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You traveled like smoke through memories.
A moth, fluttering in the dark places of the mind, watching without feeling after an eternity of isolation. No wingbeats were heard in your travels, nothing but the hum of your own power as the aether of death reached for you with welcoming tendrils.
You wished you could let it take you, let your mortal coil fade into dust and relinquish the needles holding your wound up hair in place.
And then one day, it was far too bright.
And she was there before you, hovering in the halfway of the atmosphere and screaming as she burned. her hair was a whirlwind of shadow and ash, and she reached for you.
“SAVE ME!”
And then she was gone, a pheonix’s last words.
You had drawn your needles, letting the colored crackle of you own fear hold you aloft. You swallowed hard, throat straining with a scream that had nearly escaped you. You waited, watching and hopeless.
No one survived here.
But…
A spark. A flicker; it glittered into a broad flame and she was there. Her face unscarred and her wings broad and strong, strong as you wished you could be still… Strong as you were when you were young and hopeful and free.
You watched her unfurl like a victorious banner, like a descending angel you heard about once when you were young, so very young. She moved her wings, a powerful stroke launching her high and you followed her, you followed like a desperate Apostle…
You felt breaking spiderwebs and then….
There were stars. So many stars. You twisted, waiting for it to fade like so many hallucinations. You released your needles, and they slowly drifted down and away. You felt light upon you, the Handmaiden, the Damned, the Queen of the Dead. You closed your eyes… and felt a warm hand in your own.
You froze, afraid to move. She could see you, touch you. She knew you were there, you weren’t a ghost in the dusky light.
“Hello, Damara.”
You felt tears bubble up over your cheeks.
“Please look at me.”
And you did.
She smiled at you, warm and full of love and life.
“You are Damara. You are the Handmaiden. You are real. We aren’t dead. We are more alive now than we ever were.”
You choked on breath you didn’t need as this tiny girl, this little pixie with wide hips and a wider smile took your face in her hands and you clutched her wrists, feeling bone bracelets and bangles jingle.
“We are real. We are alive… Now speak.”
You shook your head, terrified.
“Speak Damara. I can hear you.”
“Th-ank y ou.”, you said, your voice a croak and cracking like temple paint, “I am re al now?”
“You always were. You always will be.”, said Aradia, “Death is just sleep. All dreams end so better ones will start!”
You nodded, and she hugged you. You felt a tug to your hair, and it fell in waves as untamed as her own. You pushed back, shocked… and reached into the inky black strands. You let your fingers run through your hair and suddenly felt giddy. You twirled in the air, letting your hair fan out, letting your skirts flutter. Your descendant ducked down, snatching your shoes from your feet in one hand. She rose behind you, and took your hand with a laugh.
“Follow me!”
And you did.
You followed her in the way your Lord wished you had done for him. You felt his hold on you suddenly weaken, and the clasp of hands warmed your very soul as stardust fluttered by you.
And you laughed. You laughed and sped in your flight, matching her now. Your hands were clasped, mother to daughter and savior to saint as you wove comet tails in the sky.
She tugged you sharply down, towards a shimmering bubble and through it you both pass like a falling star.
You stop, two feet above the ground, and curl your legs beneath you. Your feet are bare, pale and petite.
She stands below you, and beckons.
“Come down Mother!”
That word… it made your heart beat once… twice…
ThudthudthudTHUDTHUDTHUD
And you drifted down, closing your eyes. And then grass beneath your feet, cool and real and soft.
You couldn’t move. Your skin felt warm, and the dusk light was beautiful and the wind was slow and soft. You took one step, then another as your legs wobbled. You tilted, falling, and she let you. You dug your hands into the earth, into the dirt like the mountains you could remember now. Your eyes were dripping tears and you laughed.
“REAL!”
She nodded.
“I’m REAL!”
“You are.”
“I…I am me again.”, you whispered.
She nodded and tilted her head, “Hello Damara. My name is Aradia… I am your descendant.”
You gasped.
“You are real, you are here and you have meaning. Death is nothing but a dream and you are the greatest dreamer of all of them.”
You reached up for her, getting to your feet for the first time in a millenium and pulled her close, burying your face into her hair and feeling something break in your chest.
It wasn’t your heart.
It was the wall you had built around it. She held you back, warm and real and purred low in her throat. You leaned back, holding her face and memorizing her smile, your smile, gone from you for centuries only to come back as this tiny deity, as this buxom little Messiah Motherchild.
You kissed her forehead.
“Thank you Aradia. I am alive again. I am alive again and can fight.”, you whispered, “I will fight. Fight for you.”
“Fight for us.”, she replied, “For your friends, for mine, for our footsteps here in the grass. The time for dreaming is done now,Handmaiden.”
“Not handmaiden.”, you said with sudden burning conviction now as your heart beat in your ears and you breathed deep of the bubble’s air, “I am Damara Megido and I can control the dreams of demons. I will not be entombed by a word anymore.”
Aradia’s face was lit like the sun, and her wings fluttered.
You felt pride in your descendant. You felt pride in her battle.
And as she hugged you again with a laugh, as you swung her about like a mother with a child…
You felt pride in yourself for the first time since you couldn’t remember when.