Chapter Seven
“Man is so made that when anything fires his soul, impossibilities vanish.”
—Jean de La Fontaine
In the ten days that Ben had been gone (not that she was measuring time by his presence or absence, of course), Seven’s human form patterns changed.
Now, Michael appeared so consistently and for longer periods of time that Seven had to change her work schedule to accommodate the irregularity. She used to take the morning and night shifts at Drink of Me as Eve, spend weekend mornings at Tal’s woodshop as Michael, and lounge in the village library on occasional lazy afternoons as Ruth.
Since Michael’s…encounter with Ben at the cookout, he had been insistent on taking her over.
Or perhaps it was Seven who was insistent on taking Michael’s form. To be closer to Ben.
Something had just clicked. Her curiosity was intensely engaged. Ben made her think. Made her wonder and fantasize.
What if…
She didn’t know what ifs. Whatever the case might be, she only worked the morning shift now at the café. Thankfully, the impact to her financials didn’t raise alarms, given that her expenses were very low.
Money.
Even exiled gods could learn new things, Seven thought wryly.
She’d never had to count invisible coins before, for nowadays, human money was almost all virtual. She knew how to do it, since she’d watched these rudimentary creatures for a very long time and inserted herself in their world sometimes. Usually as some witch, sorceress, or fortune teller. She just never had to make money for herself, not really. Never had to work for her livelihood.
Except for those few hundred years during the Age of the Dark Ones…
A strange shadow of a memory teased in the back of her mind. But it somehow didn’t seem like her own. It felt foreign. And yet, why would she ever have someone else’s memory?
She dismissed the niggle, attributing it to the rings messing with her. They did that sometimes. Made her feel out-of-body, disoriented.
Back to the topic of money, she was rather pleased to note that she had a knack for it. Enjoyed accumulating it. If for no other reason than the ability to exchange it for something she wanted but didn’t need.
Like the ornamental trinkets from Dark Dreams.
As Michael, she now spent time more regularly at Tal’s woodshop. In the afternoons as well as weekends. Michael helped with whatever Tal needed help with. Often doing menial chores or just sitting in a corner watching the carpenter and iron smith at work.
He didn’t learn much from the process. Tal asked if he wanted to try, and sometimes he would, using left over pieces of wood. But he didn’t have a talent for it, and more often than not cut himself in the process.
Gods never had to acquire any talents or skills. They were gods, after all. They just were and people genuflected in awe.
He didn’t think he was particularly useful, but Tal seemed to tolerate his presence all the same. Mama Bear also didn’t seem to mind that she had an extra mouth to feed on the days Michael visited.
Perhaps that was the real reason he went so religiously. To partake of Mama Bear’s treats.
When Seven wasn’t there or working or resting Ruth’s old bones at the library, she liked to wander to the base of Mount Wilson in Michael’s form, sit on a grassy hill and watch the animal spirits train.
Watch Goya and Maximus, the giant white tiger father and son, in particular. The way she used to surreptitiously watch another father-son duo, an insistent inner voice kept reminding her.
The humans in these parts never wandered out this far, not the least because of the illusions that the Immortals created to steer them away from things their minds couldn’t accept. Thus, she could watch the warriors in their mock battles for hours, revel in creatures whose beauty and grace never failed to lift her spirits.
Giving Seven the feeling of home.
Of familiarity and belonging. After all, she and her Twin created them. Wished them into being and brought them to life with magic and stardust.
Part of her resonated in each of them. Even if she no longer possessed her godly powers, she took pride and refuge in the strength of these mighty warriors.
Even more so now that they were free.
They trained and fought for their own now. To protect their clan and loved ones. They didn’t fight in the service of Seven and her Twin, no longer lived and died at the goddesses’ behest.
This had been true since the dragons won the War of Gods, and the Twins had been shunned from Heaven and each sent to their respective punishments. Chaos ensued for thousands of years in the aftermath. The Twins’ creations warred with each other, with Dark Ones rising supreme, ruling over all other living beings with an iron fist for countless generations.
Much as she imagined the Jade Emperor felt for his own creations, Seven had observed all of this with implacable distance and reserve. As if she was watching creatures unrelated to her. Dispensable things, rather than living souls.
Once in a while she felt a stirring of…something. Curiosity if nothing else.
She’d been incarcerated indefinitely in the Celestial Realm in any case. She couldn’t have done much about the wars even if she wanted to.
But she had enough magic left to influence the turning of the tide at critical junctures, to tilt the Balance over time, by resurrecting human warriors with Pure souls as Immortal Pure Ones. Helping that naturally submissive race rise up and fight for themselves.
She couldn’t take credit for Tal-Telal, however, who was the mightiest General of the Pure Ones across the history of their existence. It was his ultimate sacrifice that allowed his Kind to win the Great War between Dark and Pure Ones. His innate strength and light made even a former god a little in awe of him.
Just like Goya, the Tiger King.
Just like Benjamin Larkin D’Angelo.
All three males reminded Seven of the very first Beast featured prominently in her frequently recurring dreams. Those buried memories she’d avoided for the entirety of her Celestial incarceration.
Yet, only Ben made her want him.
Made her pine.
She hated him a little for it.
Presently, as Michael, she watched Goya lead the animal spirits in their routine mock battles from her usual hill overlooking the rocky basin below Mount Wilson. The feline predators and raptors moved in formation, coordinated and deadly.
It was beautiful to see. Power and grace in action. Against the backdrop of majestic, snow-capped mountains and russet skies.
The Celestial Realm was painted in beautiful colors and intricate, dazzling details. Seven should know. She’d woven it all with her imagination. It was one of her chores while she was imprisoned there. If she couldn’t leave, she might as well make her purgatory as lavish and accommodating as it could be.
But she found that she liked these untamed lands better. It was like comparing an exquisite watercolor to rich, bold, striking oils.
Maybe it was because she was human now, with human sensibilities. She preferred the intensity of these landscapes more. They stirred her up inside. Inspired her.
The Beasts started their training at dusk, for they were mostly nighttime predators. Now that she didn’t have night shifts any more as Eve, she could watch them to her heart’s content, coming daily to sit on the hill.
When they took a brief respite from the ferocious training, Goya separated from the rest. Still in his tiger form, he loped with measured strides toward Seven’s hill.
In the beginning when she first came here as Michael a couple of years ago, the mighty white tiger merely turned his ears to indicate that he knew she was there. Otherwise, he ignored the presence of a stranger. Didn’t question why a human came to watch Immortals fight.
Finally, one day, he turned his head to fully look her way, spearing her with those gem-like, icy blue eyes. But that was all. He never approached.
Seven always came here as Michael, not Eve or Ruth. She didn’t know why she did that. Maybe some part of her subconscious wanted to distance herself from memories that threatened to rise to the surface. Maybe she wanted to delay the inevitable as much as possible.
If she came here in one of the female forms, it felt…too close somehow. Reminded her that she’d done this before, even if it was tens of thousands of years ago.
As Michael, the pangs in her chest when she watched Goya were duller. They were still there, and they grew in intensity and insistence over time, like a heart attack waiting to happen. But she was used to the inconveniences and frailty of the human body by now. She just chalked it up to indigestion.
As he drew closer, Goya decreased his size to regular animal size, though he was still the biggest fucking tiger in the world. King of his domain.
Michael’s heart accelerated as he watched the magnificent, deadly animal approach. It wasn’t from fear, as any normal human would feel, but a strange sort of anticipation.
Goya stopped within ten feet of Michael, his brilliant blue eyes intense in the darkness, his striped white fur wreathed in its own glow. His tail undulated behind him, slightly taunting, almost playful, like a curious kitten.
But this was no “kitten,” Michael knew. Goya could easily end him with a swipe of a massive paw.
Still, a memory flashed in front of Michael’s mind.
That of a tiny white tiger cub following in the footsteps of a gigantic male.
Of the cub darting between his sire’s paws, nipping and growling in playful battle. Of the papa indulgently chuffing at his mini-me, sending him tumbling with a swipe of his powerful tail, then tickling the cub’s belly with his stiff whiskers, the scruff on his maw and his sandpaper tongue…
Goya didn’t telepath any thoughts as he stared at Michael, and Michael was contentedly silent as he stared back.
He had the almost irresistible urge to reach out and touch the tiger. Maybe scratch him behind those adorable round ears.
Michael blinked in some confusion, breaking the intensity of their staring match.
Where in the Four Seas had that thought come from? He’d never felt such an inclination before.
The big male animal standing at attention before him wasn’t some harmless toy like the gift that Mama Bear gave him, that he could cuddle and pet whenever he wanted.
This one was alive. Larger than life. And clearly no longer an innocent, playful cub.
While Michael stewed with perplexity, Goya closed the distance between them. The tiger sat on his haunches directly beside Michael, alert.
They sat there like that for quite a while, both watching the Beasts continue their grueling training. Maximus and Ariel were leading two opposing battalions in a mock skirmish against one another. The two Dark warrior Mates possessed skills and a knack for military strategy that the rest of the Beasts didn’t have, though they could all rely on predatory instincts. They just needed practice and discipline.
Then, Goya chuffed a long sigh and lay down on his belly, looking as if he was settling in for the duration.
And Michael was reminded of another similar image, of a different tiger lying beside him, always keeping him company.
Always protecting him.
Stiltedly, Michael began, “I get the feeling…you know exactly who I am. You can sense me somehow, can’t you?”
Goya made no indication that he heard or understood Michael, except the tiny flick of one ear.
“Well, you know what they say,” Michael murmured, half to himself.
“It’s the soul that wears the body. Thanks to you and your sire, I’ve been cursed with a soul. Me and my Twin—the only gods who have souls.”
He glanced at the tiger doing a thorough job of ignoring him.
“Sucks sweaty balls, having a soul does,” he told Goya.
“And since I wear this body almost half of the time now, I know what I’m talking about. I’d rather take needles to the eye than suck a man’s sweaty balls. You males smell.”
The male in question slid a disdainful eye toward him before gazing into the distance once more. As if to say – don’t knock it ’til you try it.
Benjamin’s sweat-sheened body appeared in Michael’s mind’s eye, on one of those wood-chopping mornings. Broad, muscular torso naked, jeans riding low on his hips, dark blond line of hair bisecting his abdomen leading to…
Sweaty balls, eventually.
Instead of feeling the disgust he expected, Michael’s mouth filled with saliva at the thought of sucking on those balls. Sweaty or not.
“Anyway, it’s a nuisance,” Michael grumbled, back on the topic of souls.
“And it’s worse when housed in this frail human body. How do you deal with it? All the churning emotions combined with the feeling of powerlessness. You’re not fully in control of the world. You’re barely in control of yourself. And you…need things. Want things. It’s awful.”
Goya chuffed a breath as if bored and closed his eyes, laying his head down on his front paws.
Now that Michael wasn’t in danger of being pierced by those brilliant blue eyes, he turned to scrutinize the white tiger with immunity.
When last he saw the cub, in the final battle of gods and monsters, Goya had already reached maturity. He’d been a mighty warrior, though still a relatively new King of Beasts. But he still hadn’t been as powerful as his sire had been, his body not as broad and long; his muscles not as thick.
Now, Goya was almost an exact replica of Byakko, albeit with his own unique stripes. Even relaxed in repose, his body radiated strength and vitality. A visceral mastery of his surroundings and all those in his charge.
And Michael felt…
Proud.
“He taught you well,” Michael whispered.
Unconsciously, he raised one hand to hover over the tiger’s head.
“I…I’m sorry,” he said simply, though he didn’t really know what he was apologizing for. He just felt the need to do so.
He swallowed, throat suddenly tight, lips slightly quivering.
He let out a deep breath and bowed his head. He didn’t know when he’d scooted closer to Goya, but his hip was now touching the tiger’s side. His hovering hand finally landed tentatively between Goya’s ears.
So soft.
“I miss him.”
Goya said nothing, but he didn’t shift away.
Together, they awaited the rise of a new dawn.
~ * ~* ~ *~ * ~* ~ *~ * ~
“Hi Ben,” Mike greeted the moment Ben entered the café.
“Haven’t seen you in a while. Where’ve you been?”
He leaned his hip on the front counter to chat her up a bit.
Funny, how he had no problems flirting with a woman who had no designs on him, yet he couldn’t run away fast enough from ones who did. His best friend Annie joked that he behaved like he was an already taken man, with his lover’s ownership tattooed on his forehead.
Yet, here he was, with no significant other in his life. Lonely as hell.
“Just a conference in Vancouver,” he answered.
“Got back late last night. You know, Vancouver is a great city. Lots of diversity and good food. But I always miss home, even if I’m just gone for a week or two. I miss the open spaces, the crisp air. And of course, the hottest punk-rock Barbie in the world.”
At this, he winked and sent her a boyish smile.
“Sweet talker,” she purred, squeezing his bicep with affection. And maybe also appreciating the hardness of his muscles for just a second.
Ben meant every word.
As to where he’d been, what he gave was a half-truth. After spending a few days at the northern stronghold, he did fly to Vancouver the old-fashioned way, after getting Sorin to drop him off at the nearest airport, to speak at an academic conference.
Being the youngest tenured professor of ancient civilizations at a number of top universities around the world afforded Ben a flexible schedule, and it paid well too. He was frequently invited to guest lecture, give dissertations, or consult on special projects in his fields of study. And often, his day job took him to exotic locales around the world.
Ere started calling him Indiana Jones.
He used to do more virtually, over video conference, because he preferred to stay in the Yukon. But since he trekked to Egypt with Ere and Sorin to find the Secret Gift, he’d been well and truly bitten by the travel bug. Over the last few months especially, he’d gone out to see more of the world by himself.
He needed the space.
But no matter how many people he was surrounded by, whether strangers, new acquaintances or loved ones, the loneliness inside of him continued to grow.
“Well, your usual booth is taken for the time being,” Mike let him know.
“Do you want another table or would you mind sharing with Ruth?”
“I don’t mind if she doesn’t,” Ben replied readily.
This wasn’t the first time they ran into each other at the café on a weekend afternoon. They shared a preference for the same booth. He rather enjoyed her company.
Mike showed him to his seat, took his order and went off to get Ruth a refill of her hot tea.
“How are you, young Benjamin?” the elderly lady greeted when he sat down, looking up briefly from her knitting.
She was always knitting. He could never tell what she was knitting. It wasn’t an item of clothing, that’s for sure. It didn’t look like a shawl or a throw either. The shape seemed random and so were the patterns. And she was apparently never done.
“Can’t complain,” he said. “Just got back from a short trip. It’s nice to go away sometimes. Makes a person appreciate home more upon return.”
His gaze softened as he took in her frazzled gray bun, comfortable sweater and wind-stun rosy cheeks.
“How about you, Ruth? It’s good to see you.”
“I can’t imagine why,” she said smartly. “A plump old lady can’t compare to the beauty of youth. It’s good to see you, Benjamin. A sight for sore eyes, that you are. They should make some of those old-fashioned pin-up posters of you and cover the walls with them. Bet that would cheer everyone up the minute they come in here. No matter who they are.”
Ben shook his head, letting the compliment slide like water off a duck’s feathers.
“You’re a shameless flirt, Ruth. I never would have guessed. Bet you were a goddess in your younger days. Tell me the truth.”
She eyed him slyly.
“Are you saying I’m not anymore?”
He put his hands up in surrender and opened his mouth to dig a deeper hole, but she cut him off with a clucking of her tongue.
“You bet your pert young tush I was a goddess,” she said rather proudly. “Everyone prostrated themselves at my feet to see me in all my unspeakable glory.”
For a moment, something bright and dazzling gleamed in her iridescent eyes. Ben was mesmerized. Just what color were they? He could never tell.
But then the moment passed, and she concentrated on her knitting again.
“These old bones act up more often when the weather turns cold,” she shared, going back to his opening question, as if the last few exchanges didn’t happen.
“Since it’s always a little chilly even when it’s unseasonably warm, I’m more or less used to it. But I’m still healthy as a horse otherwise. A nice daily afternoon nap helps keep me sharp.”
Ruth’s eyes reflected her sharpness as she flicked a look at him.
Ben was always fascinated by the deep well of experiences contained in those eyes whenever he held her gaze. She never shared anything specific. Nothing about her family or where she came from. But her words were always wise, and he liked listening to her.
He smiled his thanks when Mike brought him his food and drink. Then, out of habit, he looked around for a particular server, whose name his mind was blanking on again.
She wasn’t here today. She hadn’t come to the cookout either, when all the rest of the employees of Drink of Me had come.
“Eve doesn’t work the evening shift anymore,” Ruth said, catching Ben’s wandering gaze.
“If that’s who you’re looking for,” she added a beat later.
Startled, he turned to her.
“How did you know?”
She shrugged one shoulder.
“It’s been Mike and Eve on the afternoon and evening shift for the past three years at this diner,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Unless you were looking for a particular guest, I just made the deduction that’s what had you craning your neck.”
“Eve…” he repeated beneath his breath.
It was such a simple name. Yet he always had trouble with it. He tried to conjure the woman’s face in his mind, but he only drew a blank.
“I don’t mean to be disparaging, but what about the girl draws your attention, Benjamin?” Ruth queried, a curious tilt to her head as she regarded Ben.
He floundered for a reply, waving his hand in the air.
“I just…”
“You just can’t figure out why a female between the age of nine and ninety isn’t gaga over your golden good looks?”
Ben winced with embarrassment. Not because it was true, but because it made him uncomfortable whenever people remarked on his appearance. This was the second time Ruth alluded to it. Was this all she saw?
It was just an outer shell. He often wished it wouldn’t be as distracting as people seemed to find it, so his interactions with them were more substantial, less superficial, from the very start. More often than not, he never got past the surface with new acquaintances, because they never got past his.
“I’m just teasing,” Ruth said softly, noticing his chagrin.
“You have a knack for noticing people and things others normally don’t. Maybe that’s why you notice Eve. For everyone else, she blends right into the background. Maybe she even likes it that way.”
Ben dug into his late luncheon for a few silent minutes, letting the topic drop, while Ruth went back to her knitting.
After a time, he couldn’t help asking, “What are you making? Is it for anyone in particular?”
Ruth pulled up her knitting to reveal a large, irregularly shaped section of cloth. It was like a mosaic, but not of any discernable scene. Just a pointillism of various hues that was pretty in a surreal sort of way.
If Ben could tear a corner out of a scene in the Celestial Realm, he imagined it might look like that. Just a piece of a puzzle, random without the right context to frame it.
He shook his head slightly at the surprising thought.
She looked at her work with a critical eye before putting it back in her lap.
“Don’t know. Just something my mind conjures up. Maybe I’ll give it to you when I’m done. Maybe your bachelor pad could use something soft and comforting.”
Strangely enough, it was true, despite the fact that Ben’s mother and grandmother helped decorate his cabin. But they did it with his preferences in mind, with simple, functional, masculine pieces. Except for the goose-down comforter and pillows in his bedroom and the sheep skin rugs, there wasn’t a lot of softness in his home.
“I’d appreciate it,” he murmured. And meant it.
He sipped his latte, noticing that the foam didn’t have any special designs in it, the way the absent waitress always made it.
He tried to recall her name and face again, but a headache began to throb at his temples, making him squeeze his eyes shut at the sudden pain.
“You look tired, my dear,” Ruth murmured.
“Are you getting enough rest?”
Actually, he wasn’t. He’d been sleeping poorly for the past few months. Gods…had it been that long?
“Thinking too much, I guess,” he muttered. “Can’t seem to shut my mind off.”
“Yes, the unconscious mind is a dangerous thing,” Ruth said. “Filled with all those pesky memories and desires you’ve buried deep within. Maybe it’s better to let them out. Give them some air to breathe. Maybe keeping them buried is what’s making things hard.”
She looked pointedly at the veins pulsing in his temples.
“Like trapped monsters trying to claw their way out of your head.”
Ben narrowed his eyes at her.
“You sound like you’d know something about that,” he said. “Maybe you should expose your own demons to the light as well.”
She gave him a rueful smile.
“Sharing is caring?”
Ben saluted her with his cup.
“Ladies first.”
She was silent for a long while, clicking away at her knitting again.
Ben finished his light meal and sat back against the booth, one arm casually resting along the back of it, studying the enigmatic woman across from him.
Something about Ruth seemed intimately familiar, yet he knew he’d never met her before she came to live in the Territories. It was similar to the connection he felt with Michael, and even that taciturn foam-decorating waitress.
Of course, Michael affected him in different ways. But there were similarities too. Like how little he knew about all three of them, when he knew practically every resident in these parts like the back of his hand.
Michael knew about the Immortal Kinds. Did Ruth? There was knowledge in her eyes that went beyond human experience.
Or maybe Ben was just grasping at straws, trying to make sense of his own confused thoughts and feelings. His instincts were going haywire. There was something about them that…frustrated him as much as captivated him. For a crazy second, he wondered if they were related.
When it didn’t appear that she would speak further, he took out his wallet, preparing to pay both their bills.
And then she said:
“I’ll tell you a story, Benjamin, if you’d like to listen.”
He leaned forward, elbows on the table. Curious.
Would this charming old lady finally reveal something real and personal about herself after all this time? The mild discontentment Ben felt a moment ago immediately disappeared. Replaced by a strange fascination.
He gave one sure nod.
Thus, she began.
“The mind is the key; the heart is the door; the soul is the corridor; the universe is the destination.”
—Matshona Dhliwayo
“The other day while I was at the library relaxing with my usual stack of picture books and trashy magazines—don’t judge me,” she speared him with a look through her lashes.
“I wouldn’t dare,” he promised.
“—a story caught my eye. It was of this woman who was going through therapy because she was suffering ‘post-traumatic symptoms’ from the death of her twin.”
Ben blinked at that.
He didn’t know what he was expecting when she offered to share a story, but it wasn’t…that.
He thought maybe she’d tell him about her own background, any family she might have, how she came to be here in the Yukon. But perhaps she was just winding up for it. Perhaps she’d get there eventually.
In any case, he was happy to keep her company and listen.
Ruth seemed…lonely.
At the same time, she also seemed perfectly comfortable in her aloneness. He’d never seen her socialize with anyone else in town. She also didn’t project sadness or melancholy. But then, neither did he.
Maybe that’s why he was drawn to her. They were kindred souls. Strangely enough, the pressure within his chest lessened when he was with her.
“The woman—let’s call her Miss X—told her therapist about the grief of losing her sister, the physical pain too, like losing a vital piece of herself, maybe her heart or even her limbs. The therapist called it ‘psy-cho-so-matic.’”
Ruth licked her lips after carefully enunciating the word, as if it left a strange taste in her mouth.
“Lord, these modern terms are difficult. There’s a term for everything these days, isn’t there? And there’s a type of therapy for every condition. Even when the condition is simply being human.”
Ben murmured his agreement.
He didn’t judge whether it was a good or a bad thing, to diagnose, define and treat every little twitch or thought. To put a label on everything. He agreed with what Ruth was implying—that people should just be. That people should let people be. And allow for the possibility of change and transformation; of becoming something different over time.
The possibility of growth.
Else, what was the point of living?
“Anyway, Miss X was suffering something fierce,” Ruth went on, her eyes on her knitting, not looking at Ben.
“She didn’t feel alive anymore. She was a shell of her former self. When she was with her twin, she felt like they could do anything, conquer every obstacle together. She was sometimes alone, but she was never lonely. It was the two sisters against the world.”
She licked her lips and paused in her knitting, gazing out the window. Her face took on a faraway expression.
“Their parents were these powerful, rich scions of society. They had too many other demands on their time, so they left the girls to their own devices. Miss X had no other playmates growing up. Other children weren’t like her. There were unspoken rules about…mixing with those who were not from her class.”
She curled her fingers in quotation marks at the end.
“She didn’t really mind the seclusion or constraints,” Ruth went on.
“She had her twin, after all. She was content, after a fashion. She knew early on that she was different from other children. The therapist said she was ‘on the spectrum.’ While the sisters understood each other perfectly, often communicating without words, they didn’t understand or empathize with others. As if they were a separate species from the rest of the world. The way predators wouldn’t empathize with their prey.”
She glanced back at Ben, her unknowable gaze riveting on him, her sharp eyes glinting.
“Oh, but once in a blue moon, the lioness comes across a buffalo she can’t help but respect. And as much as she wants to devour him, she wants to keep him whole too, because he is too magnificent to ruin. She likes it when he challenges her, when he runs so she could give chase. And even better when he holds his ground so she could test her formidable will against his.”
Ben’s pulse spiked suddenly, and he didn’t know why.
But Ruth knew, for her glittering gaze focused immediately on his throat, as if she could see the vein throbbing there.
“But I digress,” she murmured, dropping her eyes to her knitting again as she started clicking the needles to an almost soothing, staccato beat.
“It was the two sisters against the world,” she repeated.
“So, when her twin was gone, Miss X felt the loss even more keenly than the average person. One who has family and friends, who knows how to live with others as well as by themselves. A ‘well-adjusted’ person, you might say.”
Ben still wondered distantly why she was telling him this story. And then she flicked her eyes up to meet his once more.
“I can relate to Miss X, you see. I lost my twin as well. She was the only person I had in this world to call my own. And I was hers.”
Ben wanted to say something to soothe that bereft look on her face, but he couldn’t find the right words.
She didn’t need them, apparently, for she wasn’t done.
“But that’s not what drew me to that article,” she said.
“After a couple years of therapy, the world-renowned doctor led Miss X to a revelation she’d never considered. Something she knew, but didn’t recall. A truth she’d buried at the bottom of her psyche. Whether she did it to protect herself or because others made her forget, she didn’t know.”
Ben couldn’t help but lean forward, elbows on the table, as he listened more closely.
Ruth said: “Miss X never had a twin. She’d always been an only child.”
Ben’s lips parted on an inaudible release of breath. It felt like the bottom just fell out of his stomach. His head was spinning. The world was tilting.
And the floodgates to his suppressed memories were blown apart, making them rush to the forefront of his consciousness. Overwhelming him to the point of losing time for a few seconds.
He struggled against the blackout, his mind flickering like a burnt-out light bulb that wanted to die. He wouldn’t let it. He couldn’t lose the light.
Not now. When he was so close…
To what, he didn’t know. But he had to reach for it. Despite the nausea and visceral pain rocking through his entire body. He had to hold onto this.
It was too important.
As if through a long, dark tunnel, he heard her words as she continued with the story.
“She’d always been different from everyone else,” Ruth repeated.
“She was capable of things no one else was capable of. Her parents thought she might be a danger to society, given her unnatural…gifts. So, they isolated her from the world when she was a child. But children, more than anyone, need care and stimulation. Companionship. Affection. However different Miss X was, she still needed that.”
“So, she gave the things she needed to herself. Eventually, the image in her mirror took on a life of its own. It looked just like her, but was her opposite and complement in every way. It wasn’t good or bad, dark or light, just as she wasn’t either or. They were both at any given time. They were simply always what the other lacked. And she was never alone again after that, because her reflection, her shadow, accompanied her everywhere.”
“But just as people diagnosed with ‘multiple personalities disorder’ truly believe that there are separate, distinct people living in one body, and everyone else realize the same as they interact with them, so, too, did Miss X’s shadow become reality. She truly was her twin. She was her own person, distinct and separate but part of her too.”
“Was it little wonder that they became enamored of the same buffa—that is—man?”
Ben jerked at that, as if he’d been shocked by an intense jolt of electricity.
“But that is a story for another day,” Ruth said, a strange, bitter smile hovering on her lips.
Paralyzed and shaken, Ben watched her pack up her knitting in a large canvas bag and scoot carefully out of the booth.
“Goodbye, Benjamin,” she said softly, laying a hand briefly on his shoulder, jolting him again.
“We won’t meet again, I feel. Remember this story when the time comes. It’s so easy to forget. Look at me. I’ve forgotten all these years. Maybe I did it on purpose to avoid the pain of remembering. But the truth will always come out, you see, no matter how far down we bury it.”
And then—
She was gone.
Ben didn’t recall her walking away and out of the diner. He sat in the booth in a dizzying daze, staring fixedly at the condensation accumulating on the outside of his water glass and as it slowly bled onto the table.
Eventually, he got up and left himself, remembering by rote to leave money for the food and drinks. He walked without a destination in mind, but his feet knew where his heart wanted to go.
At last, he found himself on a hill overlooking the foot of Mount Wilson where the Tiger King’s enclave dwelled and trained. He sat down and drew his legs up, arms draped over his knees.
It was late afternoon. The animal spirits weren’t out and about yet, so the valley was quiet and peaceful. He soaked in both the calm and wildness of the wide-open space, taking measured deep breaths to recenter himself. Blanking out all thought.
Simply…being.
He watched the sun slowly set in the horizon, reaching out its fiery tentacles across a violet and pink sky. A breeze swept through his clothes and hair, teasing his senses to alertness.
That’s when he heard soft footsteps in the grass behind him.
Someone was approaching.
But Ben knew who it was even before they took a seat beside him, mirroring his pose.
He felt it.
“Hello, Benjamin,” his companion greeted.
“Michael,” he returned, turning his head to look at the man.
When Michael looked back, Ben saw the same depths in his eyes that he’d seen in Ruth. They hadn’t been there before, he knew. Yet, now, there was a wealth of knowledge and experience.
A knowing and understanding.
“Who are you?” he whispered.
Ben wanted desperately to reach out and cup Michael’s face, make skin-on-skin contact to ground himself. To convince himself that this was real. That he was real.
He didn’t. He wasn’t ready.
Or he was too fucking scared.
Of what, he didn’t know. Anguished memories? Present mindfuck? Future pain?
All of the above, perhaps. And then some.
“I’m Michael,” the man answered.
“And Ruth. And Eve,” he added matter-of-factly, as if it was the most natural thing to do.
Ben took a deep breath, forcing himself to ask:
“Who else?”
Michael cocked his head a little, his eyes assessing Ben, as if trying to measure how much to reveal without totally breaking Ben’s sanity.
“I’m a lot of things to a lot of people,” he said finally.
“Most recently, you would have known me as Miss Seventh when you and your friends visited the Celestial Realm.”
Miss Seventh…Miss X…
Twins…
Goddesses…
Pure and Dark…
Lilith…Lilly…
Abruptly, Ben leapt to his feet. He walked away without another word. He could feel Michael looking after him. But the other man didn’t get up. Didn’t pursue him.
Ben needed to get away.
But where did you go when it was your own heart, mind and soul you wanted to escape from?
~ * ~* ~ *~ * ~* ~ *~ * ~
Well, that went well.
Not.
Michael sat on his hill as dusk descended, watching the Beasts come out to play.
On the one hand, he finally found the way to merge with Ruth—by remembering what he’d chosen to forget. On the other hand, he probably fractured a fragile human mind when he told all of this to Ben.
But then, Ben was much stronger than the average human. Ben’s soul was the strongest of all. So bright and pure. So compelling that Michael endeavored to grow his own just to be closer to him. To understand and empathize in ways a god could never do.
Funny, how memories could lie.
The stories one told oneself could take on the veneer of truth with repetition. Eventually, with enough repetition and time, they became truth. And the real truth became so buried and forgotten, it felt like a lie even when you accidentally stumbled upon it.
In the beginning, there was Darkness…
Out of Darkness and Light emerged Immortal beings, each with the might of a fiery star. Their names changed with the changing times, but their magic remained constant and true…
And of these brilliant, starry beings, two shone the brightest of all. One borne of Darkness and One borne of Light…
Except, there had only ever been One. Light and Darkness were merely two sides of the same coin, or two halves of the same being.
Michael remembered.
Given that the Truth happened tens of thousands of years ago, he couldn’t really be blamed for forgetting it. Maybe it was the magic of the Dream and Song rings he wore, helping to surface these memories and reminding him to hold onto them before he forgot again.
Whatever the case, he remembered…
Age of Gods. Tens of thousands of years ago.
The Jade Emperor and the Queen Mother of the West had countless offspring. As long lived as these supreme gods were, this was not surprising.
But none of their creations were capable of being The One.
The One who possessed the power to succeed the ruling pair. Just as the Jade Emperor succeeded his predecessor untold eons ago.
Back then, at the dawn of time, the universe had been a much simpler place. Just as chaotic perhaps, just as savage. But it was ruled by immutable forces like gravity and nature, fire and earth.
Much later, there came water. With water, came life. Life was pure and simple. The rules of the universe expanded to accommodate survival of the fittest and living beings’ drive to procreate, to leave some trace of themselves after such a brief, hard-won existence.
Over time, complex beings arose. Countless cycles of them before humans walked the earth. And all of them began with the Jade Emperor’s spark. Unique sparks that then propagated into more sparks. That then became living beings that populated the world as we knew it.
Then, tens of thousands of years ago, an Aberration occurred.
One spark blazed brighter and hotter than the rest, than any across the infinite creations of the Jade Emperor and his Lady Wife. And they knew, awed and terrified both, that this was The One.
The spark coalesced into the form of a wriggling pink body. A girl child. Rather defenseless and ugly in that initial stage. Hairless. Small. Unable to speak. Unable to even think complex thoughts.
The ruling pair wondered whether they’d been mistaken. Surely, this tiny thing couldn’t be The Destroyer of Worlds, the Usurper of Gods.
And then, the babe stared at them with eerie, iridescent eyes. Within them swirled the infinite colors of the cosmos. Entire universes were waiting to be born, created by the babe’s mere thought, by her boundless imagination.
They couldn’t help but be mesmerized.
Even the Jade Emperor didn’t have such powers. His creations kept repeating themselves with little variation over the eons that he’d ruled. Logical, intelligent creatures though they were, there was nevertheless wars, disease, famine and ultimately, extinction.
While they existed, they built astonishing, advanced civilizations, created complex cultures and religions. And the ruling pair watched over them with other accompanying Immortals from a removed distance. Until the need arose to spread the sparks again.
But within this youngling’s eyes, they saw infinite possibilities and every extreme. There was balance in the extremes, but there was also great risk. If ever the balance tipped, entire worlds could end.
She cannot be left like this, unchecked, the Queen Mother of the West said to her Eternal Mate.
She is just a seedling, the Jade Emperor argued, brushing his energy along the little girl’s petal-soft cheek.
She gurgled and smiled at the warmth he gave her, turned her face into it, seeking more.
She will not be for long, the Queen Mother predicted. This is the most vulnerable that she will ever be. We must do something before it’s too late.
But the Jade Emperor was lost in that radiant, uncomplicated smile. It tugged at something protective within him.
He knew that his Mate didn’t mean the child harm. She only wanted to contain her burgeoning powers. Control them so they didn’t wreak havoc upon the universe accidentally.
But he couldn’t bear to contain something so vast, to limit The One’s potential for greatness. Even if it could be reversed later, at the right time.
I will call her Seven, the Jade Emperor said.
His Mate flicked a look at him.
You skipped one, she noted.
Indeed, he did, purposely skipping the number Six. Though he did not explain his reason.
There had only been five sparks before this that they thought could be The One. He always named his other creations by characteristics that described them, not by number. Over time, it was confirmed that none of the five turned out to be The One.
Perhaps time would disappoint them with Seven as well. There would be numbers after her too.
But…
They both knew that she was different.
Thus, under their careful watch, the babe grew rapidly into a stronger form. Within days, she was five times her original size, beginning to walk now, able to talk and telepath. She was insatiably curious, soaking up the world around her, hungry for knowledge.
There were few other Immortals like her, for there were almost no children amongst the gods. Many were created fully formed. Everyone else was bigger, physically stronger. But her mind and will were the strongest of all.
She had only to think something, and it would happen. And while she did not abuse her greater powers, it was soon revealed that she didn’t have perfect control of them.
Because she was unique in her existence, there were none who could partner her. She realized this almost right away and began to create her own playmates. Thus, fantastical flora and fauna came into being, and she giggled with happiness to see them thrive.
When she was ten times her original size, now adept at running and leaping, in full control of her graceful limbs, she imagined a creature who could run and leap alongside her. A beautiful animal with bright eyes and silky fur who would purr with joy when she petted him.
The being she created was the same growth stage as she was, the better to partner her in life. He was a youngling too. They chased each other through the lush landscapes of her imagination, laughing with abandon, lost in their own world.
The other Immortals grew jealous of this shining star and her favored pet, as powerful beings were wont to do. Some of them had always known about the Prophesy, but never truly believed it.
Until now. Until they gazed upon Seven and saw with their own eyes what she could do.
A few of them got the idea to push her a bit, to see what she was really capable of. After all, when pushed, the previous five had shown their weaknesses, proving that they couldn’t possibly be The One.
This wasn’t the first time they challenged her. Even in her infant stage, she had impenetrable protective shields. They didn’t know whether it was her own strength that projected them, or because the ruling pair helped her. Whatever the case, they hadn’t been able to get the better of her.
But now that she created a playmate and clearly coveted the beast above all others, the other gods homed in on her vulnerability.
One day, one of the Immortals managed to lure Seven into a deep sleep, ensnared her within a convoluted web of dreams. They knew that if they attacked her while she was unconscious, her protective shields would alarm, and she would instantly awake.
But if they were to go after her pet…
The little beast was not easy to capture, despite that he was still new and untried. He ran and hid, then fought ferociously when cornered. None of the gods who hunted him escaped unscathed.
In her dreams, Seven heard her beast’s roars of agony and growls of fury, as well as his fear for her for he knew he could no longer protect her when this was done.
And then, her heart thudded to an abrupt halt. The last beat echoed ominously in the cage of her chest.
Until there was no more.
No more beast.
No more spark.
No more heart.
He was gone, gone, GONE!
Seven clawed her way out of the prison of dreams, and when she awakened, she came with a sky-splitting, earth-shattering scream.
Her entire being became a blazing star, blasting outwards across the universe. Wherever the intense energy touched, worlds crumbled, turned to dust as if they never were.
Her rage was indiscriminate. The gods who’d hunted, tortured and killed her pet were the first to meet their agonizing demise, but they weren’t alone. She didn’t care who perished with them. Didn’t even try to target her rage.
She was inconsolable. A black hole of grief and devastation. And she swallowed everything in her path until only void remained.
The Jade Emperor and Queen Mother witnessed the destruction from afar, awed and terrified, the same intense feelings they felt when Seven had first come into being. There was nothing they could do to stop her. Their own powers allowed them to be removed from her sphere of annihilation, but they could save no one else.
Until, finally, abruptly, she stopped.
Just like that.
Only silence and nothingness remained.
The immeasurable resonance of her energy reduced to her childlike form again, and she slept. So peacefully, it’s as if everything that came before had been naught but a dream.
But two witnesses remained. They knew the truth.
She was The One.
The Queen Mother was right. They could not let Seven exist without restraint. They could not destroy her either, once her spark was created. But she could destroy them, as the Prophesy foretold.
Given the untold eons of their existence, the Jade Emperor and his Eternal Mate did not fear their own removal from the universe. It was the way of things, and each had their own role to play.
But there was much for Seven to learn before they could leave Creation in her hands. There was no Balance within her. The only Balance was all or nothing. Utopic worlds or utter devastation.
But what could they do? How could they limit something that was limitless?
They kept her in the deep sleep she’d fallen into for as long as they could. One by one, they created new sparks and propagated those into a brand-new world.
When Seven stirred to wakefulness, they kept her isolated in a different plane, a different realm. There was no one else there, only Seven herself.
The Jade Emperor and his Mate used all of their combined powers to keep her sedated in this way; even her imagination was dulled. The potential always remained, but it was effectively banked. She could only create simple things in this nebulous realm, and none of them contained the spark of life.
Eventually, as the world outside of her imprisonment began to flourish again, Seven herself grew used to the containment. A dispassionate coldness wrapped around her, infused into her empty core. A ball of ice and steel grew where her heart used to be.
For the sake of the Universe and her own sanity, she could not afford to be vulnerable again.
She began to talk to herself, for thousands of years of isolation could drive a being to such lengths. Talking to the abyss just to hear a voice, even if it was her own.
Then, one day, she created a mirror-like pond to look into. She spoke, and the reflection spoke back. Almost as if it were independent from her.
Like a twin.
And Seven had an idea:
If she could not create other sparks in this realm, perhaps she could split her own.
It meant that she would halve her powers, but she didn’t care. Surely, her twin would never betray her. They would always have one another. She would never again be alone.
Thus, the reflection in the mirror-pond took on a life of its own. Shadows gathered and coalesced so that Seven’s light could shine brighter.
And because her powers were reduced by half, as were her twin’s, so did the risk of letting her out into the world.
But as long as they are together, they can still create immeasurable havoc, the Queen Mother warned.
Not if they believe that they are separate, distinct beings, the Jade Emperor murmured thoughtfully.
They would not consider merging if they have no memory of being One. We could mark their release into the universe as the birth of two stars, the Pure and the Dark Goddess. The Twins. With their threat to the universe lessened this way, they will perhaps have the time to truly learn and grow.
But how long will that take? How do we know they will grow together rather than apart?
From the weariness in her voice, the Jade Emperor knew that his Mate wished to hand over the reins of their rule to someone capable of holding them. But that “someone” was not yet ready.
Not nearly.
They would have a long time yet to wait. Watch and wait. And perhaps guide. That was all they could do.
Even if they grew apart, the universe will contrive to bring them together again. I do not worry about that. It is only a matter of time.
But you do worry, the Queen Mother noted.
Yes, the Jade Emperor confirmed solemnly.
They might be able to balance each other, and their reduced powers will create balance with others. But one day, they must still find their better half, just as I have found it with you. Even though they will perceive it as a vulnerability. Even if they fight the rightness of it with every step. They must learn to diffuse all of their extremes, learn to appreciate and protect those who are far weaker than they.
Which is everyone else, the Queen Mother sighed almost woefully, showing what she thought of the seemingly insurmountable challenge before them.
Indeed, the Jade Emperor agreed.
Thus…
Out of Darkness and Light emerged Immortal beings, each with the might of a fiery star.
And of these brilliant, starry beings, two shone the brightest of all. One borne of Darkness and One borne of Light. The Twins were inseparable, each the mirror image of the other. Where one’s dream ended, the other’s began. Where one spoke her heart’s desires, the other made them come true…
Ah, but there was no “heart,” was there?
Michael could feel the hollowness within his chest. In the same sense that Eve was a blank slate, so easy to forget.
Over Seven’s various incarnations, there had only been two memorable times when that missing heart skipped a phantom beat and threatened to grow anew—
With the creation and death of Byakko. And when Lilith found her leopard Beast.
Perhaps it was a good thing that she never recovered it. Perhaps it was a disaster narrowly avoided. After all, look what happened the first time. The entire universe had collapsed in on itself when she lost it.
And yet…
Seven was no longer a god. Even her twin was gone. She was now stuck in two remaining human forms. Reduced to almost nothing from her former awe-inspiring glory.
Surely, if Eve existed, it meant that she had the inkling of a heart, however faint. So much had been taken from her. No wonder she’d never felt free. Surely, she deserved to have what all humans had—body, heart, mind and soul—if this was all that was left of her potential.
The part of her that rebelled as Lilith, who wanted to restore her godly powers, was gone. At least, Seven couldn’t feel the echo of her twin anymore, though she was starting to tap into Lilith’s memories.
She didn’t know what she wanted, except that the dragon quests had intrigued her as nothing else had done across the immeasurable time of her incarceration in the Celestial Realm. They were her creations, these magical, magnificent creatures. Her and her Twin.
She wanted them to be free. She wanted them to thrive.
Just like the Pure Ones, Dark Ones, Elementals and Beasts. She wanted their creations to outlast her own existence. Through them, the Twins would never die.
Maybe this was the purpose of the Prophesy. Not for Seven to radically overthrow the ruling gods and destroy the world as we knew it, but to leave it in better hands. Self-sustaining. Without the gods’ guidance and management.
Michael sighed, getting up from his seat on the hill, dusting his jeans off as he stood to stretch out his legs.
He’d stayed here all night, remembering.
Thinking.
With the rise of a new dawn, he felt the human passage of time in visceral ways that Seven didn’t feel in the timeless Celestial Realm. Michael could actually feel himself getting older.
Maybe a little wiser.
Perhaps that was the benefit of being human. You had to make the most of your tiny allotment of time on earth. Because of this, Michael’s desires burned hotter; his yearnings nigh impossible to ignore.
He wanted to be around Tal-Telal and soak in the man’s strength, his calming presence. He wanted to indulge in Mama Bear’s cooking and banter with Mike as Eve. And given that Ruth was a part of him now, he wanted to continue her habit of going to the library and maybe taking a catnap while surrounded by the comforting smell of books.
Most of all, he wanted Ben.
To talk to him, look at him, breathe him in and just be with him.
If he sifted through his memories right, Ben’s soul was the reason he lost his heart in the first place. Surely, he would also be the key to growing it back.
And then, maybe Michael would be whole. Or Eve. It didn’t matter which.
Maybe they would truly know, then, what it meant to be human.
Maybe they’d even find that being human wasn’t such a bad thing after all.