The Tears of Time

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The elders stood, bowed their heads to Gabriel, then warily to Elanor, then filed out of the courtyard, the crowd parting once more to let them pass. The talk rose once more, a babble of unhindered voices, some talking fearfully, others relieved of the burden they had long dreaded to carry. After a few moment, the crowds began to part, some flying out of the roof, others departing in droves through the arches that led away to the rest of the citadel.

Gabriel looked around, and saw Dina rising slowly, watching her feet as she walked in a gesture now familiar to him. He realised now that, his silence had merely resulted in hurt for her, for it was her nature to receive praise quietly, and humility would never cease to be a virtue in her. He fell into step behind her, silently wishing her to speak.

“You spoke well,” she said, her voice feather light and soft.

“Thank you,” Gabriel replied.

“Though you would have done well to let Raphael speak,” she continued. Gabriel raised his eyebrows, surprised at this comment.

“Why?”

“Because he could have testified better than I,” Dina whispered, “Already some are wondering why he did not do so.”

“Oh,” Gabriel sighed, the sense of her answer hitting him rather hard.

“Still, with little under a month, our actions must speak louder than our words.”

“Dina, I’m-” Gabriel stopped, unsure of what to say.

“More words?” Dina asked, laughing quietly.

“These are important. ‘The time for silence is over’ as Dumah said today.”

“Then speak,” Dina said, sitting down in a low alcove.

“I’m sorry for my silence until now,” he said, speaking slowly, “I had thought it to be wise, but now I see I was only hurting you. Will you forgive me?”

“Already forgotten,” Dina replied.

“Thank you.”

“Gabriel, I may seem to you younger than you have ever been, but it is only a century’s difference between us,” Dina mused.

“I never said-”

“No, but I can see it in your eyes.”

“It’s…”

“It’s nothing, though sometimes I think I see something else in your eyes as well.”

“Would you have me sin?” Gabriel asked after a brief pause, his brow furrowed.

“Love is never a sin,” Dina replied, her gaze, though it had wandered, now came to rest on Gabriel.

“My century seems to have clouded my judgment recently.”

“Clouds are easily swept away.”

“So they are.”

“More words?” Dina asked.

“No,” Gabriel replied.

He lifted a hand slowly, tracing the jawbone from temple to chin. Dina smiled and took his hand in hers. She rested a head on his shoulder, and they sat there, silent, together.

* * *

Raphael was stood behind Gabriel throughout the entire counsel, his head whirring in fury at being prevented from speaking. He knew it would do little good to disobey his ‘friend’ but the infuriation at being treated like a child was unbearable. When the Elders left he merely stayed standing as he was, whilst the rest of the gathering trickled out of the courtyard, stretching his fingers in a furious, yet nervous twitch.

One month left to live…

That single thought swirled again and again around his head, it’s unnatural pull capturing his attention continuously, no matter how hard he tried to forget it. He sighed, a short, quick burst of air which let out little of his impatience. Why not come like a thief in the night? Why proclaim a time limit, if only to pin each soul in fear to the chopping block in readiness for that final strike?

Ahead of Raphael, Elanor stood, still as a statue, gazing without blinking at the elder’s chairs, her eyes distantly focused. Her wings lay folded into her back, her arms folded into the gentle curve of her side. Raphael couldn’t shake the feeling that she was listening to him, though he said nothing out loud.

“Raphael?” she whispered, though her tones reached right into his ears, into his mind, like a breath of fresh air.

“What?” He snapped, annoyed by how beautiful she was.

“Nothing…” she breathed out, spreading her wings and flying up through the roof.

“Wait!” he cried, reaching out, but she was gone.

* * *

Across the horizon, in the midst of the green foliage of the forest, Dumah stood by the Altar, listening to the sigh of the wind winnowing in the trees. It breathed around her, a near-visible presence which caressed her face, tossed her hair. She smiled, and sat down, leaning her back against the rugged stone.

She marvelled for a moment at the sky, it’s deep unceasing blue which stretched out into the heavens. And the clouds, not the thick blanket of fuzz Elanor had once observed, but tiny wisps of ropy white and quilts of soft cottony cream. She sighed in pleasure at her own existence, at nature and its wonders. Sometimes she wondered at the fact that anything could exist. She wondered at the fact that they had named the lack of anything, as if that too was something. At humankind, for their simplistic explanations of existence. That simply being was enough reason for life.

“Dumah?”

“Elanor,” Dumah stated.

“You were expecting me,” Elanor acknowledged.

“It is one of the foretold, that the Spirit told me of,” she replied.

“Of course.”

“You are worried about the End,” Dumah said, listening as the script played out. Like déjà vu, but far more precise.

“More like fearing, though I know how it will come about, I do not know what it will do to those left here,” Elanor confessed.

Dumah breathed deeply, shuddering slightly, though not from cold.

“Do you feel it?” she asked. Elanor frowned, not understanding the question.

“I feel the wind, the beat of my heart, the pulse of blood…”

“No, I mean, do you feel It?”

“What?”

“The Spirit,” Dumah replied.

“I don’t understand.”

“Some people call it God, the creator… In Hinduism it is simply the spark of life that dwells between everything. We call it the Spirit. You, however, know its perverse nature.”

“Nothing,” Elanor realised, tapping into the feeling Dumah spoke of.

“Exactly,” Dumah said, breathing in once more.

Both paused, drinking in the deep peace that pervaded the space around them.

“I understand.”

“The Spirit, or Nothing… it exists, as everything else. It is what fills our spaces, gives us life, brings us hope, and sometimes despair… It is there because we are insufficient.” Dumah said, explaining as much to herself as to Elanor.

“Your mother, yourself, Fate… and I. We are all partial embodiments of it,” she continued, “You are the medium between ourselves and It, because we are, once again, insufficient to understand. Except you.”

“My mother showed me what it was like,” Elanor said, watching Dumah warily, “the endless sadness and pain, but also joy, and hope. The deep sense of belonging to everything, of being spread out amongst the cosmos intermingled with every atom.”

“It is beautiful,” Dumah whispered, “I am curious, how will it end?”

“Everything that has a beginning has an end,” Elanor answered, smiling.

“I know, but how?”

“I’ll rip apart the seams,” Elanor said, her face darkening, “Flood the plains, burn the skies, break the earth… And then, though broken by a brief second of non-existence, it will all begin again.”

“Of course…” Dumah smiled, breathing out a long sigh, “Everything that has a beginning has an end… and everything that has an end has a beginning.”