Ghosts

[vanimadin]

This one was kind of experimental with the ideas behind it. I had a few people go "hey, that's not what happens!" But the canon behind this fic doesn't exclude the established facts of the Valdemar books, it just expands on it a little. This fic happened before any of my other AU fics, though, so later on people got more used to my AU offerings and (for the most part) stopped complaining at me. xD;;



Title: Ghosts
Fandom: Heralds of Valdemar
Author: senashenta
Rating: K+
Genre: Fantasy, Angst
Characters: Companion Imari, Grove Born Stallion Gwydion, Companion Sohalia
Disclaimer: Valdemar and concepts belong to Mercedes Lackey; lyrics are to "Field of Innocence" by Evanescence; this fic and original characters belong to their author.
Summary: In the depths of a Midwinter night, spirits dance and sing in the wind, in a Festival that celebrates both life and death. But there are some who don't wish to celebrate their existence.

GHOSTS
By Senashenta

The moon was high, shining down across the world and showering the cold winter night with pale white light. And as Valdemar slept through the midnight hours of Midwinter, across Companion's Field an unearthly ritual—one shrouded in a complex mixture of joy and tears—was taking place.

Silver forms drifted around the snow-covered Field, twirling, dancing, racing, laughing—feather light and as corporeal as the wind, drifting in the air like snowfall and just as soft and silent. The moonlight glittered across their ghostly silver hides, and the stars reflected in the depths of their crystal eyes.

These were the ghosts of Companions past.

-
I still remember the world
From the eyes of a child…
-

There was but one night of the year when they were not bound strictly to the Havens, and that was at exactly Midwinter—for that single night, those who had been lost could return to Valdemar, to share a moment with long-missed but not forgotten family and friends, to dance with the wind, and to celebrate the freedom that comes with the finality of death.

It was a celebration that no human had ever seen, or even heard of, and one of the few rituals that the Companions made a point of keeping secret from their Heralds. The Festival of Souls was not for mortal eyes—nor those of simple mortals.

The souls which danced that night were joyously celebrating their release, while at the same time grieving their loss, and those who threw caution to the wind to partake in the festivities were more than earthbound creatures—for just a moment.

Much, much more.

-
Slowly those feelings
Were clouded by what I know now…
-

But look—

Beyond where the spirits flowed and sang, one with the night itself, a single soul drifted, alone and sad, echoing with a muted mixture of happiness and despair. With unimaginable grace, it made its way to the banks of the Terilee to stare down at the frozen river, where no reflection sat in waiting.

:Imari?: The Grove Born said, his voice comforting and calm, :why are you not dancing with the others?:

The young mare turned pale sapphire eyes toward him as he approached, leaving tracks in the snow where she had been unable to, and with just the barest whisper of sound—that was so much more than she could make, even if she tried.

:I don't feel like dancing.: She replied softly, and then added; :or singing.:

Gwydion did not ask why, and did not prod. Instead he stood next to her and stared downward at the river with her, thinking—trying to remember. :This…: he said finally, as understanding dawned on him, :this is where you died, Imari...:

-
Where has my heart gone?
An uneven trade for the real world…
-

The spirit nodded, just a flicker of movement. :Yes.:

Gwydion remembered: only a handful of moons before, when he had known a young Companion by the name of Imari—who had Chosen, and loved with all her heart, a child named Suvan. A child who had died, at the hands of an unknown disease, that ravaged her from the inside and tore her away from her Companion, leaving the mare broken and shattered—and she, at such a young age herself, had followed Suvan to the Havens, dying of a broken heart and soul.

The Festival could never hold the same hope for her that it did for the others.

-
I want to go back to
Believing in everything and knowing nothing at all.
-

:Why did you come back?: Gwydion wanted to know. :You could have stayed in the Havens.:

She did not respond for a long time, instead watching silently as snowflakes drifted lazily from the sky to float past her nose and collect on the frozen river. She moved not an inch, standing as still as stone—as still as death—and just cold as the winter around her. Finally, she turned back toward the Grove Born, meeting his expectant eyes.

:Imari?:

Imari graced him with an ethereal mental smile. :I came... to remember, Gwydion. I came to remember.:

-
I still remember the sun,
Always warm on my back,
Somehow it seems colder now…
-

She remembered life in all its exquisite detail—joy—sorrow—happiness—pain—all twisted into a complex menagerie and contained within a single mortal heart. And she remembered the day when she had finally, after years of being incomplete, found the final piece of herself—in a short, thin, pale little girl with dark hair and depthless eyes.

Imari lived for Suvan—and died for her as well.

:She... chose life again, Grove Born.: Imari whispered, a deep and residing pain evident in her Voice. :She chose life again... and by the time I was released to the light of the Havens, she was already gone. I lost her twice in a matter of days...:

The stallion almost winced, but diplomacy born of centuries of experience kept him from doing so. Instead he bowed his head toward the snow at his feet, and closed his eyes. :I know. I know she was reborn—but—I did not realize—you never got a chance to say goodbye.:

:No…:

He hesitated before responding, as conflicting voices bickered in his mind, and then—

:Imari... come with me. There is someone I want you to meet.:

-
Where has my heart gone?
Trapped in the eyes of a stranger…
-

The filly was shy of a year old and clinging to her mother's side as she stared upward at the Grove Born with wide, reverent crystal eyes. Imari knew her mother—Meegan—but what was more, she knew the foal as well—knew her in the same way she knew her own mind and heart—knew the soul that stirred beyond the shining blue of her new eyes—

:Her name is Sohalia.: Gwydion supplied softly.

Imari found herself unable to speak, torn between laughter and tears, pinned to the spot by the familiarity in the young Companion's face as she huddled half-under Meegan, looking as if she wanted to run—wanted to hide—but at the same time—wanted to run—wanted to run—wanted to run to Imari—

:Suvan?:

Slowly, carefully, Sohalia stepped away from her mother, ears and tail flicking nervously, to take a handful of baby steps toward the ghostly presence of her former soul-sister. :I-mar-i...: she sounded confused, and it was no surprise. Reborn souls didn't retain many memories from their past lives, and what they did get to keep was often disjointed and confusing... :Imari..? Who... who are you?:

:I... I don't know...:

-
I want to go back to
Believing in everything…
-

Imari didn't stay for long, but even the scant few minutes, knowing that Suvan—Sohalia—was safe, loved, happy—was enough for her. She did not thank Gwydion, but he knew that she was grateful, and as she said a quiet goodbye to the filly and her mother, there was something different in the way she spoke.

:Will you dance now, Imari?:

She turned her gaze toward the other souls, who twirled and sang joyfully in the light from the waning moon, and nodded her head ever so slightly, a movement that was barely visible at all as she moved to join them. :Yes, Gwydion. I will dance now.:

And her song, to the childish ears of a single reborn heart, was the brightest of them all.

***