Clear as day, I can see the shore, and another pathway … Agamemnon sent scouts ahead of the rest of the party, to inform the Queen he was finally home. Cassandra's vision grants me glimpses of those scouts informing the Queen, and her accomplice lover, that Agamemnon returned with his concubine, a prophetess and Trojan Princess, and their two sons. The next flash of images is the Queen flying into a fit of anger, screaming about how Agamemnon had killed her husband, her child, and then forced her into this marriage just to depart immediately for Troy. Her lover calmed her down, but something had broken, and the Queen was stuck firmly in the claws of insanity. Recognizing the opening for promotion from lover to ruler, her companion devised an attack … they were going to kill Agamemnon, Cassandra, and the twins.
I want to scream. I am horror-struck by watching these events unfold. Agamemnon could take care of himself … but Cass and the twins were innocent and powerless in such a strange land, with so few allies.
Whispering, “No! Not the babies!” I can’t stop the tears that are flowing freely as I continue to watch her vision spread out before my eyes.
While the Queen schemed, unaware of her lover’s manipulation … Cassandra and the rest of the returning party steadily made their way up to Mycenae and Agamemnon’s throne. The Cassandra that trudged along in the vision was defeated and pale; she looked incredibly fragile and ill. I can tell she did not want to go on this particular journey; she wanted to go back to the ship … she would live on that ship forever as long as she didn’t have to travel to Mycenae. "Oh god … she knew what was coming. Why didn’t she stop this?"
I feel the despair as I watch the Queen welcome Agamemnon home, and even console Cass over the hardship of being taken into slavery. Cass couldn't move; she was stuck in a depression like nothing I’ve felt before. She was a statue as Agamemnon followed his Queen into the palace; Cass's eyes were fixed on the babies in Agamemnon’s arms. She dropped to her knees, as she watched Agamemnon hand their little ones over to a man standing inside the entryway … the Queen’s suitor. “Say something, Cass! Dear lord, Cass, warn him!”
Her vision follows her love and their sons into the palace, where she watched in horror as the manipulator killed the babies, and the Queen beheaded her love. Unable to move, unable to even breathe, still frozen to the steps outside the palace, Cass gratefully welcomed the swing of the same ax that had killed Agamemnon.
I pull away from the vision, and then I pull out of the memory, looking down on Cass still sitting on the edge of the pathway, “You saw what was coming, and you let it happen! Why?”
I haven’t noticed that the sun has already risen, turning the shadows on the rocky hillside, a dazzling, deep blue. Facing Cass, the bright light in my eyes only aggravates my mood, making me even angrier … if that is possible. As Cass looks up and into my eyes, she makes a noise as if she was an animal captured in a rusty-jawed trap.
“I told him, Ellie … I told him everything. He let his ego make the choice over our survival. He said he was too powerful for someone as meek as his wife, to destroy. He was sure she would be ecstatic to have him home. I asked him if it was true, if he had killed her husband and baby. He replied, 'No one would ever deny him what he wants … and he wanted her.'”
Before I notice we are moving, we have reached a shrine, a temple for Apollo and one of his most famous prophets … Cassandra. Progressing to one of the many indentions in the walls, I realize that this is a tomb; this is where her boys are buried.
“I tried begging him … I offered him everything I could possibly give … if he just wouldn’t return to his palace. When he refused, I pleaded for him to leave the babies and me behind. He became angry and responded violently, telling me he would carry me over his shoulder and present me as a prize, and possession, if he had to. If I was so sure that death was coming … he would grant that wish and kill us right then. I found myself wishing that I saw him as my owner, wishing that I loathed him instead of loving him. I prayed to the gods that they would grant me emotional detachment, so the pain of his betrayal wouldn’t kill me. But, you saw what happened; in the end, I couldn’t move to save my family … I couldn’t even move to save myself.”
I kneel down in front of the babies’ last resting place, and feel an emptiness bubble up from a hole; a void where the death of my own family, also exists. The intimate understanding of how much Cass loved Agamemnon, coupled with my love for Christopher, makes me wonder how crippled I would be if Christopher betrayed me. Unthinkable … I would cease to function; the angst would be beyond belief.
“Even with all your anger … you still go to Agamemnon's grave, don’t you?”
Sheepishly she answers, “Yes, yes I do. I never really did, before you came along. Every time you start talking about Christopher, the awe and wonder in your voice … I remember what he meant to me, how much I loved him. I go to him now, I scream, I cry … I’ve been healing; for the first time in many millennia, I am beginning to find forgiveness.”
“I don’t think I could forgive him, ever … I don’t think I could ever forgive myself.”
“You are young … you’ll be surprised how much you can forgive, given enough time.”
I want to hold something to help lighten the weight of what I have just witnessed. I want Christopher here … now … holding me together while I mourn these babies, and Cassandra’s innocence. I sit down by the grave and wrap my arms around my knees, and as I start rocking back and forth, I close my eyes and force my mind to return to Christopher's arms.
I am vaguely aware of Cass moving away, giving me space. I dimly acknowledge the fading light from behind my eyelids: the sun is setting. “Let me come home … please, let me come home … I need you…” in the form of a mantra, I beg through space, for Christopher to help me.
Chapter 13
Dreaming Answers
I’m not sure how long I sat in that position: Cassandra stopped asking me if I was all right after the third sunrise. Time blurred, and the outside world disappeared into a fog. I stopped concentrating on Christopher, and let my mind wander until it landed on the smudgy form of a white wolf, blanketed in white mist. Her eyes lightly reflected light, glowing yellow and blue. If I hadn’t noticed her eyes, I would never have seen her … I wonder how long she had been standing in front of me.
I have a feeling; she has been here the entire time I was traveling in the mist. I sat down and she did the same. We must have sat and stared at each other for hours; until she finally got up and walked back into the fog. I missed her presence almost immediately, but she didn’t return for the rest of that day. My excitement at her return surprised me. While she was away, I had been wondering where I knew her from; and I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was in some way answering my plea to return home.
We follow the same routine of staring, and then separating, which left me longing for her company through two more cycles before it finally dawns on me, “You are Christopher’s dream companion, aren’t you?”
She just cocks her head, and for a moment I can see Lune inside her. “Yes, I do believe you are Christopher’s companion. I can see that you are very special, or at least, you remind me of an extraordinary friend.”
She crawls forward on her belly, and gently lays her head in my lap. As I drag my fingertips through the bushy fur around her neck, a scent is released into the air. Christopher! I bend over and nuzzle her face and mane, bathing my nose in Christopher’s aroma. A person’s sense of smell has the perfect key to unlock memories, and curling up with this strange visitor brings me closer to Christopher than I have been for over a year. She lies very still while I curl up behind her; and she forms an expression of ecstasy as I run my fingers down her flank, releasing more fragrance into the air with each pass of my hand. We lie there for hours, until it is time for her to leave again … but this time she leaves the gift of crystal-clear memories of my beloved in her wake. Christopher's visitation, weeks ago, was genuine; I can feel the difference now that I recognize
the wolf. I rest my head against my arm, not bothering to move from the position I have held with the wolf. Slowly closing my eyes, I hope to dream of Christopher.
He stands before me, scruffy and aged, but as beautiful as always. I can tell right away that this isn’t the same as when the wolf called me to his side weeks ago. This one is a shadow brought to life by my memories. My feet start walking to him with a mind of their own: my body has always reacted to his presence as if he had control, not me. There is the same compulsion to look into his eyes; I can always read him through the whispers of his beautiful eyes. The irises are still filled with the iridescent aqua that makes my butterflies dance … but this phantom doesn’t smolder with the same intensity; leaving me dancing without music, clumsy and false.
Reaching up, I brush the outside of my fingers across the rough beard that surrounds his chin. My thumb strokes the outline of his bottom lip, and although their fullness asks to be kissed … they have no heat. This is wrong; I can’t feel his emotions, or life.
I reach up and touch the wetness on my cheek and start to feel angry, but I don’t know why. Screaming at the ghost before I can even understand my outburst, “YOU’RE NOT REAL … GO AWAY!”
I could pretend that he is real. I could use this false man to fill a small part of the gaping hole in my chest. I should let him ignite the butterflies into glorious dances. If I could just allow him to give me a moment to catch my breath … maybe I could pull together the strength needed to return to the bloody messed-up world outside my mind. That damned world where leaders’ egos kill babies, and innocence … where nothing is fair and we have to work ourselves to exhaustion just to find a bit of balance.
I jump when I feel pressure on my shoulder; I don’t realize I am on my knees until I turn to find Christopher standing above me. There at his side is the white wolf … it is him! The real man…
“I love you, Christopher.” My voice comes out in quiet sobs.
Looking into that enchanting face full of compassion, makes me smile … puny and puffy from crying, I smile nonetheless. He crouches down in front of me and takes my face into his hands, then places a soft kiss on my forehead. With his thumbs he wipes away my tears, and cocks his head with a quizzical expression.
I shake my head in response to his query as to why I was crying.
Reading his lips, I watch him from the words, “I love you, too.”
I wrap my arms around him with such yearning that I knock us both to the ground. There, lying on top of him, I press my face into his chest and let out my sorrow, all at once, drenching his shirt, and lying in an awkward sprawled position. He simply strokes my hair and holds me close … letting me cry myself out. I am hiccupping through the last dredges of tears, and gulping in his aura at the same time. Running my hands down his shirt, I can feel that he is even leaner than when I saw him last. Looking at his arms, I lightly touch the veins that stand out of his skin. He is so warm underneath me that the pressure of my skin against his thaws the chill brought on by my depression. This time, when I draw my thumb across his lip, I can feel the fire there. He quickly sucks his in his lip, and starts scratching it with his teeth. I have to laugh, understanding that I’ve tickled him, and laying the way we are I am pinning his arms.
He grins with a mischievous look in his eye, and he flips me over; then he gently places his lips on mine and gently blows until he has the desired effect. The prickle starts in my lip and quickly takes over my teeth and chin. I am sputtering and trying to free my hands that are held firmly between us. I suck on my lip, biting down on it with my teeth, squirming and laughing the entire time. The outside world is completely forgotten, while I am there in his arms. My butterflies beat against my stomach, making my skin tingle and pulse. We smile, never speaking a word, just enjoying each other's presence.
Laying there in his arms, I finally feel secure enough to poke timidly at the soft underbelly of my choice to withdraw from Cassandra, and her memories. Damn these gifts; why would anyone want to experience the bliss and weight of carrying a child just to have them taken away. I don’t have the year that Cass and Agamemnon had with their babies; and I hate my existence for not allowing me to know the complete and all encompassing love that a mother has for her child; the love that I would have for my child. Living vicariously through someone else is a lie, and there is no worse crime than lying to yourself.
Before I can acknowledge them, Christopher feels the sobs shaking through my body. He holds me closer, and I bury my face on his chest again. I want to be alive, to be married and connected to him … I want to have his child. While I drain the dredges of my self-pity out onto Christopher’s shirt, he just holds me tighter as if he is squeezing out the sorrow. I can feel his desire to make things right, and his frustration at not knowing what is wrong.
Even if he could hear me … what would I tell him? I experienced what it felt like to have life growing inside me. I now understand what it feels like to love someone before you even meet them. With that unconditional love, comes a price … losing them is a fate worse than death.
In this place, where mute words are spoken to deaf ears, I gain understanding just by speaking them out loud. I tell him about Cassandra; her heart inside Agamemnon, and her soul inside the babies. I tell him what I felt, the power of the emotions … the inconceivable power of Cassandra’s love. I smile and leisurely entwine my legs around his as I explain the joy of having a child, and knowing that babies come from a place of unquestionable devotion…
“Oh Christopher, how could I have been so dense? Cassandra gave me something I will never feel for myself. I was so caught up in the jealousy, anger, and bitterness that I didn’t think about how precious a gift she was giving me.”
The realization is every bit of a shock, as my anger with Cassandra, had been in the first place. Something warm filled my body and I could feel the pulse of energy flowing through my skin. I let go of the pain; I let go of the sorrow, and bathe my mind in the understanding that I have given my love and friendship to someone special … and in doing so, she repaid me with the most precious gift one person can give another. Cassandra shared the essence of her existence; she gave me a glimpse at what made her Ho Thanatos … at what made her so wise, so grounded, and so magnificent. I draw strength from the fact that she is still here, when there shouldn't have been anything left to pass through the veil in the first place. I think maybe, we come to ethereal mist not because of our purity, or gifts, but because of our essence. Cassandra is a manifestation of endurance, just as Zuvan is the manifestation of commitment.
Christopher pulls away with a surprised look on his face. He is staring at me, and then looking at the skin on his forearms. His eyes speak volumes as he smiles playfully and mouths, “You win … I can’t do that.”
Confused, I look at his arms … all the hair is standing on end and his skin has goose bumps that only a shock of electricity can make. A turquoise-green glow pulses out of my body, making Christopher shiver and shudder -- the light show reminds me of Zuvan’s white-hot glow, which flows out of his hands in order to control fire. I start to laugh at my success in paying back Christopher for tickling my lip, and the glow shifts to a bright yellow; in response Christopher starts laughing uncontrollably. When his twisting breaks the connection between us, he finally regains control, and the light surrounding me fades. We tentatively touch hands, and confirm that whatever has just happened … it has passed. His expression mirrors my own … “What was that?”
The white wolf, which has stayed by our side, not interfering, just watching with a tilt to her head, comes to us now and nudges Christopher’s arm with her nose. He nods solemnly, and turns to kiss me one last time. This isn’t playful, or even passionate … it is all encompassing, pushing out any other feelings. It must be time for him to leave. His relationship with the wolf is confusing, but she has brought us together again. And, I am thankful.
I am not sure how long I was sitting at the twins’ grave, stuck in my trance; but when I o
pen my eyes, I am greeted by the sunset and Cassandra sitting about twenty feet away.
Speaking softly, with more than a touch of concern, Cass says, “I’m sorry, Ellie. The idea that I would make you feel the pain of losing a child, on top of losing the love of your life … well, I had no idea how powerful your gifts must be. I hope you can forgive me.”
I see her with more sympathy than I thought would be possible, it still amazes me how much your perspective can change when you understand someone else’s hardship. “Thank you for allowing me to know you that intimately, Cass. I learned more inside your story than I could have learned through years of instruction.”
During my time in the dreamscape, many things came to mind. The reach of my gifts and the inescapable need to find a way to block my mind from other readers seems to have great significance for my survival. If I am going to continue growing stronger and learning new levels in my abilities, then I need to learn how to protect myself from being affected like this again. And, I need to figure out what exactly happened with Christopher.
“How long have I been sitting here?” I can almost feel the stiffness in my limbs.
“A little over two weeks…” I stare at Cassandra in astonishment, “Trust me, if needed, a Ho Thanatos can sit still for centuries. Although, I am pretty sure that is why some of our kind have faded away, from a lack of movement, a lack of life.”
Feeling the pressure of not wanting to waste any more time, although apparently all I have is time, but Christopher most certainly does not … I start telling Cassandra about what I had accomplished, while she was telling me her story.
Her expression is mildly confused, but her emotions are a mixture of excitement and concern. “I agree with you, Ellie, we need to work on your defenses … and I need to try and figure out a way that your talents could be used to possibly protect you.”