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A Soul Remembers: Chronicles of Akashi - Epilogue, Prologue & Chapter 32


The Nightmare

The emerald and violet forests covered Perishi Peninsula, which was ancient, mysterious and magical to any beholder. Every manner of creature lived in harmony with each other, from blue hawks that nested their young in the nooks of the magenta tree trunks to the purple spotted elk that grazed on the tender grass that thrived by the curling roots of the trees. Even nightfall couldn’t shroud the Perishi forest’s beauty; the vines that wrapped themselves around the trunks and branches bloomed teal roses beaconed to the moon-bees for nectar harvest. It was a vision of tranquillity, except that night. That night the forest was on fire.

Small purple feet slapped against the soaked grass causing mud to splatter against the little girl’s skin. She didn’t dare turn around, no matter how hot the heat grew or how many screams came from behind her, she continued her sprint. Panicked hawks took flight from their precious nests and brushed past the little girl's tear-stained cheeks. To the girl’s surprise, she stumbled on to the soft grass and her knees grazed against the grey stones hiding beneath the grassy bed. She rolled over to examine her red and bleeding joints and if it had been any other time, she would roar in agony, but adrenaline and fear kept the pain at bay. The forest elk bellowed for their young before stampeding past her, she kept still for a moment to let the powerful hooves beat past her.

The little girl brushed her muddied ebony hair from her eyes, her skin prickled at the heat that emanated from behind. Her stare darted above the shadowed tree lines; a sickly orange aura which hovered atop the peaks grew every second that passed. Even the moon-bees’ silver glow was swallowed by the fire’s light. A shriek from a male Ezoni vibrated throughout the trees, making the rest of the birds take to the air. She heard her name: Arrazanal.

Her tiny teeth almost cut into her skin as she bit into her lower lip to suppress her cries. She scrambled to her feet and continued her run into the undergrowth of the wilds.

Neither the bush she pushed passed, nor the thin branch that slapped itself against her tender skin or the bed of stones that bore into the soles of her feet couldn’t slow her down. She didn’t know where she was going, she didn’t even know where she was, all she knew was to run. Sweat rolled down her back making her cloth tunic sticky and wet, instead of cooling her, the fire’s heat dried and burned the little moisture on her skin. Her foot stepped into a deceptively deep trench among the grass. She felt her knees buckle and collapse beneath the weight of her body. Before she contacted the grass, her short purple arms launched towards the nearest boulder for stability.

The welcoming coldness of the stone rippled through her flesh and eased her exhausted muscles. With the little energy her young body could muster, she heaved herself against the boulder and rested her tired head. The longer she remained on the stone, the more she noticed her legs involuntarily twitch. She desperately wanted to sleep on the cool grass, but the fires still loomed across the horizon. Tears leaked from her eyes, but quickly dissipated on her sweaty cheeks. She looked to the sky, hoping to see moonlight shine a path for her, but the world’s moons kept their faces hidden behind the smoky clouds.

A loud shriek came from the same direction she ran from, but she had to keep moving. She forced her tiny body to keep moving. Her legs shook as she regained her footing and continued into the dark forest. Finally, she stopped running. There was no energy left for her to keep her sprint. She wandered aimlessly between the trunks of the trees, mindfully dodging the sharp branches and thick roots.

Arrazanal couldn’t remember how long she had been running, or even how long it had been since she had seen another Ezoni. She spent so much of her living memory in the forest with her family that she could recall every tree and stone she ever came across, even when the sun had long passed the horizon. Tonight, however, she had gone beyond the borders of her knowledge and understanding. She was lost. As her feet took her further and further into the unknown, the amber light from the fires seemed to have vanished from her sight. A small opening of trees revealed a circle of grass before her. This seemed to be the only place she hadn’t felt as frightened. She fought her tired legs over the last of the tree roots and shuffled along the grass to the centre of the circle. She looked around for anyone or anything. No animals scurried away from her presence. Not even a bird chirped in the branches. She was alone.

Tears poured from her eyes like a waterfall, soaking her already sweat-drenched tunic and shredded skirt. A whine escaped her mouth as more tears flooded her eyes. She bit her fleshy thumb as hard as she could to keep herself from making a sound, but to no avail. Dark shadows seemed to move and quiver between the trees and bushes. She rubbed her eyes to see if they had been deceiving her, but they hadn’t. The strange formless shadows inched closer to her, their intentions malevolent.

Her knees buckled and dropped her to the damp grass; her arms tightly embraced her legs and shoved her hot face in her lap. “Go away!” Arrazanal screamed, hoping that the tendrils would cease their pursuit, but she was too terrified to look. Wailing screams escaped her mouth as the little control she had over herself collapsed under her desperation. She wondered if her family would ever find her in the woods. Would they find her thin and starving or would they find her grey bones on the grass? That was the first time she had thought of her death, something her young mind had never crossed.

Arrazanal knew about death, her tribe was at war with the tribes from the northern peninsula. Her parents had tried explaining they were far away from their village and the Noszarel tribe would never come down to the Nalashi tribal home, but that night they had. Despite what the stories said about the northern war fronts, she had the luxury of innocence that was just snatched away from under her. The shadowy tendrils crawled close. Their cold embrace tugged at her toes and the hems of her skirt. The shadows had closed in. A tiny sliver of courage arose, like a tiny flame shining in a dark cave and her head shot out of her lap and faced the surrounding darkness.

She could no longer see the forest beyond the black curtain, her eyes sparked up to see the starry sky disappearing behind the shadows. She would not let the darkness take her. Arrazanal’s muscles tensed and she sucked up as much wind into her lungs to release the loudest war-cry she could muster. The shadows quivered; their veil gradually thinned just enough to see the trunks of the trees behind them. Her throat stung and burned, but her shrieks continued to frighten the shadows away. She continued pushing out the screams, even when her voice cracked and broke. The shadows retracted their hold on her. However, her shouts haltered when a clump of phlegm crawled up into her mouth, she coughed out the disgusting ooze and hastily wiped her mouth.

Before Arrazanal could continue her little war cry, the dark curtains grew darker and faster, almost with a vengeance. Their tendrils launched at her legs and arms, slashing and cutting against her sensitive Ezoni skin. Her war cries turned into pained wails and the black shadows grew as they fed on her fear. She glanced up to look for the stars, but the curtain had concealed them from her view. The small fire of courage in her heart was stamped out when she saw two red slits open slowly from the darkness. Arrazanal watched helplessly as the slits revealed two deadly eyes staring back at her. She stared at the void, and now the void stared back. Crippling fear froze Arrazanal in her place. Even when her skin ached in pain as the tendrils slashed their way in as if they were trying to bore their way inside, she remained entranced by the scarlet eyes. Another slit opened at the base of the eyes, a thin grey mouth curved into a demented smile and opened to reveal rows of jagged and broken teeth. She tried to call out for someone for anything to come to her aid, but all she could mouth was ‘help.’

The dark curtain closed in with its tendrils encircling her torso and neck like a snake strangling its prey. She watched helplessly as the demonic face opened its wide mouth and lunged. She squeezed her eyes shut before the mouth swallowed her whole. Arrazanal heard a man’s voice call out her name from the beyond. She kicked and punched at the formless void to find the caller.

Her arms brushed against the silky fabric, her legs beat against a thick mattress, and her head slammed into a wooden bed frame. The sudden pain pierced through her skull; her eyes shot open and she found herself lying on her sweat soaked bed. Arrazanal sat up to see all her sheets and pillows were strewn across her tiny bedroom, blue-white sunlight leaked through the cracks of her thick fur and leather curtains. She rolled over in her bed and pulled back one of the curtains, but her sweaty hands rolled off the leathery surface. She sighed and turned to face the low hanging ceiling. Gentle wind chimes sung their tunes outside; she tried focusing on their tranquil song. This is what Arrazanal did every time she had that nightmare. For ten years, she had been experiencing that demented dream. In fact, it was far worse than any conjuring of her subconsciousness – it was a memory. The memory turned into a repeating nightmare to remind her of the night her father was murdered.


~


The natural spring pools beside her village were where the Nalashi tribe bathed during the winter when the rivers were too cold. The tribe’s druids believed that the pools were a gift from the Wild Spirits and that its hot waters healed and cleansed its visitors. Arrazanal was a frequent visitor, but her belief in the springs’ power had deteriorated. A part of her hoped that every visit would be her last to wash away her nightmares and she could contently soak in the bubbling waters, but each time she was wrong.

Summer was nearing, and the pools were losing their favour to the cooler river that separated the village from the neck of Perishi Peninsula. Still, a few stragglers enjoyed the waters, some were druids taking their ceremonial cleanses while younger Ezoni began exploring parts of themselves with each other below the pools away from onlookers. Arrazanal cared little for the company of other Ezoni, especially others of her own age. This was mostly due to their emotional unpredictability and tendency to be mean spirited to weaker members of the tribe beyond the sights of elders. Some said that the war between the northern tribe and her people had infected the children with cruelty. However, Arrazanal believed that the war had brought out monstrous side in people. She travelled to the farthest spring pool from the commonly used ones. Few knew about its location, and even fewer visited it because of its proximity to the Haunted Forest.

When she arrived, the pool was small and shallow enough for one to comfortably sit in. The clear blue water rippled from the bubbles that floated to the surface. She dunked her hand in to feel its heat. Most Ezoni would shy away from these springs in the warmer months, but Arrazanal enjoyed the feeling of hot water. She opened a tiny glass vial filled with aromatic oils that she had crafted herself back at her family’s alchemy station and dripped its contents into the pool. Instantly, the air was filled with the aroma of sweet flowers and seeds. A sensation of pride filled her chest, her skills as an alchemist had developed greatly in the last several years. A village elder had taught her the skill. She instantly recalled her first attempt to create bathing oils and how it smelt of fresh feline manure that ended up on her hands. Many laughs and mockery came from her siblings that day.

Arrazanal pulled off her silky dark green robe and stepped into the spring. Her shins instantly turned red, and their burning sensation rippled up her spine. She eased into the water, careful not to shock her body with the change in temperature. Her long feathery and beaded necklace floated in the pool. It belonged to her mother; her father had made it for her while she was pregnant with Arrazanal’s younger sister, Zjelazanal.

As she watched the necklace float with the currents of the water, she remembered that night when the Noszarel had attacked their village and set it ablaze to claim victory. Unfortunately for them, the Nalashi were stealth fighters, even when the Noszarel had caught them off guard, the hidden warriors had managed to pick off the invaders one by one. However, unfortunately for Arrazanal’s family, her father lost his life during the initial attack. When Zjelazanal was still wet from the womb, and her mother rested in the Temple, her father took both Arrazanal and her brother Dathazanal, who was four years her senior, to retrieve sweet-scented teal roses from the vines.

Before the three crossed into the woods, the invaders came and unleashed a torrent of arrows on any Nalashi tribesmen they encountered. Arrazanal watched her father drop to the grass with a thick arrow embedded through his thigh. Panicked she ran into the covers of the trees as her higher senses had told her that she would be safe away from the carnage. She remembered hearing the voice of her father calling to his children to run into the forests, but she was the only one that did. After her father’s demise, it took two months for her mother to die from a broken heart. The village had known Arrazanal’s family well and had great respect for them, so the community stood united to raise the three children.

Arrazanal lamented in those memories until she sensed emotions from another Ezoni coming to her pool. Instinctively, Arrazanal hid behind the stones of the spring but soon realised who was coming.

“Arr?” Zjelazanal’s voice whispered from beyond the stones.

Arrazanal popped her head up to see her little sister’s face smiling and relieved to see her. The two shared the same face and physique, but Zjelazanal wore her light purple hair long and wavy with two teal roses sitting on her ears and her eyes were a lighter shade of magenta than her sister’s. Her long amber skirt and tunic held several peach coloured flowers.

“A’laar! How’d you find me, Zjel?” Arr demanded.

“By the Wilds, I’ve only been living with you my whole life. Oh, and the Spirits send their sun, Arrazanal,” she said with a small giggle. She looked beyond a clearing of trees and the river to the edge of the Haunted Forest, “how can you come so close to there?”

“Spirits send their sun, Zjelazanal,” Arr said as she leaned back into the pool, “there’s nothing haunted about that forest, it’s just an old druid’s tale.”

“I don’t know, Arr, druids know more about this world than any other being – apart from the Wild Spirits of course!” Zjel said wearing a large grin on her little purple face as she bowed respectively towards anything invisible that might be listening.

“What are you doing here, Zjel? Don’t you have some flowers to pick or something?” Arr asked, slightly annoyed by her little sister’s company.

“Dath asked me to find you. He wants to take us to the Conclave,” Zjel said.

“Tell that benor’e you couldn’t find me and that it’ll only be you and him,” Arr said. She resented her dislike of their brother. Since the night of their father’s death, Dathazanal had never been able to forgive Arrazanal for running away into the woods. It was he that found her alone and asleep on a grassy mound that night. If he hadn’t, she would have succumbed to the wilds. For that, she had always been thankful, but he also never let her forget it.

“Nai! You must go. Today he will receive the spirits’ blessings and finally become a warrior.” Zjel said picking up Arrazanal’s robes.

“I don’t want to listen to it, I’m not going,” Arr said looking away from her sister.

“But –,” Zjel stopped speaking, and her eyes widened.

Arrazanal felt her brother’s presence drawing near to the pools. He found them.

“Get out of here, Zjel, before he comes. Remember, you don’t know where I am, now go. Belle’min I’aer!” she said hiding behind the stones that littered around the springs.

“I’m a terrible liar,” Zjel said quietly, “bellemin’ I’aer,”

Arrazanal waved her hand to her sister, hoping she would get the hint. Before Zjelazanal could turn around, their brother’s booming voice echoed throughout the meadow. Even the birds took flight from his voice. A moment later, his footsteps cracked across the fallen leaves and sticks on the grass.

“We’re going to be late. Let’s go,” her brother’s voice was uncommonly stern for an Ezoni, even a young male his age.

“I-I couldn’t find her. She must be somewhere else. Oh well, we’ll just have to go without her.” Zjel said.

“Then why are you holding her robe, Zjel?” he said. Arrazanal could feel his eyes looking over to the stones behind where she was hidden.

“Come on, Arrazanal, we’re going now.” he said.

She sighed and slowly peaked out from beyond the stones. She was met with her brother’s strong features. His symmetrical rectangular face held two bright purple eyes. His long-braided midnight purple hair was hanging across his bare shoulders. He looked like the spitting image of their father, but unlike their father's, Dathazanal’s eyes never smiled.

“You two go ahead without me, I’m praying to the spirits today,” Arr said, trying to match her brother’s glare.

“Get out of the pool,” he said, snatching the robe from Zjelazanal’s hands and throwing it on Arrazanal’s head.

She ripped off the robes from her head, resuming her glare.

“Benor’e! Don’t be so selfish. I’m not telling you again, Arr,” he said.

She turned and slipped into the now soaked robes. She slowly and carefully stepped out of the spring, partially because she didn’t want to slip but also to annoy her demanding sibling.

“How can the Conclave take me seriously if I can’t even control my sisters?” he said before turning away into the meadow.

“You’re the benor’e.” Arr whispered.

Zjelazanal rolled her eyes and followed suit. Arr couldn’t help suppressing a smile.



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