XXXIII: A dangerous game

《 ELIAN PHOENIX 》

One moment Aspen was standing in front of me, his hand in mine, the next he was gone. It was a painful reminder of that coma dream I once had of Rain: blink and you lose him. Without Aspen there standing by my side, I realized just how alone I was in this.

I can decidedly claim myself a master of laughing chaos away, only it's hell of a lot easier when there's someone to keep it at bay with me. Saying that I was alone sounds absurd, because I was surrounded by people. Some of them I knew well enough to trust my life in their hands, but they might as well have been miles away as none of them shared the pyre with me.

The muscles in my legs were strained and ready to bolt from the platform, my self-preservation instincts kicking in. They should have tied me down. I might be foolhardy and even a bit obstinate, but I don't have an iron will.

All day and into the night I cracked jokes, smiled and danced, pushing back the thought of the fire. But it was kind of impossible to ignore now that I was standing on the platform, waiting for Birdy to click on the lighter.

I sucked in a shaky breath, clasping my hands together behind my back like that could somehow fool my brain to think I was shackled on the spot. I wanted to shout at the crowd, Y'all, I've changed my mind, let's not do this! By some miracle I managed to keep my mouth shut and my pride intact.

My knees had grown shaky and I contemplated on sitting down. Like, it probably didn't matter if I faced the fire standing or not. I could even slump on my knees and bow my head, that would make a great last impression. But no, I stayed on my feet, trembling and forcing my muscles to stillness.

I wondered if that was how my uncle faced the final bullet into his brain, and if it took him enormous effort to pull the trigger. Perhaps there was some relief for him in the mix as well, to face the end. My uncle didn't see another way out, but he gave me the book that guided me to this place. So, in a way, he still lived on in that dream of a better world he had planted in me.

The thought calmed me. I pressed my eyes shut and waited. I waited for Birdy to step forward and begin the end. After an eternity, she did.

When the sticks and blocks of wood caught fire, I stole a last glance of her through the tendrils of smoke. Underneath her worried brows, there was nothing but unwavering trust in her eyes. Her last smile was an echo of the promise that we would see each other on the other side. Once I could no longer see her through the wall of smoke, I pressed my eyes shut, anticipating the inescapable pain.

The burning wood had a smoky smell like the rare summer vacations spent away from the city, like the crackling fireplace in the cottage. I tried to focus on that, but my mind didn't get the memo, as my heart thudded in my ears and my eyes blurred with tears. The worst part, I wasn't even weeping, I was just reacting to the smoke.

Or perhaps it wasn't the worst thing. The flames licking my sneakers and climbing up my feet were worse than my blurry eyes. But there was a certain reprieve in the actual disaster after having dreaded it for so long: I was there and it would hurt like hell for a while, but then it would be over. That is how my uncle must have felt on his last day in his precious garden.

I missed that motherfucker.

The flames engulfed me, swallowing up my very mortal and unfortunately inflammable body like I was nothing more than sticks and blocks of wood. I was waiting for the vicious, searing pain to hit me, the howl of agony already halfway up to my throat.

It never came. Instead, a soothing, blissful warmth enfolded around me. It was like stretching out your leg after a long day's walk, like a painkiller kicking in after an excruciating headache. A bliss, indeed.

You believe greed is woven in the very bones of human kind, that where there are people, there will always be war.

It wasn't a voice, not exactly. It was Mother Earth herself planting thoughts in my brain, with no sound but with the scent of moss in a misty morning. Pure and brisk.

For what is a worse sin than to take what you don't need from those who do? To believe that you are someone or possess something that makes you deserve it more than the rest? Then, to take it with force and cunning without mercy or repentance?

When I opened my eyes, there was no fire, but images upon images of a better world. I saw wrinkled faces dissolving into smiles when their children and grandchildren brought them back home from nursing homes.

The fight will never be for nothing.

A skinhead ripping off the swastika symbol from the sleeve of his jacket. Conservative parents embracing their trans children with welcoming arms. Rich men donating money to charity. Militarists brokering peace treaties.

Where there is oppression, there is resistance. And where there's resistance, there's love and there's hope. Not everyone can be changed, or saved, but there's strength in unison. Don't give up on your kind.

I saw polluted skies clearing to the richest of blues. Baby Javan Rhinos rising on their unsteady feet for the first time. People demanding actions against climate change, and politics, at last, granting them. Not a perfect world, still far from it, but a better one.

You've fought bravely, and none of it has been in vain. Your suffering is over, there's no more fear and no more pain in store for you, my child.

My vision blurred again as I saw the cottage. I saw only the familiar cloud of Najwa's black hair as her face was planted against Rain's chest. Her platform booted feet were slung over his good leg and her arms wrapped around his waist. Rain's eyes held the kind of sorrow I hadn't seen in them since his accident, but he was smiling as his fingers brushed absent-minded circles around Najwa's knee.

Let this be my gift to you.

Najwa lifted her head when she heard her mom calling her name, to see Birdy running towards them on the pathway to the cottage. She had tears in her eyes, but she was smiling too. They embraced, and then Aspen and I were there, summoned by the noise. My cheeks were rounder and my eyes bright, as I no longer spent all my living hours afraid of the highs and lows of my mind.

But it wasn't right. I didn’t envision myself a future without pain, not if it came with such a price. Besides, if I had fought bravely, I had done it with the help of my friends.

"No." I whispered, my voice soft but relentless. "Not like this."

It is my reward to you, sweet child.

"Not like this." I repeated.

Then, gentle as summer breeze,

As you wish.

The image changed. It was Aspen and I sitting on the stairs by the front door of the cottage. It was my head on his chest, my hair tangled and greasy. It was more than obvious I hadn't bothered to do anything to it after waking up. My clothes were wrinkled, like I had slept in them.

Aspen had his arms around me, and it was him smiling despite the worry lines around his eyes and the shadows underneath them. He was troubled, but he was not sad or regretting his promise to fight for me. Even if I, in that particular moment, didn't feel like I was worth the effort.

Then Birdy was calling my name, and I lifted my head to see her running towards us on the pathway to the cottage. A smile broke on my lips as I stood up and swooped her in my arms, and it was her cry of surprised delight that summoned the others to the door. Najwa was running towards us, laughing with delight, and then.. on her heels, Rain and Rio followed.

And there were bruises under Rio's eyes as well, like nightmares had kept them up, but their skin was flushed with life. Even if they couldn't be freed from their past, not like Aspen's magic had once done, they were alive and healing in a more mundane way. And though there was pain in store for us both, I gladly carried my part of it, if it meant I could keep them in my life.

"Thank you." I whispered. After a moment of silence, I decided to push my luck a bit further: “There's just one more little thing I'd like to ask for..”

As I explained it, I could feel the air warping and flowing like water around me. But it wasn't the kind of sea you could drown in, it was the sun-warmed ripple of a summer day spent on the beach.

You're playing a dangerous game, the voice that wasn't a voice informed me. Then it was silent for a long while, and at last I heard its whispered promise, As you wish.

“Thank you.” This time, when I opened my eyes, I was laying on a bed in a familiar room. I was wide awake.