In Lost Dreams the Four Were Bound

42 - ERROR - The Mumbling of Worms III

They had watched as Nerin descended into the dark hollow of the village's great tree Surrounded by thousands of grateful souls he was freed from the bonds of mortal complacency. Through the love of all that dwelled within him, their host had lost all feelings of sadness and joy. Reason was without purpose, as were hope and misery. All that existed was oneness, a beautiful finality to which the flesh's eyes had been exposed. They were empty and free, but one more task remained. To free the village, they must break their past. The must break the matron shackled by knowledge and history. They silence the great chaos in their midst. And without a link to the obvious, the many within her needed bait.

Wandering through the night, they heard the howls of the Hyunisti people. As the villagers danced near smoldering pyres, they felt their souls harmonizing. Looking out over the grand circle of the elders from on high, they saw the flesh shells of the talvuo look onwards as the shades of their bonded selves circled and chanted. Their wraiths cried in fear and anguish, all the while wearing expressions of bliss as their visages hollowed into perfect placidity. Soon they would all feel the glorious existence of being empty and free.

Looking up to the stars as they wandered, a tinge of horror overtook the smallest of the shell called Thaimi's thoughts. At their side was none other than her own shade as it clawed frantically at their being. The ghost of the past and present wanted back inside, to be one with them again. With its penetrating tendrils, they felt a hint of dread. A fear of unity and the morrow filled the wastes of their mind. Purpose was threatened with confusion caused by what little brain remained. But no matter how hard it tried, the many inside the girl would not be deterred.

[Be empty, be free,] they whispered in unison with the tiniest essence of her remaining soul.

Passing a mead-drunk hunter, they felt their body's heart skip a beat as images of love and dreams flashed before their many eyes. Not long ago, Thaimi had wished to love. Growing up the daughter of a gatherer and huntswoman, she had never given it much thought as to where her life would lead. At the far reaches of what was once her mind, the stories told by her parents dwelled. The tales had been passed down by their parents, others before them, and the golden-haired talvuo governing their past.

Together they remembered the story of Hyun's lover, Temer Emri. The pair had been bonded since childhood: she a forester and he a musician. For a generation, they grew and shared in their love. Temer wrote ballads and tunes about the forest folk, inspiring dance and merriment. Hyun fostered deeper cooperation with the mages to ensure her people a place in the woods of Lorin. With magic taught by human hands, the pair wove a spell of prosperity and growth through the woodlands and hills. But then the war came, and the mages needed the Emri to help them secure the woods from their vassals turned enemies. The chiefs of the Emri agreed, so Temer's songs became of war, and Hyun's trees were bent toward the making of walls and siege works.

Theirs was a sad tale of two lovers as old as the trees themselves. Thaimi's young heart couldn't stand the thought. The girl had shed tears of sadness and hope. She wished for a bright future for the pair, but the story was always the same. In the end, Temer died at the hands of Grannas assassins meant to kill his beloved, and the woman retreated into anger and desperation. Then the Hyunisti were saved by a grand act of sacrifice, protected from the outside world by the rites of the last Emri chiefs and priests. They became the Hyunisti to honor her, something their host had loved and endeared in her heart. The dreams and romance of the people's history and future had made the maiden's heart swell to the point of bursting. She had wanted to see and embrace the oncoming days.

The fading memory of a hope-filled girl's shadow gripped them by the neck. It wanted them to feel how that girl felt, to remember what happiness and despair could be like. But they had shown her the truth.

[Emptiness is freedom,] the thousand voices of called from deep within her.

Yes, as they strolled in the cold night air clad in nothing but a flowing sheet of cotton, they were unfazed. They felt the cold, but it did not make them shiver. The grain of the wood beneath them was rough and coarse, but it did not scrape their feet. The pale moonlight above, illuminating the starry sky in the purple morass of the heavens, was but an affront to the one simple truth. Though the light and stars burned in frantic abandon against the dark, they were lost to absolution. Only the dark was luminous. Indeed, the more they looked upon the sky, the more their frame's empty eyes saw the real face of chaos. Each pinprick of starlight was a well of despair, and the moon was like the harbinger of doom. Only the infinite cosmos and brightness of the nothing held the ultimate truth.

The shreds of what was once Thaimi feared the final release, but Thaimi could do nothing to stop it. They were already moving forward together. And together, they would be as one with all at last.

"Thaimi," a tiny voice whispered by her side. They looked down through pale, glazed orbs at the small, skinny frame of a tiny talvuo girl. The girl's bright green eyes were full of timidity as she clutched their deathly white hand. "Are you sure it's OK? Zaisure said she was right outside. Zaisure said I should—"

"Everything will be fine, my dear. We're just going to the great tree. Zaisure will be there, I promise," they replied in time with Thaimi's resonating vocal cords, forming a cohesive whole. "Your mother will be there too."

"Thaimi?" the little girl asked, her voice wavering.

With their slender, milk-colored arms, they bent down and hugged the little girl. At their side, the ghoulish face of Thaimi's regret screamed and scratched, tearing at them and the little girl. Black puddles of bile inched down from its empty eye sockets, dripping like phantom tears as it tried to pummel their arms.

"Now, now, Rais. It will be OK. I told you, zaisure Elis will be there!" Pitch perfect, they sang in the young talvuo woman's voice. "You'll see. Vivahr Nerin and even that scary human will be there."

"Davnian will be there too?"

"Why, yes, didn't I already tell you?" they said as they moved into position, the woman's bones shifting. With confidence and precise delivery, their body stood up while smiling at the little girl. "We don't want to keep them waiting, do we?"

"Nnnnnn-nn . . . No!" the bashful little thing exclaimed.

"Good," they said, laughing in response.

As they turned to lead the way, Thaimi's weakening spirit clung to the little girl's body. The young talvuo's ghost looked onward, empty-eyed, confused, and uncertain. The vengeful spirit tried everything it could to reach out to the little one's ghoul. Despite their similar states, they were disjointed in their realms of existence. Nothing the ghost could do could reach the little girl or her shade.

"Evening, vindal," a huntsman said as they crossed the last terrace before the great tree.

"Evening, vivahr Bedimer," they replied, flashing their dull green eyes in the moonlight.

"Evening, little Rais. Where's Elis?"

"We're going to meet her!" Rais said, her voice full of puzzled excitement. "Thai . . . Thaimi came to fetch me!"

"Is that so, vindal?" Bedimer watched them as they continued. The little girl danced as she held their right hand, stumbling as she tried to keep up with and face the onlooker.

"Come now, dear," they said in Thaimi's voice.

"Well, see you then, girls," the old huntsman said as the two of them continued on.

"Bye bbbb . . . ye," the little talvuo girl wheezed as they dragged her on.

For the briefest moment, Thaimi's wraith embraced the grizzled hunter, the black putrescence of its tears and gaping maw covering him. For the tiniest instance, they thought they detected the faintest glimmer of change in the old hunter's stance. His grey eyes flickered toward them for the briefest look before turning back. Beside him, twin shades turned their heads.

"Ttthh . . . Thaimi . . ." the little girl stammered as they crossed the bridge, entering the great tree's dark foyer.

"We're almost there, little one," they said, leading the girl to the spiral of the tree. "Just a little farther."

Excited and scared, Rais followed them as they descended into the depths of the ancient structure.