Selene

I visited her at night as always, travelling to the Mountains, tall and dark like a looming beast.

I walked to a hidden cleft marked only by a blanket of blossoming Moonflowers. At the base lay silvered, black doors that only opened when the sun’s heat was long gone.

With a wordless gesture, it opened and I strode into the welcoming light.

Soft, plush grass carpeted a ground of hard, cold rock. Lights were festooned into the walls and glowed with a bright, yet cold light.

I strode through the corridor until it widened into a vast library with high reaching mahogany shelves, a magnificent four poster bed nestled between two bookcases, vines adorning it. To the left hung a massive Mirror, its surface not clear, reflective silver, but a swirling mist. The frame was golden; tiny, long forgotten words hidden in the designs etched into its edges.

“You’re back!” came a happy cry.

After a moment, she appeared, beautiful as ever.

She ran to embrace me and I accepted, giving her a slight squeeze.

I pulled back and presented her with an illustrated book on mythical creatures.

Her eyes lit up.

“Where’d you get this?” she asked.

I only smiled mysteriously. She didn’t need to know the shadowy paths I walked.

“You never tell me of your travels,” she mused woefully.

“You know why,” I said. 

She sighed. I watched as she turned to shelve her new book.

She was tall and slender, delicate as a butterfly in flight. She was of adult age, but had a softness, fragileness about her that made her seem young. But perhaps the most striking – and unnerving – thing about her was her paleness.

Her skin was white as milk, a pink blush running through it, and her hair white as winter snow. Her eyes were the same wintery hue – a piercing blue that seemed to flicker between sharpness and softness. Her eyelashes too, were the colour of snow and her lips the pale pink of a rose.

To me, she was unique, special, someone who should be allowed to live peacefully.

To everyone else, she was different, therefore dangerous, some vampiric monstrosity.

They’d cast her out as a babe, left her to die.

I remembered investigating the sound of her squalling. I didn’t notice her pale features at first, only the angry, red rash beginning to spread from the hot sunlight. I had suddenly, inexplicably, remembered another child that had lain before me, long, long ago. The one that had driven me down dark paths to try to fix my terrible, terrible mistake.

So I took her, swore to protect her and made her a home.

“Would you like to travel to the meadow tonight?” I asked.

She visibly brightened.

“Yes please!” she chirped.

I couldn’t take her outside during the day. Only on the very rare, mildest of winter days when the sun shone its weakest, or heavy clouds smothered it, could we venture out.

Night was the only protection from it. Even from only one sunlit encounter, brown, irregular shaped splotches ran along her right cheek, neck and shoulder blade. I still winced as I remembered her skin boiling.

She darted back, dressed in a shirt, leggings and boots.

I held out my arm, she looped hers through and we strode out.

*****

It was a sweet, summer night. The stars shone brightly and I paused as she looked upwards.

“The stars look especially bright tonight,” she sighed, breathing in the fresh air.

“It’s summer. The heavens always seem to shine brighter during summer,” I mused.

“Summer,” she said, tasting the word on her lips.

Her favourite season. The deadliest season.

We reached the meadow and she whistled. With a soft whinny, a lithe horse shape emerged from the bordering forest, glowing as pale as her in the moonlight.

“Hello,” she murmured.

She hadn’t named him, and when questioned had simply replied that names didn’t matter. Names were too permanent. She didn’t even have a name for herself, nor wanted one.

I had given her one anyway, forever unspoken.

I waved my fingers, conjuring a strong, silver rope to tie around the horse’s soft muzzle. She could ride him with ease, as she did most physical activities easily. Although sequestered inside the Mountain, she was not idle in body or mind.

“Will you come?” she offered.

I shook my head. It was mostly wilderness out here with a scattering of villages. No harm could come to her.

“I’ll leave you to yourself tonight,” I said with a smile. “Return before dawn.”

She smiled back, glowing brighter than the moon as they trotted out of sight.

I returned to the Mountain. 

*****

I stood before the Mirror I’d gifted her. There was none other like it. It had cost me much to obtain but I’d done it. For her.

Now it would grant my deepest wish. 

I tapped it then watched as images swirled through. Finally, it stilled and blackened. The blackness didn’t change, but a presence filled the room and the lights on the walls dimmed fearfully.

“I know you. You’ve walked my darkness many times. You’ve peddled your trade, made your deals, yet have always avoided mine,” came the Voice, deep and guttural.

I trembled at the Voice.

“I’m sure there’s something else you want, another deal, another thing to trade,” I said, putting my powers to the words. Things – for Power. 

“For the Power you seek, I’ll accept no other offer,” the Voice said.

“There’s no other way?” I asked, suddenly tired, so tired.

“There is not,” came the insidious hiss.

I closed my eyes.

“And what is the price?” I asked, although I already knew.

“Your soul,” it whispered. 

*****

I met her at dawn’s heralding. She dismounted, undid the silver rope and watched as her horse trotted off.

“How was your ride?” I asked.

She beamed.

“It was lovely! I went to the village. I couldn’t see much, but I could see their fields of golden wheat dancing, hear the snuffling of their horses and dogs. I saw the villagers emerging to greet the dawn, even as I must say goodbye.”

“You know to stay away from there,” I warned.

It would only make her sad – and expose her to danger.

“I know, but sometimes it’s nice to see other people.”

“Am I not a person?” I questioned, furrowed brow.

She appraised me long and hard with those bright blue eyes.

I knew what she saw. A tall, dark man with fine, white scars in more places than I liked, dark hair disheveled at my shoulders and even darker eyes They had been a light, golden-brown, once.

“You are, but you aren’t,” she replied. “You look and act like a man, are one, I suppose. But there’s an…Otherness about you. You’re not like anyone,” she ended simply.

“Neither are you,” I echoed.

She gave a small, rueful smile.

“How strange is fate.”

*****

We returned to her Mountain.

“Are you happy?” I suddenly asked.

“I’m contented,” she replied.

“Contented isn’t happy,” I pressed.

She gave a sigh and looked at me.

“Fine. I’m contented. But happy? No. How can I be when the entire world is unreachable unless it’s in the darkness of night. Even then only in the Mountain’s shadow.”

She walked to the Mirror.

I watched the images she’d saved: rich, beautiful deserts and oceans, gleaming cities, exotic animals, the goodness she saw.

“You think this Mirror a gift but as I’ve grown older, I’ve realized it’s a curse,” she said bitterly. “To see, but never to go. To watch but never to feel. This Mirror is a window to a life I can never have.”

Silence reigned. 

I gave her a bow of farewell, leaving her standing there, alone.

I knew what I must do.

*****

We returned to the meadow. She looked concerned at me and I wondered how I looked. I’d tried to hide it, but she knew I was different, now.

After hesitating, she vanished into the night with her horse.

I conjured my staff and drew a symbol in the ground. I positioned myself in the middle, uttering strings of words, some old and some belonging to a language that didn’t exist in this plane. A tremor went through the ground, shadows writhing around me. The crescendo of my words rose, became almost palpable in their power. There was a thunderclap - then silence. I sagged, breathing hard as though I’d just run the entire length of the Mountains.

I focused on controlling my breathing as the clouds rolled in.

*****

She returned, almost galloping.

“A storm!?” she shouted, eyes bright.

“Not quite,” I said, my breathing normal.

As if on cue, the first snowflake fell.

She looked at it, dumbfounded.

“Didn’t you say it was summer?” she asked.

“It was, but no longer. Now, it is winter,” I said.

Giggling, she tried grabbing snowflakes out of the sky, seeing their myriad shapes before they melted from the warmth of her flesh. She looked so happy I couldn’t help but smile.

“Come, I have more surprises,” I said.

“More?” she queried.

I held out my hand.

*****

“The sun is rising,” she said nervously. “Shouldn’t I be inside the Mountain?” she asked.

She still remembered the burning of her flesh, the blindness that followed for several days after and the permanent marks left on her skin. 

“All will be well. Just wait,” I said.

Besides, my Powers were drained, for now at least.

I laid a hand on hers and she calmed.

Slowly, slowly the sun rose unobstructed along its path across the sea.

“Watch,” I whispered.

The sky broke into the colours of dawn and the silver rays broke out, strangely dull and muted.

She flinched for a moment as the sun’s rays hit her, but she didn’t burn.

“The mildest of winter suns,” I explained. “Almost like the moon. It’s safe for you, to travel, to explore, to live.”

The joy that glowed upon her face made everything worth it.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed.

“It’s all for you,” I smiled.

She hooked her arm through mine in wordless thanks as we sat there, unworried, for once, about the sun.

*****

Days and weeks marched on as I took her to the places she showed in the Mirror, blanketed with snow and ice, dazzling her. I never took her anywhere people dwelled, not with the preternatural grace that marked her.

Instead, I answered all her burning questions and smiled each time a new experience made her flush happily.

It was the happiest I’d ever been.

*****

One day I underestimated the drain of my powers and teleported just shy of her Mountain’s long shadows.

She patted my back as I panted. Suddenly, she stopped. 

“We’re near the village,” she said, a strange note entering her voice.

I looked up.

“Their crops,” she said, remembering the golden wheat waving happily, “They’re gone.”

A blanket of mushy whiteness and broken, brown stems were all that remained.

People picked through the field, bundled in warm clothes, looking thin and ragged.

“What happened?” she breathed.

“Their crops can’t withstand the cold and lack of light in winter,” I answered dismissively. “They’ll need to plant crops that can handle the winter now.”

She looked at me strangely.

“The people have no food?” she asked.

“It’s not the first time they’ve gone without. Every village, town or city has been through lean years. They’ll survive,” I replied.

Her face tightened in either though or anger.

“Come,” I said.

She took my hand without another word and we vanished.

*****

She didn’t leave her Mountain for a while after that, saying the travelling had tired her out. She seemed melancholy too, although assured me she was fine. So, I let her be.

*****

We went to the meadow again.

Instead of calling her horse, she stopped and breathed deeply, looking at the now perpetually cloudy sky.

“I can’t see the stars,” she said sadly. “I miss them.”

Silence.

“Change it back,” she said after a long moment, her tone giving me pause. 

“Change what back?” I asked.

“The season. Change it back,” she repeated.

“To summer?” I asked, confused.

“Yes, banish winter and return summer. This winter is unnatural, isn’t it?” she asked.

“Well, yes. But it was necessary, for you. Now you will never need fear the sun again,” I asked.

She groaned in frustration.

“Yes, but the cost…”

I froze for a moment, wondering if she knew what I’d done, what I’d traded.

“What cost?” I asked, my voice strangled.

“Suffering. The people, the animals. Things aren’t as they should be and it’s all because of me,” she said mournfully.

I immediately rushed to console her but she stepped away.

“What do you mean?” I asked, upset.

“You saw the people in the village, their crops. I looked in the Mirror too and-and… even the animals are suffering. My horse has gone. This winter…” she continued. “In a city far away, a glittering, golden one, they throw an annual Festival to the Sun, to celebrate the life and warmth it brings. I’ve seen it, through the Mirror. They didn’t celebrate this year. There were no lights, no laughter, no music. It was cold and blue and empty.”

She began sobbing.

I tried to comfort her again. Her pain was not what I wanted.

“Change it back,” she repeated.

“No. I won’t let you waste away in that Mountain. I want you to live, to be happy. This is how. Always winter.”

“I don’t want it!” she said angrily. “I’d rather die than have others suffer because of me.”

My anger rose.

“Others wouldn’t pay you the same kindness,” I replied. “They would imprison you, torture you, kill you at the worst. You’re an oddity, a danger,” I snarled.

“I don’t care! I’m not them! I don’t want their suffering at my hands, although you might. That isn’t who I am!” she shouted.

I was speechless, at her anger, her sadness

“Change it back. Now,” she said calmly, her will iron.

“I-I can’t,” I said.

“Can’t or won’t?” she asked.

“Both,” I replied honestly.

“Please,” she said, softer now. “For me.”

I looked at her long and hard. Her body was fragile in some ways, but her will was stronger than I’d realized.

“I’ll try, for you,” was all I said.

Dawn was close but there was still time. She wouldn’t move until I’d tried. 

I accessed that swollen darkness again and performed the ritual. It was harder now, much harder.

She watched, eyes wide with fear.

The thunderclap came, followed by silence. The air warmed and the clouds vanished. Dawn drew even closer.

After I regained my breath, I held out my hand.

“Come. Let us return to the Mountain. The sun will burn you now,” I said.

“It’s summer again? The snow is gone, the crops able to grow?” she asked. “The seasons have been restored,” I confirmed.

She nodded once but stayed. I grabbed her hand, yanking her towards the Mountain, my urgency mounting.

“Come,” I commanded.

She didn’t budge.

I turned to look and my heart sank. She was shaking her head.

“No. I’ll stay here until dawn breaks,” she said.

“But…you will burn,” I stammered.

She nodded.

“Yes, but I do not mind, anymore, what the sun brings,” she said serenely, as though she wasn’t planning her own death.

“Please,” I begged, trying to drag her. She slipped out of my grasp.

“If you drag me back to the Mountain, I’ll escape. I cannot live a half-life anymore. I’d rather face my end than live in the shadows,” she said.

My world felt like it was falling apart. All I’d wanted was to keep her safe, protected, happy despite the hand fate dealt.

I’d done the opposite.

“You can either rage and force my hand, which won't end the way you wish, or you can take me back to the sea so to watch the dawn of a glorious summer day,” she said.

I shook my head and backed away.

“Please. It would make me very happy, this last gift,” she said, smiling beautifully. 

The smile did it. Tears threatening my eyes, I took her hand.

*****

I almost couldn’t look at her, could barely hold back my protests. All I had to do was teleport us back and she would be safe, protected.

But she would hate me.

So, I drank in every last drop of her, of this moment, of her pale, warm hand against mine.

“Are you sure?” I choked.

“Yes,” she nodded. “I am resigned.”

She looked peaceful, contemplative.

“What will you do once I’m gone?” she asked suddenly.

“Follow you,” my mind whispered.

“I don’t know,” I said instead.

She’d been my world for so long, the one thing I’d nurtured, loved, 

The first rays broke, the sun alive and vibrant once more.

I held my breath and squeezed her hand as the sunlight hit us, beaming stronger and stronger.

She flinched initially at the first sting, then relaxed. Her skin was already becoming flushed – pink to pale red, to blood red, to an angry red.

“How sad, to have been afraid of sunlight for so long,” she breathed.

Her eyes were filming over, becoming cloudy as the sun blinded her. 

I held back the sobs, clutching her hand. 

“Such a beautiful world,” she whispered.

I looked away as she began to fade, becoming dust in the wind, her essence blowing away.

I held onto her hand until it became nothing more than the sunlight and dust.

I gazed into the rising sun, life having lost its meaning with its vibrant, life-giving rays.

I would’ve laid the world at her feet if I’d been able to.

Instead, she was gone, as though she’d never been, the world carrying on as though nothing had changed. The world didn’t even remember her.

Only I did.

I sat and I wept.