May these long-winded days finally be my last... This unspoken prayer simmers beneath my skin, festering like an open sore. I've become a slave to this sentiment in my mind, and the taunting fantasy weighs on my chest like a boulder the longer I remain in this cross-legged pose of pretensious quietude.
The terrible truth of it all is: I don't even know what I am. Or who I am. So how can I remain?
I have yet to develop a sense of self; and despite the cabinet of voices in my mind, trying to reach me through a portent of amnesia, I do not intend to. All I know is that my body misses things it cannot remember; I know that something irreplaceable is gone from my life... and the gaping void left behind it refuses to close. It's scary, unjustifiably chilling.
And it's been twenty-three days since I found myself in a sacred place that is densely framed by sprawling woodlands on every side. Clusters of conifers dot the jagged land and disappear into the wayward horizon. The people here call it: Rushing Water Temple.
That's where I am. In a temple for some foreign deity I've never even heard of - Demalrak, the God of Justice and Minor Fortune.
There's a crick in my neck. It's from countless head turns, and bouts of gesticulation that no one ever sees. I'm going crazy, I'm actually losing my mind upon a mist-clad hilltop, where the entering populace of revering temple-goers is as constant as the wind. In a place where inner peace is more or less guaranteed. At peace is the last thing I feel, however.
Every day, I've been doing my best to not succumb to the desperation in my bones. There is a madness that leaps whenever I shut my eyes. It is my fourth week of sitting in meditation at the First Chamber of Worship, and I'm no closer to fighting my affliction than I was before. This is the exact reason why I sit in contemplation for hours on end. On a cold floor, attempting to reel in all the chaos of my entire being as birds sing into the droll, quiet palette of a new day.
That's why I need space and time to figure out my situation. Because the ghosts inside my head refuse to be forgotten, and I am not alone in my seclusion. I'm always sought by another whenever the voices talk to me at ear-splitting volume. There is a Holy Man who visits me and offers me sustenance of the soul, as well as words of wisdom. High Priest Agmito, a man of quiet interests and sparkling eyes that have witnessed more than I can imagine. I'd be moved by his generosity if I wasn't already in mourning for the memories that I know are gone. Memories about who I really am, and the reason why I woke up at Rushing Water Temple, discovered in a state of semi-consciousness.
Every morning, he whirls into these sacred chambers, disturbing my sullen introspection when I need it the most, and carries in his arms a tray of copious, steaming bounty. The food he regularly brings sits on a table - untouched and cold by the time I finally give it the glancing look it deserves.
I am tempted, so very tempted to eat from these dishes whenever I get a whiff of such fragrant food... But I can't. Nothing within me feels right. It hasn't ever since the moment I first opened my eyes at the temple. And this skin, it can't possibly be mine. Whenever I search my palms in broiling confusion, or brush them against something around me, I grow ever more certain that I'm not meant to be wearing it.
Agmito knows my turbulent mind by now. For twenty three days and nights, I've rejected his kindness, choosing to survive on the infrequent capture of small bugs instead. In all honesty, I would rather die of malnutrition.
What else can I do, though? My mind cannot simply reconcile that I'm still here. The darkness in my heart feels like a physical bruise at this point.
What an idyllic place to die, I muse to myself. I'm the only thing that doesn't belong here. My mutterings of grievance seem to surround me in listless echoes, fading into the abyssal silence as the day wears on.
Any hope I have of this life being a dream has already slipped from my grasp. All I can do is drag these rattling chains behind me, while I peruse the chamber of the temple for the millionth time. It's yet another day of doing nothing here. Any sane person would go out and explore the grounds of the temple instead of locking themselves up. But since that first day of arrival, I haven't even acknowledged the doorless situation that is the open chamber. The walls are curved, the room circular in design and drowning in bouquets of greenery; curly-stemmed plants hanging from pots are tethered up high, all spraying with fragrant tresses of emerald.
If it wasn't for Agmito's insistence, I'd even ignore the screaming call for the lavatory in between conversations. And when each night melts under the coaxing brush of a brand new dawn, I find myself rinsing and repeating this torture of day-to-day living, having to perpetuate this maddening ruse in visceral protest.
If this is reincarnation, then I do not want it. In fact, I don't even deserve it. I'm convinced that this is not my real world.
A part of me feels like I belong elsewhere, so how am I supposed to fight it? It has taken me three weeks to realize that I am merely just a leaf blowing in the wind, carried by forces of nature... and thinking that I have any choice of direction in my life is pure delusion.
Being in this life is draining. The world itself feels heavy. The noises are too sharp, the colors blinding and every breath taken feels like a promise broken. Worst of all, no one notices how wrong it is... Day after day, the paradisial hubbub and deferential worship of Demalrak continue to assail my resolve, challenging the thoughts in my mind. I can't escape the loveliness of it all. The babbling pond situated around the First Chamber of Worship smears the edges of my vision, painting arcs of cerulean blue wherever I turn.
Once again, I cast judgement onto myself, hating the sudden want to leave this chamber. I go back to sitting at the altar in the middle of the room. I can't just leave. Maybe some prayers are in order; anything to keep me from this slippery path of curiosity.
I glance up, my eyes seeking contact with a statue. It's the patron god of this temple, and for some inexplicable reason, the way it looks down at me fills me with a sense of animosity, his unmoving face one of righteous intent.
Voices trickle in from the outside world. Everything in me dims. The voices, the catastrophe of energy that wants to be poured into action. I silence it all. I allow myself the luxury of pointing my eyes anywhere but at the disapproving statue and wait for the devotees of the temple to stop at the entrance of the chamber.
They'll leave soon enough, right?
It is technically my twenty-fourth day of seclusion. Agmito and the other inhabitants of the temple have come to visit me as well, their discolored robes filling up the entryway like a family portrait.
"I worry about you, child… Are you alright?" Agmito asks.
My soul is not the soul that belongs in this body. This, I know for a fact. That is why I must find a way to remove my soul from this vessel. The memories that still dwell in it are fogged over but not gone entirely; there's also a whisper of ownership in the back of my mind that tells me that I'm an invasive species. It's been telling me that I'm in the wrong body -- and of course, there's no room to argue at all.
It grows louder and clearer by the second, pulling me from my conversation with Agmito. Every time I open my mouth to speak, my jaw locks. My body delays moving at my command.
I'm stuck, forced to listen to the wailing entity.
"Hey, you! We both know you don't belong in this body!" The haughty, female voice punctures through the cloud of calm in my thoughts and trills with growing resentment, "You think you can force me out? Well, you can't. I'll never leave."
This is the first time I'm hearing her - this person - in the back of my head. Whoever she is, or whatever she is... It's our first time interacting, and I can't help the stiffening of my spine or the sudden hand spasms that roll through my body like a nervous tic.
It turns out I am the imposter in this body. I was right all along. This is precisely why I couldn't relax for three weeks straight.
Kind, weathered hands reach for my little, scarred ones, drawing me away from the altar. Wait, why are my hands so scarred?
I snap back into focus and see a face hovering in front of mine.
Since I first arrived here, I've made it my mission to kneel at the stone altar, morning and night, at daybreak and dusk. Praying for an answer to fall from the sky? No. But maybe hoping for some semblance of peace within myself, as I wither away at the temple.
Now that I've reaffirmed the oddness that is my entire being, and that my body is inexplicably a vessel for two at the moment, I don't quite know what to do with myself. The truth of what I cannot say depresses me in a way that goes beyond my realm of expectations. I don't even want to be here... What am I going to do, though? If I hurt myself, will she be hurt, too?
I try to focus on the woman holding my hands. I've seen her around. She's the groundskeeper for Rushing Water Temple. Even though she's not a devotee of the faith, she's still utterly welcome here, and a very bright presence in the temple. The other members of the temple respect her. I can tell by the way they lean towards her.
I can only assume that she wants to reassure me that everything is alright. Her eyes sweep over me, and the voice she intones is unerringly soft in its delivery, "You don't need to be afraid of us, little one."
This middle-aged beauty exudes a motherly aura that I don't find threatening, so I nod, encouraged by her open expression.
Does she know how much turmoil lies under my skin? The fact that my mind pings with the voice of another, while strange feelings held back by the thinnest of veils echo throughout my body whenever I'm alone.
"I am not afraid." Is what I say, but deep down... I am.
Agmito approaches slowly, brown eyes darting back and forth between me and the woman. Relief and a mixture of positive emotions peek beneath the broadness of his smile as he beckons to himself and the other worshippers behind him.
To me, he quietly murmurs, "We are the humble communicants of the great god Demalrak. This is our home, Rushing Water Temple. We found you in critical condition down by the temple steps. Do you know who you are, child?"
I've carried no truths with me since waking up, but I willingly surrender to the knowledge that I am a person without an identity. If I ever had one, it is long lost to me. A homeless soul, that is basically what I am.
Do I dare to tell him that I have no memories at all? Not even a name to call myself? To have a name is to have something of my own, right? Its an intangible belonging that only death can tear away. So why don't I remember mine?
My chest expands while a trickle of anxiety starts to announce itself in my mind. It refuses to give me anything related to my past.
Disquieted by my horrible reality, my lips part with a longing to shape what's on my mind. Fortunately, the groundskeeper is able to sense my unsettled mien. Straight away, she tucks a finger under my chin.
"Worry not, girl. All names can be given. It is the soul that's important in a person."
Agmito notices the way I flinch, as if struck. "Totoya, please. Perhaps it is too soon for this."
Totoya, this red-headed whirlwind of empathetic energy doesn't budge from her position. Instead, she decides that I've been cooped up in the First Chamber of Worship for too long.
"Look at this girl! Not another day in this chamber, do you hear me? Some sunshine and fresh air is in order. I believe it will help her."
Some of the other temple worshippers are laughing at the no-nonsense tone of her voice, and I have to commend her for the way she gives orders to the High Priest.
Agmito doesn't protest in the least but his eyes do stray to me, as if seeking final clarification.
I am unfathomably warmed by the care shown by these people... But I am not the owner of this body. Are they showing such kindness towards me, one of two souls roaming inside this body - the soul who is peering out in helpless surrender? Or are they reacting to the baby-faced girl that they can see, the one whose mind belongs in this childish form?
I decide that I don't really want to know. I follow Agmito and Totoya out of the First Chamber of Worship, heading down a set of porcelain steps that curved away from the chamber. Around the lush grounds of Rushing Water Temple, trees and wiry shrubs speckle the earth in patches of green and brown.
Hidden by monoliths of greenery are the other chambers that I have not yet explored... It's a shame that I don't exactly remember how I got here. The design of this place inspires awe and creativity, the execution flawless.
As we walk in an organized line, a majestic creature lopes onto the paths ahead of us. Startled, I can't help but fall into a clumsy kind of crouch, a trembling hand raised between us. We're in a secluded courtyard and the hulking form in my way is undeniably equestrian in nature, its pallor iridescent under the creamy sunlight. As mesmerized as I am, caution breaks through my wonder and I glance warily in Agmito's direction.
The High Priest carefully de-escalates the rising uproar of the devotees who are now emerging from the First Chamber of Worship; a blazing streak of motion, he whips around, and returns to where I am. I've been hanging at the rear of the group.
Even though they're clearly jolted, with several mouths agape, the bizarre notion of chasing away such a creature hasn't even crossed their thoughts - instead, they clutch at the High Priest. Admiration is at the forefront of their thoughts.
They appear to be thanking Demalrak for sending this mystical creation to them, like it's some sort of symbol of great fortune.
Slightly appeased, I straighten up from my crouch and take stock of the four-legged creature that's now bowing its head at us.
Totoya gasps. "My dear. This creature is a thrinskar. They are divine companions of the gods. Since ancient times, they have rarely shown themselves to the world."
A thrinskar? I stare at the opalescent eyes of this divine beast and feel a primal stirring within my bones and chest. I can tell the thrinskar bears no ill-will. However, I keep my distance in case it abruptly changes its demeanor.
"Is it... safe to touch it?" I rasp.
"I believe it is a male thrinskar, and yes. If it wanted to harm us, it would have."
As I get close to the magnificent creature, I notice the temple-goers all go still, their flapping mouths widening further in pronounced astonishment. Brushing away their reactions, I give my attention over to the creature when it pokes its head into my shoulder, making me swallow with unease.
I'm not sure what to do. I'm a newly awakened soul and he's a beacon of divinity. Does he perhaps sense that something about me is off? Will it then trample me to death? Panic sets in and I stutter to myself, looking into its eyes that seem to gleam like dazzling opals, but to my surprise... it doesn't strike me or do anything malicious.
Agmito's voice eventually reaches me from where he stands, "Child. I feel this thrinskar has been looking for a demi-urgaen to serve and has picked you. To ignore this blessing would be to invite bad omens into Rushing Water Temple."
"Um, I'm not what he thinks I am. I'm not a demi-urgaen, so..."
"He seems to believe you are."
I've been bombarded with questions ever since I woke up inside this child's body. Why has my soul been placed in the wrong body? And why can't I remember anything before Rushing Water Temple? What does this all mean?!
I am presented with nothing so straightforward as an answer, of course; only more questions that I'll have to dispose of in time. But right now, I can sense a deep connection with this thrinskar. A beckoning. Surely, our bond is meant to be if I can look into this thrinskar's eyes and feel comforted.
Growing less alarmed, I grit my teeth and side-eye the beast. It walks around in curious circles as I fumble to place a hand upon its sleek midsection. The tail is outlandishly long and appears to be an extension of the body, curling upward in a feline manner. Docile indeed.
My hand drifts everywhere within reach, petting the beast. Somehow, I can feel its contentment at being touched by me. It may just be my imagination but the thrinskar sounds like it's purring.
Totoya attempts to approach us, but that's when the divine beast whips around and narrows its opalescent eyes. "Well. I guess it's decided, then. We can't approach you - unless you bond with him, demi-urgaen."
There's that word again. Demi-urgaen. They have the wrong person, obviously!
Outwardly and with visible frown lines, I say, "What do you mean?"
"The thrinskar has taken a liking to you. It will now treat you as its master; all else is perceived as threats and perversions, unless you tell him otherwise. But to do that, you must bond with the thrinskar."
Oh, my. I have no right to claim him. This thrinskar is too beautiful and dignified in comparison to me, a dirty and unwashed mortal that's been eating spiders and roaches for weeks. I can only gulp with longing, my face slowly descending into his mint-toned mane.
It's like a cloud. An irrevocably fluffy texture.
So... incredibly... wonderful.
"The stars have been hinting that 'boundless change will be on the horizon' for some time. All is as it should be, then. Demalrak has great plans indeed." Agmito murmurs.
Peeling myself away from the thrinskar momentarily, I respond, "How could I dare to bond with the thrinskar? He deserves better than I can give. So he must choose someone else, for his own sake. We're just not meant to be."
"I've never seen a more fated pair, if I'm being honest."
I throw him a furrowed-browed stare, asking pitifully, "Can you explain properly, High Priest?"
"Alaengri, the oldest language of eons past, used to be spoken by mortals and gods alike. Nowadays, it is coined as the 'Forgotten Tongue' by most scholars... I believe the word 'demi' used to mean half of in this language. And 'urgaen' was roughly translated to 'a wandering soul'. So when you put it all together, a demi-urgaen is someone who is half of a wandering soul. This might explain your sudden and inexplicable arrival here, my dear."
His explanation is met with a brief bout of stunted silence. Half of a soul, he'd said. But what about the girlish presence at the back of my head, the second voice? Is she another soul, or another half of one? And why are we in the same body, anyway?
I reign in my pout. If the temple-goers and growing crowd happen to read my flushed face as mortification, then they don't declare it, thank goodness.
To the High Priest, I say to him, with added steel in my words, "My predicament has nothing to do with the thrinskar, though."
"Who can say? Maybe he's sought you out for a reason," Agmito says, his unwavering tone measured but full of hidden promise, "Perhaps all the answers you seek are tied to your bond with him."
I dip my hand back into the thrinskar's mane for support as I try to make sense of his words. Totoya smiles, but gestures weakly to the stand-offish creature at my side. "We must ask that you bond with the thrinskar as they take protection of their masters very seriously. By taming him and giving him a name, you will be able to express your wishes and prevent unnecessary violence."
I want to bond with him. But I don't belong here, though. My mind has already been made up for the past three weeks. I won't live for much longer.
This crushing sadness that I have all of a sudden pin pricks my heart, making me sigh. Just as I lower my head, the thrinskar changes its position and snaps one leg out, kicking the back of my knees.
"Oomph!"
This damn... creature just reamed me from behind?!
My brain is still trying to catch up with the fact that I'm now lying down on the ground. This cheeky thrinskar, minty mane and all, is leaning down and nuzzling me while he purrs. I'm too shocked to speak at first, but then a spark of outrage straightens my back.
I sit up slowly and clasp the thrinskar's face with both hands. Our eyes connect, and I instantly feel like my body is being thrown into a hurricane despite the fact that we're not moving at all.
His eyes are eerie and wondrous, staring deep into my own with a trust that I have not yet earned. A swirling ribbon of color snaps into existence between us, linking us between the brows.
I suck in a breath at the images flooding my mind. What is it that I'm viewing exactly? A world that isn't my world. Hundreds of sorrow-filled faces. No, it might even be thousands. An empire somewhere is in flames. The view turns and then I see something else; a bloodstained citadel that begs for absolution. Swords flash in the night, heads roll without a sound and then I see miles and miles of escaping refugees. Vengeance and unending tribulations flood the land, and with its growth is this knife-sharp longing within me. Its defiant of my wishes to go away. All I know is that there's something I'm meant to do. Or... Is this sense of urgency compelling me to find a person and not a thing, perhaps? All I know is that the images flitter and distort through my mind, nearly giving me a headache.
This thrinskar has been searching for a Demi-Urgaen to serve for a long time. But why me? Nonplussed, I try to touch the cord between us, but it vanishes.
An image of a man kneeling in front of an altar appears in my head, and then a male voice, one that is resonant and heavily accented flitters through the depths of my consciousness. Master, it is I, your faithful servant.
That deep voice and the accompanying, visual imagery of a person speaking in reverence to someone is astounding in more ways than one. My eyes briefly fall closed to focus on the voice better.
My lips don't move, but internally, I respond to the image with a strong mental voice, projecting an assured volume of someone talking aloud. But how? I have not yet named you, I answer back.
The courteous voice of my thrinskar speaks pours like sweet honey into the cavern of my mind, Naming a thrinskar straight away is a bonding ritual for the demi-Urgaens who have low spiritual energy. I sensed that is not the case for you. That is why we bonded without the ritual, master.
I swiftly get to my feet, confusion settling in my bones like a wave of chill. I reply to him, although not quite as demurely as before, Is there a reason why you knocked me on my back?
I can't help but concentrate on the imagery of the kneeling man at the altar... The man appears to turn his head to the side, speaking lowly but with succinct frankness, Yes, master. You were taking too long to decide on whether to bond with me.
A laugh finds its way out of me. My first laugh that I've allowed to escape from these lips. The inhabitants of the Rushing Water Temple are obviously curious about what we're doing, or why I haven't spoken in so long, and I feel it is my place to enlighten them.
"High Priest and Lady... Totoya. It appears I have bonded with the thrinskar without having to name him." I tell them.
Admiring eyes graze the form of my new divine companion. He now drifts around me, as firm as an oak tree and just as permissive. When asked whether they can touch him, I look to him for an agreeable response, but he merely relays that the answer to that question is entirely dependent on me.
If master says it is okay, then it is okay, the Thrinskar says.
I argue back, Can't you decide for yourself? It is not my body in question that will be poked and prodded by them. Have some sense of self-awareness, please.
Nothing happens for a heartbeat. And then from the Thrinskar, I hear, Master, it is my wish that you decide in my place, as I am just a humble creature, not even worthy of your gaze.
Rolling my eyes, I nod and tell the devotees of the temple that they can touch him carefully.
As the patting show begins, Agmito comes over to me and says, "Well done. You couldn't have asked for a better thrinskar. He is a fully enlightened thrinskar, too. You can tell by the number of rings along his tail. You see? Undoubtedly, yours is fully grown."
Twenty-four days into my new life, and I have somehow obtained a bond with an enlightened thrinskar. This is not what I've been expecting. Do I dare to believe that this is the will of fate and not some hellish form of flattery that I'll soon wake up from?
I finally tell the High Priest what's been weighing on my mind. "I believe that I might be one of those wandering souls you spoke of. Or half of a soul, actually. I also want to confess that I don't know where I came from, or how I ended up at the temple. If that is reason enough to distrust me, then I completely understand."
We are standing to the side of the path, allowing the others to take their time with the thrinskar.
As we enjoy a brief respite under the shade of a towering tree, Agmito murmurs, "Thank you for your honesty. Totoya and I have felt this conflict within you for a while. Demi-urgaens are, for lack of a better word, 'otherworldly'. Though, when I was a youth, I used to read scriptures about trickster gods who liked to steal the souls of people from different dimensions."
"Trickster gods? I see... Did the scriptures mention anything about what happened to the souls after they were transported to other dimensions?"
"To be honest, the origins of demi-urgaens are still a broad mystery to us all. However, there is a text in one of our Tomes of Origins that alludes to this phenomenon of foreign souls traveling from another dimension; the gods themselves used to call this act a 'reaping of the cosmos'. Or in other words, a form of divine punishment for those who have so offended the gods." His face folds with thoughtful whimsy, and he adds, almost in afterthought, "When I found you, I had a hunch that you might have been one of those souls..."
So that's what this is. Divine punishment, whatever that is.
My questions and my preconceptions are brutally balled up into a mess of words that arrow straight into my heart. I lose any ability to be stoic and rattle out a breath.
The thrinskar perks up, swivels its head to look at me, as though feeling my jangled nerves.