Incarnation | Wandering Stars Volume One

Chapter 12

BAHYITH

Sheyir's eyes darted from one feature to another. First his lips. He pronounced each word carefully, as if he tasted it the moment before it left his tongue. Then his eyes. The deepest, clearest blue she'd ever seen. There was kindness and gentleness there. But also a fierce sadness that spoke of hidden tragedy. His skin was smooth, like a child's, with the warm tones of pale sand along the banks of a stream.

She watched Sariel as if he were a dream come to life. The fear that paralyzed her at their first meeting was but a distant memory. Though it lingered at the back of her thoughts, whispering to her that she would soon wake from the dream, it was restrained by what her other senses told her. Others may have reason to fear this man, this creature. But there was no danger for her.

"Long ago, our worlds were one with each other. But there began a great war among my kind and creation was stretched. It pulled all of us apart, such that we could only live in the place where we remained. Those whom we fought were forbidden from your realm. But one found a way to cross the void and he brought death with him. That's when this realm began to drift away," he said, looking up at the trees overhead.

Sheyir followed his gaze. And when she looked at the leaves dancing in the breeze, it was as if she were looking through different eyes. Her world, though beautiful at times, had always seemed somehow broken. Sariel's words lifted the mist that blocked her sight, revealing what she had always known to be true.

"Thus, the Temporal Realm was born as it separated from the Eternal."

"Why are you called Myndarym?" Sheyir asked.

Sariel smiled and the corners of his eyes wrinkled. "It means Shapers. We have always had the ability to change our form. It enables us to carry out our purpose—to sustain all that was created. But when your world was separated from mine, our purpose was changed. We were entrusted with Baerlagid—the Songs of Creation. We used this knowledge to shape your world so that it could survive on its own. So, it is really a double-meaning. We have both the ability to change our form and the ability to change the form of others."

"And this is what you did before you came here?" she probed, fascinated by his explanations.

"At one time," he clarified. "Though we were all involved in the Reshaping, many were reassigned to other tasks as your world became self-sufficient. That's when I became a soldier."

Sheyir looked from his lips to his eyes. "What is a soldier?"

He squinted, then glanced down at the rock on which they sat. After a long pause, his eyes met hers again. "Has your tribe ever fought with another?"

Sheyir nodded. "I have never seen it, but it happened in my father's time, when he was young."

"In my world, there is a very powerful tribe that seeks to destroy all others. And just as it is the women's task among the Chatsiyram to gather food, it is the task among some of my kind to fight against this tribe."

Sheyir's gaze now drifted down to Sariel's forearm. The cuts and scrapes that had been there were healing well. Most were only light scars now, the skin slightly pinker than its surroundings. But a few scabs were still present where the injuries had been more severe. "This is why your arms were wounded when you first appeared to me," she stated, reaching to touch his skin.