Dum Spiro, Spero

The rain was full of ghosts. Apparitions of whispers that have long since died on the lips of the damned whistled through the streets. Brittle, broken leaves danced in the frigid breeze of autumn. Dum Spiro, Spero. Dum Spiro, Spero. Dum Spiro, Spero. The words haunted my mind as I stormed down the chipped streets. Like a broken stereo, the words rattled around in my head, again and again; unrelenting. Ever since that blasted beast of bewilderment bit me, flashes of another life plagued my dreams. They felt more like memories of another life; too familiar to be foreign, yet strange to the touch. Sometimes it was a vivid dream of me laughing, and smiling in his arms, and other times they were of me bathed in blood like some avenging angel. It had taken a few weeks to unravel my own labyrinth of shattered realities and broken truths, but last night I found it. The linchpin of this cranial conundrum. Written on a smudged piece of paper, the message was tucked into a Romeo and Juliet playbook, were the words Dum Spiro, Spero.

While I breathe, I hope.

It was this single needle in the haystack that drew me to the sunken city tonight. Asphodel was littered with ash and stunk of sulphur. The barren fields just miles outside of the city limits held nothing but cracked soil and gnarled trees. Not even a hint of life blossomed in the ashen earth. Murmurs of a competition flooded the streets. Crowds of people filed through the oily black stone streets, shuffling towards the heart of the city. A thick fog settled over the slate rooftops. Built of black ironwood and greasy black stone, Cinerarium looked more like a forsaken city than a cemetery. The graveyard stretched out like an ocean, undulating and endlessness, with ancient leviathans lurking below its surface. Striding through the twisted iron gates and into the graveyard I listened to the howl of the wind; the shadows hissed in my ears.

“You okay?” Boris asked, shifting his stance to look at me. My oldest and most trusted friend looked at me warily in the dim moonlight. At this point, we were more family than friends.

“I― I am fine,” my voice quivered and broke unexpectedly. The words were no more than a whisper to keep away prying ears, but I still felt the weight of their stares digging into my back. There was something about Asphodel that always made my skin crawl.

Boris spun to face me, “No, you’re not, you hate Asphodel. You hate everything about it. So, tell me again, why we are here?” Puffing up his chest, he crossed his arms and stopped in the middle of the empty path; clearly waiting for an answer.

“To find a Malum Malus apple, I hid one in the vault and we’re not leaving until I find it,” I whispered, making sure to keep my voice down.

“So, we're spending the night here?” He gestured to the crocked graves and moss-covered stones. Tall obsidian spirals pierced the night sky.

Sighing, I continued walking down the path, misshapen mausoleums and cracked sepulchres lined the cobbled stone pathways of the necropolis. Running to keep up with me I swivelled back to meet his stare, “Yes,” I snapped. A shiver ran down my spine at the sight of the wandering ghosts and vagabonds. Homeless and alone, their hollow eyes bore into mine, their gaze searching for some semblance of salvation.

Boris puffed an exaggerated sigh. Standing in front of the ironwood gates of the mausoleum my hands shook with the effort not to run. I need to do this, I told myself.

Peering up I stared at the carved ravens and doves that were etched perfectly into the stones, I looked at the sinister building. I had purchased the thing years ago as a sort of vault or safe house, but it was not until now that I noticed the small fissures in the door. Had those always been there, or had someone tried to break in? Made of fused black stone and marble, the structure lay bare of bodies, and instead was packed with stolen treasures, weapons, gold and other currencies, as well as old books that I had borrowed from miscellaneous libraries. Digging into my pockets for the key, my hands came back empty. “Can you pass the keys please?” I asked opening an outstretched palm, I waited.

Begrudgingly shoving the skeleton key into my hand, I noticed that it was heavier than I remembered, cold and smooth to the touch, it was the colour of curdled milk. With a satisfying click, I opened the iron gates, and then the doors of the mausoleum. Slipping through the narrow opening, I stifled a giggle as I watched Boris squeeze his massive frame through.

“Why did you have the gate built like that?” Boris grumbled, shoving the lock back into place behind him.

“So that oafs like you couldn’t just barge through,” I quipped, sticking my tongue out.

-

The dust-covered alcoves of the mausoleum held bags of gold and jewels, and an assortment of weapons, but none of them were nearly as deadly as the books that I buried in the coffins. Various tomes and grimoires were scattered around the room, organized by magical and non-magical texts. Rummaging through a dozen sarcophagi on the ground level, Boris searched through the loft, grumbling that he had to spend the night in a graveyard of all places; but to be fair it was not the strangest place he had ever been.

Rummaging through the mountains of tomes in one of the stone coffins, the sleeve of my tunic caught on something sharp. Pulling my sleeve free, I saw the split fabric hanging in the air. Cursing silently, I moved a few more books to the side only to find a very small, very pointy pen nib. At least it did not cut me. Pushing my sleeves up I dove back in, the apple had to be in here somewhere. While I breathe, I hope. That means it must be in one of the sarcophagi, right? I would have buried it in the final resting place, where hearts no longer beat, where all hope is lost.

“Hey look what I found,” sticking his arm out from the loft, Boris held out a red apple that was brandished with golden specks, “what is it?”

My eyes shot wide open, and I almost toppled over into the sarcophagi in front of me, “It’s a Malum Malus,” I said scrambling to right myself, a smile stretched over my face, “it’s an enchanted apple.”

Leaping from down the stairs Boris handed me the apple, “what does it do?” he asked.

Taking the apple from him I studied its glow. “It’s a crossbreed between the original enchanted apples from the garden of Hesperides and the apples from Death’s orchard. I picked it myself last year, they never rot.” I peered closer, examining its shine, “witches say that if you bite into one it would either grant you endless knowledge or misfortune. A real Russian roulette I know.”

“So what are you going to do with it?” He stared down at the apple and scrunched up his face.

We were silent for a few minutes, the seconds pounded away in my chest, my heart struggled to escape my ribs. Magic always had a price; we both knew it. When I told Boris about my missing three months he was horrified, because he was in the Fae Kingdoms when it all happened and had no knowledge Li and I were ever romantically involved. This did not ease my worries because the missing memories left an unsettling hole in my chest. I glanced at the apple, I could either bite into it and get all of my memory back, it was possible, or I could go down another rabbit hole of grief and struggle. Maybe even keel over and die right here and now; but knowing my luck I would live. Uncertainty weighed on my shoulders, should I risk it?

Yes.

I looked up at Boris, “Will you watch over my body?” I asked, cleaning the dusty altar, I climbed on top of the freezing stone slab, the apple still in my grasp.

“Are you sure?” Boris asked, standing at the end of the altar, a hand on the toe of my boot.

“Yes,” I breathed, “I lost three months of my life and I want them back. I want to remember; I want to know what happened.” Biting into the apple I tasted its sweet flesh and the acrid aftertaste. Swallowing, I lay back on the altar, handing Boris the apple, I closed my eyes and plunged into the glittering darkness of my mind.

-

A black haze shimmered into existence, shadows wriggled and writhed around me. Once again, I was an onlooker of my past. I looked around, drinking in my surroundings. Li and I were standing on the beach of black sands. The waters were black and endless. He held my bloodied fists in his. This must have been last summer before I disappeared for three months, I thought.

“Please, I am begging you, please don’t go,” Li was holding me tightly and I could see the tears in his eyes. “No, I have to do this,” I tried to pull away from his grasp, but he still held me tightly. Leaning into him I kissed his cheek, “you may be willing to destroy the world for me, but death will not be my legacy,” I growled. Li lied, I did not disappear into thin air, I left. “I will not be the reason why the world ends. I will pay whatever price the Guardians demand of me, but I will be damned if I would let them touch you. This is between them and me. I made a deal with them and now it is my time to pay up.” Ripping my hands out of his grasp I took two steps backwards, “just remember that no matter what happens, I love you.” I whispered the words against his chest like a prayer, and maybe it was. “Dum Spiro, Spero,” Li said. “While I breathe, I hope,” I replied. A tear slipped down my cheek as I turned into the shadows.

Blink.

Bright blinding light filled my vision, the glare sent stars dancing in my field of view. I was sitting on the floor of some ancient court, the white stones beneath me glistened in the looming moonlight. Ten creatures before me. Made of flickering starlight, their noncorporeal bodies scowled down at my quivering body. “Do you accept your fate?” they questioned in unison; their booming voices reverberated in the empty room. “Yes,” I replied, stealing a glance at the Guardians. “Then it is decided, you will ascend on the night of darkest light and become one of us, do you have any final wishes before you become immortal?” I snapped my head up at their response.

Immortal? I agreed to immortality. Memories began to rush into my mind as one of the glowing beings stared at me; not at the past version of myself but at me. The pieces of my memory began to click into place with sickening speed as I watched the room around me bend and turn. Forcing my eyes open I watched.

“Yes, I do,” I said. Looking at each other, the Guardians bowed their head in response, “Go on.” With trembling lips, I pleaded, “I need you to erase my memory,” rising to my feet I watched myself stand, fists shaking, “I need you to erase my paramour from my memory”. Raising a sceptical brow, the shortest of the Guardians answered, “are you sure?” I nodded my head in agreement, “Yes.” Heavy and onerous, the weight of what I had asked for hit me, I erased Li from my memory not because I hated him or because he lied to me, but because I was going to become an immortal and leave him behind. Understanding shuddered through me as I sank onto the floor.

Blink.

Gilded afternoon light coloured the walls of an aviary. Dressed in fighting leathers I stood in the middle of the tiled floor, a canopy of stained glass let the golden light through, painting rainbows across the room. A small girl with deep umber hair walked into the room, her heels clicked against the floor, “are you ready?” she asked, her voice high and clear. “Yes,” I said, wiping away my tears, “but first can you hide these for me please,” I handed her a necklace and a piece of paper. “They are my memories, I couldn’t destroy them, I tried but, I ― I couldn’t.”

Taking the items from my hands she gave me a small smile, “I understand, but just know that if you do get your memory back it will be different.” I snapped my gaze to hers, “Different how?” Taking my hand, she looped our arms together and guided me out of the room. “You might not feel the same about him, you will remember how and why you loved him, but you will never feel it again, once a heartstring is cut, it cannot be mended.” Wooden doors clanged shut behind us. The echo reverberated through my bones knocking me backwards. I tumbled through the air once more.

Blink.

Stumbling out of the shadows I saw myself walking down the aisle of a bookstore. Reaching up on my toes to get a book from the top shelf, a hand entered my vision. Mottled with scars I saw that it was Li. His face was ashen when he saw me, but not a flicker of recognition crossed my features. “Excuse me, but I was reaching for that,” I said, taking the book from a stunned Li, “by the way, do I know you from somewhere?” I asked. “You don’t recognize me?” he shot back; desperation bled through his tone. “No,” I blurted out, “should I?” Li’s faced turned paler with every second. “My name is Roslyn,” I said, holding the book close to my chest, “what’s yours?”

With every flicker of memory that returned, pieces of the past three months snapped into place. Jagged and raw everything started to make sense as the shadows consumed me once more.

Blink.

My lungs sucked in a breath as I shot up from the altar. Boris breathed a sigh of relief.

“Oh that the Gods,” he yelled, a smile stretching over his face, “I really wasn’t ready to bury you.”

I chuckled, “You better not be.” Ambushed by a coughing fit I grasped the edge of the altar.

Reaching out a hand for Boris to help me off the altar, I explained what happened to my missing three months. I told Boris the whole ugly truth. Tucking the apple into my bag, I made a mental note to study it when I went back to Quadrivium. According to Boris I had been under for a few hours and judging by the crows outside it was around the witching hour, perfect, trouble must be just over the horizon.

Suddenly, the doors of the mausoleum swung open with a bang and lightning flashed over the distant horizon; a man stood in the doorway. Grabbing the knife at my belt I lunged before the intruder’s eyes could adjust to the darkroom. Knocking the body to the ground I sat on its chest and pinned it to the cold flood. With my blade to its throat I saw that it was not an intruder at all, but Li.

My chest tightened at the sight of him, he was here; and like a broken dam my heart began to drown in memories.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, a little bit breathless. Still sitting on his chest, I released his hands. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Boris run to the door, locking it once more. Sword in hand I saw him eye Li with suspicion.

Li’s heartbeat ratcheted against his ribs, “I just thought I would do some cleaning,” he stammered. Lies. Li was lying. What game was he playing?

Playing along, I took the bait, glaring at Boris, “In my mausoleum?” I joked. Cocking an eyebrow, I gave Li a smile as I stared at his face. My gaze snagged on the scratch marks that I had given him. I brushed a thumb across his jaw, savouring the touch. “You followed me again, didn’t you?” I asked. Remembering how he had followed me to Atlantica, a few days ago.

Defeat sparked in Li’s face, “What else am I supposed to do, you won’t answer any of my calls, or messages, and every time we run into each other―”

“Li,” I cut in, “I remember.”

His eyes grew wide and he nearly knocked me off his torso, “You what?”

I could no longer fight my smile as I sprang to my feet, “I remember us,” I said exuberantly, “I came here to get my memory back and I did.”

“You remember us?”

“I remember everything. I think that you and I, we are a forever kind of thing.” I said pulling Li to his feet.

The rain was full of ghosts, but I was no longer one of them. Standing inside this house of the dead, in a necropolis of the damned, I for the first time in months, let hope bloom in my chest. A long-forgotten ease settled in my mind. With all the pieces of my memory snapped into place, I knew that it would only be a matter of time until I had to leave again.  Savouring this moment of peace, Li kissed me, and I kissed him back.

Dum Spiro, Spero.

While I breathe, I hope.