It's always her name on his lips.
The first time he heard her, he was but a child. In a land ravaged by war and sundered by civil conflict, he had been left utterly alone. Surrounded by people running and fighting, he stayed still; tuned out by screams and the rain, the sploshing of steps against mud, blood and feces, threats he could recognize by tone more than words, his voice got stuck on his throat in a silent plea no one noticed. The lone child who was paralized by fear tried to make himself as small as he could. He was to die, though he wouldn't realize the certainty of that fact till a long time after.
The first time he heard her, he had been too much of a child to question the factuality of a voice inside of his head, he had also been too terrified to go against the voice who was getting him to safety. In years to come he would face people who could 'hear' the voice but were thought to be overcome with madness or not in touch with this world to be taken seriously. He had been too innocent and guileless at the time, it proved a blessing.
The first time he heard her, she stayed with him for years before leaving. She guided him to a small village and put him in the care of someone of her own, an old man named Orca who couldn't really hear her voice but who had received a bunch of her chosen over the years and trained them with the same certainty of a follower. Orca had the gentleness of a grandfather and the sternness of a martial artist. With Grandpa Orca, and always with her in that house, the boy learnt to trust again, to laugh again and to enjoy things again. The only thing that Grandpa Orca would ask in return was to hear about the woman, Grandpa Orca would ask things to the air and the boy would hear the answers as if someone whispered to his ear. The questions were lost to his young mind, - he could remember the exact color pattern of the flowers in Grandpa's garden, though - but if you were to press him for memories he would recall Grandpa Orca nodding in silence with closed eyes, a faint smile on his face.
Grandpa Orca, as many others - though the boy still didn't know - , knew of her, prayed to her, lived by her rules and asked in return for her blessings. They all knew her name - though the boy still didn't know - but opted to call her 'The Lady' out of respect. Her name was a blessing and a secret given to them by a chosen. Grandpa Orca had decided long ago to serve her though he couldn't hear her, and he had been blessed with the task of nurturing and raising the chosens. He did so with enthusiasm and pride, as he had become known for his work.
The boy had forgotten how life was before her when she told him she was to leave.
He was happy and taken care of and he had a future now, and she could no longer favor him so. She started to give him advice and follow-up instructions, worried to leave the child's side, sad to leave the child's side, not wanting to leave the child's side. So when he asked, "Are you leaving me?" She couldn't bring herself to disappear silently and quietly, "Yes."
The boy couldn't help but feel scared, almost the same way he had been when she had found him. But Grandpa Orca had been telling him of her bond with him, Grandpa Orca had been telling him of the chosens and of their soul-binding life with her, and as the boy recalled Grandpa Orca's deep and elderly voice retelling of old chosens who had changed the lifes of millions, of how they were never alone for The Lady was always with them, the boy could feel the fear dissipating, filled with the certainty of his role, of his life, of her life, of his life that was hers. But he realized he still couldn't bring himself to talk, he was no longer paralized by fear - he would no longer be paralized by fear, for he now had a mission - but he was paralized by a soul-wrenching gratitude that put a lump on his throat and filled his eyes with tears, because he had done nothing to repay her, he was still unable to repay what she had done, and this ache was mixed also with a desperate longing that wanted to grasp at her and never let go. Fed by greed and the undivided love she had given him he wanted nothing more than to weep at her skirts and beg and plead, "My name is Link." Please, don't forget me.
