Winds of Fate [Books I-III]

Chapter 120: Samson

"Why did they die?!" Eleanore gasped, arms on her abuela's knee with her chin perched on her palm.

Abuela María solemnly shook her head and closed the Bible. For a woman with mystical ties, she was still a devout Christian. "People who desert their duty are always stricken, mija. Make no mistake about that."

"Ooooh..." Eleanore gawked, wincing at the noon sun alighting their tiny casa afire. They had been reading different stories all day, since Mama was away -- once again -- and all their songs had been sung. The first story was about the runaway prophet who was eaten by a whale, granted, he did not die; still, he suffered many days inside the animal. Then, there was the prophet who had long hair... and as long as he did not cut his hair, he would be strong. Such a simple vow...

But he let a woman cut it.

"It's stupid?" Eleanore scowled, only four years old. "Abuela, why did he do it? Why did he listen to her?! He knew he would die!"

"Ah, you'd be surprised, nena." Abuela laughed, touching her little chin. "People do the stupidest things in the name of love---"

"She didn't love him!" She protested, thoroughly invested in the story. Abuela only smiled, the kind of smile that Eleanore knows... hides great wisdom. "She was a spy..." the little girl deflates. "She never loved him."

"Ay, but he did love her. Pitiful as it is... now, he abandoned his most sacred vow and paid for it."

"His fault?"

"Qui?"

"His fault, Abuela?" Eleanore played with the edges of the paper. "But we can't choose who we love... can we?"

Abuela thought about it. And her answer would never leave Eleanore, not even years after that afternoon. "Nena... it wasn't love."

Her tiny mind cannot comprehend it. "But you just said!"

"Love that is not returned can never be love. Love that doesn't lead to goodness can never be love, Elena." Abuela brushed her hair with tenderness, looking straight into her eyes. "He wanted her adoration. She wanted his strength."

"Oh..." Little Eleanore gasped. "Woah."

"They wanted so cruelly." Abuela Maria shook her head. "And that want, weighed more than duty for him. But our duty---"

"Our?!"

"Sí! This gift." Abuela winked and lifted her hand. "Bound by blood. Walk away from this duty, and you will be stricken --- powerless."

Eleanore looked at her own hand. She was too obedient, seeking to please her harried mother and loving grandmother both. There would absolutely be no problem if she were given the choice between love and duty. After all, why choose one mortal, over the good of all?

No, not love.

Want.

~*~

First, Mama. 

Now, Abuela. Eleanore mourns as she turns on her side and rubs her knuckles over her eyes. A dull ache spreads over her chest, and sleep still lingers at the pit of her skull. The ghosts of my mothers never left. 

It wasn't love, Elena.

Her lips tremble. They wanted, wanted so cruelly. Eleanore opens her hand, letting her palm graze the sand and lamenting she never asked Abuela what is wrong with wanting strength when you have none. Who else would fit you, but the one you love? Your strength when there is only weakness. Your purpose when the world has lost all reason to fight for another day...