Elfwood is the worlds largest SciFi & Fantasy community.
- 93516 members, 28 online now.
- 62606 site visitors the last 24 hours.
|
Stories / Stories / 
Victoria Lia Yu / Text 7 of 10 / Dream´s Keep
"Dream´s Keep" by Victoria Lia Yu
SF&F Picture 7 out of 10 by Victoria Lia Yu
This is an "epic poem" I did for English last year in 9th grade. We were supposed to write out one scene with a limit of around 100 lines. I admit at first I had no idea what I was supposed to write, then when I was looking up names for my characters, the whole story just swung into vision and smacked me in the face, figuratively. Thus, I went into an obssessed mode in my typing and after a day and night's work, this was the result. Not exactly 100 lines, since in microsoft word, it was 1,038 lines. I was way over limit, but that happens when a story screams to be written. The really long part in the beginning was the main scene that came into my head, then I summarized the rest to save myself from dying infront of my computer. Though I wish to elaborate this story, I've already lost the fire burning in me when writing it, so I guess I'll just leave it the way it is and post it on Elfwood. Minor changes were done to spelling and grammar, but if there are still mistakes, that just means I went blind when correcting everything. Somewhat Greek mythology related and a bit of urban fantasy all smashed together. Forgive me if the Greek is awkward for those that actually can read it. Google translations aren't always correct. Please enjoy and I would love constructive criticism on this piece. |
   |
Tap, tap, tap, tap… ching! Tap, tap, tap, tap… ching!
Life as a writer has been great for Isis Kalliste. Once she had graduated from Columbia on full scholarship, she had spent her early years in the media and even though her brother and sister-in-law died in a car crash leaving her with his fraternal twin children, life seemed pleasant enough.
Yet Isis grew up with strange abnormalities. At the age of four, she had her first premonition of her father abandoning them, then the very next night, her parents argued and he left them. Never to return again. She had in her childhood, experienced moments when she could feel what the other person was feeling and see their thoughts. Her mother, a disoriented drug-addict, ignored her daughter’s tales. Her brother, Angelos Kalliste, with his conceited nature, did not like the idea of his sister being special. Teased and insulted by him her life, she took in the children, Helene and Barak, with disdain. Over the five years they have been with her, they had formed a bond unlike the relationship of mother and children.
It has been years since Isis’s last vision, the last being when she was thirteen. She had been relatively poor, making it difficult to raise two children and her inept mother whom she had admitted to one of the many Addiction Recovery Institutes in the city of New York. Fellow journalist and editors of magazines offered to take turns taking care of the twins for her. Her mother was recovering from her heroine addiction of twenty years. At the age of twenty-five, she was one of the youngest deputy-editors the media world has ever had.
Then, one day, she pats Barak on the head before sleep when she gets sucked into one of his nightmares of failing an exam the next day, which he eventually does. Testing herself the next night, she touches Helene on the forehead, where she is floating through a dream of Helene painting a scene of rushing waves clashing with small pitiful ships drowning in their presence. Isis worries once more that her strange defect had returned. At a park with the kids, she catches glimpses of others’ dreams as they nap. She weaves the strands together in a series of movements, turning the dreams into a story of a sorceress of the old world, weaving the strands of day dreams into the dreams of night. It becomes an instant hit, shooting her to fame as a freelance writer. Maybe, she thought, that it wasn’t a bad thing after all. Nothing could go wrong when everything was going uphill in her life. Or so she thought…
A call from the rehab center sends her swirling in trouble again. Someone had somehow sneaked her mother, Anastasia, more doses of heroine. She had begun raving and hallucinating, sending those around her away, fearing that all of them want to kill her. Isis comes to “calm” her mother:
“Anastasia Kalliste!
Mom! Get a hold of yourself!” I had hollered,
After polite talk had been deemed useless.
She had only gazed at me with eyes rimmed with black circles
From the lack of sleep.
“Dear daughter, my sweet Isis,
It wouldn’t hurt to give your suffering mother,
A shot of morphine
Or better a tiny packet of heroine?”
Her bony frame emphasizes her protruding limbs,
Twigs and branches that stuck out of the trunk.
Her eyes, once a beautiful sapphire blue,
Now dulled by drugs,
Only anguished me further.
When was the last she had smiled without
The influence of drugs?
When was the last she had spoken to me
Without throwing something?
“Please, I beg you. Tell me who gave
You the drugs. There is no need to hide
The truth.”
“They were on my desk the moment I awoke
At four in the morning.
How will I know?”
I bit my lip and urged myself to calm down.
1…2…3…4…5…
58…59…60…61…62…
96…97…98…99…100.
I opened my eyes, but still quivered
With sadness and anger.
“Anastasia,
This might hurt.”
She looked at me bewildered,
As I threw a punch
In her face.
“Sweet Dreams…”
I left the room in a hurry and never realized
How much trouble I would be swept into.
“Miss! You dropped something!”
I turned around to see one of the psychologists
Working here holding what appeared to be my wallet.
“Thank you. Doctor….?”
“Aden. Cross Dante Aden,
Head of the counselors.”
“Thank you Dr. Aden.”
“You are welcome Ms. Kalliste.”
“You know my name?”
“I know many names.
You are well known here
Because of your stubborn mother
Who refuses to be detoxified.
I’d be careful if I were you,
About writing about the dreams
Of other people.
It’s a dangerous business you do,
At the risk of exposing yourself
To Death.”
What was the man saying? Don’t tell me years of working
In an Institute
Has drowned his brain?
“What are you talking about?
Are you implying that I enter
Other people’s dreams?
Such a joke!
What I write is none
Of your business.
So keep your hands and mind to where they belong.
Exposing myself to
Death?
Ha! Why am I not shaking in fear?”
Truthfully, I was frightened of this man,
This man who knew what I did.
But how? How could someone else
Know about my strange powers?
The powers that have haunted
Me through my life?
“Beware the soul
Closest to your heart.
She will hurt you the most.
The twins are destined to follow
The Dreamweaver’s Path
Just as you are finding it
Yourself.”
Then he left. As suddenly
As he appeared,
He was gone.
Leaving me alone
Drowning in his warning.
That night, while tucking in the twins to sleep,
Helene asked
Me a question.
“Auntie Isis,
Daddy and Mommy died
In the car crash.
Grandma lives in the Institute,
But where is Grandpa?”
I froze.
“Helene, auntie does not know where
Grandpa is. He left
Us a long time ago.
Auntie doesn’t even remember
His face.”
“Do you miss him?” Barak asked
In a small whispered voice
From the top bunk of the bed.
It is not the first time,
The twins had asked me.
I thought about it seriously,
Who was my father?
Who were my grandparents?
I know nothing about my family
History.
“I don’t know. I don’t know.”
That three word phrase,
A phrase overly used
That it no longer has meaning.
The words that flows from
My tongue whenever it wanted.
I. Don’t. Know.
I watched their sleeping forms with love.
Such serenity, such peace…
How they both resemble my brother!
They have his long lashes, his almond-shaped eyes,
The same shade of aquamarine,
A combination of mother and father.
Yet I was the mirror image
Of Father.
Anastasia always resented me
Looking like father.
“You look just like that scum,
The same bright shade of emerald,
The same doe eyes.
Even the same raven hair.
The two of you are twins from Hell….”
Anastasia would then collapse onto her bed
Because she had either too much cocaine or heroin.
I felt restless.
Sleep evaded me,
So I grabbed my favorite red coat and went out
To calm my confused heart.
Maybe it was because my mood foul,
Or maybe it was fate
That I returned to the Rehab Institute that very night.
The nurses allowed me in,
Knowing that I won’t cause trouble
Since it wasn’t the first time I appeared at their doorstep
In the middle of the night
Like a lost puppy.
I did not worry about the twins, knowing that they are safe
Under the care of Aurore,
A friend, a sister, a mentor.
The corridors were dimly lit,
If not at all.
My heart beat as thunderous
As a drum
In the dead silence.
I reminded myself that I knew this Institute
Inside out and that nothing
Could possibly harm me.
Or could it?
I passed my mother’s room,
Knowing that she should be asleep.
A soft murmur draws me
To her room.
I rage at the sight
Of a man that should be disgraced
To show himself to our family
Again.
“You’ve been sneaking
My mother the drugs
Have you not?” My seethed
With anger.
He flinched when he saw me.
That coward, that bastard.
“Just a little….
You know how much
Your mother cannot live
Without her regular dose.”
His rat eyes narrowed,
As I frowned.
“You were supposed to leave us alone.
Stop leeching on her.”
“Leeching? Isn’t that a bit harsh?”
“Not for the likes of you.”
He smiled maliciously, evilly.
“The likes of me? Funny,
At least I didn’t abandon the family.”
If eyes could kill,
He’d be Death’s embrace.
I wished to slap him.
To break his bones and twist his heart out
To see if it truly is black.
I could almost see his black black heart
Tapping feebly in his chest.
See his lungs shriveled
From too much nicotine.
His is the source of addiction,
Anastasia’s serpent,
Andy Ardon.
“Don’t you dare speak
Of my father like that.”
“Going to hit me?
You know that your mother will never
Recover.
Keeping her here is just a waste
Of time and money.”
“At least I’m trying.
What are you doing?
I’d rather let her die
Than have you near her
Or any of us ever again.”
I shivered
Ever so slightly at the thought.
He offering me a bar of candy
When I was only eight.
The candy was filled with opium,
And I struggled
Through an addiction
Because of this insidious serpent.
He sneered at my surprised face.
“Remembering the urge
Of sweet temptation?
I could give it to you again.”
My old addicted soul cried for more,
But my logic defied its tantrums.
“No.”
A burst of strength tingled
In my fingers.
In my spine,
In my heart and soul.
I forced it on Andy,
And his knees buckled,
Sending him off five feet away from
Anastasia’s bed.
His eyes widened in mirroring pools of fear,
His face pale and green.
“Leave before I make you.”
I will never let you control me again.
“I will not be rendered powerless.”
Andy nods and jumps
Out of the window.
So that his how he snuck in before.
The powerful tingle is gone,
Leaving my body in a state of a hangover.
I feel lightheaded.
Dizzy and weak,
I began to hallucinate.
Around my mother,
I thought I saw little imps with forked knives
Poking her skin. Except, no blood
Oozed from the wounds, but the poison
Of her addictive drugs.
They turned to look at me,
Their yellow slanted eyes
Shimmered with glee.
“Leave the job to us!
We’ll rid her of her drugs
In no time!”
I blinked in horror,
And they were still there,
Poking with the glee of a toddler with a new toy.
I panicked, ran out from her ward,
And fell into a bizarre world of dreams.
Movements of shadow and light
Glided down the halls of the Institute.
Some took form
Into animals, into spirits,
Into family members, into demons and angels.
I would have shrieked,
But my throat was glued shut,
Incapable of uttering the slightest
Of whimpers.
I pass by what seems to be lions,
But lions don’t have horns
Do they?
I ran and ran,
Not knowing which way was out.
Until I reached the crossing
Where the four wings meet,
And I nearly fainted.
A figure approached me,
Shrouded in darkness,
With rhythmic steps.
Emerging from the darkness,
A smiling clown looked at me
With an unnerving stare.
“Lost?
I’ll take you back home.”
A powdered white hand reached
For me, but I refused to take it.
“No.”
I had to find a way out
From this illusion.
Think Isis, think.
“Only I know
Where your home is.”
The clown still smiled,
But with increasing agitation.
“No.” I replied again,
Stronger and firmer.
The smile faltered,
Continuing to waver
In and out of focus
As an out of tune radio.
“But I know the cure
To your fears.
Your mother’s addiction,
Your fear of old addiction,
The lack of money,
The twins,
And the strongest fear,
Loneliness.
I can relieve you of all.”
I slumped in shock.
This clown knows me better
Than even myself.
I summon all the strength
Within me and give him my final answer.
“No.”
The clown rages and scowls.
“But you will come!”
The clown mutilates into the dark mist
It emerged from with red eyes the color crimson.
I will stay strong, I will stay strong…
It lunges at me from above
And I chant within my heart
Over and over again.
I WILL STAY STRONG!
The whole world lifts around me.
There is no gravity, no weight,
Just infinity,
And I catch a glimpse of a man
With raven hair and emerald eyes.
Then I fall back to reality,
Without the veil of illusions around me.
There is no frightening clown,
No spirits, no faeries, no dreams
To haunt me.
And I know,
My father was here.
“You have great potential,
Greater than I have estimated.”
There he was again,
The doctor from before.
“What do you want from me?”
“I want nothing, but for you to realize
Who you are.
I know you saw
The Dreamweaver’s Path.
I felt it too.
Amazing how the Path links
Us Dreamweavers
Together.
I refuse to listen to him.
“I don’t believe you.
I saw nothing.
There is no Path,
And there will not be one.”
“Do not deny your destiny.
You are a Dreamweaver.
You will follow in the path
Of your ancestors.
A sorceress of sleep and dreams.
I can already tell that your dream perception
Is exceptionally strong.”
I hated his calm tone.
I am no animal at the fair,
He shall not treat me like one either.
With my mind,
I pushed him away like I did to Andy.
It was easier this time.
However, he only fell back a few steps.
“Ah…you are not bad at telekinesis
For a beginner.
Interesting....
You have showed strength
Against that dealer.
You resisted temptation,
Showing a stubborn spirit
Against the clown.
He was an agent of Death,
The first level,
Deception.”
“And if I believe that I,
Am a Dreamweaver.
How do you prove it to me?
Are you saying that you are one too?”
He nodded.
Secretly, I sighed in relief.
I am not the only one out there.
“I can, but not unless you are together
With the twins.
It is unsafe. You had seen
What the clown can do to the mind.
The twins may not be as strong
As you.
Then I worried again.
Helene and Barak!
I no longer cared
If I could see dreams or not.
The children could be in trouble.
I felt myself vibrating,
A low hum rang in my ears.
I sprinted past the doctor,
And found myself running back
To my apartment seven blocks away.
Wait for me…
I ran three steps a time,
Yet the road never ended.
It slithered and slinked,
I knew I had to find the mouth of the beast.
I reached the third floor,
Through the door,
To see Aurore sitting in front
Of the television watching the news.
“Isis! You’re back…”
Her face expressed shock and annoyance.
“You did not expect me to come back?”
“No, that is not true.
I was just surprised.”
“Really?”
“Are you doubting me? The one
Who helped you find your first job,
The one who counseled you when you were down,
The one who took care of you when you were incapable
Of it yourself?”
“I don’t know.”
Now back, I was unsure
What to do
Or believe.
Should I really trust that doctor?
Beware the soul
Closest to your heart.
She will hurt you the most.
Did he mean Aurore?
I didn’t know how to arm myself
Against my own self doubts.
“So he finally told you.
Predictable considering the extraordinary power
You exalted to all of us.
Isis, you should have listened to Dante.
He was right.
I will hurt you.”
The television screen fizzed,
And her hair flew up
In static electricity.
Currents of electricity curled
Around her arms like slithering snakes.
My head burst into a kaleidoscope of stars,
I saw rainbows and the entire galaxy as
Excruciating pain shot through me,
As I fell.
What was happening?
“He has hunted me for years,
Yet I hid in plain sight.
Right in front of the successor to the Keep.
It was so easy. Too easy.
He thought I wouldn’t dare move
With him so near,
But he had underestimated me
Like he usually does
For the millionth time.
You will die tonight,
Before the roses of dawn rise.
And then I will bring the twins
To Death.
I cannot let that potential
Continue to grow and strengthen.
You have proved to already
Be a handful.
Deception lost to you.
But now,
You’ll lose to me.”
She had her hand raised,
To strike me, when a bucket of water splashed
Out of nowhere onto her skin,
Searing it as it burst into flames.
“Ugh, children!”
Helene and Barak stood in their pajamas,
Terror-stricken, but bold.
“No one threatens Aunt Isis!”
“You think a little water is going to scare me away?
Think again.”
Her hand creates a bolt of thunder,
But I push her over, knocking down
The fish tank over her head.
She shrieks in agony as flames
From her body spread from the carpet,
To the curtains, to the sofa, to the doors.
The flames greedily licked
At every solid thing it could touch.
I no longer can breathe in the smoke
Gathering in the room.
Faintly, I hear Barak yell my name,
And Helene shrieking.
I reach for the table,
But it crumbles.
“Helene…Barak….”
“Isis!”
I faintly see a figure running towards
Me through the flames.
“Dr. Aden?”
He reaches for my hand
And I grab his.
He holds a wet cloth to my mouth,
And I breathe,
Ever so weakly.
“Where are the twins?”
I could barely see, but
His face was lined with worry.
“I don’t know.”
A burst of wind enters the room.
The window is open and Aurore stands there
With a faint Barak in her arms.
“Till the next we meet,
I will take only one.
I still hold some sentiment
To our friendship.
Sweet Dreams…”
Aurore jumped out of the window and disappeared.
This is the third floor!
Has she gone mad?
No more time to think about her.
Our lives are at stake.
But where is Helene?
“Auntie! Auntie!”
I hear her tearful cries from a corner,
And Dr. Aden rushes to her.
A moment later, she is in his arms,
Crying for me to hold her.
“We must hurry and leave.”
The door is lined with flames,
No longer allowing us to leave.
“Where to?”
We stood by the window, the only way.
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes.”
“Then prepare to jump.”
“What?!”
“I thought you said you trusted me?”
“Not to jump! Heavens no!
I’m scared of heights.”
“Then you will die!”
“I’ll die if I jump!”
“Not if I am here.”
“What can you do?”
“Just watch.”
I do not remember the pitch
Of my murderous screams as I fell.
All I remember is Helene holding my hand
And him holding the other.
I expect us to feel the weight of gravity,
But we glide in the air
Slowly down.
Had my perception of time changed?
That my mind has become so nimble
That death seems to appear
In slow motion?
We eventually land and I feel solid ground
Beneath the soles of my feet.
“It appears I caught up with you too late.”
“It does not matter. You saved
my life, Helene’s life.
Thank you Dr. Aden.”
“Cross, just call me Cross or Dante,
I don’t like being called
By my last name.”
I went over the day’s events in my head.
Anastasia becomes addicted again.
I release my power unlike I ever had before.
I meet another one of my kind,
Cross Dante Aden.
I lost Barak to Aurore, a traitor in my life.
I even possibly caught a glimpse of father.
What will I do now?
“Fine then.
Cross, you will tell me everything….”
That night, Isis Kalliste discovered the identity she had been defied her whole twenty-five years. Cross tells her tales of the Dreamweavers, the Greek Myths of Hypnos and Thanatos, the twin brothers Sleep and Death.
“The children of Nyx, Night, were Hypnos and Thanatos. Hypnos is known as the personification of Sleep and Thanatos as Death. They are where we Dreamweavers come from, our origin, our ancestors. As half-brothers, they were portrayed together often, as Death follows eternal Sleep. But there is a story unknown by all, but us whom were born from Sleep. The brothers loved each other greatly, enjoying each other’s company thoroughly. However, like the serpent that ruined Adam and Eve, a serpent destroyed the delicate balance of Hypnos and Thanatos. Hypnos loved his poppies dearly. A serpent once went to visit Thanatos, telling how Hypnos values his flowers more than his own brother. Jealous as he was, Thanatos ignored the serpent, yet he felt doubt slowly infesting and blooming in his chest. He visits his brother in his dark cave where Morpheus, Hypnos’s chief minister stood guard, ensuring no one disturbs his master. He let Thanatos in as usual to see Hypnos playfully tending to his precious poppies. The serpent’s words rang in his head, and in his anger, Thanatos stomped through half of the poppy fields. Hypnos worried for his steel-hearted brother, asking what is wrong, though he clearly is upset that half of his poppies were now withered and dead. The thick liquid that the poppy petals oozed, the sweet aroma of opium filled the cave. Thanatos swooned as he constantly feeds upon them with Hypnos. Seeing the chance, Hypnos knocks his brother into the river Lethe that flowed through his cave, the river of forgetfulness.
“He hopes that it can save Thanatos from whatever that bothers him, but he did not know that the serpent was watching. He slept on Thanatos’s chest as he drifted out to the other side of the island, constantly whispering that Hypnos had abandoned him. When he awoke, the serpent was gone, but he had forgotten all the love he ever once felt for Hypnos, the only one he ever opened his heart to. He closes his heart to all, but returns to his brother Hypnos, for all the hate he feels, he cannot bear himself to part from the one he grew up with. And Hypnos knew that Thanatos has been changed, and will never be the same again. Praying to the gods, he asks for their help to prevent Thanatos from falling deeper in his joy of insanity and death. Zeus allows the poppy flowers to be revive as living humans, humans who share the power of Hypnos and Thanatos. They walk through dreams and ward off nightmares and death to let mortals sleep peacefully.
“Angry that Hypnos had meddled with his affairs; they rage a silent war within the wall of their minds. Thanatos and his other siblings, Geras (Old Age), Oizys (Suffering, Moros (Doom), Apate (Deception), Momos (Blame), Eris (Strife), Nemesis (Retribution) and even the Acherousian/Stygian boatman Kharon, tempted the original Poppy Sorcerers to fall. And they did collect their own force.
“The original Poppy Sorcerers have been reduced to only half that remain good at heart. They later had their names changed to Dreamweavers. But as children of poppies, they were cursed to have an addiction of a sort. Those who left were the ones unable to resist, but those whom remained had it hard as well. Throughout their life, they must control the urge to fall into temptation. Over thousands of years, they have almost all left Greece and went on their own separate paths as Dreamweavers. Some of them went to Asia, Africa, and South America, where they are known as witch doctors, some went to Europe where they became hypnotists and psychologists. Other that went to North America became shamans of the Native American tribes. But as a whole, they were all healers and fortune tellers. They developed abilities of the gods they had not known before. Telekinesis, premonitions, dream perception, and mind shielding. Occasionally, they would meet the descendants of the fallen sorcerers and sorceresses, but they avoided confrontation the majority of the time. It wasn’t until recent years, since the Cold War, that their activity has increase. Their numbers have proliferated just as much as the Dreamweavers have, thus we are here, children of the latter generation that will be the ones to face Thanatos in the name of Hypnos at last.”
Isis listened to his stories silently as Helene slept in her arms. She then learns that her brother was not in a car accident, but was murdered along with his wife whom that had nothing to do with the age old battle. She trembled in anger, but Cross tells her to control herself. Her mother is a Dreamweaver whom is at the brink of falling beyond the point of never return. The only reason she resisted for twenty years though she would rather drown in her heroin were because of Angelos and Isis. Tears become her, but she remains calm. The stories continue onto after dawn.
When the roses of dawn shine upon them, he takes them to a mansion in Upper New York where she meets for the first time with others of her kind. Yet, when they tell her that her father, Angus Kalliste, was their leader, and since he disappeared years ago when she was eight, they have switched countless leaders, all could not fill in the gap he created. Wanting to learn more about him, she wishes to stay, but not wanting to lead them. Cross accepts the position of her guard since his family has been guards for the Kalliste family for centuries since the Renaissance. Isis is forced to learn Greek and Latin when she finds it comes naturally to her, a genuine surprise to all of them. Helene also reads Latin well, though she has never read it before. It rolls off her tongue like water.
For months, they learned the arts of a Dreamweaver, and Helene even has a greater potential that Isis. They become stronger at heart and mind, even as they face the modern personifications of Blame and Doom. She finds herself drawn to Cross more and more. He is the messenger, the mentor, the friend that Aurore once was.
Cross helps them survive through the fourth and fifth level of Thanato’s traps: Strife and Retribution. Both have to do with Anastasia’s death by an overdose of drugs, and the revenge on Andy Ardon. As punishment for killing Andy Ardon, and falling prey to one of Thanato’s siblings’ wraith, Isis is forced to grow old within the next month at the hands of Gera, the personification of Old Age. She must resist the urge to end her life with the very drugs that created who she became to be. Helene on the other hand is suffering shock from her grandmother Anastasia’s death and the betrayal of her brother Barak, whom she discovers was the one that gave their grandmother the drugs at the end that killed her, not Andy Ardon. She knows that he is under the control of Apate, Deception, the first negative personification that Isis encountered. To save her brother, Cross takes her inside her brother’s mind after they manage to get him away from Aurore, his guardian. While all of that is happening, Isis has locked herself in the dungeons of the mansion below the sounds of people and life. It is there that she is met with the whispers of Oizys, the personification of Suffering. With the full extent of her power, she wards off Oizys with her mind shield when the goddess whispers of her addiction and her loneliness. She describes the sweetness and comfort it brings addicts and Isis wavers. She lingers into a half state of falling where in her mind; she is dangling at the side of a ship of churning waves, dressed in a Grecian dress of old times. Her hair cascaded down her back with a wreath of fresh laurel over her head. The insistent calls of opium call her like a siren’s song, but two people grab hold of her. She turns around and finally sees her father’s face for the first time. Tears of longing slip down her cheeks and he smiles. His emerald eyes mirror her own and the raven locks that run down his shoulders match her own. Next to him stands Cross with a patient look that makes his hazel eyes seem like an abyss of secrets that await her touch. Isis understands that she isn’t alone in this world. She has her comrades, she has the twins, she has the underappreciated Cross and the father she had thought gone. Oizys’s words fade in the dungeon as Isis’s resolve strengthens. It is silent yet again, and almost by instinct, she says “ευχαριστÏŽ πατÎρα”, “thank you father.”
Yet she is not yet safe. After Helene liberated her brother Barak, Cross gets trapped by the Keres, the personification of violent death, as bait to lure in Isis. As they had wished, Isis wishes to trade positions with Cross. Cross tells her to take the twins and leave, but strengthen by family, love, and confidence, she is no longer afraid. By now, her body is withered and bent as of an old lady. It wouldn’t matter if this body died. The Keres accepts the trade willingly and takes her into the realm of their spiritual plain. There she is tortured in the fires of inferno as her body is sealed in rigid ice. Her arms hang from iron chains and her feet are pinned to the floor with wooden stakes. The death spirits takes pleasure in watching her spirit fade away; absorbing the power she has accumulated in the past year. They feel her spirit; it takes the form of a black panther, the perfect match. Her spirit laments of its loss, as her physical body is burning to frozen ashes. Her blood crusts her body and, yet, she never looks away from their eyes. “ΕγÏŽ δεν θα είναι πλÎον ανίσχυρη, ΕγÏŽ δεν θα είναι πλÎον ανίσχυρη…” she chants over and over “I will no longer be powerless” and the female death spirits feel a swelling in the power they just absorbed from the dying woman. Images from her life fly through them, her visions, her fear of her power, her pain and sorrow, her joy and happiness. The feelings flow through them in a strong current overpowering them. One Ker screams in agony at the strength Isis still pulses even in death. In the end, the Keres have no choice but to let go of Isis’s power. It would have consumed them in her fervent chant of content and acceptance. They would have burned in the inferno they created to torture others in their violent death.
But they could no longer bring back the dead Isis. Her spirit though weak, still remained. It manages to escape the spiritual plain of the Keres, but by the time it reaches the mansion, it fades away in the arms of Cross, where he holds the dead withered body of Isis.
In the underworld, Isis stands at the shore where Kharon expects her. Isis looks at herself and is now back as her youthful form of twenty-five. Then she realizes that she is dressed as an ancient Greek like she was in her vision. Kharon looks at her with annoyance. “Get out of here! You are not dead.”Kharon appears to her as an old grumpy man. His hollow sockets stare out and the line of his bare bone jaw tight. Isis felt confused. “I was burnt to ashes, of course I am dead.”
“Then you weren’t meant to die. Your soul still lingers. I will bring you to Hades and let him decide.” He mumbles that he must bring another living mortal across Hades again. Isis rides on his boat down the river Styx, the river of the underworld. Lost souls grab at her feet. They feel her mortality, wanting it for themselves. They pass Cerberus, his gigantic three heads lashing from side to side at the gate of the underworld. Kharon throws a cake at the beast and the three heads engage themselves in gnashing and snarling for the cake.
They pass by souls howling and crying and Isis recognizes them as the souls that could not pay the boat fare. She asks him why she was allowed passage when they weren’t, but he smiles, a smile enough to make a full grown man cry in fear. He tells her that someone had paid for her in advance, a man with raven black hair. She cries out in surprise and longs to meet with Hades as soon as possible. Would he know what had happened to her father? Soon, they pass the last bend and Kharon tells her that she is on her own. A high temple of black stone lies in front of her eyes. She walks up the stairs in utter silence. When she enters, a dark throne lies beyond a thin veil. She kneels in front of it, speaking her greetings in Greek. The veil parts and four figures stand before her. One she recognizes immediately as her father Angus Kalliste. She wishes to run to him, but then the aura of the other three stop her. Two boys that appeared to be no older Isis stood beside whom she guesses to be Hades. He had a stern and grim appearance, cloaked in black robes and startling green eyes. The two boys next to him awakened a feeling in her. She felt like she knew them and recognized them through her heart as Hypnos and Thanatos. Who could forget they dwelled in the underworld as well? Hypnos and Thanatos each held a poppy flower and smiled. “You have done well to fight me. I have failed again to retrieve the dreams that I wish would draw me closer to my brother.” Thanatos enthralled Isis with his dark beauty. His wings that stretched long hung behind him. Hypnos gave her the sleepy and innocent feel of a small child. Then they tell her the true story of the feud between them.
Yes, Thanatos did get mad Hypnos and the serpent had tested him. The war did break out among the Dream-weavers, but it was not because of Thanatos and Hypnos anymore. “The dark heart within themselves drove them on. Even when I called peace to the old sorcerers and sorceresses, they could no longer hear us. We had created monsters out of our blunders and have no way of reversing a reality of thousands of years. The only one of the sorcerers that managed to hear me had been your father, Angus Azrael Kalliste, or simply known as Angus Azrael. He had reached us, but could not beat the last challenge that was set for him, thus he could only keep hope in his children to come and save him. Angelos had failed, but you, Isis Ismene, as your name implies, will rule in name of your father. That is, if you complete the last challenge, to overcome the addiction of the poppy.” Hypnos told her so and she accepted. She knew why her father left them and knows that Anastasia will know that resting in peace somewhere in the realm of Hades.
Hypnos hands her a freshly cut poppy and puts her to sleep. In her dream, Thanatos and Hypnos guide her through their euphoric world of dreams and death. She sees the world through a way she would have never before. Colors took on a new life and danced before her eyes. Even Hypnos and Thanatos took on a different face. They meshed with her dream and in the dream; she is offered a glass wine touched by the opium. She swoons with them and the three of them encircle each other in a sensual dance of drugged movements. A small voice inside her head urges her to shake off the drugs, but she stubbornly refuses. They visit the real world, and even the smallest detail becomes loud and sharp. She is offered another glass and the three of them are now standing in the fields of the old country Lykia. They wander in a field of vibrant poppies and its aroma smothers Isis. The persistent voice inside her head grows louder and she finds the courage to look inside herself and find the lost child she once was when she was first addicted. Then she sees the fragile creature her mother had become before dying. Helene and Barak cross her mind. She can feel that he has been rescued from the darkness of his heart and that Cross is safe with them. She sees her withered and old physical body. It lies on the bed she first slept in when she arrived at the mansion. She gets sucked out of her memories where Thanatos offers her another drink; she refuses, and then is offered again by Hypnos. Time and time again, she refuses them, until she gains control of her mind. The world returns itself to the way it should be and Isis accepts that. It may not be as beautiful and sensual as it appear when she is dreaming, but it has its own imperfect beauty. She is happy with that and soon finds herself shivering in her father’s arms. Hypnos smiles broadly. She has passed and will return to the world of mortals with her father whom has been trapped down there for the past eighteen years.
The two of them arrive in the human world at night. The stars shine brightly, and first they do not return to the mansion. They go to the cemetery where Anastasia sleeps according to Christian ways. The two of them, father and daughter, mourn for the woman that took care of them and though she hated both her husband and her daughter, she loved them just as much. He continues to stay there and weep for his wife. Though years have passed, he has not aged. Living in the underworld has preserved him; possibly, he became a god while living there. It doesn’t surprise Isis; afterall, his name is Azrael, the Angel of Death. She had survived death and passed tests of faith and all virtues she would have never imagined possible. Now, all she wanted to do was find someone she cared for and curl up next to them. She tip toed into the mansion and all was silent. Some of them were out catching the dreams of others as Dreamweavers do. She would accept her role and walk the Dreamweaver’s Path, but she will walk it with all of those around her. First, she finds her withered physical shell and touches it with her hands. Thanatos has given her an elixir made from the tears of Hebe, the goddess of youth. Isis pours the contents upon her shell and soon, she is restored to her former self. She admires the work of Thanatos though he scares her. He is Death. She has seen Death and gone through Sleep, though not eternally. So here she stands again, ready to face herself as she should be.
The door at the innermost opens and she enters with the grace of a great feline. There sleeps Cross on his bed, his glasses askew and a book lying on his chest. “The Odyssey” lay open to the page where Odysseus reveals himself to Penelope. She recognizes him and after testing him, she knows for sure that he is back. It was a funny feeling, creeping into Cross’s room without his permission for once. She brushes her fingers at the edges of his lashes, listening to his silent breathing. He heaves and opens his eyes, awakened. Then the book falls to the floor as he stairs back at Isis.
“Isis!”
I smile.
“You…You…
Are dead…
How?”
His surprised expression only
Makes me even more filled with joy.
How happy I am to be back
At last!
“It is a long story, do you really
Want to hear it now?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
His eyes twinkle with relief and emotions
That matches mine.
We sat together in bed
As I told him my story after being take by the Keres.
Then I spoke of meeting my father
And of Hypnos and Thanatos.
He is stunned into silence,
But waits for me to finish.
At the end,
I lie in his arms as he strokes a scar
I have been left with from the fires.
It is shaped as a wing and spreads like a flower,
Like a poppy flower.
The mark left by
Hypnos and Thanatos.
“Have I ever told you about
Dream’s Keep?”
He asks with his eyes in the distance,
Staring at something I cannot see.
I recall the stories he told me
A year before when I first learned of
My identity.
It was the story of the source of the dreams.
Each dream we save, the parts we alter,
Are taken away to a part of the Path
Where they are stored.
“Yes, I remember.”
“Then look out at the stars above.
Each star is a dream that we save.
I’ve always known we fight
For nothing tangible.
Yet they have not realized
Like we have.
You have seen the truth for yourself,
And I have seen it from my predictions.
We will end up killing each other
Until only one is standing,
Then will we actually think of remorse.
That is the blind way of humans.
The only comfort I have is you,
And the dreams I feel from you.”
I felt appalled that he saw my dreams,
The only time of privacy for me.
He knows my most intimate secrets,
Yet I don’t know his. It is not fair.
I tell him this.
“Then see for yourself if you like.
You will not like what you see.
But you have just returned,
Would you not want to rest?
You can see tomorrow.”
I consider his words, and realize
How tired I really am.
“Then I shall sleep
And you shall not disturb my dreams.”
He laughs and it rings
Like the laughter of waves
And it reaches deep into my soul.
“Welcome home.”
I then understand how Odysseus feels
When he sees Penelope again after twenty years.
That is how I feel towards Cross now,
Though it has only been nine days.
Time stretches like twenty years.
In my eyes, Cross is as patient as Penelope
As he waits for me to return.
Knowing that it is greatly possible
I never will.
Before we sleep,
I tell him my analogy of Odysseus and Penelope
Compared to the tale of Cross Dante and Isis Ismere.
He laughs again telling me to sleep
And to keep such silly notions out of my head.
“We are not as great as that legendary couple.
Though, I must say that your voyage through death,
May be able to be compared with Odysseus’s.
And I, the patient ‘Penelope’,
Did not weave to ward off suitors,
I fought every minute for Barak’s soul
Alongside Helene, that brave little girl.
I killed Aurore for the pain
Her betrayal has caused you.
I hurt myself, because I know I had hurt you
When I didn’t stop her earlier.
But then, I would never have gotten to know you.
Would it have mattered?
Perhaps not.
Fate would have decided for us”
His words linger in my head.
I thought him insane
When we first met.
I feared him and disliked him.
Yet, time has brought us close,
And so have Hypnos and Thanatos.
Though Thanatos is cold,
And Hypnos kind,
They fill each other,
Creating a certain unusual balance.
In their own twisted way.
Thus the lion fell in love with the lamb.
Thanatos could never leave Hypnos.
Now the two of us lay in bed,
His hand in mine.
I drift in and out of sleep,
And he is forever watching me with those kind eyes.
I think of father,
Where is he now?
Cross calms my mind with his gentle words,
And I truly fall asleep.
And I feel it for real now,
The feeling of belonging and understanding,
The home Odysseus really longed to reach.
In joy and sorrow,
My home is in your arms.
One battle is over, but many are yet to come. Isis finally takes over the role her father can no longer come back to. He had failed the ultimate test of temptation, thus making him no longer eligible. Cross continues to serve as her guard, but more as their bond grows. The war continues even as the twins reach adulthood. Cross and Isis aimed to end the war with peace and enlightening them of the truth of Hypnos and Thanatos. None would listen to them and over the years, her father had died of old age in Athens, where he was praying at a small temple dedicated to Thanatos. How ironic.
In one particular battle, Isis loses her concentration, and the enemy cuts through her mental barrier, crushing her sanity. Cross saves her, but loses his life. For Isis, she would rather lose her life than live without him by her side. She commits suicide and the two of them were cremated in the ways of the old. Both with coins lying on their eyes to make the voyage to Hades together. There again, she is greeted by Kharon with his frightening grin, but she is no longer afraid. Cross holds her hand and lets her lead him through the paths she once took to meet Hypnos and Thanatos. Hades judges them and like many of their ancestors, they will rest in the Elysian Fields where the virtuous dead and initiates in the ancient Mysteries were sent to dwell. They passed by the Elysian Islands by request of Isis. There she meets with Achilles as Odysseus had before her.
When Hades had judged them, Hypnos and Thanatos showed them a vision of the future. The war ends with the rise of Helene and Barak. They become the leading power that stops the war with their individual skills. They were aided by Hypnos and Thanatos. Even the gods of Olympus had come to help them find peace. They have seen enough of the pointless war. It began with a misunderstanding; it will end with it told. Athena makes both sides stop and when they don’t, Zeus strikes one of each side dead to prove his point. Hermes then leads the dead to Thanatos, whom takes them to Hades. Isis and Cross watch as they are brought forth; the ones that would not heed the warnings that Hypnos and Thanatos had sent over the years.
Helene then treats the wounded back in the real. The war is over and her heart is finally at peace. The dreams and minds of people will remain in peace for years to come. Her father can now rest in peace. And that night in her sleep, she walks the infinity of the Dreamweaver’s Path. No one knows if it is true or not, but till this day, they say she saw Isis and Cross walking hand in hand down the path of death together, their spirits intertwined. The spirit of a black panther and a jackal. So hand in hand, they walked along the banks of Hades. Helene finally understands what Dream’s Keep is. It is home, it is the sanctuary of the heart. Each person’s Keep is different, but it is where the heart is.
Even in death, love is forever……
| ||||||||
| ||||||||
About 'Dream's Keep':
• Status: OK
• Created by:
Victoria Lia Yu• Copyright: ©Victoria Lia Yu. All rights reserved!
• Keywords: Hades, Hate, Love, Dreams, Opium, Thanatos, Hypnos, Greek, Poppy
• Categories: Fights, Duels, Battles, Magic and Sorcery, Spells, etc., Mythical Creatures & Assorted Monsters, Romance, Emotion, Love, Urban Fantasy and/or Cyberpunk, European Traditions, Mythology, Afterlife
• Inspirations: Other Author
• Submitted: 2009-09-03 16:07:02
• Views: 93
More by 'Victoria Lia Yu':
| Midnight | Midnight Chapter 4 Pt.1 | Midnight Chapter 5 |
| A Great and Terrible Beauty | Midnight Chapter 3 | The Mermaid Princess |
| Midnight Chapter 2 | Little Pink Riding Hood |
Related Tutorials:
Jessica Ng
Timothy Pontious
A.R. George
Elfwood™ is a site for Fantasy and Science Fiction art and
stories created by Thomas Abrahamsson and
helpful
assistants and moderators, owned by the Elfwood
corporation. [More...]