Garder mon Ame

Chapter Twenty-Three: Where Apologies Lie

"Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day. You shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense."

~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Cyra urged Calandra to be patient. She raised her doubts, but Cyra dismissed them with a gentle wave of his hand. She was coming. Absent were any doubts, and his hope just grew as more souls entered the room, most of which he knew. Guardians without wings. A boy with chocolate hair that matched his sister's. A beautiful lady with heavy makeup. An elderly man with kind, fatherly eyes. They were all astounded to find Cyra, and most expressed gentle happiness where others an odd confusion. If this was nothingness, then what had brought them together? Cyra stared at the door.

"It will open," he said to the unsure crowd. He squeezed his sister's hand as though to solidify his conjecture. She shook her head but held his hand anyways.

The sound is what hit the room first. That of very old hinges working to perform their ancient duty. Then a blinding light in which stood a girl with flyaway, black hair and the most stunning of green eyes.

Ardin threw herself at Cyra. She grasped his shirt and wept into his chest while he, without knowing how to comfort, merely rubbed her back.

"Cyra! My God. I am so sorry. So, so sorry. I . . . I messed up. I really messed up. This is all my fault. All my fault. Forgiving sin is like forgiving the murder of a child, which is a sin in itself. One simply does not do it. You can pretend that the wound is not there, but you cannot diminish the blood that flows. Cyra, I've positively cut you open. And it does not matter how much I cry apologies; you cannot take back sin."

"Ardin," Cyra said. He held her out a little, but she still refused to meet his eyes. "Ardin, look at me."

She shook her head for a moment, but then, as though changing her mind, she glanced up to meet Cyra. Green and gray. He brushed the tears from her face, smiling slightly.

"Ardin, I do not know what you've done."

"You'll hear stories. You'll hate me."

"It does not matter the sin," Cyra said, still clearing away the waters from his friend's delicate skin. "'Forgiveness is the remission of sins. For it is by this that what has been lost, and was found, is saved from being lost again.'"

"Forgiveness is the true badge of nobility," Ardin said.

"It is not about being noble, Ardin. There is something good in everyone. You came back for me. And I will not forget that."

"I've committed atrocities," Ardin sobbed.

"I may have hated at one point," Cyra said, "but it is such an ugly emotion that I prayed to God. And what I found was that he forgives and forgets, and sin must be treated as such. Otherwise, the whole world would turn against itself. Nothing is ever unforgivable, Ardin, but the hardest part will be forgiving yourself."

Ardin closed her eyes and shook with a contained cry.

"But the good news is that you have all eternity to forgive yourself. You've already taken a step. You've sacrificed yourself. For me. I . . . that takes courage, Ardin."

She still cried, but she opened her eyes. "No, Cyra, that takes love. I forgot about it completely in spite of my wrath. But I remember now. I just . . . I just want to see you smile again."

Cyra did not hesitate to give her a genuine grin. While surrounded by friends, it was not hard.

Ardin's hands shook as she looked up into Cyra's smile. She could not return it. "'Guilty now, I pour my moaning. All my shame with anguish owning . . . See, like ashes, my contrition. Help me in my last condition.'"

"Ardin - "

"It is said that, in nothingness, one can find God. But what if I spend all of my eternity and cannot do anything to repent?"

"If you truly are sorry," Cyra said, "then God forgives. I forgive. I forgive you Ardin, and that's what you really want."

Ardin slowly nodded. "War is a thing of brutality. The Devil takes your soul, but, Cyra, you're the one who has kept me human. And you have made me so again." This time, she did give a fleeting smile to him. "Listen. I opened the door from the other side, so now you can pass through. You must stop Grim."

Cyra sighed. "I am not strong, Ardin. I am no warrior. This halo, this blade, just does not feel right in my hands. I could not protect myself during just the first few seconds of this war. I doubt I can do anything to defeat the strongest Reaper."

Ardin glanced around, eyes resting on Leila. Didier. Calandra. "Cyra," she said, "you have so many souls behind you. But you are right. You are not one to shed blood. But that's what makes you so strong."

She leaned in a little bit closer. "There are things so much stronger than Death, Cyra. Than hate. Lust. Envy. Sin. But Grim does not understand those things."

"I do not think I do, either," Cyra said.

Ardin just smiled a little brighter. "Grim does not love. He cannot comprehend it. That is his weakness."

"So. . . ."

"So," Ardin said, "'Where mercy, love, and pity dwell, there is God dwelling, too.' Or, Frost, 'Nothing can make injustice just but mercy.'"

"I'm familiar with it," Cyra said a bit dryly.

"No. You understand it. And that will be Grim's downfall."

Cyra nodded then. He turned to his companions who had moved forward a bit, also understanding, ready to be by Cyra's side for the last battle, to lend strength. Calandra reached for his hand again. Didier put one on his shoulder. Leila and Michael stood to his left. The rest of the Guardians rested behind, ready to spring into action.

"At this point, hesitation will spell disaster," Didier said. He glanced with pity at Ardin. "If it is the war you want to win, then haste must guide your steps."

"We'll be with you, Guardian," Leila said.

"Cyra, we won't leave. We'll give you strength." Calandra squeezed his hand tight.

"I know," Cyra said. "Just. . . ." He turned to Ardin. Her head was bowed, but the tears no longer fell. If he had ever seen a more defeated, dejected soul, he did not remember. It wrenched at his heart. He drew close to Ardin and enveloped her in a crushing hug.

"'A thing of beauty is a joy forever: its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness.'"

"My soul is hardly worthy of Keats, Cyra," Ardin mumbled.

Cyra clutched her tighter. "This Limbo is a strange place, but not entirely unpleasant. One only passes into the nothingness when they forget. And we are friends, Ardin. And so much more. We are the same, one soul. I will never forget you, and we will meet again one day."

He could feel her lips twitch against his chest. "I refuse to ever forget you, Cyra. Even if we don't ever meet again, we will forever be alive - "

" - because we are remembered in each others' hearts."

Ardin pulled back and smiled, this time wholly and completely. It was exactly as he remembered her. They may had changed, but that regression would save her soul. "Ah, enough with the sappy crap. Go kick some ass, Cyra."

Cyra gave her his best grin, and he gently walked past her to the door, just hanging loosely on its hinges. He gave it a slight push.

It opened.