Are there any other forces in existence greater than fear or shame? Too much fear can cripple the mind, but a little bit can also build communities or create an immortal sculpture. Too much shame can obliterate self-worth, but in small amounts, it can make lasting friendships built on respect. Those emotions can remind us that we have an opportunity to do better, work harder and live longer.
Unfortunately, far too many people let those emotions overtake their inner selves, while others who don’t possess those emotions are destroyed. I was one of those people; I felt neither fear nor shame.
As the darkness came upon me, I remember seeing no light at the end of the tunnel, there were no snake gods to face or anything Von-wratha was brought up to believe. I had returned to the Plane of the Dead, but it wasn’t like last time – it was far darker.
There was just a sea of grey faces waiting for me, piled on top of each other stretching across the horizon. They were my victims. All of them waited for me to face their judgements. Their stares froze my disembodied soul – this was to be my hell.
My Soul Guides, the ones devoted themselves to protect me, stripped me from all psionic knowledge and power before throwing my soul into the inescapable abyss. For countless ages, I watched Von-wratha kill her victims from their perspective. I watched my former self murder me through each pair of eyes: from Matron Aeos to Blyth, to her unborn youngling and countless more. I felt their suffering multiplied, washing away my apathy.
When my Soul Guides were satisfied that my punishment was enough, they considered for a moment, whether to pull my essence apart and scatter it across existence or give me one more chance. A single chance to correct the imbalance and injustice caused by my choices, and not to waste this opportunity. ‘For you will not receive another,’ they said.
I was expected to repay my debts through helping others, which was to begin immediately. They explained that my darkness will take several lifetimes to wash away, but they saw hope in me that I didn’t see. I didn’t even grieve for my former failed life; it was something I wanted to forget. For eons, we travelled through thousands of realms, planes and dimensions seeking a new life and home.
Finally, my Soul Guides had made their selection. I had no choice in the matter; if only I had known what awaited me. We came across a cold blue world, covered in green lands and great bodies of water. That world was rich in life, and the inhabitants of that world were unusually kind to each other – something I wasn’t accustomed to. I questioned my guides on how I could help these people as they seemed to be helping each other already. Their reply was they were experiencing a time of great peril, yet they did not know it.
I watched closely the inhabitants living in large white cities, far more advanced in technology and wisdom than the people from my former life. They were interacting with many different life forms, even ones that came from other worlds; this was part of an interstellar community. A rush of excitement flew through my soul; a new home awaited me. I questioned my guides on who these people were and what to expect from this strange world.
“All souls you have encountered from your previous life will reincarnate to this species who call themselves humans,” they said as they looked on to the cities, “and this group of beings call themselves Atlanteans.”
Life Two
The Funeral
The ocean crashed against the cliff's face. The jagged boulders poking above the surface broke the waves’ charge. The waves hissed as if the water warred with the land. Despite the tall stones’ resilience to this force, the one weapon the ocean had was time. The ancient battle of the elements woke her, but she wasn’t entirely asleep. Her wrist pained as she rested her chin against it for too long. She had lost track of time when she stared out to lands-end. Thick grass grew atop the cliff as if it were a giant head with green hair sprouting from the stone scalp. The wind carried along with a swirling white mist to blanket the battlefield.
Delta watched from her second-storey bedroom. A whole wall was a sheet of glass with pastel drapes drawn across most of the outside view. She felt her gut churn as she rolled on her bed, with little space for her narrow torso to take amongst blankets, pillows, and stuffed toys piled up in awkward mounds on the creamy mattress. Her long ivory hair caught itself in her lips and eyes. She slapped her thick fringe away to see a tall ornate marble ceiling gilded by gold in the shape of the animals native to the island-continent: Atlantia. Delta wished that the gold images were depicting some of her favourite heroes of history: the leader of the A Thousand Explorers, the veterans from the Third Age, the first Empress of Atlantia and the anarchists that tore down the rotten Empire in millennia past. Now, earth no longer knew strife as humanity was tamed. She learnt all their stories before she was old enough to walk and was capable of effortlessly reciting them all. Even as a nine-year-old child, Delta's intelligence rivalled most educated adults and she had no humility in admitting this to her peers.
She pushed her arms through the piles of clothes, quilts and pillows, she stretched as far as her limbs would allow, for her bed was so large that neither her feet, nor hands could feel its end. She watched the sleeve of her ruby coloured nightgown roll down as she lifted her arm over her face. But the peace didn't last long. The tapping of heeled feet echoed up the spiral staircase, inching closer the hall heading straight to her room. A flutter of anxiety rippled up as she knew that her mother was again coming to fetch her. Long fingernails clicked against the chestnut sliding doors; Delta's head cocked to see her mother walk in without waiting for her invitation. A tall and lean woman in a tight white dress adorned with a thick gold neck piece sat on her bare collar bone matching her eyes and her rich mocha-coloured skin was now standing in Delta’s room. Her squared face looked like it was sculpted by artists and her long white mane almost took a form of silk in the right light. The woman's beauty was undeniable.
“You're not dressed yet,” she said. Her voice was strained from rising annoyance, “what have you been doing all this time, Delta?”
“I forgot about the time,” Delta replied as she lazily pulled herself from the soft bed and begun plucking her garments from the polished wooden floors.
“Don't give me that, you knew well that we're expecting over a hundred people here today. Family from across the world will be here to celebrate, and I don't want them to see you in this... state,” her mother said stomping around the edge of her bed as she turned over the piles of clothes strewn across the room.
“No one is going to come and look at my room anyway,” Delta said under her breath.
Her mother's eyes looked up and widened, she didn't seem to hear her daughter's words. “Where is your dress?”
“It's somewhere here,” Delta said, amused at her mother's growing anger.
“Delta Ungbrahe, where's your funeral dress?” she said as her lips tightened around her teeth.
“It's definitely somewhere in the house,” she couldn't contain the smile on her cheeks.
Her mother slowly stepped forward and sucked in air, readying herself for a struggle, but Delta wouldn't give her a chance.
“Father will have it!” she said before skipping over the bed and darting out of the room. Delta heard her mother roar her name as she sprinted down the marble and granite halls. Her body moved so fast that wind whistled in her ears. She slid down the silver staircase and into the foyer. It was packed with tables full of bite-sized foods; the servants wiped down empty seats, while the chefs pushed trays of steaming hot game steaks and an assortment of coloured vegetables. She heard her father's voice in the main living room. His voice was deep and menacing. A moment passed until she heard another voice respond. It was quieter, but it carried a deeper, almost growl-like tone. Without a thought, she strolled through the golden arch to see him standing beside a stone altar with a white sheet draped over a humanoid form. His eyes shot up and softened as if his malicious thoughts had been washed away when he saw Delta. His stark white hair neatly sat in a thin braid down his back. His wide jaw grew a silver and blonde streaked beard and his irises were a deep yellow. He was a head taller than her mother, but his shoulders drooped, and his head hung low. There was a quiet air and modesty about him. If he were to stand among a sea of people, his presence would be overlooked.
She smiled as her arms opened before jumping into his embrace. She heard her mother clamping down the stairs and waited just long enough to let her see her hugging her father.
“Durun, get her to put this on before anyone arrives, quickly!” her mother said tossing a pale gold and white dress at her husband.
“Relax Olanta, we've got minutes,” he said, pulling his arms from Delta before handing the formal garb over.
“I thought you were talking to someone here,” she said with a glance at her father.
His shoulders tensed when he looked at his wife before dismissing it with a smile. “I was just thinking out loud. It's just I haven't been to a funeral in a while, I'm trying to get excited for the guests.”
Durun was born in Atlantia and could date his high lineage ten-thousand-years ago to the earliest days of the Atlantean civilisation. All to the way back when the settlers and natives of the island formed into one of the most powerful cultures in history. He used to tell Delta stories of the settlers bringing technology to the natives and the natives bringing spirituality to the settlers. The native Atlanteans showed no fear of death. Instead they considered death to be a release of the soul which would continue existing into the next life. It was a time for celebration, not for grief. However, Delta knew that death bothered her father. Despite being able to sense the other world, having completed his scientific research on multi-planes and the Planes of the Dead, his discomfort did not ease.
Delta wished she could share his abilities, but they paled in comparison to her mother's. Her mother was a harkan, a person born of a human and an off-worlder. When humanity was introduced to the greater interstellar community in centuries past, inter-marriages were an inevitable result. Atlanteans revered harkan people, considering them to be the bridges for humans and off-worlders, but also for the future. Olanta was unlike most harkans and for this, she was the most beloved socialite in the city. Her human father wed an Arinu female, a mysterious race of great psionic wielders and of five-thousand-year longevity. Delta heard of these species before. However, their extremely foreign appearance hadn't passed to Olanta. The only thing that she shared with this noble race was an awesome psionic potential and ability.
When Delta was a younger child, she would frequently ask about her grandmother, but Olanta's rage would boil through and kill any further discussion on the matter. One day, Durun sat Delta down and explained the day Olanta was born, her mother abandoned the infant on the table. Since then, Olanta’s father was the only parent she ever knew.
“Lady Ungbrahe,” a meek voice called from the foyer. A servant woman dressed in a sharp uniform that didn't match her youthful face or frame stood behind the matriarch of the house.
“I know, they're here,” Olanta calmly said before a tap at the door echoed through the hall, “Delta, please don't get into trouble.”
Delta's eyes narrowed at the entrance door to see several shadows behind the stained glass before looking back at her mother. She couldn't read her thoughts, but the displeasure on her face said enough. Delta held her dress tightly to her chest as she stepped out to the nearest washroom. Her hand found the handle in the wood and banged it shut. It was louder than she intended, but her parents and the servants had already become accustomed to that in the mansion. She envied her mother's psychic power; she envied all who possessed it. She hated the way they could have private conversations, know when they're being talked about and become part of a deeper connection. They could lie to her, keep any secret from her and she wouldn't even know it. She was a mundane, a person born with no psionic potential, which was unusual for humans, especially if she were a descendant from her harkan mother. Mundanes were psi-disabled and the worst part, everyone could identify her as such.
Delta tore off her nightgown and stuffed it into one of the baskets before squeezing herself into her white formal dress. She looked in the mirror and combed her mane with her fingers. Interestingly, there was something that psychics couldn't do: they couldn't read her thoughts – not even her mother could do that. She smiled at her reflection before opening the sliding door to her great, great grandfather's funeral party.
~
In less than an hour, the ground level of the mansion was packed with attendees talking, laughing and stuffing their mouths with Atlantean delicacies, most of which were seafood. Delta despised seafood. Everyone wore a variation of white as it was an Atlantean custom to wear white during funerals, but they all blended with the interior of the mansion too well. It was clear that the building was designed for this many people; the slick marble walls did little to dampen the sounds from the chatter. Delta couldn't decide whether she preferred her home filled or barren of emotional warmth, as it usually was. The display altar was stripped of the sheet. Instead, several lit incense candles were sitting on the edges, and a bloodless man lay on the grey stone in a bland cream robe. His scalp was polished, eyelids and lips carefully sewn shut and a long white scraggly beard travelled all the way down to his hips. Delta watched in awe at the still man, who appeared to be asleep. She could recall going to see him once with her parents when she was only a few years old. He preferred living in a tiny cave in the high mountains of the country. Those who chose such a life had no intention to be around anyone else, her father once said. Now, her parents decided to bring hundreds of people to gawk at his dead vessel, something she assumed was not his desire.
As she stared at his wrinkled cheek, Delta wondered what he would have felt like. With a quick glance around her, to make sure no one could see, she extended her finger and touched his face. His skin felt like old paper and was cold on her fingertip. She traced her finger along his cheekbone and down to the tip of his nose, gradually pressing harder. Amazed that there was no response from him, she clocked her finger back and flicked his nose with her nail, but still there was no reaction.
“Don't touch greatfather like that!” a boy called as he rushed over, creating a small circle of attention on them from surrounding guests.
Startled, Delta flinched her hand back in such speed that it caught the incense candle and knocked it to the side. She scurried to the dripping candle correcting its place on the altar before facing the boy. He appeared around seven-years-old, sharing her age, though shorter than her. His skin was paler than a typical Atlantean’s, his face was narrower and his hair blonde though he had her eye colour. She was troubled at his looks, a sense of familiarity and inexplicable anger bubbled as she searched his face for answers. Perhaps he was Ilirian or had some ancestry there. People there were always brash. His brow was furrowed and eyes sharp. A moment passed before the boy loosened his expression and cocked his head to the side.
“Why can't you hear me?” he said.
“Can you see me not touching him anymore?” she replied frustrated.
“No,” he said raising his hand to his temple, “up here?”
Delta's insides tightened, her mouth slowly opened as her mind raced to find her words, but her focus broke when a woman stepped behind the boy. Her loose beige robe sat on her shiny, sandy brown skin. Her thick black hair was cut just above her jaw, so neat and precise was the cut, not a single strand was longer than the others. Thick black and gold lines circled around her eyes, stretching past her temples and just above her cheeks. This woman was from Alkhem.
“You look so much like your mother, Delta,” she said as she extended her hand to touch Delta's cheek.
“I don't know you,” Delta replied, distancing her face from the strange woman.
“Many apologies, it's been many years since we were together like this. I thought Olanta might have mentioned us,” the Alkhemite said as she pressed her hand against her chest.
“Mother, I caught her hitting greatfather's nose!” the boy said, his head spinning to meet her eyes.
“He's my great, great grandfather, not yours!” Delta hissed as her hands twisted into fists.
“You're both his, children. Which makes you -,”
“Third cousins,” Olanta said, stepping into the triad. Delta stared at her mother in disbelief before glancing at the boy, who wore the same shock on his face.
“Olanta, it's been too long,” the Alkhemite said as she pecked both of Olanta's cheeks.
“Too long, Nehmet. How's life in the sister-country?” Olanta said, patting the woman's bronze shoulder.
“Enough for me to remain here until the end of my days. My, Delta certainly doesn't have the image of shyness about her, you two are practically clones!” she said.
The Alkhemite's words seemed to leave a bad taste in Olanta's mouth, her face strained as she tried to hold its serenity. “Indeed, yet only half of that is true – she is quite expressive.”
“I'm surprised you didn't tell your daughter of Anobus and me, really, they would be perfect friends. Anobus attends the school barely a stroll away from here,” she said.
“Your name is Anobus?” Delta scoffed at the boy.
“Manners, girl,” Olanta growled as her head snapped to her daughter, “we've had a home tutor, several in fact,”
“I can't hear her thoughts, is there something wrong with her?” Anobus said looking up to the women. Anger flurried through Delta's chest; she realised his face would be an ideal punching sack.
“She's mundane, she can't hear what people are saying in their minds,” Olanta said as she pressed her hand against Delta's back. Its pressure was too great to be any gesture of support.
Anobus bit his lip and stared down to the floor. He snuck a quick glance at Delta before excusing himself from the chat and disappeared into the crowd.
“I'm sorry for Anobus' words, Delta. He's had trouble accepting me as his new mother, but I assure you, he's quite personable once you get to know him.” Nehmet said as her eyes blinked back growing tears.
“I need some air, pardon me,” Delta said before brushing through the crowd. What she said wasn't entirely incorrect. The stale inside air and heat from so many bodies did bother her; she didn't want to be around so many strangers, least of all her mother. She smelt a whiff of ocean air; the archway to the outside was close. After the last squeeze through the crowds, her slippers ground against the coarse stone tiles of the patio. There were more people outside, but the lush emerald gardens gave enough space for them to scatter.
Her ear caught the voice of her father. She saw him speaking to three off-worlders from various species about his phasing research. Their replies were high and sounded approving, but by the looks of his face, their praise didn't reach his spirit. Durun spent most of his life on his work, and whenever Delta saw him, he would speak mostly about what happened in the laboratories. Even when his team were promising breakthroughs in his projects, he always spoke of his work in a dull, or unhappy fashion. She couldn't understand why he would continue with that career if he didn't find joy in his work, or the fame, he garnered from it. His reply was always 'someone has to do it.'
Delta heard a rustling from the pyramidal-shaped hedges, her attention turned to several children of different ages running and laughing in amongst the gardens. Anobus was amongst them. Her jaw tightened as she watched him socialise so effortlessly with the others, knowing how much of a rat he could be. She envied his ability to interact with them, almost wishing she could have a slice of what it felt like to be accepted. Delta loosened her muscles as she steadily walked towards them. She didn't recognise the other two boys and girl running around the sculpted bush. The eldest boy, no older than thirteen, pulled one of the inside branches rendering the surface of the pyramid uneven.
“That's mother's favourite hedge, you should be careful,” she said aloud. The children turned their attention to her, the humour in their eyes died. She had already messed up and she wished she could restart the whole introduction scene, but it was too late.
“Oh,” said the eldest boy as he stuffed the branch back in the bush, “sorry.”
“My name's Delta Ungbrahe,”
“That's my brother Bashas, Kyirn, Anobus and I'm Karu,” he said pointing them out one by one; each gave an awkward nod, except Anobus.
“Yeah, I already met Anobus,” Delta said shooting a glance at him. He seemed amused by this.
“That's the one I've told you about, the mundane,” he said looking to Karu.
The eldest boy chuckled, and so did the others. “Oh, you can't hear anyone's thoughts, not even a little bit?” he said.
“What's that even like? Can't you remember your past lives either?” Kyirn said as she swept her white hair from her lips.
Delta's mind began to whirl; she was already losing them to her idiot cousin. “It's just something I was born with. There are loads of people who aren't psychic or can’t remember their past lives and still do a lot in this country.”
“No doubt, but it's not really normal though. I mean if you were living among Ravansye, then it'll be fine there,” Anobus said, taking joy in his selection of words.
“Father says they can be dangerous if you even look at them the wrong way!” Karu said.
Delta was seconds away from screaming at him, but quickly suppressed the urge when she conjured an idea to win them over. “Atlantia is also dangerous if you know where to go. The threshers are now in the bay for mating season. You can see them swimming across just down the beach.”
“Threshers? You can actually see them from your house?” Karu said, his eyes growing wide.
“Sure, I'll show you,” Delta said striding through the small group. Her heart skipped when they all started following, excited to see the bloodthirsty threshers.
“We shouldn't go far, the soul ceremony will be starting soon,” Anobus called behind them.
“Relax, dead men are patient,” Karu said.
Anobus heavily sighed as he dragged his feet behind the group. They excitedly chatted amongst themselves as they walked past the gardens and to the nailed wooden stairs. There was no sand on this shore, except for large broken boulders and several pools of seawater trapped between stones. Past the boulder's slope was just a straight drop into the seas below.
“Remember when father said he saw a thresher's long neck and head pop out from the water? Its needle teeth were all bloody from its meal of seals,” Bashas said slapping his brother's arm.
Karu let out a laugh. “Seal meals.”
“The deep-sea ones can grow over a hundred meters, not including tails. Their flippers have claws too, they're kings and queens of the water,” Delta said as she carefully lifted her gown and stepped over the slippery black rocks.
“There!” Kyirn excitedly shrieked throwing her pointed finger to the open water. In the distance, where the waves violently tumbled, large sharp fins rose and slapped against the wet surface. Black indistinguishable shapes slithered below the murky blue water and occasionally, Delta could see their scaly necks ride along the ocean's currents.
“I wonder if they can smell humans from here,” Karu said lightly jogging to the edge of the boulders and staring down into the open water. Bashas hurried behind his older brother but was met with a handful of cold water in the face. In a blink of an eye, the group, including Anobus, were splashing each other among the rock pools and sea. Delta wanted to call out to them, tell them to keep clear of the open ocean because threshers had noses for humans. Out of fear of losing their respect, she kept silent. Instead, she settled on a wide flat stone and watched them play, wanting to join in their ignorance. She looked down at the shiny blue surface. Her distorted reflection was looking back at her until a terrible cold swept down her spine.
Delta spun around to see Anobus flicking his wet fingers at her face. A cruel twisted smile was staring down at her. “Too bad you couldn't hear my mind, could you?”
The other children laughed at her soaked hair and dress, even though they were wet too. A wild rage swallowed Delta, she leapt to her feet and used all her strength to strike Anobus on his cheek. The laughter was replaced with a chant: “fight!”
Anobus staggered to his side. His eyes were wide with shock and equal anger. He took a handful of Delta's wet hair and tried pulling her down; she screamed with pain but kept her balance. The chanting continued as she twisted his arm free from her mane before landing another slap on his reddening cheek. Anobus yelped in pain, taking a step away from her. “It was just a joke!”
Delta wasn't finished with him; she wanted to do so much more. Her hands found their way around the scruff of his formal robe and using all her power, tossed the boy over the edge of the cliff. His body slapped against the water's surface, his arms and legs were now flailing to keep his bobbing head above water. Delta hadn't realised the chanting had stopped. She wasn’t aware of the children's desperate calls for adults and their attempts to reach and save Anobus. When she realised what she has done, her heart sank at her actions. She was in deep trouble.