This day was becoming profoundly strange.

The three listened.

They could hear two voices, very alike in pitch and yet strangely distinct, even from far off. Their timbre was not entirely similar, though he could not quite yet catch exactly the difference between the two. Now they could see who they belonged to: Just ahead of Leukos were two women walking through the forest, dressed in white, with long light brown hair that fell to their waists. They seemed to stand out against the background of the trees, as if their present surroundings were merely incidental to them. They were discussing something.

“-ne day everything sad is going to become untrue, sister.”

“No, that’s a lie, sister. Once something’s stained it’s stained forever. You can nev-” The two women stopped when they saw Leukos and the others. They looked completely alike.

Anthē spoke first, with abrupt courage.

“Who are you?”

“Hello there. I am Alethia,” said the first woman.

“And this is my twin sister, Apostasia,” said the second.

“I always tell the truth,” said Alethia, by way of explanation.

“And she always lies,” added Apostasia, as was her way.

“Do you know your way around this forest?” Anthē asked them.

“We live in this forest.”

“We can tell you anything,” said the sisters.

“Can you tell us how near to its edge we are?” Zantheus asked.

“You are close.”

“It will take you a long time to get out,” said the sisters.

Zantheus blinked at the contradiction. “Can you just tell us which way we must go to get out?” he asked.

“I can,” they both said at exactly the same time.

Never had Anthē seen two people that resembled each other so exactly. Although, despite their both appearing stunningly beautiful, with well-defined, slender features, she found that as they talked and gestured one revealed herself as more beautiful than the other, one of the women had a certain...grace about her which the other lacked. But she kept getting them mixed up; she could not always remember which one she had decided possessed this grace. It seemed to her that if she looked at both of them at the same time, one of them was clearly the more beautiful, but then, weirdly, if she focused on the other sister then she would draw her gaze away and she would forget the greater beauty of the other: If you just looked at one of them, you settled on her as the most beautiful, but if you looked at both of them at the same time, one was always clearly more beautiful than the other. When they spoke, it was always one after the other, possibly in a different order, or at the same time so that sometimes you heard only one of them. The subtle difference in their voices remained, but just in the same way that Anthē kept getting mixed up as to whom was the more beautiful, she kept getting mixed up as to whom she had decided had the sweeter voice. Again, if you just listened to one of their voices, that voice enchanted you, but listen to them both together, and one always carried the more delightful cadences.

Then another strange thing happened. The twins parted and began to revolve around the travellers, encircling them, one moving one way, one in the opposite direction. They began to speak one after the other in different orders or at the same time, as before, though now because they were constantly moving their voices blended and Anthē found it even harder to pick out the sweeter voice. It was like they were playing a game with them, and Zantheus, Anthē and Tromo all felt very unsettled by it.

“You want to know which way to go.”

“We will tell you in due course.”

“But first...”

“...we shall have some fun,” said the sisters.

Anthē, who had become more unsettled than any of them in her fragile state, spoke up. “Hey, what are you doing? What do you mean ‘have some fun’? Leukos, who are these people?” She tried to make sure she could see both of them at all times.

“Who are we? We are just a picture, like everything else.”

“We are your way out of this forest,” said the sisters.

“Come on, Leukos,” said Zantheus, increasingly agitated. “Lead the way, we’re leaving. These women have clearly gone mad in the forest as well,” he whispered to Anthē.

Leukos, instead of leading the way, sat down with his writing. “What are you doing?” said Zantheus. “Get up!”

“Who shall we choose first?”

“Zantheus wants to be chosen first,” said the sisters, as their circular paths overlapped.

“First for what?” asked Zantheus. He felt distinctly uncomfortable.

Alethia and Apostasia made Zantheus the centre of their circle, fixing their eyes on him as they moved.

“Why, first to try and choose between us, long-suffering knight.”

“We will tell you all you desire to know,” said the sisters.

Zantheus did not try to follow them round like Anthē. He remained rooted to the spot, in defiance of the women.

“I will not join in with your game!” he said.

“Oh, won’t you?”

“We will tell you all you desire to know.”

“You may as well.”

“Come on, ask us a question. You know you should,” said the sisters.

Despite himself, Zantheus found a question rise up within him. “Will I ever get back to Qereth and Mount Awmeer?” he asked of the world in general, though the women heard him.

“No, you are doomed to wander forever.”

“Yes, but not by the route you anticipate,” said the sisters.

“Really? What route then?” asked Zantheus. He did not know which of their answers to listen to.

“There is no route.”

“The way is in your heart,” said the sisters.

“So I will get back?”

“Yes, Zantheus you will get back.”

“No. You know the route but you will not be able to take it,” said the sisters.

Zantheus wished they would agree. Why was he talking to these foolish women, indulging their twisted fripperies?

“Will I get back or not?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Stop lying, sister, that’s a lie. Don’t listen to her.”

“You will get back, Zantheus. In a way, you have already. It’s just a matter of time.”

“How do you know?” asked Zantheus. One of the women’s words filled him with hope, though he did not know why he should believe her. The other spoke to his darkest, most deepest fears. How could she possibly know if he would get back or not?

“We can see the end from the start. We know because it’s already happened.”

“We just say what we are told to say.”

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“We know all about your little ordeal on the mountainside.”

“We saw you being thrown into the sky.”

“What?” Zantheus was extremely unnerved by this. “How? How could you know?”

“Don’t worry, Zantheus, once you get back it will at make sense.”

“No, sister, that’s a lie. He’s not going to get back. He’s going to wander alone forever.”

“No, sister, I speak the truth. Once you get back, you’ll have wanted this whole journey to happen, Zantheus. That’s the point. It’s only a matter of time.”

“No sister, that’s a lie. There’s no rhyme or reason to it. There’s no end point, no goal, no plan: He’s lost, and lost he shall remain.”

“No, sister, you’ve got it all wrong. Of course there’s a plan, there’s a plan and it’s being slowly worked out. Just remember that Zantheus, there’s a plan at work, and it’s only a matter of time. You did not drop out of the sky for no reason.”

Zantheus was thoroughly perplexed. How did these women know about what had happened to him? Speechless, he tried to think of how they could have found out. He looked at Tromo –he was the only person here who had seen him falling out of the sky.

The sisters noticed this.

“Ah Tromo, no. Don’t worry Zantheus, he didn’t tell us. This is the first time he’s met us.”

“No, that’s a lie, sister! Tromo was how we found out! Lies! Little liar!” said the sisters.

“Leave him alone, he’s just a little boy!” said Anthē. “He can’t even speak!”

“Ah, well that’s the thing, isn’t it sister? He actually can speak. He just stays silent most of the time out of spite.”

“No, sister, not out of spite. Once it was because of a memory, a trauma, now he just stays silent mainly out of fear for what he might say.”

“Yes, because what he has to say is full of venom and malice.”

“No, sister, that is not truth. I tell you, if this little one opened his mouth he would have the most beautiful things to say.”

“No, that’s a lie, sister. This one is too blighted and scarred by his past. Beautiful words will never flow out of these lips.”

“Shut up!” said Anthē. “Don’t talk about him like that!”

Tromo was actually handling this episode better than Anthē. He was stood very still with his fists clenched, and a serious expression on his face, as if he was concentrating on something. And he was. He was following one of the women, just one of them, around with his eyes. Leukos sat and wrote, Zantheus stood still, Anthē tried to keep an eye on both of them; but Tromo followed one of them.

“Ah, look sister, he can’t take his eyes off of me. Little sweetie.”

“Childish infatuation, sister. It’ll pass as he gets older. Little liar.”

“Come on, Leukos, let’s get out of here,” said Anthē. “Get up, Leukos. Let’s go.”

Leukos stayed where he was. Alethia and Apostasia carried on addressing Tromo.

“A family, that’s what you desire, isn’t it?”

“Ha! He wants you to be his mother!”

“Oh, sister, can’t you see how this one aches? He loved his sister dearly.”

“Well, it’s his fault that she’s-”

“No! I won’t let you speak that lie over him, sister, I do not permit it.”

“Why not? He’s spoken it over himself enough times, inside his head.”

“Don’t listen to her, Tromo. That’s not truth. That’s it, just keep looking at me.”

“He’s been left all alone, sister, and no-one would want him anyway.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll find your family.”

“Lies, sister! His family is irrecoverable!”

“You’ll get a new one, Tromo. In fact they are quite close by.”

“Don’t lie to him sister, don’t give him false hope.”

“Come on Leukos, let’s go!” Anthē tried again. She had had enough. “Let’s get out of here. I want to leave, Leukos.”

“Is she leaving us so soon, sister?”

“She’s afraid of us, sister.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” said Anthē.

“Yes you are.”

“You should be.”

“We can see into your heart.”

“It is a dark and lonely place.”

“Shut up!” Anthē yelled for the second time. “I don’t have to listen to you! You’ve gone mad in the forest!”

“You have committed a great many wrongs. You have defiled yourself.”

“You can never be made clean again. You cannot be healed.”

“Shut up!” screamed Anthē at the top of her voice. She had cracked. “You’re lying! You’re lying! The forest has turned you mad!” Without warning she launched herself at one of them. Zantheus stepped in and restrained her, just as he had done so long ago in Ir when she had found out that her father had died. The women carried on speaking to Anthē as she fought to be free of Zantheus.

“See sister, how crazed this one is become. Always turning to violence in the end. Surely she cannot ever hope to find rescue. She is given over to shadows.”

“No, that’s not who you are, Anthē. You are more than what you appear to be. You are part of a story, a great, unfathomably beautiful story stretching from the beginning to the end of all things, spanning all life lived anywhere, taking up all work, all play, all song, all tears, all deeds, good and bad, into its theme.”

“No, that’s a lie, sister. There is no story. There is only the soft interplay of light upon surfaces. There is only the sound of breathing as you drift off to sleep. There is only this brief and fragile flower, held on to for a succession of moments until it passes away into nothingness.”

“No, you are so much more than that. That stands for so much more. Sister, listen, I tell you the truth. I saw all of existence played out before me like a great symphony, and there were soaring, beautiful melodies, and there were terrifying discords.”

“Yes, sister, discords, always discords.”

“No, not always, sister. For alongside these discords there rose up harmonies, sweet, delicate harmonies, that took the discords up into themselves and worked them into the glory of the Symphony.”

“Lies, sister, all lies. Listen to me. I saw all of existence splayed out before me like a poorly-drawn map in the sand, and we were just hopeless wanderers scrambling around looking for some form of release, and for brief moments we chanced upon pleasure in strange places, and we clutched at it, but it eluded our grasp, and then we passed into nothingness.”

“No, sister, this one is on a journey. There is a destination that you will arrive at one day. There is hope.”

“No, that’s a lie sister. There is no hope. There are no pioneers riding on the waves of destiny, there is no goal towards which they may steer in faith. There are only a handful of star-struck poets, hurtling through a world more empty than they could ever allow themselves to admit, surrounded by the other dead souls who refuse to entertain the same trifling illusions as they.”

“Enough.”

The sisters turned. Leukos had spoken.

“We will not take orders from you.”

“You can’t tell me what to say,” they said.

As Leukos stood before them now, he seemed to write more intensely, his quill digging into the parchment, not merely staining the page with ink but carving the very words into it.

“Yes, I can,” his tongue shaped, his pen etched.

“You with your writing!”

“Always writing,” said the sisters.

“Your pathetic consolation prize. Just a lie you’ve spun for yourself to find solace amidst wrongdoing, inadequacy, powerlessness. A meagre gift you’ve elevated beyond all proportion.”

“No, sister, that is not truth. Fire, there is a fire that burns deep inside this one.”

“Lies, sister. He’s just a scared little boy. See how he pours himself into these mediocre words. Always looking for an escape, a flight from reality. He has only his ink to express himself in, for outside of this he is impotent. He is powerless to win the real world, so he makes up pretend ones for himself to control.”

“Ha! Speak on, sister, you will only drive him onwards. This one has a lot of fire.”

“Lies, I see no fire. He’s a ghost. His self-picture is fractured and fragmented. He does not know who he is. He will never finish his book.”

“Stop arguing,” said Leukos. He was angry. “I’ve had enough, stop arguing. You can’t tell me who I am. You don’t know me.”

“Yes I do,” they each said.

“Tell me then, who am I?” challenged Leukos.

The sisters had ceased walking in their circular pattern. They had come to a halt, one in front of and one behind Leukos, arguing over him, though he stood at right angles to them so that he could see them both. They were slower to speak this time, and for once one of them spoke at greater length than the other.

“You are Leukos.

“You are always writing.

“You are the unrequited lover.

“You are deeply, deeply strange.

“You are the single lonesome traveller.

“You are not particularly handsome or ugly.

“You are the dreamer of big, thick unreal dreams.

“You are the lonely tormented poet tortured artist figure.

“You are always alone, though there is always someone with you.

“You are chasing the idea of somebody whom you will never find.”

“You alone have been given the power to choose between the two of us.”

“You are chasing the idea of somebody whom you will never find.

“You are always alone, though there is always someone with you.

“You are the lonely tormented poet tortured artist figure.

“You are the dreamer of big, thick unreal dreams.

“You are not particularly handsome or ugly.

“You are the single lonesome traveller.

“You are deeply, deeply strange.

“You are the unrequited lover.

“You are always writing.

“You are Leukos.”

Leukos listened to all of this and then said. “Fine. You have spoken. Now answer me: Which way do I go to get out of this forest?”

“That way,” said Alethia, and pointed behind her.

“That way,” said Apostasia, and pointed in the opposite direction.

And Leukos set off. Without any further conversation, he began walking in one of the directions in which the women had pointed, leaving them behind him. Zantheus, Anthē and Tromo did not need any prompting, they followed him immediately, glad to be rid of the mad sisters.

“Leukos, who were those people?” asked Anthē when they had gone several paces.

“Don’t worry about them, Anthē,” said Leukos. “We’re nearly there, we’re nearly out now.”

He had stopped muttering to himself and appeared to have returned to normality, whatever that was, so Anthē left him for now. They each walked behind him, thinking about what the women had said, closer to the writer than usual. Zantheus decided he was never going to ever let Leukos out of his sight again, as long as he was still guiding them.

The trees began to thin.