"Who did this to me?" I demanded.
I had been mocked for my ears my entire life. I had always thought that my big ears were beautiful, could remember my dad playfully tugging on them, guiding my head back and forth until I shoved his hands away, giggling with glee.
Those big, beautiful points had just felt so right when I had seen them. I knew that I was supposed to have those. Reaching up and finding myself mutilated was... a shock, to say the least.
I was met with a resounding silence.
"You... Were supposed to remember that in the pools." Torrent finally broke the silence. "I'm sorry, we-"
"Is this why so many people were wearing hats?" I asked.
"We didn't think you'd notice." Sam piped in.
"I'm so, so sorry." Madeline gushed, her voice cracking. "Your chakras are supposed to be unblocked, we weren't supposed to have to tell you, we're not really sure-"
"My chakras?" I interrupted. "This is about my ears, not-"
"Please, calm down." Beth interrupted, holding her hand out. I looked up into her brown eyes, always so caring. I stopped, and sat back in my seat. I crossed my arms across my chest, glancing towards the ground.
"You're going to have to start explaining something." I said, my voice flat. "Or I am climbing out of this vehicle and getting lost in the forest. I am not above a dramatic exit."
It was an empty threat. I wouldn't survive thirty minutes alone in the woods.
"... Well, you just saw the Deerman." She said. "You're a smart girl. You've got to know-"
"You let me be in a room with that....Thing?" I demanded, feeling a sharp pain in my chest. These were my friends, my... my parents, supposedly. They were supposed to keep me safe.
"You weren't in any real danger." Beth said. "We had an exit strategy, and we executed it. I promise-"
Torrent's hand was suddenly on my shoulder. She turned to Beth and put up her hand, signaling for her to stop. "I think it's time. I know we don't want it to be, but this fits the prophecy."
Beth went quiet and her jaw tensed, but she nodded. She sat back in her seat, looking tense. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, but her eyes never left me.
Torrent turned back to me. "There's a book in your treehouse. None of us know where it is, but you're going to find it if the time is right. You're angry, but you're thinking with your head right now, and not with your heart. You need to breathe."
An image of winding wooden steps and thick bark was at the forefront of my mind, blocking out what I could actually see. There was this odd, iridescent purple color surrounding the memory, just like the starshine-water in the caves. I noticed the wood grain, felt the ground getting further away as I gripped the sanded banister, rising into the air. Then, the memory shifted. I got a view of the full thing, further away. It looked like something out of a fantasy film; moss growing along a shaggy wooden roof, spires rising up out of a tree that looked like it had to be centuries old. It was perfect.
I blinked, and my vision returned to normal.
"I think I just... Saw it?" I said, briefly side-tracked.
"That happens to you sometimes." Torrent said. "...Do you think it was a memory, or a premonition?"
"I'm not sure." I said. "I was climbing the steps."
"It could have been either." Bethany argued, finally turning away. Her brows were set, and her mouth pressed into a thin line.
"And if you guys aren't going to tell me anything," I said, my head finally returning to the conversation at hand, "I guess I'll never know for sure."
"Nobody is trying to hide anything from you." Sam piped up. They pushed their blonde hair back, tucking it squarely behind their ear. "I promise. We just don't want you to have to go through this."
I knew better than to ask.
I glanced back towards Bethany, and her eyes were wet. She shut them, and a thin line of water clung to her lids. I immediately felt remorse rise up in my throat, but couldn't seem to let it out.
"Okay." I said, sitting back. I turned towards the window, and shut my eyes.
~~~
The drive to get to the treehouse was longer than the walk to get to the meeting point, and longer than I think it would have taken to get back to the room I had woken up in, even if we were walking.
A couple of times, Deacon opened the window leading back to all of us. "You guys doing okay?" He'd ask, as the sound of the horse's hooves hitting the dirt amplified.
"We're managing." Torrent would respond. Bethany was eerily quiet the rest of the journey.
Behind him, I could see fields of cattle and goats and sheep. A couple of horses, once. Crops.
The last time he turned back, he caught onto the somber tone.
"We're going all the way this time, aren't we?" He asked, his voice suddenly reserved.
"We think so." Torrent responded. She didn't sound too happy, either.
Still, the riding was rhythmic. The tension slowly dissipated, and the sounds and rhythm of the trip lulled everyone into a trancelike calm. I had to keep reminding myself to breathe slowly, telling myself that questions would have answers eventually.
The wagon came to a stop. I perked up as I heard Deacon's boots hitting the ground, and soon, he pulled open the door. The sun had sunk low in the sky and the gray of twilight was muting the colors of the field behind him. In the distance, I could see the orange of the force-field fluctuating, now a more muted yellow color. The crickets sang.
"It looks like we're here." Deacon said.
I stepped out of the carriage and onto the dirt road.
I turned around to see the largest cluster of thick, interwoven trees I had ever seen. They looked ancient. The trunks of some of them were thicker than my living room. Some had cozy doors at the bottom, hollowed out with a soft amber light illuminating the shade.
Others had ladders leading straight up, and I could see houses-- treehouses large enough for families-- built around and cradled by the branches. Rope swinging bridges connected several. To the left, there was mine.
The sanded wood of the steps looked just like I had seen in my mind.
I snapped out of my awe and walked towards it with determination.
"...Nobody thinks we should stop her, right?" I heard Deacon ask. I didn't hear any response, too busy focusing on the task at hand.
I had a book to find.
I marched up the steps, reaching out to grab firmly at the handrail as I walked up. The wind blew strands of hair in my face, but I didn't need to see to know the way. When I reached the top, the circular door was unlocked. I turned the handle, and it swung open.
There was a light to my right, sitting on a little table. The light was floating in a little lantern, disconnected from any power source. I could just see the beginning of a staircase carved directly into the tree.
There was a coat rack and a small kitchenette to my right, connected to one of the rope bridges. I felt an eerie recognition, even though I hadn't seen this far in the half-memories I had.
I grabbed the lantern, and headed for the stairs.
Under normal circumstances, the view walking up would have astounded me. There was a small window halfway up, but other than that, the inside of the tree had been untouched. I could see little patterns in the wood grain, and knew that I would be coming back here to take a closer look once everything was settled.
At the top of the staircase, there was a bedroom. There was a doorway to the left leading into a room built on top of the lower branches, but I ignored it. I knew I was already where I needed to be.
On top of the bed, neatly placed at the foot of it, was a wide leather journal. The pages were old and yellowed, and I took my natural place on the bed before reaching over to grab it. I looked at my left hand, currently in possession of the lantern, before glancing further up. There was a small hook above the bed, and I set the book back down before moving to my knees. I half-crawled towards the hook, placing the lantern there. The bottom was made of glass as well, leaving me plenty of light to read by.
I settled into my usual reading position as I grabbed the book. I crossed my legs, slouched my back, and opened the cover.
The first page was a title page.
So You're the Vessel of an Ancient Goddess
By: You, Dumbass.
I sat there in silence, feeling like a dumbass.
Doubt didn't begin to cover it. But I'd be lying if I said that hope hadn't thrown her hat into the ring as well.
I carefully turned the next page.
If you're reading this, it means that your memories weren't fully restored this time. You're home, but you're still missing most of it. I'm sorry you had to find out this way, it's usually a little bit easier for us. I say 'us', but it's a little bit more complicated than that.
Would it be cheesy of me to say, 'let's start at the beginning'?
There was a large illustration of a mouse enjoying a slice of swiss cheese.
At the beginning of the loop of events we think of as "time", there were two opposing forces. First, creation. Happiness, love, birth, beginning, sunrises, two-months backpacking across Europe to "find yourself" kind of creation.
Then came destruction. Chaos, sadness, isolation, loneliness, destruction. The fire that must start in order to give birth to a phoenix.
Creation means nothing without destruction. I would like to make that clear before I continue.
The Deerman and I used to be allies. We trusted one another.
But then, I made my second half.
His name was Euclides. He was everything that I needed in a partner. There was no sense in creating alone. There would have been no reason to make the color purple without someone else to tell me that it was their favorite. And he made things, too. Very good things, might I add. The feeling of rain against bare skin, the C-chord, cats. (I liked that one so much he made bigger ones just to see me smile).
Underneath that, a picture of a chariot being dragged across a lush field by a group of different wildcats. It was not professional-grade, but the drawing was clearly done with love.
The Deerman insisted that I make him a soulmate. I tried to tell him that I, creation, would not be able to make a soulmate for a creature of Destruction. I told him to try and make one for himself. He demanded me instead.
When I refused his hand, a part of him fractured off. The deerman, a half-mortal, half-immortal being of resentment and longing. Instead of trying to fix it, he let it run loose. Unleashed it upon the mortal people that Euclides and I had begun to fill our world with.
We wanted to share with more than ourselves.
The Deerman brought destruction and chaos upon the innocent. Destruction, not for the sake of rebirth, but rather for the sake of suffering.
A picture of a tall building lit aflame, crumbling from underneath was illustrated on the left hand of this page.
But I cannot destroy. I can only create. I am a celestial being, and my power only encompasses beginning. Endings are not within my power.
So, Euclides came up with a solution.
We would each design immortal souls in the image of one another. Those immortal souls would be sent to this planet to learn, grow, reincarnate into mortal bodies, and lead. To help us understand the mortal experience, so we could start forming other souls from the ether. And with your souls so alike to our own, the magic that they would yield would make their mortal bodies capable of withstanding our celestial possession.
Bodies that we could use.
They would make us, for all intents and purposes, effectively mortal.
When I enter you, I experience everything you have experienced.
A drawing of two people, a man and a woman, holding hands was etched into the bottom. The woman looked astoundingly like me. My hair, my skin, her body was built like mine.
And the man?
He looked exactly like the most attractive boy I had ever laid eyes on; Clyde.
Clyde was a senior at my school. He was graduating this year. We had barely even gotten the chance to talk; he was in different classes, and attended different clubs than I did. But the few times I had gotten to share a conversation with him, I had felt butterflies swirl in my stomach.
I came close to shutting the book then. I was breathing heavily; things felt like they were starting to come together. My head hurt, my stomach churning with anxiety.
But I prevailed, turning the next page.
Unfortunately by the time the vessels were ready, the Deerman already had a fair bunch of mortals that he had made under his rule. He had dominated the humans with magic, forcing them to hurt one another in order to survive, placing their children in slavery, and swallowing much of the land in darkness.
In order to create the little slice of utopia that we have today, some requirements had to be met. We created rules to a game that existed only for his sadistic pleasure.
You became the most important bargaining chip.
It felt like my skin was crawling. Off to the side of the page, there was a pair of pointed ears drawn, attached to nothing. I resisted the urge to reach up and feel my own scarring.
My throat felt thick as I turned the next page.
He hates me most of all. And as the closest thing to me, he hates you next.
Now, I know this sounds as though I may not care about you. Let me make it clear that I have been with you through every step of your life. Everything that you have experienced, I experience, as well.
Have you ever heard of string theory?
If two particles are connected by one of Einstein's "strings", no matter how far apart they are in the universe, what you do to one will affect the other.
Our wavelengths, our histories, our magic, is indistinguishable from one another. You may not always have my memories (eons of memories is too much for any mortal brain to handle), but nevertheless, you have much of me within you. Therefore, our "wires" get crossed. Even when I'm not actively sharing your body, I feel the things that you feel. I see things that you see.
When you hurt, I hurt. When you triumph, I triumph.
If you fall, I fall with you.
Remember that.
There was a large sketch of wings between the words, the details of the feathers slipping and sliding around the letters, woven together like a tapestry.
In order to release the people he had captive, I had to agree to suffer. I could not do that in the paradise we were creating. Suffering cannot happen without true destruction, and the magic wall we had been building would prevent him from accessing us.
So, our mind-- (your mind) had to go somewhere different, in order to play his game.
I am very sorry you had to find out this way.
I stared at the page in shock. I was putting two and two together, and my head was spinning. My mother, and the neglect. The other kids bullying me relentlessly in school. The hopelessness of living in a society that just didn't seem to care.
All of that suffering came flooding back to me. The pain of Madelynn's parent's divorce. The pain of Torrent leaving in the first place. Losing people, leaving people, self-hatred, starvation, war, decay...
All of it. Fake.
Tears filled my eyes. I couldn't see straight. I couldn't breathe right. Everything I had suffered for wasn't real.
...And it was all being replaced by a reality that was so much more.