Stars glitter against their dark backdrop, only one awake to see their shine. The figure stares up at their bright, shimmering light and feels that all too familiar flicker of longing — either to reach up and touch those shining diamonds, or not have to be awake to see them at all, it’s unclear. The figure lets out a small sigh of regret as they turn away from the sight and back to the house in front of them. It is a quaint, little house; a white picket fence surrounds its garden and the house is painted the lightest shade of pink. It neatly matches all the surrounding houses on the sleeping block, and this house does not stand out in any way. A Basset hound is sleeping on the porch, his chest rising and falling with each soft inhale. The figure walks pass the gates and up the stairs to the porch, a small smile creeping onto their mostly hooded face when the dog does not stir, but his tail thumps against the wood of the deck quietly.
The figure enters the house and takes a moment to look around; priceless photos hang on the sage green walls, pictures of a mother, a father, and a son, wide smiles evident on all their faces. The figure lingers on one photo in particular: a photo of the son with a soft smile on his face, a soccer ball resting on his lap, between his arms. He’s not wearing any kind of jersey, or anything that would indicate that he played the game, and why the figure chose to linger on this photo in particular, they could not tell.
After a moment of observation, the figure turns from the living room toward the stairs and begins to climb them slowly, the floorboards creaking quietly with every few steps. They walk straight past the parents’ room, their door slightly cracked; the two parents lay asleep in their bed, unaware that there was someone in their home. The figure pauses a moment, staring into the small crack at the parents’ room and feels a sense of regret; but now is not the time. There are things to be done, and it is time for them to do them. So the figure turns from the parents and walks into the room where the child lays asleep, his breath long and ragged. The machine he is hooked up to doesn’t do much to help ease his breath. The figure reaches out a hand and gently shakes the boy’s shoulder, nudging him from his slumber.
They always hated this part.
“Jeremy,” the figure says softly. “It’s time to awaken.”
The boy, Jeremy, takes a moment or two to wake from his land of troubled dreams, and lets out a small yawn as he rubs his eyes free of sleep.
“Who are you?” he questions, his voice heavy not just from sleep.
“You know who I am.”
Jeremy blinks at the figure as a look of dawning spreads across his young features. Understanding replaces the fear in his eyes as the figure extends a hand forward, stepping closer to Jeremy’s bed.
“Is it my time?”
The figure chooses not to respond, their silence answering Jeremy’s question. Jeremy nods slowly, trying to process what’s happening. After a moment or two, he looks back to the figure and smiles sadly.
“I suppose it is; I’ve never been able to see you so clearly before.”
“It wasn’t your time before, Jeremy. But now, now it is. Take my hand; it’s time to leave.”
Jeremy takes the figure’s hand, and all the pain that he has felt before melts away, and peace takes its place. It is the first time in such a long time that Jeremy has felt peace without pain, and a small sigh of relief passes his lips as the feeling floods over his body. The two walk out of Jeremy’s room hand in hand and head toward the stairs, Jeremy pausing at his parents’ door.
“What will happen to them?”
“They will grieve, but they will remember and will eventually move on. They will never forget you though, and your mother will always shed a tear for you.”
Jeremy takes a moment to think about the figure’s answer before nodding slowly, seemingly pleased by the answer. He asks no further questions as the two leave the only home Jeremy knows and journey to one Jeremy will soon find out more about.
The mournful wail of a broken mother’s heart will flood the streets with the rise of the early morning sun.
x.x.x
Hours later, the figure walks into an empty clearing in the woods, flat land surrounded by a circle of trees. Dancing fireflies light up the darkened sky, and the figure takes a moment to take in the sight, knowing that the early morning sun would soon rise and disturb the peaceful clearing. Jeremy was not the first the figure had taken, nor would he be the last, but having to take those as young as Jeremy always broke the figure’s heart.
“You can come out now,” the figure says suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence that has fallen over the clearing. The figure turns around as a woman steps out from behind a tree, her long, white dress trailing behind her as she approaches.
“How did you know it was me?”
“I always know it’s you, Chaya.”
The figure gives Chaya a slow once over, a smile creeping onto their face. “I see you’re still in your form.” Chaya stretches her arm down and strokes the length of it, admiring the body she had created; she enjoyed the dark skin, especially the light flesh-toned patches that spread out randomly up and down her body, free from any hair.
“I am quite fond of this vessel. It brings me pleasure to look at. Female mortals truly are a thing of beauty, but I thank you for your compliment.”
Chaya glances up from her own form, her sharp blue eyes piercing past the hood that covered most of the figure’s face. “I see you are still in your own vessel; that’s quite bold of you.”
The figure pushes their hood from their face to reveal a young Japanese man. They feel a sense of pride of their vessel; the young man had taken good care of his body, despite the cancer that was slowly killing him, and he had been kind enough to allow the figure to occupy his body as he died.
The figure will always be grateful for that.
“My vessel has treated me well; it is only respectful and fair that I treat him likewise. He has been kind enough to allow me to continue my work on this world in his body; I could not throw him away the moment he stopped being pleasurable.”
Chaya lets out a small giggle, her natural curly hair swaying slightly as she shakes her head, her hand delicately covering her mouth.
“You’ve always been a strange one, Arius, always so caring for those mortals, but it would do you well to watch your tongue.”
A smile forms on Arius’ features as he exhales sharply from his nose, nodding slightly. His smile soon slips from his face as Chaya steps closer, her voice changing to a quiet purr.
“You’ve taken another, Arius.”
“That is my purpose, Chaya. You know how it pains me.”
Arius’ eyes fall shut as Chaya walks around him, her fingers brushing across his shoulders in a comforting manner. He leans into her soft touch, yearning to feel more of her contact.
“Can’t you leave them? For just one more day?” Chaya whispers, her lips closing around Arius’ earlobe in a small kiss, her tight curls tickling the back of his neck. The soft, sweet scent of fresh rain and roses floods over Arius’ nostrils, making him feel safe and complete in ways only Chaya knows how to do.
“If only I could.”
Chaya makes a quiet, disappointed sound as she pulls away, walking back toward Arius’ front, the movement forcing Arius from that world of safety and comfort. He reaches forward to touch her, but she subtly pulls away by walking in yet another circle around him. This time, Arius’ eyes do not follow her movement.
“You know the rules.”
“What if I cared not for the rules?”
Chaya lets out a laugh.
“If you do not care for the rules, then surely our positions are switched, and I am the one known as the great Arius.”
A sad smile crosses Arius’ face, his dark brown eyes finally beginning to follow Chaya’s movements.
“It is sad that you’re right; if only I could rid myself of care like you do so well.”
Chaya pauses in her tracks, a sad look blooming across her normally careless, patched face. “I hope you don’t,” she says, looking away to play with her fingers. “I have always admired your care. Often have I wished I possessed it myself.” Chaya looks back up, tilting her head slightly in the opposite direction of Arius.
“We both know I do not. Nor can I bring myself to.”
“But why? You create such works of art. How could I not care? Look at your vessel now! You choose not to conform to the mortal’s sense of “white” nor “black”, but rather combine the two together. How can you not feel any sense of pride or love for your creations?”
Chaya smiles sadly again, her eyes leaving Arius’ in favor of the family of deer that walk out of the trees behind Arius.
“What you see, I have created. The trees, the grass, the mortal you reside in, even the deer that breath and the fruit they eat, I have created them all. I have battled with artistic vision and functional design, functionality winning all the same. I have created the stars and the sun, the water and the air, and yet, I have no credit. And yet, my name has been forgotten as I have created. How can I care when I create so much? How can feelings of pride or love reside inside me when I must create again?”
Chaya shakes her head slowly, walking toward the family of deer. The three deer lift their heads as she approaches and walk closer to her, allowing her to pet their soft fur. She smiles softly and sadly, pain blossoming inside her chest.
“No, I cannot have pride. I cannot have love.”
She glances away from the deer and into Arius’ eyes when he turns to face her. “The only love I have felt has been for you. But I am cursed by the rules! So I create. I create because I must, but also… also for you.”
“Chaya,” Arius starts, moving towards the deer as well. “Everything you have created, I have taken. And I have kept them. As many as I could. It has always pained me to take your creations, for they are all filled with such beauty and wonder. Our time of reign has come and gone, and while our names have been forgotten in history, your beauty has never left me. The mortals celebrate you and fear me, as they should. I have seen the gods that the humans have created in our place; I have seen their rise, and I have taken their last breath. I took them to where they needed to go, but every moment, I have mourned as no living being has mourned before.”
As Arius approaches the deer, they take one look at him before turning and running away into the safety of the forest, leaving Chaya still crouched down on the flat land.
“They hate me, and love you, just as I do.”
Chaya pushes herself to her feet and turns to face her love, tears spilling over the brims of her eyes and onto her plump cheeks. She walks forward and raises a hand to Arius’ cheek, her palm stopping a mere few inches from his skin.
“I wish more than my own self to be able to feel your touch.”
She sobs quietly, taking her thick bottom lip and worrying it between her teeth. Arius lets out a soft exhale through his nose and reaches up, his fingers falling just short of her wrist. The two stand there for a moment before Arius reaches up slowly and takes Chaya’s wrist between his fingers, causing Chaya to gasp out of her tears quietly.
He brings her palm to rest fully against his cheek and leans into it, his eyes closing softly as he rubs his nose against her skin, breathing in that fresh rain and roses, the scent he knows all too well. Arius’ fingers trail from Chaya’s wrist to her elbow and back again before letting go and stepping away. He opens his eyes just a little too early, and any breath he might have been able to breathe in the past is gone at the beauty of seeing Chaya open her eyes, the look of love and adoration just slightly overwhelming.
“Sorry,” he whispers. “But I had to do that, at least once.”
Chaya laughs quietly, sniffling slightly. She shakes her head in amusement and brings
her hand back, her spare fingers spreading across her palm of the hand that Arius had been touching. Arius raises his head to stare up at the reddening sky, the morning sun finally beginning to rise. He chuckles quietly and looks back to Chaya, who is giving him a sheepish look.
“Even now?”
“We all have responsibilities, Arius; you should know that better than I.”
Arius nods his head, in amusement or disarray, it’s unclear. He turns back to the sky and lets out a small sigh, regret spreading across his chest once again.
“I must leave now; I’m late for the next.”
Chaya doesn’t say anything in response, her eyes trained on the ground. She knows it was pointless to argue or to cry; they are stuck, as they always were, as they always would be. It was strange.
Even after all this time, tears still wanted to break from their prison whenever Arius had to leave.
“If you must, you must. I cannot stop you anymore than I can stop the sands of time.”
Chaya says finally, bringing her eyes from the ground and into Arius’. Arius steps toward her and reaches out for her, but Chaya pulls back once again, turning her head away. Arius pulls back hesitantly, his arm falling back against his side as another sigh escapes his lips.
“I will leave you now. I pray that we will meet again.”
Arius waits a moment to see if Chaya will bless him with her gaze once again, but her eyes stay trained to the dirt she had created and the life that grew from it, and Arius knows that it would be pointless to stay any longer. With pain in his chest, Arius turns and leaves the clearing, leaving behind the love of his entire being.