The Frozen Moon

chapter TWENTY-SEVEN: RAIN



Nameh’s eyes fluttered open, but the night was so dark that she wasn’t sure if she had actually awoken. The strange shadowy face before hers only perpetuated her dream-like state; soft eyes were nearly all she could see of him. He looked as though he was spun from silver and gold when bathed in the moon, though in the daylight, she thought, he would appear crafted from a dull bronze or softened copper. His faint smile and the pain she became aware of as she awoke were the indications that this was more than a simple dream. A strong arm wrapped around her shoulders and curled her up into a sitting position before she knew what happened. She felt like a child cradled in secure arms, and immediately missed their presence when they retreated. For a moment, he was all she could look at. He would tower over her if they were standing, she mused, but she found this interesting more than intimidating. She snapped out of her thoughts when a voice came from her right she had not realized she missed.

“Come on slacker, no more napping.” Seth’s voice had the same sarcastic twinge that she had come to love, but she could hear the small crack that came from constrained emotion. He had been concerned, though he would not show it much. She smiled at her friend in acknowledgement of the feeling they shared. They were alive, the thought continued to run through her mind. Her head pulsed with such pain that she could hardly think. Her fingers brushed her temples of their own accord, and the newly come blue cloaked figure took gentle notice.

“Your head will likely hurt for a while, but I’ll do what I can to ease it.” His voice was the smoothest and most even she had ever heard, but the perfection bothered her a bit. As he continued to speak of what he had healed, she guessed that the smoothness had been achieved with great care. At least the unnatural calm was likely a front, she thought. The haze in her mind cleared from the burning which revisited her heel, though it was much fainter now than it had been before. As her senses sharpened, she noticed what she had not before: thin lines etched across the tall Healer’s face, as well as Seth’s. They were being strong for her sake, and this was most disconcerting of all. She realized that there were no more sounds of battle, but the night was eerily calm and still. Pieces of the world began to fall into place as her mind sharpened. She saw no movement across the grass as she had before, and Daniel was nowhere in sight.

Seth’s voice was even and comforting, but like the Healer’s, deliberately so. “You’ve been out for a while now.” He paused, trying to find the easiest way to phrase it, she suspected. “Something happened - we’re not sure what yet, but the Moon Faeries came and they summoned reinforcements. We don’t know how or why they came, but they did, and we won the battle.” At this, his face showed a bit of excitement, but not as much as should have been warranted. She knew immediately that the victory was bittersweet, she just didn’t know why. He averted his eyes to continue the news; he couldn’t bear to look at her. “Max is coming around now, but we’re not sure about the others.” He left it at this; she thought he intended to say more, but it seemed that he was incapable. She drew her eyes from him for the first time to survey what was around her. She hadn’t noticed them before because they were behind her line of sight, but crumpled bodies lay in the grass nearby. Four, she counted, and only one stirring. She made a move toward them, but was stopped by the Healer.

“Stop,” his voice was again that smooth and gentle tone that patronized her, “there are things that must be done first.”

“What must be done first, before I see my potentially dead friends?” Her voice was colder than she had intended, but the bitterness she felt could not be contained within the feeble walls of spoken word. The Healer did not answer, but merely turned his attention toward the approaching figure, this time it was one she recognized. She had not seen the tall figure in quite some time, though she had meant to, she had not found time to escape the attentions of her friends. His dark, translucent hair had been cut shorter than she remembered, and she noticed a new mark was placed over his right temple.

“General Aksid,” she began with all the verbal strength she could muster, “It has been too long.” She remembered the greeting she had observed Max put forth when they had first fought with the Moon Faeries. She drew herself up onto her feet in spite of her muscles’ screaming protests. She clasped her right wrist with her left hand and turned her palm up as she recalled. “Iri tah dominise.”

“Iri tah remine.” His voice was deep and soothing of sound, though she knew it held little emotion. His blood would run black, she reminded herself, but that hardly seemed to matter anymore. “Nameh tah Seran, we received your call. The queen was quite pleased that you were able to read the mark, the first humans to do so, I believe.” His voice betrayed a trace of surprise at this; he had clearly expected her to fail.

“Humans?” she questioned.

“We received the distress from Maxim tah Solie as well.” He raised an eyebrow at her, confused for a moment. Then Max must have read the symbol as well, in his fading moments. She kept this surprise from her expression and her voice when they continued to converse.

“Did we not have different marks? How could we have both called for your help?” At this, she thought she saw a flicker of a smile dance across the faerie’s face like an extinguishing candle. She caught a glimmer of the Moon Faerie demeanor Max had spoken of earlier: a more sadistic and aggressive side. She set this aside and kept her voice cool and even, stiffening her language to match the general’s as she deemed appropriate.

“Did you not require different assistance?” Again, she thought she detected a hint of amusement in his voice, though she did not think it possible. She realized then that the faeries must have Seers among them, yet they did not share their information. Although some faeries are helpful to the Vine, their clan stands above all else. They foresaw the group’s downfall, and had been wiser than any humans could have. The faeries did not try to prevent the inevitable-the necessary, but offered help when debts were called upon. Emotion clouded judgment, she thought, and the faeries were above it, though she didn’t know if the trade was fair.

“We thank you greatly for your aid”, she began, and the word struck a chord in her mind. Aid, this had been what the symbol had whispered to her, what she had spoken in Faerie tongue. She shook these thoughts from her mind, a shell shock of sorts was creeping into her. “Without you, we would have surely met an ill fate. The world is in your debt.” She smiled both at her calculated eloquence and the knowledge that the Relic would be safe.

“The Guardians and the Vine branch from Detroit also came to aid, along with a local wolf pack. We sent your message along to all those who would hear it. The Moon Faeries have simply repaid our debt to you; our people will not know battle with the pixies for several moons more because of you and Maxim. Your gratitude is not necessary.” With this curt closing remark, he turned and left, the fierce and battered wings on his back glimmering with intent in the moonlight. His manner seemed direct, and she imagined that he did not enjoy time spent away from his queen. It was not until after Aksid had left that her mind revisited those lying behind her, four, she thought again. There should have been five. She rushed to Mira, the formalities of the previous conversation shattering. She should have already been by her side, but her mind refused to sort out what was happening; she was still not well from the battle. Each of them desperately needed a long rest, though too long a rest for some of them frightened her most.

She fell to her knees at her friend’s side, whose face was upturned, likely from the Healer. Her bright green eyes lacked the luster they had once contained as they stared, unfocused at the pale night sky. There were no visible wounds on her body, the Healer had tended to these, but he had failed on the most important wounds of all. Blood had poured out of cuts now vanished, as well as through her pink lips, and stained the grass around her. She had seen so much blood spilled onto this grass, she imagined it was gorged with life and would be greener than ever in the next passing weeks. These thoughts were merely created by her mind in the absence of actual thinking. Her mind had gone blank, save the meaningless observations drawn by her senses. She could only stare at those deep green eyes, those eyes she had known for so long. Those eyes which had been her only tether to reality at so many times. No tears came, likely because they were so foreign to her eyes. She brushed a curl away from Mira’s pale face, which seemed to be made of shining and perfect porcelain in the silver light of the moon.

“It should have been me.” This was all she could muster from her quickly constricting throat, as if Mira could hear her now anyway. It was the final thought she felt that she needed to share, the sickening feeling of failing a friend. Why couldn’t it have been Nameh instead? Mira deserved life so much more, there was so much left for her that she hadn’t ruined like Nameh had. At last, she raised her eyes to survey the rest of the group, all within close distance. She recalled the feeling of being completely unable to fight any longer, and read the same expression across still faces. Emptiness, complete emptiness could only be felt, she thought, when one truly had nothing left to give.

She stood and remained for only a moment before she alighted, knowing not what else to do. What was left for her here, now that Mira was gone? Seth was alive, and Max. She didn’t know about Wyd or Cal or Talar, but one of them wasn’t even present anymore, wherever he had gone. It didn’t matter to her, however. They would all be broken, just as broken as she was now. Any remnants of the family they had so foolishly built perished in the licking flames of hollow victory. So she ran. Knowing not what else to do, where else to turn, she ran. Her short black boots padded almost silently against the earth, and then pavement. Her body ached with pain, merging with a tingling numbness down her limbs as shock and exhaustion set in again. Had she cared any longer for her own life, she would have stopped and rested for a few days to let herself recover. She did not.

Her eyes searched the night sky, which had turned a ghostly orange color. It had filled with clouds, which now bled their sorrow down into the world. Rain whipped against her face as she ran as swiftly as her feet would carry her. Her lungs burned as they pulled air in deep gasps, and she felt her muscles fading and the pain setting in slowly again. She didn’t know where she was, nor did she care. She passed nondescript buildings with faceless windows and sickly yellow streetlights which washed the pavement in colors of stale death. She knew only that she was outside of New York, where the memorial stood. Up ahead was a small park, and as her muscles put forth the last of what they could offer, approaching the now familiar emptiness, she slumped down beneath a large oak tree. A chill crept in past her armor and skin, the temperature having dramatically dropped since the peculiarly warm weather the day before. Autumn now claimed its rights in the world, and the falling of night brought frigid temperatures with the rainfall.

Many of the great tree’s leaves had been surrendered, and it sheltered her very little from the rain. This suited her well, however, for the cold rain was calming, soothing. It drummed against her skin, as though to share in her misery. She didn’t know how long she had laid there before he came, wrapped an arm around her as if it could bring any comfort. Time stretched on in seemingly endless and exhausting loops, and her apathetic mind measured days and weeks gone by, though she must have only spent several minutes in solitude. She could see his blue eyes even in the low light; they mirrored the sorrow she felt in her own. Mira had not been the only casualty, then. Inside, she felt completely empty. It was a separate feeling from the physical drain, which set in with more stealth than frost. The sorrow was passing, making way for the even more consuming state of nothingness. She wanted to feel something again, needed to feel again.

She leaned over and kissed him. She poured all of her pain into him, made him feel what dwelled within her as she never had with anyone before. Nameh could only hope that he understood, if just for a mere moment, the burden she carried from suppressing the dark realms of her soul. Perhaps he could feel the pain of watching her mother die, of watching her first love succumb to power lust and betraying her, of leaving any family she once had behind. She didn’t try, for once, to hide the anger that raged inside her, the deep-seated desire for revenge against Daniel - against the world. At this moment, for once in her life, she ceased trying to hide anything. When she pulled away, his eyes were filled with concern. What she hadn’t expected, though, was an appearance of understanding, empathy even.

“Hey, are you okay?” Max’s voice was calm, but she knew he could feel the pain inside her, the void that couldn’t be filled. At long last, it seemed, she rested against his shoulder, and he placed his chin on the crown of her head. She didn’t answer, but turned her face back up to the sky. The rain spattered against her face; he wouldn’t be able to tell if she was crying or not, but neither could she. At that moment, her mother’s voice resounded against the soft confines of her weakened mind, the words which had haunted her life.



“Heaven is crying” she had said all those years ago, “An angel was lost today.”



Never had she known something to be so true.

Her fate was worse than death, she knew. She had always been the one who had lived. Nameh had been prepared to give her life for the safety of the rest of the world, as she had at other times for friends and family. She had been prepared to die along with her new family too, willing even, yet she had lived.

The word is used so loosely, to live, but what does it mean? Life is only claimed by those who desire it, have some reason to continue it. Not lived, she corrected herself, survived. She didn’t know if there would be more than survival past her horizons. She had Max now, though it seemed all else had fallen away. She thought that they might learn to let go, but Nameh felt farther away from life than she ever had. One could hope, she thought.

At last, after a long silence, Max spoke. “You already know that Mira didn’t make it,” his voice was soft, smooth, and cautious. His attempts to comfort her weren’t completely unsuccessful, but nothing could snap her out of her grief so soon. “but neither did Wyd or Cal.” The words hung, limp and dead, murdered even, in the night air. The words themselves didn’t matter anymore; nothing could cause her more pain. “Seth’s alive, as you saw, but no one knows what happened to Talar. Hell, we don’t even know if he’s alive or dead. We haven’t seen him since after the reinforcements came.” Her cold soul didn’t contain a shred of care for the fate of Talar; all she could think about was Mira.

She was no more deserving than the rest of them, she thought, probably less than them all. But then she realized that this was her burden to bear. It would not be death, sickness, or poverty as a price to pay for what she could not do, who she could not save. Hers would be the pain of enduring. She could not give the simplest gift of her own life, but would stand tall and strong without a purpose in a forest of fading trees like the lonely evergreen at the memorial she had left behind.

Hers was the living curse.





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About the Author

J.D Swinn is a young author who specializes in fantasy and science fiction. In her free time, she loves to read both of these genres, as well as write short and long fiction. With loving and supportive friends and family who encourage her every step of the way, she hopes to continue writing for as long as possible. She hopes to inspire fantastically flawed worlds and characters who follow her readers even after the pages close, just as they do for her.