the death of her demonic counterpart was cause for a celebration, for that marked the end of a war which had torn Zalen apart for numerous years.
But the war-at least the one which raged within the young lady-was far from over...
She awakened in the middle of the night with sweat dripping from her forehead, her breathing coming in raggedly short, uneven intervals. Instinctively, she concentrated on clearing her mind of the undefined faces and drowning out unrecognizable voices which constantly plagued her, carefully steadying her breathing before focusing on anything else. But the idea of calming her nerves had already become a lost cause a couple of nights ago, nights when she had woken up the exact same way: sweating and unable to escape into the depths of sleep. She became continually frustrated when she found herself jolted awake in the middle of each night, shaking violently with her heart racing and an unbearably tight knot within her stomach.
The first night that she had experienced this irritable behavior, she had been left surprised to find herself lying awake in the middle of the night, her eyes no longer able to close and sleep peacefully. And it occurred night after night until it seemed that if she did not scream, she would surely go mad. It had confused her, since usually, when she slept, she was seldom disturbed by dreams. In fact, when she did sleep, she neither dreamed nor struggled against nightmares, but simply fell helplessly into a world of impenetrable darkness, leaving her savoring and longing for the emptiness this dark world offered. Because she needed the darkness. Depended on it constantly to dull the aching pain in her heart. It was only when she fell in its demon-like arms, sheltered from the light and the painful truth of reality, could she truly have a peaceful night�s rest.
But why should she, of all the people in this dark and mysterious land, ask for that particular peace? The irony of the thought brought the tips of her mouth curving in a faint smile. As she settled once more on the rough fur that kept her delicate skin divided from the earth, she pondered over the thought, knowing fully well that capturing sleep once again was an impossible dream. It had been a blessing enough that she was able to steady the pounding of her heart and empty her mind of the ear-shattering voices which threatened to take hold of her if she should lose control for even a mere second. It was an interesting notion though, for her to be asking for a night�s rest. As she thought of her discomfort, a small, faintly recognizable voice in her mind reminded her that because of the anger of an untamed spirit in the heart of a child, there were probably thousands of people unable to sleep this very night, still remembering the nightmare which had permanently marked their lives, their own pain refusing to be lessened by time. An anger which had been hers.
As she lay there, her eyes unfocused and her thoughts random and pointless, she knew that the cause for her restlessness was not simply because of an incapability to find comfort in sleep, but also because of the fact that she had no desire to close her eyes despite their drowsiness and their fierce urge to shut tight and rest. But she could not close them, not during these treacherous nights. Not ever.
The fear of shutting her eyelids tight was not due to the obvious fact of being attacked while she slept, although these dark woods were known to hold several outlaws and spawn deadly, demonic creatures. In fact, on the contrary, she welcomed death with open arms. But Fate could not be so kind, and despite her notorious reputation, she�d not had the strength to take her own life. Rather, her recently induced fear was caused by the undescribably vivid faces which haunted the very depths of her mind, becoming more realistic whenever she closed her eyes and faced the darkness. They were once the tortured faces of her victims-innocent strangers whose terrified eyes lingered painfully in her mind. These were the same different eyes which had faced her long ago, recognizing and acknowledging death before she struck them down mercilessly. And the eyes of these strangers, unexplainably filled with the conflicting emotions they faced before death, haunted her mind. Each time she allowed her eyelids to close and rest, she faced them. The narrowed eyes which accused, judged, and damned her.
And it only made matters worst knowing that many more strangers-innocent people she had no knowledge of and whose kin she would probably never have the chance to be acquainted with-had fallen under her command. Their terrified screams and pleading voices echoed in her ears. Try as she might to forget, she could still remember their cold and frightened eyes-which regarded her painfully each time before she spoke a command to have a weapon borne down on them. And she also remembered the families she had spied from a safe distance mourning over their lost. Cursing herself for having the urge to return to the fallen villages and watch her victims buried by their kin, she reminded herself that these voices and faces which haunted her were the cause of her own foolishness. Then, she could no longer argue over their disturbance.
When she had given up that life, she thought that she had escaped its grasp as each night she was greeted with darkness in her dreams. But for nearly three moons, those unforgettable eyes, those faint whispers and the tear-stained faces of her victims� families had persistently remained within her mind, reminding her of her guilt. They tore through her and filled her very thoughts, drowning out her own conscience until she could no longer bear it.
Could no longer stand the venom in the eyes of mere strangers as they surveyed her, feeling as though they could see through her, could read her thoughts and have the knowledge of the horrible crimes she had committed in her life. She could no longer bear waking in the night to the sound of unrecognizable voices begging for mercy, no longer whispered softly in her ear but part of her mind that she could not shut out their words nor control her own thoughts. She could no longer bear to live with the pain that tore through her heart, a pain caused by an old wound she had suffered as a child. A pain that time had never been able to numb, and a wound that time had never been able to heal.
Finally facing the one choice she had disregarded months ago, she now acknowledged it as the only way to regain her peace of mind. Standing, she reached for the dark cloak thrown carelessly on a nearby rock. After draping the soft fabric around her, she drew the hood over her head to conceal her identity. She would have no time to deal with any incident should someone happen to recognize her. And so, deciding to move quickly with as little delays as possible, she left her campsite as it was, neither taking the time to pack nor thinking it necessary to bring her supplies with her. If everything went according to her plan, she would have little need of them.
As she surveyed her shelter for the night, she noted with relief that the fire had died long ago, saving her the trouble of having to gather water and earth to put it out. So, in the gloomy darkness, she started walking away from the carefully hidden site and moving deeper into the heart of the dangerous forest, which was covered in intimidating shadows. She was already modifying and searching for any flaws in her plan as she swiftly made her way for Cecelia Rowana�s most beloved temple. As she changed and revised certain parts to fit her need, her hand reached back and drew a single arrow from the group she kept in a neat stack in the sling bag she carried across her back. This single arrow was among the few weapons she held constant at all times, and as she fingered the sharpness of its steel tip, her eyes darkened.
* * *
For such a powerful being, her beloved temple could have been a little more extravagant had she desired it, but Cecelia Rowana was not one who amused herself by boasting of her power. Nor did she find elaborating her private retreat worthy of her time. In fact, the concealed temple had a rather cozy feeling about it, and to Cecelia, having a comfortable temple to retreat to appealed more to her than having an impressive one. Unlike her kin, she was a goddess who enjoyed life�s simpler joys and wasn�t much for complicating things more than they already were in reality. There were times when her family frowned upon her love for simplicity, often confused by her choice to lead an almost human life when she could surround herself with beauty and luxury. But who were they to argue? The young Keeper of Time had made it clear enough to her kin that she�d prove no threat to their power if they left her well enough alone. And so they left her to the freedom that she loved and clung so fiercely to.
When the young mortal appeared at her temple, demanding the priestesses of the goddess to call upon their mistress so that she might have a word with Cecelia Rowana herself, the powerful being granted the familiar girl her wish, appearing before her in a plain black gown which flattered her slender figure. After the wary priestesses cast a cautious glance at their mistress, they left the room without further hesitation, allowing their immortal goddess to deal with her unexpected guest.
As Cecelia settled herself regally on a chair made of pure silver, she set herself to surveying the young lady whose own guarded eyes regarded Cecelia�s probing ones with a cold, impenetrable gaze. After a moment of tense silence, her obviously impatient guest spoke to voice her thoughts, choosing her words carefully and with great difficulty, revealing that through her short years she�d found little need to guard her tongue. But in the presence of a goddess, one must always watch their words.
�You remember me, my lady.� Her question sounded more like a well-known fact. But despite the emotionless voice and cold stare which she greeted Cecelia Rowana with, the goddess took no offense, nodding her regal head-her beautiful sea-blue eyes showing clearly that she recognized the young lady well. For how could a mother ever forget the stranger who had saved her own mortal daughter from certain death?
�Am I correct as to conclude that you have come to collect the debt owed you?� Cecelia asked with undoubted certainty. A nod from the mortal girl confirmed her suspicion. When the young lady hesitated to speak further, Cecelia offered her a comforting smile with the one purpose of easing the tension between them. When the lady�s stiffened body relaxed under the kind eyes of the goddess, Cecelia urged her to continue gently. �I gave you my word that, in repayment for saving the life of my mortal child, I would give you whatever your heart desires. Do not hesitate in asking me for your well-deserved reward.�
�You may think my request rather strange for one who could wish for the very throne of Arici,� the young lady said, her eyes wary and her mind racing to find the appropriate words. She turned painful, night eyes toward the goddess, finally losing her hold and speaking her heart instead of her mind. �I have no desire to hide my past from you, Cecelia Rowana, for I am certain that you, above all others, may perhaps have a better understanding of my life than anyone else. But I can not continue to live my life with the voices of my victims whispering in my ears and their faces always on my mind. I would ask you to erase my memory of them, but even you can not erase the pain of my past. Therefore, I have come to my final decision. Keeper of Time, if I can only request one thing from your favor, let it be the Time Amulet.�
Shock was clearly visible on the porcelain face of Cecelia Rowana as the immortal goddess digested the young lady�s request. The object the lady had requested was a particular amulet whose very existence was known only by a handful of gods. Even Katiera, mother of the gods, had little knowledge of the powerful artifact. Hardly questioning the mortal on how she had learned of the amulet, for knowing the lady�s past it was just something that she would likely know, Cecelia finally gathered her composure-the blue depths of her eyes pleading with the girl. �When I made the promise, my thinking was somewhere in the line of offering you wealth and power. Will you ask for nothing else?�
�You have offered and I have answered, my lady. I ask for nothing more, but nothing less.� The mortal girl�s decision remained adamant, for the goddess could see clearly in the darkness of her companion�s eyes that there would be no persuading the young lady to ask for another prize to claim. The Arician goddess pondered over the thought for a minute or two. To grant a mortal girl privilege to travel back in time was not only unheard of, but rather dangerous as to what her presence in the past could do to alter the present of the great land. A single mistake and the lady, barely more than a child, could place the entire future of Arici in jeopardy. A frown creased Cecelia�s smooth forehead, and she bit her lower lip to openly show her distress. But no matter what she said, the immortal knew she could not deny the girl�s request. She had given her word and must stand by it.
As she looked into the mortal's eyes, Cecelia no longer faced a guarded wall, but the pleading eyes of a desperate child who believed her one chance at retrieving the happiness she once felt rested in a simple amulet. Powerful though it may be, it was not the answer. But the girl�s mind was clouded with such high hopes that there would be no convincing her otherwise. Sighing, Cecelia held her palm upward, commanding the amulet to appear on her hand. It was a simple little thing: a small, circular object with the eternity symbol marked permanently on it, and a silver chain so that it may be worn as a necklace. So simple.
* * *
The assassination had been planned to perfection-all the details drawn, studied, and memorized to the point where there could be no chance of failure. And so she clutched the amulet tightly and closed her eyes, knowing that when she opens them again, she would be standing alone in an enchantingly beautiful, but dangerous, world. A world she had left long ago in her past.
As she stood in the forest, she surveyed her surrounding and noted that a sharp pain had traveled unnoticed toward her chest. This was part of her past-a part of her past that she had tried so hard to bury. It was the only reason why she was here, for it was during this time that her world had been destroyed by a single arrow. And that was the only part of her past that could change the future, for this was the place where her younger self had died and the blood-thirsty monster who had murdered so many innocent people had been born.
This would become the night of Sophia�s death.
Sophia had been a beautiful lady of sixteen years, never living to grow any older because of her mysterious assassin. Pain shot through the young lady�s heart as she remembered her sister�s smiling face, for Sophia was not one who lingered in the past, but lived for the moment, and looked to the future. Although she shared the same raven-hair with her sister that the two inherited from their mother, while the lady�s eyes were dark and mysterious, Sophia�s emerald depths had shone with unimaginable light and a burning fire that signified an untamed spirit. She was a gentle soul who clung to life with a passion that was absent from most human beings-a soul who did not deserve her unexpected, and unfair, fate.
And so the young lady prepared herself for her mission. There were only two options available, and failure was not among them. So much depended on her success-so many lives hung in the balance. And this was the only chance for her own happiness. If she could not stop Sophia�s assassin from dealing that deadly blow which had destroyed a child and spawned a monster, then she would have no other choice but to kill her younger self. If she was not allowed to live, then there would be no deaths upon her hand, and she could finally rest in the darkness of the Underworld, never again to be seen or heard from. Those were her only options, and she knew that when the time came, she would have to choose. If she somehow fail to prevent her sister�s death, then she must kill the child that she was, for only when she laid dead would the voices stop haunting her, and the faces stop casting her looks which bore dread and longing vengeance against the murderer who had taken their lives from them.
Without delay, the young lady was already scouting the grounds, hunting for the unknown murderer who had killed her sister one fateful night long ago and had gotten away with the act. She swore that when she found the killer, there would be no mercy for him in her hands.
After scouting for over an hour, she realized that the sun had already settled itself securely behind the majestic mountains in the distance. There was little time left to be spent, for Cecelia had warned her that in three hours� time, the amulet would return her to her proper time and there would be no second chance to return to the past again.
Although time was of the essence, the young lady froze in mid-step, catching her breath. Walking into the clearing were two figures: a noble woman and a child of less than nine years. Although the forest was intimidating-with shadows of unrecognizable objects thrown carelessly around while the darkness swallowed up the last fading rays of sunlight-the elder woman moved with a certainty that indicated experience at traveling within treacherous lands. Feeling quite sure that her charge would come to no harm in the clearing, Sophia settled the girl on the firm rock and bid her stay there while she herself scouted the terrain.
A tight knot bound itself fiercely in the lady�s stomach, for this was her last chance at ending the deaths of so many people and silencing the tormenting voices in her head. The scouting had been a failure, and she had not found the assassin yet. But she could no longer wait for him to show, for her time was limited, and if she did not strike now, there would be no chance of ever having the same opportunity again.
And so, with a shaky breath she placed the arrow firmly in its place with amazing speed and accuracy before drawing the bowstring. As she aimed for her target, the pain in her heart cut deeper and sharper as she watched her younger self smiling in self-contentment as she sat on the boulder. I�m sorry little one, she whispered, but I can not allow you to live.
So intent was she on killing the child that she did not realize her sister had spotted the gleam of the arrow�s tip and had recognized with the same speed which she herself possessed the exact target of the weapon. As the lady set free the arrow, aiming for the heart of the child so as to end her life painlessly, she caught her breath as Sophia threw herself over the child to protect her.
�Ileia,� Sophia had screamed-screamed the name of the child whom she had loved so dearly and had raised after their mother had died. Yet she did not know the truth that it was the same child who would cause her death in the future.
Ileia stared at the dead figure of her sister on the ground, blood flowing out, uncontainable. The wound she had caused was fatal. Darkness took complete hold of her. This was the truth she had never known, the truth that had blocked itself from her memory because it was too painful to remember.
She had killed her own sister.
As she numbly walked toward the child, their eyes fell upon each other and locked gazes for a moment. The child�s shocked and empty eyes faced the dark, cold eyes of her future. She would not remember this moment-would not remember the face of her sister�s assassin. And as she faced her younger self, Ileia let lose the tears that she had refused to shed all those years.
She cried as the amulet drew her back to her proper time-made the familiar forest fainter until she could only see darkness. And in this darkness, she cried. Cried endlessly.
