A. Lee S.• Show poetry

"Sharpen your pencil purposefully... lead proved itself lethal far before you chose a page to tarnish."


That said....

Once upon an early morning, Ossimer and Ktaryn made their way down the dew sparkling pathway that led from their home to the Twin Trees and, from there, down into Elentria. Upon arriving at the trees, Ktaryn stopped and stood gazing at the tall flowing grasses that marked the forgotten pathway to the womb. A strange calling came to her and she opened thoughts to it for she could not tempt them anywhere else.

As Ossimer was about to put a hand to Gelon he suddenly became aware that Ktaryn was no longer beside him. He looked back to see her standing transfixed and staring at the entrance to the womb. A chill feeling of alarm ran through him. He was about to call out to her when a stiff breeze bent a branch of Gelon to strum against his temple.

There are many paths Ossimer; you cannot walk those not laid for your toes. Seek out your own role but, while you do so, trust in others to do no less. Ktaryn must follow her path as it comes to her. You cannot walk it for her. Without thickets and thorns there is no true endeavor and without struggle freedom will not take root. There is a kinship tugging her hair towards the womb― you know this. A voice calls out and whether to she answers or not is her choice. Thrice already have you entered the womb; do not try the tolerance of those restrained within for, though they feign to have all the time in the world, their patience is sorely lacking. While you leave Ktaryn to her decisions your own path doesn’t stall in motion. There are other visions yet for you to discover— the White Warrior has left many secrets. Leave Ktaryn to her winds and ways— your road stems through us.

Ktaryn felt no fear walking into the opening of black. She held her head high. She did not look back and her resolve was unwavering. With the guidance of the voice, echoing between her thoughts and the dark walls around her, she made her way easily. She distinguished two clearly separate entities though the immense power of one was obvious. As for the other, it had only just become aware of her presence and as it did the guiding voice— a female voice— suddenly rang out aloud.

“Welcome to our humble confines― Ktaryn. Your presence awards us a measure of distraction that has of late been lacking. Be at ease; no harm shall befall you here.”

Ktaryn entered the innermost chamber of the womb and saw the massive green eye, pasted with numerous lids, extending towards her. Her thoughts urged her— reach out— though she resisted, standing fast where she stood and preceding no closer.

“Come closer, Ktaryn. Let me touch you and, for all time after, you will have peace of mind and rest in comforts only knowledge can afford. Do you not sense our kinship? I can. I am Mytya— and a small part of me resides within you. Don’t stifle your impulses— for they wriggle upon truth. One touch and I will bestow you such power; so much so that all who come before you will long to fufill your every desire— or fall to their faces should that be your wish. Come closer― if for no other reason than to let me gauge the beauty of your eyes.”

“I am sorry, “spoke Ktaryn plainly. “I have no need of such influence. I came only because you bid me so; seeking neither validation nor recompense.”

“Validation!” seethed the eye, revolving erratically. Its many turrets and sockets shifted with contempt. Then it slowed, turning most deliberately to focus its gaze upon her eyes. It blinked— once— twice— and then faster and faster— with all of its lids snapping open and shut in rapid succession. Ktaryn forced her eyes shut and it ceased moving— but the voice arose again, though this time only in her thoughts.

“Come Ktaryn, ease our discontent! What news might you offer to appease our heinous boredom? We wish no more than to know what might lie in worlds above. Will you not offer reparation for the attributes I awarded you so freely? In truth, it is predominately for your own safety that we seek this bond. There may be creatures lurking— perilous to your survival. Have you witnessed other beings that did not originate of these dark clay soils? Do not further bind us to neglect. Tell us what you might. Besides wise, it would be no more than cordial.”

In no facet of the word was Ktaryn moved however. Intuition scolded that these entities were not products of good intention. Maliciousness scurried behind these walls― it was almost as if she could smell it― alongside envy, jealousy, resentment— and retribution. Ktaryn chose her words carefully.

“The lands above stretch far, in every direction; the days are as hot as the nights are cold― we know little of what might lie waiting in either darkness or light. Tell me what it is that you yearn to find and I shall watch for it with great diligence.”

“I told you my wish already. Come but a little closer and I will know all I need to.”

“I recognize your intelligence to be far above my own and perhaps it is such ignorance that leads me to fear becoming no less held than you are now. Still, it is what it is and things are as they are. I wish to help but I, too, have questions.”

“You have questions?!”

“Yes. How is it that you became wedged within the walls of a pit?” Ktaryn stepped back just as the eye lashed out like a snake at her face.

“So— you think I’m a fool?” spoke Mytya. Her voice assaulted the stale air like a vacuum, absorbing all else as it echoed back and forth, around and around the sweating walls.

“Do you really believe you can attain all that you wish by simply stroking my ego? Knowledge is a door― the key of which must be earned. Don’t ask for things beyond your comprehension― insolent girl— I flatter you by time alone! Mark these words Ktaryn— mark them well! This foul dungeon won’t restrain me for long! I have been many things in my day― a princess; a healer; a witchgoddess― a vapour. Many have sought to contain me— even in a bottle and, time and time again, I’ve proved that it can not be done. As surely as dark in night— Ramule and I shall have our day and where then will you cower? I will tell you where― in terror! Oh, there is such a place: I can assure you that― just as surely as you know your arrogance shall be properly rewarded. So you see you and I are very much akin. You know my mind and I know yours— all too well. Trust me, I know what how to inflict the torment. Mark it on your calendar; on the very day I will boil Ossimer alive― while you lay immobile and helpless― staring as a hapless eyeball― frozen in a wall of mud!”

She laughed wickedly and the eye jutted outwards to taper until it resembled a long, thin curved ladel. The ladel began to turn slowly in a wide stirring motion and all the while the eye rolled about, blinking, in the bowl as it whirled about.

“Oh simmer, oh simmer— our Ossimer stew
and it shall be tasty— watched carefully by you!”

The eye suddenly leapt from the ladel and, as the spoon straightened, it pinned Ktaryn hard against the wall. Rigid as a spike, it drew a thin red line coarsely across her throat before rising broadways to stroke her cheek delicately. It then released her. Snapping back into an eye, it looked at her from this very close proximity for several seconds before, blinking its lids in succession, it retracted to fold itself flat upon the wall. The voice— her voice— came as a torrent of waves inside her head.

“So easy could I could paint these walls with your presumptuousness― but there is a part of me within you that I can not as yet reclaim― and I want it back! Do not get too attached to your pretty flesh for the day shall soon come when I retrieve what is mine. It is only a matter of time. Never again shall I show mercy to your kind― never again! Should anyone ever dare to step foot within these confines again― I will curse and alter heart and bone. The entirety of Areth awaits you― sunny days, soothing warmth, new sights, tastes, smells― carefree touches! What need would drive you to come here― save to scorn my predicament? Forever after, should this womb prove fruitful, only that which is bent on devastation shall it bear― for this is the Pit of Raeben and more tomb than womb! Go! Go now and in haste for the very sight of you mocks us and I will not suffer the audacity of your kind ever after!”

Ktaryn turned and, quickly winding her way out of Mytya’s tomb, she made it back into the unsurpassed eye of Sol. She stood, shielding her eyes, thinking of all that had come to pass. In truth, little had she learned of the entities trapped within― though, at the same time, she had learned more than enough. They were not only dangerous but of cruel intent. There was no sanctity to be found within such a pit. Quite the contrary, it sat seething, awaiting the first opportunity to unleash itself upon an unsuspecting, infantile world.

Ossimer had been waiting for Ktaryn and as she emerged from the entrance of black he ran to her. They embraced and tears streamed down her face― not from fear but out of love. Thoughts and words ran wildly as she tried to convey all that had happened amidst furies of emotion.

“Let us leave this place,” spoke Ossimer, “and may we never find cause to return. It is clear, within this void stems only evil— and all of its companions― jealousy, vengeance, cunning and deceit. There is naught to be found lying within save sorrow and regret.”

Ossimer and Ktaryn then began to make their way back to their sparkling white citadel. They would hold council with the others tonight after they had thoroughly considered all that had been uncovered, utilizing the wisdom of Ordan. The womb was infested. It was ripe with malevolence and malice ran rampant throughout its dark confines. The others would be warned. Venture near this snake’s black mouth and the risk of being bitten were as sure as cast iron.

•

Cyren had spent the night, as usual, in the branches of Gelon. He had slept well past dawn. It was not customary for him to sleep late but his dreams had been particularly vivid. He dreamt that his friend Ossimer had visited the trees and discovered the true origin of Areth. He had also envisioned Ktaryn walking boldly into the blackness of the womb with her head held high and eyes straight forward. He dreamt of a great white warrior who had left a mighty gift. As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes he realized that he no longer remembered what the gift had been. All he knew was that it was not intended for him but, just as with the seed of Nyan, he would be its guardian.

The burning rays of Sol now fell hard upon his broad back. He turned his eyes, shielding them and immediately, a delicate flicker caught his eye. He knew exactly what it was. It was the gift. It was the hair of the White Warrior― whoever he might be! The hair had wrapped and twisted itself around a tiny, veined finger of Gelon. It danced, the jewel in a crown, flashing repeatedly in solitary brilliance. Cyren reached and it willingly lashed itself to a stubby finger.

“No,” spoke Cyren kindly. “You are not meant for me but I will keep you safe nonetheless.” He moved a finger above the hair and it glided back and forth as if in tow.

“You’re safe enough here,” he said, carefully weaving the glowing thread back into the safe clutches of Gelon. He braided Gelon’s branches until not even a whisper of it remained. He was not overly concerned. Beside him, no one ever ventured to either of the twin giant crowns. Oronan and Maytul came often but they were sons of Ossimer and therefore hardly a threat.

“Gelon, protect this potent strand no less than you hide the seed of your beloved.”

Cyren looked out to see Ossimer and Ktaryn heading up the path towards their gleaming mini-fortress. I must tell them what has unveiled itself to me, thought Cyren. He stood quickly and slid recklessly from Gelon’s boughs. Skillfully twisting and turning his body with the sweep of Gelon’s branches, he glided downwards in a well practiced, albeit rather precarious, descent. Feet pounded branch after branch, bending them forcefully upon the next. His hands released as quickly as they grasped and, in mere moments, Cyren had both feet firmly planted upon solid areth. He turned to make his way after Ossimer and Ktaryn but had barely gone a step when something caught his eye. He stopped abruptly. Someone had ventured by way of the womb. Intrigued, he paused, falling deeply into thought.


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