princess schala's musings on the mysterious prophet.
I cannot help but feel this way.
I wish it were something as simple as hate. He has come here, to our home, and threatens us by his very presence. He controls our future with his words. I can feel, far off, the black wind beginning to blow when he speaks.
Still... there is often such sadness in his eyes, dark and inscrutable, shadowed under his cloak. The way he looks over the fields of Zeal, the shining ribbon of the river, the far-off towers of Enhasa, as if viewing something forever beyond his reach. The harsh way he speaks seems merely a cover for the sorrow of memories, lost in time...
I like to stand here as well, on the balcony, wind stroking my hair, looking over our islands and the clouds below. I fear his approach, fear that he might come to stand beside me, and speak my name in the gentle voice he reserves only for me. What am I to him? Yet, as he is near me, as he reaches to brush a strand of hair from my cheek, I feel a sense of familiarity, fleeting as a sunbeam piercing the clouds, or the last faint image, waking from a dream... How can I feel this way? I want to run to him, let him envelop me, hear him whisper words of comfort; I know with him I would feel as safe as Janus says he feels with me.
Why, why these thoughts? These changes, the black wind that swirls about our mother, the palace, deep, deep in the ocean... the people cry for our help, the help of the "Enlightened Ones," though tears come to my eyes at the words. Hiding from the bitter cold, far below Zeal, the earthbound try to live, to love and work as we do, without our magic. I try to do what I can, but it never seems to make enough difference. Yet, they possess a vivacity that we, here on beautiful Zeal, can only find in our retreat into dreams.
Into the midst of the wind, this man comes, bringing his prophecies, his powers to foretell the future. His words unseal the door at the end of the corridor of time, and I cannot help but think that perhaps it is a gateway that we should leave closed. I do not understand why he has come to us, no more than I can understand the fluttering that stirs in my heart when I look at him.
I want to be near him. I can reassure myself that it is only to watch him, to make certain that he does not hurt Mother, hurt Janus... but I know that it is because I want to reach my hand to his robe, to touch a strand of his hair, see him smile at me from the depths of his hood. I want him to hold me in his arms, to hear his heart beat as I lean my head against his chest. Hearing him speak entwines my soul in his, telling of memories forgotten or not yet created, even as he hurls himself against the foundation of time. Though he might travel the forbidden corridor, though he might, yet, bring the black wind to surround us all, I...
I cannot help but love him.