Transit

The falcon had died, its banded wings open as if in supplication. Cenatua floated down, her green robes clinging to her thoroughly soaked body. Torrential rain pounded the buildings of Sanctuary, and resounded across the landscape. The tall white tigress gently retrieved the dead bird. She said softly, "Be free." Blue light flowed from her palms. The falcon vanished.

The torches within a breezeway fluttered. A shadow suddenly cross a carved marble pillar.

"The bird is free, but you are not, maiden. And for this, you will hate," the shadow hissed.

"I choose my own path!" she shouted at the shadow. "Begone!" White spheres of light formed on her palms. She launched the orbs of energy into the darkness.

Unharmed, the shadow faded with menacing laughter.

Cenatua blew on her aching palms. Since the blue light of healing had unexpectedly come to her, any attack on another hurt her as well. "Your gift, my mystic father, is one that I would rather not possess." Thunder rumbled in response. "Do you disprove, Mrísena? I will not be your willing servant, like Tir'shan. I will defend when I must, no matter the pain you inflict upon me."

The white tigress drifted along the empty boulevards of her city. She had no need of those who could not understand the place of sorrow in the world, and what one could learn from it. Death and shadows had come to Sanctuary because she had opened the door to the changing of seasons that Ayasha, her mother, had not permitted.

The centaurs had departed, the encroaching wild seducing them back to the deep forest. Her warriors and attendants had not appreciated the disruption. The females had grown soft and complacent in their routines under Sanctuary's veil. Her joy at the centaurs' freedom had made bearable all the discontent directed at her.

Salvation had always been the Guardians' gift. The beings from the stars, who had nurtured an almost dead world back to life, had created her haven. Over time they had fanned across Third Earth in their healing, and had formed a network of protection by their presence. But even they grew weary of the imprisonment of good works. Power passed from them to the different people populating Third Earth until only one remained.

Ayasha had received the energy of the last original Guardian in the usual manner. A princess born, she had been chosen as a child for the honor. On the verge of puberty, she had received the blessing and the responsibility. In a torturous instant, she had become an adult in form. She might know desire, but her body's fertility and the pleasure of sexual release remained locked away. Joining was not an option, for the fire of Guardianship required purity. Long life and immense power were the compensations for the sacrifice of attachments and the flesh.

Ayasha had suffered for a millennium before choosing to fall back into humanity with a mystic, a decision into which she still had no insight. Her mother had never demanded that Tir'shan or his companions take the Oath or bear the mark on their entry into Sanctuary, her first violation of custom. Why had Ayasha not chosen the traditional passage of power to another to create a new Guardian, her second violation? She wondered how her mother had figured out a way to join with Tir'shan to create her without their mutual destruction in Guardian fire. Once fully activated by her mother's final touch, the attendants had taken her away from her parents before she could find the answers she sought. She herself had sent the Thunderans away in youthful anger and pride. "And I have not changed," she murmured, "for I could ask in an instant, but I choose not too."

A night bird cried mournfully. Cenatua stretched her awareness. Somewhere across the land, those who had served her still wanted her removed. They had petitioned the other Guardians by prayer, for in Sanctuary requests had always been heard, but not always answered. The whispers on the wind from her equals were also not favorable in their opinion of her. The other Guardians considered her a liability, except for the one who was the oldest and the strongest: Surya. She knew his name but not much else. Slowly had Guardian knowledge continue to enter her mind from the day of her strange birth and initiation. The others had placed a great resistance upon her moving forward, but even that was failing. The energy of all had to balance for the planet's benefit. Surya, the Key to them all, demanded that.

In the end, it had taken only one night for the women to abandon the city, their prayers unheeded. Sanctuary, with its echoes and shadows, now belonged completely to her alone.

The rain stopped. A few stars twinkled between the clouds. Soon the sky would clear. It was almost spring again, a time for new beginnings. Cenatua touched the earth. A breeze delicately ruffled her long black mane. The ground was freezing, but her bare feet stayed warm. The world sustained her. She required no clothing, food or rest, although she could sample such pleasures if she desired.

The shadow returned, darting amongst the vacant buildings. She wondered why this annoying darkness wished to pierce her defenses. Cenatua sighed. Whatever she thought mattered not. She was uniquely conceived as a Guardian. Her choice was an illusion. She was born to suffer as her mother had, but even more so. "So let any shadow come, and I will turn it with my power," she growled.

Cenatua entered her palace. The white tigress peeled off her wet gown, and let it drop to the stone floor. A pool of water radiated a shell of golden light. The shadow circled the vaulted ceiling above her like a vulture. Dismissing it, she flung herself into the comforting rays, hoping to understand what had been before she had come into life. She floated within the light, and closed her eyes to think.

She had been driven by some connection to watch Talitha. Curse Shaktar'ri and his special mystic gift regarding past lives. Autumn was her second name. And now she knew the reason it had needed voice. "Am'mril... Autumn.... They both carry the same meaning. They both hold endings," she murmured.

The shadow began to hum. The lullaby stabbed her heart. She loosed a bolt of energy upward, and knew that she had missed. The shadow giggled. "Coward!" she taunted.

Taking insult, it shook the walls with its roar. The thing grew denser as if finally taking on a form, the scent of rotting flesh filling the chamber.

Let us be done with this, Cenatua decided, gathering her power through her pain.

Without warning, the shadow looked away as if summoned. In an instant, it vanished.

She released her power, coloring her bed of light scarlet.

She had been the murdered firstborn of Tygra and Talitha. Tygra had sung the shadow's song to her during Talitha's pregnancy. He had fed her with love each time he had touched her with his mystic gift. Talitha had been jealous of their special connection, and the indignities of her gravid state. Yet, she had worked the hardest to rejoin her split soul, so that after death, she could continue on her journey to the Silence and peace.

There had been other memories but they had eluded her. How many times had she been reborn?

Could even a Guardian answer that question?

Cenatua twisted in the light with growing despair. Having gained her freedom, Ayasha paid her no heed. Tygra and Talitha already regarded her with suspicion. To correct what had been disrupted by Cheetara's misguided viewing of the future, she had to take actions that might sunder any chance of a relationship with them. She thought with sadness, I only have one who might have sympathy for me because he is Mrísena's truest son: Tir'shan, my father.

With a shout, Cenatua ejected herself from the light, and landed hard on the stone. The Guardian wept with the dawn; in the recesses, the shadow laughed.