Solo Living Memory

[Satevis]

20th of Spring, 518 AV

Fire whipped through the air, scorching the bare ground. Satevis thrust out his other hand, expelling a stream of Res out of it that quickly transformed into a gout of water. The water twisted and snaked through the air like a whip until it passed out of the area of his control, falling to the ground in the same direction of the fire. Switching elements was a more difficult use of Reimancy than simply using one element or another, and sweat beaded on Satevis's skin from the strain. He drew in a breath, then held out both his hands in front of him, palms down. He expelled Res from all ten fingers, then tried to combine water and fire together in his mind, holding that image in place as he transformed the Res. There was a spark as the Res nearest him transformed initially into fire, but then the fire went out as Satevis managed to hold his intention, transforming the rest of the Res into what he wanted.

The essences of water and fire came together, transforming into steam that filled the air around him, blurring his vision and coalescing into a mist in the muggy air.

"What's it like?"

The question came out of nowhere that night, and for a moment, Satevis wasn't what it meant or how to answer it. He was standing near the stream that cut through his property, in a place where he had cleared out and burned away most of the grass, to give him a place to safely practice Reimancy. The metallic taste in his mouth warned him that perhaps he had overdone it a little, the way his breath caught in his throat, the desire in the back of his mind to cast more magic.

It was nighttime, and Leth was in the sky, and he felt powerful. He felt invincible. He should cast more...surely he could handle it.

With great effort of will, Satevis forced the feeling away, forced his hands to unclench from his side. He had been a mage too long to let the Sweet Whispers get to him, though it was tempting.

Oh, so tempting...

He looked up at Seraya, who was standing at the edge of the practice circle, and who had asked the question. At first, he thought that she was talking about magic, about Reimancy, but as he watched her, he noticed that her arms were folded, a contemplative expression on her face. She was looking, not at the scorch marks on the ground in front of him, or at the steam that filled the air, but at him. At his Ethaefalan form, at the lavender tint to his hair and the white of his horns that suggested that spring was fully in season.

"What's it like to change like that?" Seraya asked. "How does it feel?"

That was a significantly more difficult question. Satevis drew in a breath and tried to come up with his best answer.

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Satevis

[Satevis]

“It feels…” Kultra’s words from the expedition came back to him, the ‘truths’ the man had delivered about Leth. Satevis’s voice caught in his throat, one of his hands going up to press over the outline of the wooden bead underneath his shirt.

That was odd. The night usually filled him with such power, such joy.

Why did he feel like someone was sitting on his chest? Like he couldn’t breathe?

He tried again, opening his mouth and exhaling slowly. The feeling didn’t go away. He felt like he wasn’t getting enough air.

Too much magic, he told himself. He should know better than to push himself like this.

“It feels like coming alive.” His voice sounded dull to his own ears, the rehearsed words sounding like they were coming from someone else. His fingers curled into fists and loosened, brushing against the material of his trousers. “It feels like who I am during the day is a shadow, a memory. At night, I feel strong, powerful. I don’t hunger, I don’t thirst. I feel…closer to my true nature.”

Seraya tilted her head to the side. She looked oddly pensive that night, her arms folded. Satevis wished she wouldn’t look at him like that. Contempt, he could deal with, exasperation, he could deal with. When she looked at him like that, with that look in her eye that could have been sadness or could have been pity, he felt like a child. It reminded him that he was a child, compared to her.

Satevis turned away, walking back towards the stream. He bent down, to drink some water, trying to wash the metallic taste out of his mouth. He could feel Seraya’s eyes burning holes into his back, between his shoulder blades as he knelt. A shiver ran through him as he rose to his feet.

When he looked back at her, she was still watching him.

“Could…could I see?” Seraya finally asked, her voice tentative. “Would you let me?”

For a moment, Satevis didn’t understand her words. He thought them through, one at a time, wondering if perhaps there was some meaning he wasn’t grasping, some idiomatic use of Common. He understood each one of those words individually. Together, they weren’t making much sense.

“I don’t understand,” he said, after a moment. “How…would I let you see?”

Seraya slowly unfolded her arms from across her chest, looking down at the palm of her hand. “It’s…an ability that we Verusk have,” she said. “We can gain another’s memories. It’s how we learn about other races.”

Memories.

Satevis swallowed hard, forcing his thoughts to the back of his mind. He had nothing to hide, he told himself. Nothing to hide.

The memory of washing up on the shore of Zeltiva, naked and gasping for breath, came back to him. He shoved that memory far away. In the quiet of the Sykan night, with the moon over the still ocean, that memory could not be farther away.

“I’d be interested to know how,” Satevis began.

“I don’t know how,” Seraya said, frowning in impatience. “If you want to know ‘how’, ask Kajun’tar. It’s just something I know how to do.”

“Will I be able to see your memories?” Satevis asked. That would certainly be something, seeing the memories of someone as old as Seraya.

Seraya shuddered, as if the thought disturbed her. “No. It’s a one way street. Now, will you let me, or not?”

Nothing to hide…Satevis reminded himself. Nothing to hide.

He put a smile on his face. It felt strained even to him, like it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Of course, Seraya,” he said, holding a hand out towards her. “It is, after all, a cultural exchange.”

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Satevis

[Satevis]

Seraya looked at his hand, a frown on her face. She didn’t reach out for it, instead shaking her head.

“Sit down,” she said. “It will be easier that way.”

Satevis nodded, trying not to feel nervous as he sat down cross-legged on the ground. He couldn’t quite rid himself of the sense of trepidation, though, as Seraya walked over to him. He reminded himself to breathe, in and out, slow and steady breaths that carried his thoughts away. A part of him was curious to see what he would do, and he focused on that part of him, although he couldn’t help but feel somehow as if he were under examination. As if he were lying on Jansen’s table in the lab, waiting to hear back from the healer about an illness or an injury.

“Can all of you do this?” he asked, trying to make conversation to ease the trepidation.

Seraya nodded. She had come to stand in front of him, and was bending down towards him, hands outstretched. “It’s a natural ability. We can’t do it to other Verusk, though.”

“It must have been a while, then,” Satevis mused. “How often do you interact with other races?” He realized that he still knew very little about where the Verusk had come from, or what they were doing before they encountered the World Gate.

Seraya clicked her tongue impatiently, swatting him in the side of the head. It didn’t hurt, but it was enough to wake him up. “Don’t overstep yourself,” she chided, sounding vaguely amused. “I’m sure you’ll find out eventually.”

“Yes, mother,” Satevis said in Shiber. The smile that came to his lips was tight, tinged with nervousness and anticipation.

”Hush,” Seraya said, her green eyes shining. “Don’t use languages I don’t speak.” She held out her hands towards him, spreading her fingers, then paused before her hands could come into contact with his skin. “I need to touch you for this to work. Are you alright with that?”

Satevis nodded. He couldn’t help the lurch in his stomach as she placed her hands on his temples, though, her fingertips brushing his hair. It was a strangely intimate situation and desire was…natural, he supposed. But it was laced through with discomfort and fear.

He shouldn’t be afraid. That was just the overgiving talking. He had nothing to hide.

His mouth felt oddly dry. The light in Seraya’s green eyes was discomforting. He looked away.

“What now?” he asked, his voice hushed.

“It will be easier if you close your eyes,” Seraya said. “Focus on your memories. I’ll see what you remember, and no more than that.”

Satevis nodded, closing his eyes. The world faded as he tried to focus on his breathing, as he tried to let the steady in and out calm his racing heart and his nerves and send him along on the tide of memory…

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Satevis

[Satevis]

Seraya’s question had been centered around the moment of transformation, so that was what Satevis focused on, settling on the memory of this night’s sunset. He remembered sitting at the mouth of his tent, watching the sky shift through hues of orange, red and gold, to violets and purples as Syna sank beneath the western horizon behind him. He remembered the moment, the last rays of golden sunlight vanishing, remembered the rush of strength, power, and the briefest touch of euphoria mixed with melancholy as the world switched over to Leth’s domain.

The memory filled him, exploding into vividness and color. He heard Seraya let out a surprised breath.

Those who were not Ethaefal tended to think of the transformation as physical, a simple change from one form to another, but it was more than that. It was connection, the sensation of being joined to a larger whole. The aches and pains of the day faded away, the hunger pangs and exhaustion. The feelings paled in comparison to the connection he remembered, but he wrapped them around himself anyway, gripping onto the frayed strands of connection between him and Leth with all of his might.

All of his might…

The memory spun away from him, although he tried to stop it, slipping through his fingers like water and sand. In its place was the memory of standing in the jungle, standing before Kultra.

Kultra’s words. Pain stabbed at his chest, jagged edges ripping through the memory. He couldn’t breathe.

No.

Satevis grit his teeth, and with great effort of will, forced that memory away. Memories rose up to replace it, like water filling a reservoir, a parade of thoughts and feelings that came in one after another. He tried to dam the tide, but he couldn’t. They came on so fast that he couldn’t stop them, tied to the beat of his racing heart.

Standing on the deck of the Veronica on the crossing to Syka, staring out at the reflection of the full moon over the water, his nose filled with the smell of the sea, body rocked by the motion of the waves. His head bowed in prayer…

No.

Zeltiva, standing on the pier in the twilight, running through the forms of his scimitar, waiting for the rush of power and life to fill him…

No.

Tock’s house, Tock’s mouth on his, Tock’s body against his, a feeling like fire...Tock’s fingers tracing his horns, remarking on their changing color…

No!

Lhavit’s peaks rising out of the mist, Lhavit in the sunrise, lying on a cold floor after his Reimancy initiation, pain...

…The desert of Eyktol spread out in front of him, moonlight on the sands, looking out at Yahebah and realizing that he no longer belonged, that everyone who might have known him was dead, that Yahebah was no longer home…

…The taste of saltwater, coughing it up, Eridanus’s hand on his shoulder, the roughness of the shore against his naked skin…

No, no, no!

Colors swirled and stopped, settling on one moment, one single fragment of memory. The sight of the sky, colored by the approach of dawn, the first golden rays of sunlight breaking over the horizon. Sunlight washed over him, and he felt it. That first separation, that first sense of breaking. The severance of connection between him and Leth, a connection that had been a part of his being for centuries.

Despair…

”NO!”

Satevis didn’t realize that he had spoken out loud until he felt the rawness of his throat, until he opened his eyes and realized that he had raised his hands to Seraya’s wrists, bodily shoving her away from him. She was standing, two steps away, her hands still outstretched. She stared at him, saying nothing. Tears fell freely from her eyes, making her way down her face.

He’d never seen Seraya cry.

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Satevis

[Satevis]

“I didn’t know,” she said.

Satevis drew in a breath and then another. He swallowed, trying to calm his racing heart.

“It’s fine,” he said, not looking at her. “It’s fine. Don’t…” He wet his lips with his tongue, realizing that he had been speaking in Shiber. With some effort, he switched back into Common. “Don’t…don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t worry about it?” Seraya asked. “How can I not? You…” She wiped at her eyes with the heel of her hand.

Satevis swallowed, looking away. The words came to him, those old, comfortable lies. He wrapped them around himself like a favorite cloak, drawing in a shaky breath.

“I’m alright,” he said. “I’ve learned to cope. My purpose…”

“Purpose?” Seraya asked, looking up at him. “There is no purpose! How can you continue to talk of purpose? You were abandoned—!"

"I was not abandoned!" Satevis surprised himself by the anger in his voice, the vehemence in his tone as he rounded onto Seraya. He was shaking.

Seraya didn't back down, responding in kind. "You were!" she said. "You were abandoned, and no amount of wishful thinking can change that! You're spending your time chasing after a god that doesn't want you!"

"That's not true!"

"You were cast out, and you're too afraid to face it!"

"SHUT UP!"

The shout echoed through the quiet, louder than Satevis could ever remember shouting before. It rustled through the trees of the nearby jungle, echoed out over the stretch of beachfront to his left. Satevis fell silent in its wake, breathing hard, the sound slowly bringing him back to his senses. Seraya did stop talking then. She'd taken a step back, glaring up at him with accusatory eyes.

His heart was pounding, the blood rushing through his ears. He swallowed.

"Seraya," he began. "I'm--."

"Save it," Seraya said, holding up one hand to cut him off. "I don't care. I don't want to hear your apology. It's clear to me that you have some things that you need to work through. So this is how it's going to work. I'm going to go to the bar, and I'm going to get very drunk. And when I get back, if you haven't stopped acting like a petulant child, I'm going to sleep. And we can talk in the morning."

She stalked off, leaving before Satevis could even think of something to say to stop her, leaving before he could even consider an apology.

The moon was high in the sky. Satevis turned to look at it, looking at its silvery reflection of the surface of the water. The sight that had once brought him so much comfort, now set his stomach churning, the memory of Kultra's words, of Seraya's moving through him.

Abandoned. Cast out. Purposeless. Lies.

Alone.

"Is it true?!" he yelled, turning his face toward the sky. "Did you cast me out?! Did you abandon me? Abandon us?!"

Silence. There wasn't an answer. Satevis didn't expect there to be. All of his prayers, his constant, never-ending prayers, had been met without an answer.

Rage and frustration welled up in him. He clenched his fists against it, gritting his teeth. When he couldn't hold it any longer, it exploded from the palm of his right hand into a stream of Res. Satevis thrust his hand back, and the Res whipped into the surface of the stream before igniting into a brilliant stream of flames. The surface of the water bubbled as the fire struck it, filling the air with steam.

Satevis panted as the expenditure faded out, feeling dizzy. Something warm dripped out of his nose, trickling down his face. He raised a hand to it and looked down, blinking through bleary eyes at the sight of blood coating his pale fingers.

There was still no answer from the gods.

His chest heaved with breath, and he lowered his hands to his side, defeated. He stumbled forward, through the mist and the steam, towards his tent.

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Satevis