Chapter 10 - Repeated Conversations

Ny'Danis cradled a newborn daughter in her arms as she strolled through her grove, spears of pale light piercing through the forest canopy. Her silken dress of brown and green dragged along behind her as if kissing each blade of grass. Her soft steps avoided the many everflowers scattered about, their open petals spreading beautiful colors.

Three of Ny'Danis' daughters followed after her. "And so it was that the three lesser deities, Erioh of the Mountains, Shuari of the Sands and Katri of the Seas, were felled by the Ashen Haired Boy," Ny'Danis finished, reiterating the story for what must have been the thousandth time, though to a new group of daughters. "My own mistake, my own lack of conviction allowed me to act passive. That poor orphan boy… I raised him and he was turned against us by the Tortured King."

No matter how many times she told the story, the pain of the past never subsided. A new wound was torn open each time. The memory, the ache of losing everything she'd once had and loved, like a fresh brand placed upon her heart, still singeing.

Ny'Danis glanced back at her following daughters, Lia, Freis, and Hale. They were three, four, and six years of age. Their cute faces eased her hurt. Lia and Freis turned their heads at the slightest of distractions, leaving Ny'Danis to wonder if they truly had been paying attention. She sighed. "I'll tell more stories before you go to sleep," she said with a smile. "Go on. Go play with the nymphs." The girls scurried off, bright eyed and full of energy.

Ny'Danis turned back to look at the innocent bundle in her arms. A curious pair of eyes stared back, squirming to the right. And then to the left, small fingers grasping at the shining silver of her hair. "You will be a Selharr, Aina." Ny'Danis whispered to the babe. Aina was born on the same day as the Kreiva-Selharr conflict. Ny'Danis closed her eyes, trying not to think of the subject. She brought Aina closer to her face and pressed a kiss on the girl's forehead.

Nymphs, Ny'Danis' created daughters, chased around her three blood daughters who were not yet of age to be sent out to a village. Their singing voices melted into the radiance of the grove, enriching it further. Ny'Danis let the joyous atmosphere surround her, pushing back the thoughts of pain. Two green skinned dryads followed her, jumping up and down to get a better look at the newborn.

"Can we play with her?" one asked.

"When can we play with her?" The other said.

What's her name?"

"Can I see? Can I see?"

Aina began crying. The dryads stopped talking, but continued following all the same, their hands behind their backs and their eyes looking down as if ashamed. Ny'Danis rocked the babe back and forth until she was silent again. "Not yet," Ny'Danis said. "She's still new. Give her a few years."

The dryads pouted but walked away without a word. A few years may be too many for some. Nymphs only lived for a hundred years, returning to water or soil when their lives were at its end. Unlike the Vashiri, they were without souls, though they had a somewhat intelligent conscience. It was how Ny'Danis had made them. Once a nymph passed on, Ny'Danis created another. They existed only to keep her blood daughters company as children. Some with fond memories of a Vashiri oft strayed from the grove to seek out the daughter in question.

A few years… Such a time was miniscule to Ny'Danis. As an immortal and the last of the lesser deities created by the Creator, she had lived for thousands of years and would live for thousands more if things continued as they had.

Ny'Danis came to a halt before Lorian, the Great Mother Tree. The first life on Illusterra aside from her siblings, the other three of the lesser deities. Lorian was the first life Ny'Danis had ever cared for. She had planted it as a sapling when the world was naught but ash and stone. Had nurtured it. Watched it grow and had loved it as much as she loved her own daughters. Lorian stretched high, putting to shame some of the walls that cities of old maintained. It was the tallest tree in the world. All plant life descended from it. Lorian bore the seeds of all fruits, all vegetables, all flowers and all trees.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Ny'Danis filled her lungs with a slow inhale. Her back split open and a pair of mosaic wings sprouted. She leapt off the ground, holding Aina close against her chest. The babe laughed as if enjoying the ride. Ny'Danis smiled. She flew halfway up Lorian, to a section wherein she had carved out a platform and a throne for herself. The platform, now centuries old, if not millennia, had a blanket of grass growing on it now.

Ny'Danis landed on the platform, her toes touching the grass first. She walked to a cradle created from Lorian's branches and placed Aina inside where a soft bed of large leaves awaited her. A thin branch dripped nectar of the Mother Tree should the babe ever feel hunger. Ny'Danis caressed Aina's cheek before turning around and descending back to the ground. She hummed a song, continuing her walk through the grove, her melodious voice echoing throughout its entirety. Every leaf and blade of grass exuded a vibrant brilliance as their creator's voice resonated with their cores.

Ny'Danis hugged her arms, feeling cold without the warmth of another near her. She missed her siblings. Or at least, she told herself that she did. She could no longer recall their faces. All she had left was the forest and her daughters. Daughters whose hearts and souls she created through the same magic she and her siblings had once fought to destroy. The magic created by the Tortured King. The Language of Sacrifice, Chronary.

Daughters whom I pit against one another.

Ny'Danis pressed a hand against Lorian for support. She dropped to her knees and clutched her heart. The death of every daughter tugged at her heartstrings. The battle between the Kreiva and the Selharr had torn wide open a rift in her mind. A rift that had already existed from past battles between her daughters. A rift that had first formed when she'd lost everything thousands of years ago. Ny'Danis took a portion from her immortality to create the hearts of the Vashiri. To bear them in her womb and birth them just as a real mother. And then what? She allowed them to kill themselves. Allowed them to die within the Guardian Trials. No real mother would do such a thing.

Ny'Danis picked herself up, blinking back tears. She walked around to the other side of Lorian. An arched opening led inside the tree's wide trunk. The Divine Artifacts in her possession lay there. Everything Ny'Danis had done was to protect the forest and these objects. The creation of the Vashiri tribes. The silence during their conflicts. All to create stronger Guardians to protect the forest and the Artifacts. But should there not be a better way? A way where conflict wasn't necessary? Where deaths didn't need to occur? Could the Vashiri not have lived together and learned to fight together as outsider armies did? Could I not have taught them to use their innate powers without having to conduct the Trials?

Ny'Danis buried her face in her hands. She wished her siblings were still here to provide her with wisdom. To give her guidance. Her own mistake, her own lack of conviction had led to their deaths. She pushed back her guilt. Everything was necessary. Everything had been thought through thousands of years ago. The only reason she questioned her actions now was because of the pain of losing so many daughters. Such wounds after all refused to scar even after the passage of many years.

But I'd never known it would be so painful back then…

No. Stronger Guardians would help her protect the forest. Help her protect the Artifacts. Protect her from losing everything again… Selfish. That's what these thoughts were. Ny'Danis opened her mouth to scream. No sound came out. She couldn't scream. It would startle the girls and the nymphs.

Was it really necessary to protect the Artifacts? They were the few that had been recovered after the War of Ashes. Objects with the potential to cause calamities in the wrong hands. But thousands of years… Humanity must have uncovered more by now. And they were bold enough to launch invasions against the forest. So what? You would give them more because they probably have others now?

Ny'Danis wondered if it would be wise to leave the forest. To seek out the descendants of her past friends, the Flame Bearers. The Flame Bearers were supposed to protect the forest from invasions. Ny'Danis' Guardians were only the second layer of protection. And yet invasions had occurred. But they haven't occurred in two centuries…

Then were the Flame Bearers doing their tasks right? Was it only an occasional slip up between the centuries? Ny'Danis ran a hand through her hair. She let out a long exhale. There was no need to question herself. This duty was entrusted to her. If she left the forest and admitted to incompetency —a deity admitting to incompetency— she would be forced to hand the Artifacts over to the Flame Bearers.

And they had already slipped up.

No, Ny'Danis thought. The Artifacts are safer with me. But my daughters… "No!" She blinked a few times, shocked at the sound of her own voice. How many times had she had the same thoughts? Repeated the exact same conversation in her head?

She turned away, wings sprouting from her back again. She returned to sit on her throne in Lorian. Aina was sleeping now. The poor girl. She would one day be subject to the same cruelty as every other Vashiri. "I'm a failure of a mother," Ny'Danis whispered, resting her head against wood behind it. She raised her right hand and stared at her pale, smooth skin. It was clean. Graceful.

And disgustingly red in her thoughts.

How many daughters had she killed for their lack of conviction? How many more would she kill yet? Her eyes drifted back to the cradle. Will you be one of them?

The Forest Deity closed her eyes. She couldn't lose her conviction. Not again. Not unless she were to risk losing everything once more.