Chapter 39 Death and Rebirth #2
“Very good,” I say, pleased. “This act cannot give back the years lost, but her life can at least move forward, if you are both willing.” I turn to you.
“How do you feel in all this, Sung Siu Yin? On the surface, what we do will be an easy task. But the truth is, forgiveness is never easy. The heart is afraid to let go. When hurt is all we’ve known, we are reluctant to relinquish it, and we fear to venture into unfamiliar lands. ”
Your hands curl and uncurl, thoughts whirling in your head. It is, you find, easier to think clearly in this place, without the oppressive ghostly anger saturating every action or intent.
“I have done so much wrong,” you say, finally. “I can’t imagine an existence other than what I have.”
“Don’t be silly, niece,” Mercy says, reprovingly. “If you can fight in wars like a legend, and run government offices, and wreak epic vengeance on your old auntie, then there is nothing you can’t do as a living woman. If that’s what you want.”
In the moment you are grateful water ghosts cannot cry.
“Let’s do it,” you whisper.
“Step into yourself, Siu Yin,” I say. “We will go from there.”
Look down at your body with a fresh and critical eye. See the lines on that face, the gray in that hair. The lightning scar up one arm. This form is a stranger to you, a different woman from the one you remember being.
Then your gaze falls on the tiny tiger charm bracelet. Though the cord of it has been replaced, the charm endures; a tiny yet physical link between past and present, death and life, you and Baba and Mei Chi.
It’s enough.
You step into your own skin, for the first time in thirty-three years.
Raw sensation floods you. The heart judders into rhythm, jolted by the invasion of a spirit.
This body has a belly full of water, thanks to being dragged around through oceans.
You roll over and throw that up at my feet.
Gasp for air, taking in ragged breaths. The sensation of relief that comes with breathing has never gotten old, no matter how many times you’ve escaped into a skin.
Sit up. Examine your hands, touch your wrists and ears and nose. Is this home? Maybe. It was once, could be again. This does feel different, you realize, from other skins you’ve inhabited. There’s an underlying familiarity that resonates.
“I feel old.” Your own voice, coming out of your own throat. For the first time in so long. “This body has seen many years, and multiple injuries.” The left eye is still swollen shut from the beating your enforcers gave it; very uncomfortable.
Fifty-three isn’t old! There’s plenty of life left in it yet, Mercy says, a little defensively. Once again, her voice is but a watery echo in your mind. I never considered myself to be old, and you shouldn’t either. As for those injuries—they will heal. Probably.
“It’s fine, I was just commenting. I understand already that the life I could have had in my youth is gone forever, and I’ve accepted it.” Even as you say so, you really do accept it with quiet resignation. “I can only make the most of what comes.”
You stand shakily, feeling hollow and exhausted. This body has seen two deaths and a recent beating, in addition to its share of life, and is worn to the breaking point.
What now, goddess? Mercy asks.
“Now, the true work begins,” I say. “Mei Chi, step forward.”
She does, if a little anxiously.
“Little one, you once asked me to remember you, in the same breath that you cursed your own village and railed against all who lived on this island. Will you now revoke those words to forgive the friends and neighbors who played their part in your death, and let the village of Shek Ham Chau be at rest?”
I’m not sure I’d ever describe any of them as friends, and they definitely killed my cat, Mercy mutters. But you know, it was a long time ago. A woman’s got to move on. After everything I have done, I still hope someone forgives my mistakes, too. Therefore … yes, I can forgive them.
“Then let the haunting of Shek Ham Chau end.” I stomp my foot.
As my heel hits the ground, green vines surge from beneath, pushing up through rock. Foliage, leaves, and moss rocket in all directions, spreading across the cavern walls like a spill of green ink. You flinch, and come stand next to me for safety; I allow it.
Mercy, meanwhile, swears vehemently and retreats to the safety of the water.
This must look like her nightmare made flesh, but my dreams were never meant to terrorize her, only awaken memories of the spirit that her flesh had long buried.
And my power, used now, is likewise not intended to harm. I am only here to help.
Living tendrils force cracks and crevices to widen in the unfeeling stone, crumbling away years of lime and sediment and crusted earth. Rubble begins to rain down in the cavern.
Then the headland bursts open from the force of new growth and the cavern roof collapses, smashing all the way through the ancient temple. When the dust stops, you lift your head and look around.
The cavern is gone completely, the weak headland having collapsed under its weight and my power.
Open sky pours from above, bright blue and heavy with hot sunlight.
Rock has fallen along the former cave entrance, blocking it off from the sea and forming a crude wall that will keep out the tide.
The tunnel has collapsed, too, though you cannot see that from here.
At our feet, the ocean still pools, but it cannot be replenished any longer. In time, the sun will dry it out. When it does, this will just be a grassy hollow near the sea, ringed by rocks and filled only with earth.
As for the temple—that is destroyed beyond recognition.
What wasn’t smashed by the cavern roof has been destroyed by vines and bamboo, those stark green shoots engulfing the ruins.
Lotus blossoms—a symbol of my power—explode into bloom, the pink-tipped petals opening wide and white to the sun.
Giant taro spreads huge leaves, covering many sins.
Soon, in a matter of weeks or months, this place will be swallowed by nature, with no trace of its past remaining on the surface.
The growth doesn’t stop there. All around the island, vines and trees and bamboo groves and mangrove shrubs are surging, engulfing buildings and smoothing over their presence.
The land remembers what was done to it, but it will find ways to grow around the damage. Much as the human heart can also do.
“You … destroyed your own shrine,” you say, stunned.
“All things come to an end. No one has prayed at my temple in almost half a century.” I pause. “Once it was a place of light and joy, but now it has become a nexus of darkness, sorrow, and pain, to which these unfortunate souls were bound.”
A wind picks up and on it, you can hear the cry of a multitude of ghosts.
Their voices are a chorus, loud and searing.
The noise rises to its peak and then, one by one, they begin to gradually fade.
I feel each one like a plucked lute string as they dissipate, and an invisible weight seems to lift from the island.
“Is that it, then?” you say, awed. “Are they finally at peace?”
“Until the next life, yes.”
I’m glad, Mercy says softly, from the shrinking pool where she lurks. I never meant them to suffer so long.
“Nor did they mean that for you, I am certain.” I turn slightly, her bones still cradled in my arms. “Siu Yin, if you are both ready, the time has come to bury Mei Chi’s remains.”
“What will happen, when I do?” you say, suddenly apprehensive.
It’s a natural reaction, that fear. After all, Mercy has been the center of your thoughts for decades. It’s terrifying, the thought of letting go.
Who even are you, without your hate?
“Truthfully, I am not quite sure what will happen,” I admit, and smile at your startlement.
It is not every day that a deity confesses to ignorance.
“I know that in a few days, you will settle into your body, as you would into any other skin. Likely, you will forget your memories of being a ghost, experiencing a kind of rebirth. But after that—well, it is anyone’s guess. ”
“A death and a rebirth, all at once,” you muse.
“Yes. And I will be there to guide you through this rebirth,” I say, holding your mortal gaze with my divine one. “Only when you are fully human can your forgiveness have enough power to lay Mei Chi to rest. It is no longer her own anger that keeps her here, but yours.”
You stare back and forth, between me and the mostly submerged Mercy. “Am I not human now?”
“No. You are still a ghost in a transient shell. It is not quite the same.”
“What happens if I settle into my skin, you tell me the truth about myself, and I can’t then forgive?”
“Then what will be, will be,” I say, simply.
“I see.” You glance up at the island, rapidly greening in the distance, all soft and quiet and empty; you look back at Mercy, hovering and silent in her tepid pool—all that remains of the cavern.
Slowly, you walk over to her and crouch down.
She gazes out at you, just beneath the water’s surface: surreal and green-hued. The glamour has no effect on you because of my presence, or your experiences, but neither do you find her grotesque. She is simply a sad, lost spirit, acting on urges that you have also felt, and are now free of.
“Auntie? Whatever happens next, I want you to know that you were right to bring me back here. I can see that, now that I’m becoming human again.
” You pause, gathering your words. “I won’t pretend I’m not angry or hurt, and I won’t pretend this makes everything right between us.
But I can be all of those things, and still try to forgive. ”
Thank you, Siu Yin, she says, rising out of the water. Despite the sun’s heat searing her skin. You have the strength of a thousand lives, and I believe you will find the way to peace.
Tears well up, and you’re relieved to let them fall. Crying cannot embarrass you after all you’ve been through in life, and death, and life again.
Grasp her hand and give those stone-cold fingers a squeeze.
She squeezes back.
Rise slowly, still weary from the long journey which brought you back, at last, to Shek Ham Chau’s cursed shores. Turn and face me, tired and frightened and determined.
“I’m ready,” you say. “Let’s bury those old bones, and free some ghosts.”