I know that you want me.

I can see it in your eyes.

I can feel it in your touch.

Can you hear it in my sighs?

But I need you to know

I’ve been cut down to the core.

My wound refuses to heal,

But who bothers keeping score?

He stole my will and my all.

I’m held captive by this never-ending fall.

I made my home on the floor.

What does it mean to be okay anymore?

I cry every night

But each morning I get dressed for the fight.

I feel hopeless but am I defeated?

My days are repeated.

How much longer will this continue?

Or will you start my life anew?

Drying my tears

Burned souvenirs

A seed in the sand

You offered your hand

Why do you want me? A tragedy?

What do you see in the stains and the scars,

His cruel collection of all our memoirs?

I can love you if you ask me to.

You’ve cleared a path and revived my last breath.

Why are you cleaning the mess that he left?

Disappointed, abandoned

Sorrow has been my most faithful companion.

I’m acquainted well with pain.

When he left, I could count on her to remain.

My heart is so spent.

I’m tired. I’ve paid every price to repent.

I don’t want to try to love anymore.

I’m weary of this war.

My thinning dark blood spills as merlot.

Can I know, are you friend or foe?

Sweeping up shards

Acting vanguard

My sycamore view

A kind gift from you

Why do you want me? A tragedy?

What do you see in the stains and the scars,

His cruel collection of all our memoirs?

I can love you if you ask me to.

You’ve cleared a path and revived my last breath.

Why are you cleaning the mess that he left?

I’m alone but not lonely.

It’s not your responsibility to fix me

Never been of any worth.

I belong to the dust of the earth. Love’s stillbirth.

There’s nothing left of me to break.

No harm done if it all has been fake.

I’ve been broken over and over and over til I’m nothing but sand.

Please help me understand.

Why do you want me? A tragedy?

What do you see in the stains and the scars,

His cruel collection of all our memoirs?

I can love you if you ask me to.

You’ve cleared a path and revived my last breath.

Why are you cleaning the mess that he left?

Please don’t lie to me.

Please don’t play me casually.

It’s my turn to be the melody.

Will you be the man nobody else would be?

Curiosity of questions unanswered and things unknown compels people to try to answer them. Sometimes the only explanation that seems possible is spiritual. Like our physical world, there are laws, causes and affects, and patterns, so why not the spiritual follow this same characteristic? Different ideas of what the spiritual entails develops, and varying degrees of devotion do, too. But a common ground for the religious is there, that we all hope it is true and will benefit us.

My hair stood as I watched the waves below me crash against the cliffside. My toes could feel the energy of the water through the grass, fascinating me as the strength of the ocean hummed in my bones. As I gazed out before me, the horizon stretched beyond my sight, revealing an endless sunset of orange and red settling in the distance. The air coming from over the ocean stroked my skin softly. If only the cold draft was the sole reason I shivered. I had run as far east as I could. I needed a new direction.

“Azora.”

I looked towards the voice. I hadn’t run far enough. He stood only ten paces from where I was. I closed my eyes, not wanting to accept that he had followed me.

“Why did you run?”

I turned back to the sea. It was beautiful. Strong and reliable. Unlike everything good in my life. I heard him step closer and I stayed.

“What is it?” He now stood beside me on the edge of the cliff. His eyes were on me, waiting for an answer I was never going to give him.

“Azora, please… you don’t need to tell me, just come home.”

I cried. And before I could even react, his arms were around me, holding me tightly against him. It felt safe and I couldn’t stop myself from returning the embrace. Neither could I stop the flow of tears pouring from my eyes. I had lied. There was one good thing in my life that was strong and reliable. Him.

He deserved the world. But he wasn’t even supposed to be here. Wasn’t allowed to be here. He was forced to stay put, never to explore all that life had to offer, all that he deserved to have. Letting go, I tried to wipe my tears away. “We should get you home before anyone finds out…”

“So this means you’ll be coming home, too?” He asked, smiling sweetly at me. Lifting his hand, he gently caressed my cheek with his thumb, taking the tear from my face. I nodded. If I didn’t follow him home, he wouldn’t return either. “If you want to talk about it, you know I’m here.”

“Ash, you could get in a lot of trouble…” It was true. And I couldn’t help but worry. I wasn’t worth the consequences.

He chuckled. “I wasn’t about to let you run off from yet another home, Azora. Stay.”

I looked back to the sunset. Purple covered the sky and the ocean. Quickly turning away, I gazed back to Ash. “Okay. I’ll stay.” He smiled warmly at me and lifted my boots. Kneeling down, he helped me step into them. I held onto his shoulder for balance as I did so.

My chest tightened as he placed an arm around my shoulders and directed me back towards the oasis. “Azora, whatever happened that made you want to leave, I’m sorry. I don’t ever want you to feel like the Oasis can’t be a home for you and that you can’t talk to me.”

I pursed my lips, finding interest in watching my steps sink into the sand. If only I could find the strength to tell him what I had done.

The blue Water Genasi stared out over the pond, standing on a rock that poked out of the water. Bending down, Tide gazed below the surface; a small fish slowly danced around the green plants. He flicked the surface of the water, frightening the fish. As the tiny waves raced to the edges of the pond, an unnatural lump approached Tide. The shape grew taller out of the surface until a clearly-defined and massive creature of water slithered around Tide. The giant Water Weird stood several feet out of the water, staring at Tide. Within the Water Weird, Tide watched a blue shape rise to its mouth. Sticking his hand out, the Water Weird spit out the blue object into his hand. The sapphire heart emitted a faint pulsing glow, barely seen over the light of the setting sun. His fingers closed around the magical gem as he smiled at the creature. 

"Thanks for protecting it, Minnow." 

He roughly petted the top of her head. He stepped into the water and slipped onto Minnow's back. 

"You know the way," he chimed. 

The creature swirled around and dashed into deeper waters with Tide still on her back. She dived below the surface, carrying him to a small hole at the bottom of the pond. Beyond the entrance was a large cavern filled with chests, shelves, and tables. Treasures were littered everywhere. He let go of Minnow and swam to the largest table. He set the glowing heart on the table and pulled out his dagger. Hopefully this time it would work. The new spell had to. He drew the blade across his palm and pressed his blood against the stone. He muttered the memorized incantation under his breath as he squeezed his eyes closed. Stepping back, he opened his eyes and watched the blood swirl rapidly around the stone, lifting it from the table. The water around him began to slowly swirl in the room. A figure began to form around the gem, a shape Tide yearned to see for many years. Eventually the figure materialized into flesh and bones, the large man looked at his hands in awe, and gazed around the room. Their eyes locked with each other. "It’s me, Wake.” Tide steadied the other Genasi in the still shift water. “It’s me, your brother."

“Here. This is everything. I have 30 gold pieces, 20 casings of blackpowder, bread, apples, and a new compass.” She held the satchel out to him. A smile covered his lips as he grabbed it, but her fingers wouldn’t let go. Here she was again, enabling him to run further from what he wanted most.

His brows furrowed. “Agatha?”

The fabric slipped from her hands and she watched as Rory threw the strap over his shoulder. His concern vanished as soon as the supplies were in his possession.

“We sail tonight. Everything is ready now.” He grinned as he looked into the sky. “The last of our preparations were finalized this morning. Finally, we can set off on our voyage.”

“I’m glad you’re happy. I know you’ve been looking forward to this.” It came out of her lips half-heartedly, but the expression on his face proved he didn’t notice.

Turning towards her again, he cupped her cheek with his hand. “If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t have been ready so soon.” He planted a kiss on her forehead. It was gentle as it always was, and his warm touch melted her heart. Her breath caught in her throat. How did he always manage to act so genuinely affectionate? Or if it was authentic, then how could he ever abandon her when she needed him? Whatever his agenda, Agatha knew hers.

“As soon as we get our prize, I’ll repay you, Princess.”

“I don’t want gold, Rory,” she said, stepping away from him. “I want improvement.” His eyes were locked on her. He was still and silent. “I love you,” she continued, “and I don’t think that will ever change, but for several months now, I haven’t really liked you. I don’t want you like this.” Leaning on the rails, Agatha focused on the sound of the waves. Pressure was building behind her eyes and she fought against the tears. Water crashed against the shore. Ten months of prayers. Ten months of sacrifice. Ten months of forgiveness. Ten months of the worst pain she had ever experienced. Why couldn’t he see how much he was hurting her? How much he was continuing to hurt her?

“I know there’s a part of you that still wants to be reinstated. There’s a part of you that cares for me.” She closed her eyes, matching her breath to the movement of the sea. “I want to help you, and I will do all I can, but I need you to do your part. I need you to be kind to me. To try. Please, Rory… I don’t want to leave you…”

The streets in the early morning lacked the typical traffic as the baker opened his doors. A detail that the girl would later be grateful for. Within the walls of the bakery, the delectable scent of baking bread wafted to her nose. The smell was irresistible even to the most disciplined of adults, though the malnourished girl had no money to purchase it. For the past few months she had relied on the woods for food, though her skills were far from capable of supporting her dietary needs. It had been two days since she had eaten, the edible berries were now scarce and the squirrels difficult to catch. If it weren’t for the nearby stream and the supply of fish, she certainly would have starved long ago. The smell was tempting. Her fingers shook. She never wanted to be a thief. She never wanted to be beaten again. But her wishes proved to rarely come true.

A wicked man’s greatest fear is a mirror. Excluding an exceptional few,

the conscience of mind never dies.

A man may try to subdue it,

Or redefine wrong as right,

But the voice of light sings on.

A wicked man may fear beasts or battles,

Or perhaps the dark and dreary.

But nothing chills his blood

Quite like the looking-glass.

To see one’s soul tainted

Or absent from its own.

Well, is that not Hell?

A wicked man’s greatest fear is a mirror.

Ironic is it not? His very fear is his only hope.

Abruptly awakening, Azora sat up, desperately searching beside her. It had been almost an entire year, 321 days since… Her searching was useless. The bed was cold and she was alone. Bringing her knees to her chest, Azora hugged herself as tears began to fill her eyes. It was just another night…

Another night that she wished things could be different, that she didn’t feel so alone. Even Elaria could do nothing to help her to feel welcomed, at home, and no one could make Azora feel loved. She didn’t deserve it. 

So here she was again, waking during the dark hours of the morning as she did every night. She’d cry herself to sleep and then the sun would say hello before saying goodbye as casually and thoughtlessly as it rose in the morning. It didn’t care that as each day passed Azora preferred her nightmares more and more to reality. It didn’t care that each day made the distance further and further from him.

She missed him. She missed him so much, but Azora needed to get used to this. Ash deserved better, not the monster she was, vile and maimed. Loneliness was all that Azora deserved… all that she was meant to have. 

When her tears finally were under some control, Azora slipped on a coat and some boots, nearly crying in frustration when her foot didn’t immediately fit into the shoe. Stepping throughout the house as quietly as possible, she silently cried as she exited out the back door. The air was chill even in the summer night and Azora wrapped the coat more tightly around her. She missed the desert heat, she missed the warmth… Hastily wiping a stray tear, she folded her arms and began to slowly walk across the property, always keeping her eyes on the floor as she aimlessly wandered.

Typically Azora stayed in bed until she entered her nightmares again, desperate to return. But she didn’t feel like pulling at her hair tonight, or biting her lip until she tasted blood… digging her nails into her palms until her fingers were slick. She didn’t want Elaria to need to patch her up again. It was the only sign Azora ever showed that she was hurting. As far as the rest of the world knew, Azora was kind, she was innocent, and she was happy. But Azora knew none of those were true.

The sound of water washing up the shore caught her attention and Azora looked up. Across the lake, the surface was made of glass, reflecting the stars beautifully. Azora crumbled, hugging the ground below as she curled into herself and cried. For the first time in several months, her cries had a sound. She hated the sounds coming from her mouth, wanting to stop, desperate to not wake anyone. She couldn’t wake anyone. She couldn’t be found like this.

Without words, Azora cursed the stars. 

From the time she left him, she couldn’t bear to look up at the night sky, averting her gaze from the moon and stars or sleeping under trees to block the view. The stars tormented her. They were the same stars she would admire with him. The same stars that she would see reflected in his eyes. Ash loved the stars as much as she once did, but now Azora couldn’t stand to look at them. They gave her no peace as they once provided, no joy, no love…  All she saw when she looked at them was loneliness. 

Cold feet hesitantly stepped over the soft soil. It had been almost an hour since the mother of the young girl had pushed her towards the trees, encouraging her to hide. After running from the sounds of screams and shouts, the child of four found shelter in bracken where she waited. Fear filtered through her veins but the innocent and naive trust that any child has for their mother gave her hope that her mother would indeed come for her. Just like Mama said. But no one came for her. After what she assumed was several hours, which was more like 30 minutes, the young girl crawled from her sanctuary and began the trek back to the road, following her footsteps in the spongy ground. Little did she know, hardly could she comprehend, the nightmare that waited for her.

Picture a meadow. A green meadow surrounded by tall trees and blue skies that are littered with soft clouds. Do you see it? I never could. It was a fleeting impression that so desperately wanted to become reality. I have spent hours trying to force images to appear behind my eyelids. I fought with my head, but all that I saw was Darkness. This frustrated me for years.

I didn't understand how visualization worked. I could recall what a dog looked like but I felt like I didn't have the visual image. How did I remember what the world looked like? Why do we close our eyes to imagine things?

I'm an artist, and I've a special talent for "visualizing" my art before my media touches the canvas. My mental plan didn't feel like an image. It felt like a suppressed memory. Other moments my plans were almost like a ghost. The art was already there, I just had to reveal it. Either way, my art turned out close to how I imagined it.

Last year I suffered from insomnia for a few weeks. I spent many nights seeing Darkness. It was during those nights that I discovered something.

I want you to try and close your eyes again. Look. What is it? It's your eyelids. If there is any light seeping through your skin, cover your eyes with your hands. If there's any light, you might not see it. Do you see Darkness? It's not the black that everyone describes it as. There's actually phantom reds, greens, and blues. Every time I see Darkness, he likes to show me his art. His favorite style is abstract and it's always moving. Sometimes the phantom colors will swirl slowly, a soothing dance that helps me sleep. He draws lines and shapeds that play and tangle together. For most of my life, Darkness dispalyed only abstract art to me. Maybe he did this because I never appreciated his work until I was stuck late every night gazing at his amazing motion art.

There's a reason that we close our eyes to visualize. Darkness gives us a blank canvas. Before my insomnia, I thought it was only my imagination that caused the phantom colors to dance, but I officially met Darkness. He isn't nearly as scary as people say he is. Some even mistake him to be the absence of Light. It's partially true, he doesn't like her. He told me she's too boring. She's all facts. I just think he's lonely, but it was last summer tha he made his first best friend in a century. That was me.

His last best friend was Emeline Cigrand. It was a short friendship before she joined Death. Darkness was there to comfort her as she waited for Death to collect her. She sat with Darkness as she leaned against the vault door, slowly inhaling the limited supply of her life. Now she waited for the murdering graud to release her; she had written the wedding announcements as she had asked. But he would never come, while alive that is. Instead, Darkness calmed her during her last moments. Darkness showed her his paintings before giving her over to Death. She was grateful for the glimpses and appriated his work.

Now, over a 100 years later, he found me and Darkness is happy Death doesn't have his eye on me just yet.

Darkness warmed up to me fast. He was ecstatic to have good company again. Most people were afraid of him or they lift him for Death. I liked him. Darkness was fun and seemed to really like me. Eventually his art became more than just abstract phantom colors.

One night as I laid in bed, Darkness proudly showed to me for the first time a sketch. They were a pair of eyes, and beautiful. I sat up in amazement, opening my eyes. Light greeted me and I scowled before closing my eyes again. Darkness didn't show me another sketch for awhile. When Darkness finally was confident enough to show me more of his work, he would share images with me often. I loved them. They looked like Light's pictures, but there was something different about them, something special. He gave me a glimpse of a detailed man in a trench coat who was holding a gun. Another time there was a young curly haired girl riding a city bus. He loved eyes. He would show me a new pair every other every night. One time I knew that they were mine.

Each night I would wait patiently for Darkness to complete his sketch. He would allow me to see his abstract art while I laid in his presence. When he was finally done, I could feel his joy as he presented it to me. Ans as I feel asleep, he would run his fingers through my hair or draw a sketch of me. I found it so fascinating. I used to believe vision was possible because of rays but it was more than that. Light and Darkness made vision possible. Vision was images and colors, not the waves like I was taught in school. It was beautiful to understand vision and it was Darkness who taught me to see in the dark.