Around me the chaos had stopped. I did not want to talk, to think, but a sense of responsibility pushed insistently against my reverie. At last I sighed and focused on my surroundings.
To my left stood three shining creatures, stronger than the rest, more malleable in form. I recognized in them an essence of myself. They stared at me, weapons frozen in hand or on claw, mouths agape. Then one of them moulded himself into a different shape—a child—and came forward. His eyes were wide. “M-Mother?”
That was not my name. I would have turned away in disinterest had it not occurred to me that this would hurt him. Why did that matter? I didn’t know, but it bothered me.
So instead I said, “No.” On impulse, I reached out to stroke his hair. His eyes got even wider, then spilled over with tears. He pulled away from me then, covering his face. I did not know what to make of this behavior, so I turned to the others.
Three more to my right—or rather, two, and one dying. Also shining creatures, though their light was hidden within them, and their bodies were weaker and crude. And finite. The dying one expired as I watched, too many of his organs having been damaged to sustain life. I felt the rightness of their mortality even as I mourned it.
“What is this?” demanded one of them. The younger one, the female. Her gown and hands were splattered with her brother’s blood.
The other mortal, old and close to death himself, only shook his head, staring at me.
Then suddenly two more creatures stood before me, and I caught my breath at the sight. I could not help myself. They were so beautiful, even beyond the shells they wore to interact with this plane. They were part of me, kin, and yet so very different. I had been born to be with them, to bridge the gap between them and complete their purpose. To stand with them now—I wanted to throw back my head and sing with joy.
But something was wrong. The one who felt like light and stillness and stability—he was whole, and glorious. Yet there was something unwholesome at his core. I looked closer and perceived a great and terrible loneliness within him, eating at his heart like a worm in an apple. That sobered me, softened me, because I knew what that kind of loneliness felt like.
The same blight was in the other being, the one whose nature called to everything dark and wild. But something more had been done to him; something terrible. His soul had been battered and crushed, bound with sharp-edged chains, then forced into a too-small vessel. Constant agony. He had gone down on one knee, staring at me through dull eyes and lank, sweat-soaked hair. Even his own panting caused him pain.
It was an obscenity. But a greater obscenity was the fact that the chains, when I followed them to their source, were part of me. So were three other leashes, one of which led to the neck of the creature who had called me Mother.
Revolted, I tore the chains away from my chest and willed them to shatter.
The three creatures to my left all gasped, folding in on themselves as power returned to them. Their reaction was nothing, however, compared to that of the dark being. For an instant he did not move, only widening his eyes as the chains loosened and fell away.
Then he flung his head back and screamed, and all existence shifted. On this plane, this manifested as a single, titanic concussion of sound and vibration. All sight vanished from the world, replaced by a darkness profound enough to drive weaker souls mad if it lasted for more than a heartbeat. It passed even more quickly than that, replaced by something new.
Balance: I felt its return like the setting of a dislocated joint. Out of Three had the universe been formed. For the first time in an age, Three walked again.
When all was still, I saw that my dark one was whole. Where once restless shadows had flickered in his wake, now he shone with an impossible negative radiance, black as the Maelstrom. Had I thought him merely beautiful before? Ah, but now there was no human flesh to filter his cool majesty. His eyes glowed blue-black with a million mysteries, terrifying and exquisite. When he smiled, all the world shivered, and I was not immune.
Yet this shook me on an entirely different level, because suddenly memory surged through me. They were pallid, these memories, as of something half-forgotten—but they pushed at me, demanding acknowledgment, until I made a sound and shook my head and batted at the air in protest. They were part of me, and though I understood now that names were as ephemeral as form for my kind, those memories insisted upon giving the dark creature a name: Nahadoth.
And the bright one: Itempas.
And me—
I frowned in confusion. My hands rose in front of my face, and I stared at them as if I had never seen them. In a way, I had not. Within me was the gray light I had so hated before, transformed now into all the colors that had been stolen from existence. Through my skin I could see those colors dancing along my veins and nerves, no less powerful for being hidden. Not my power. But it was my flesh, wasn’t it? Who was I?
“Yeine,” said Nahadoth in a tone of wonder.
A shudder passed through me, the same feeling of balance I’d had a moment before. Suddenly I understood. It was my flesh, and my power, too. I was what mortal life had made me, what Enefa had made me, but all that was in the past. From henceforth I could be whomever I wanted.
“Yes,” I said, and smiled at him. “That is my name.”
Other changes were necessary.
Nahadoth and I turned to face Itempas, who watched us with eyes as hard as topaz.
“Well, Naha,” he said, though the hate in his eyes was all for me. “I must congratulate you; this is a fine coup. I thought killing the girl would be sufficient. Now I see I should have obliterated her entirely.”
“That would have taken more power than you possess,” I said. A frown flickered across Itempas’s face. He was so easy to read; did he realize that? He still thought of me as a mortal, and mortals were insignificant to him.
“You aren’t Enefa,” he snapped.
“No, I’m not.” I could not help smiling. “Do you know why Enefa’s soul lingered all these years? It wasn’t because of the Stone.”
His frown deepened with annoyance. What a prickly creature he was. What did Naha see in him? No, that was jealousy speaking. Dangerous. I would not repeat the past.
“The cycle of life and death flows from me and through me,” I said, touching my breast. Within it, something—not quite a heart—beat strong and even. “Even Enefa never truly understood this about herself. Perhaps she was always meant to die at some point; and now, perhaps I am the only one of us who will never be truly immortal. But by the same token, neither can I truly die. Destroy me and some part will always linger. My soul, my flesh, perhaps only my memory—but it will be enough to bring me back.”
“Then I simply wasn’t thorough enough,” Itempas said, and his tone promised dire things. “I’ll be sure to rectify that next time.”
Nahadoth stepped forward. The dark nimbus that surrounded him made a faint crackling sound as he moved, and white flecks—moisture frozen out of the air—drifted to the floor in his wake.
“There will be no next time, Tempa,” he said with frightening gentleness. “The Stone is gone and I am free. I will tear you apart, as I have planned for all the long nights of my imprisonment.”
Itempas’s aura blazed like white flames; his eyes glowed like twin suns. “I threw you broken to the earth once before, Brother, and I can do it again—”
“Enough,” I said.
Nahadoth’s answer was a hiss. He crouched, his hands suddenly monstrous claws at his sides. There was a blur of movement and suddenly Sieh was beside him, a feline shadow. Kurue moved as if to join Itempas, but instantly Zhakkarn’s pike was at her throat.