The Eagle's Flight

Tristan sat on his old, faded armchair strumming his guitar. A hearty fire was crackling in the hearth, and no other light brightened the living space; the sole source of light gave everything a ruddy orange and red glow. Esilanna watched him in the flickering flames, her eyes half-lidded with sleepiness. The fire made her hair shine and seem as if it was blazing itself, and even as dimmed as they were with drowsiness, her eyes were still bright. Strains of music wrapped around the embers as Tristan played his bolero, humming the melody as his fingers gently caressed the strings.
A soprano voice, tentative at first, joined in harmony, gaining confidence with each note. Tristan glanced up from his guitar at Cattallus, surprised to see her sing- he thought she'd fallen asleep- but didn't stop playing. The song was a rather well-known one in the north, where he came from, and he hadn't known it was popular in the west as well.

Slowly amongst the dawn
I disappear and fall;
Drifting towards a sleep so
Eternally deep
That silences my song.
Darkness and light dance
Diffusing into one as
Serenades and elegies
For the land's long lost son
Try to fill it up.
Deep in the night I see
My past has caught up to me.
Like a burning fire,
It consumes the mire,
Until it is all I could ever be.
Where love and hate reign
I see the wings of the sky.
The freedom to fly
Has always been my own
No matter how the winds of change
Have blown.
Slowly amid the dusk
I reappear and rise;
Waking dreams and true light
Eternally deep
Drive forward my flight.

At the conclusion of the song, as the last chords faded into an evanescence as the lull that always forms temporarily after an aria formed, Tristan grinned. It always felt good to make music. It brought a smile upon his face every time. He studied Cattallus, who was standing in front of the stairs feeling a little awkward and blushing. Lately, she'd done nothing but mend- physically, at least. She constantly had nightmares that she wouldn't talk about, and moments when her eyes would glaze over and she'd shriek, seeing phantoms of the past. “You have a nice voice,” he complimented.
“Thank you.”
“She's always been good,” Esilanna boasted. “She was going to be the Serenade scripter's- ah, that’s Singer here, I think- apprentice in Alenn. No wonder her title is Cantabile.” Singable, Tristan knew it meant. The Victura named their children based on qualities they had, their positions, and their elements, not their family lineage. One’s name could change thousands of times in a lifespan. He had to admit that the names possibly gave out information that should otherwise be kept hidden, showing a deep part of oneself. But perhaps that was the idea. The Victura were a race that embraced unity.
The blush on Cattallus' cheeks deepened. “I'm not that good.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I don't want to be a singer anyway. Not anymore, at least.”
“Why not?” Tristan asked. “You definitely have the talent for it.”
Tristan noticed she was holding something in her right hand. “It's because...” She stopped, and shook her head.
“What's that?” he asked, and pointed.
Cattallus unfurled her fingers, revealing a gold-plated officer's star. “The woman who died... she gave this to me. She had the saddest eyes, like she loved me very much, but I've never seen her before that day in my life.” She fingered it lightly. “She was an officer. So, I told Esilanna... that's what I want to do. Become a police officer. It's the least I can do to repay her.”
Tristan squinted at it. He was sure he'd seen it before, but he couldn't remember where. The thought niggled the back of his mind uncomfortably. “Why do you carry it around?”
“It's a reminder.”
“Of what?”
“Don't push it,” Esilanna warned.
“Sorry,” he apologized.
“Don't be,” Cattallus smiled sadly, tracing the lettering with her thumb. “It says Regnum on it. Esi, isn't that the country that just recently won independence, right before we were born? Year 1498? Two years before we were born.”
“Yeah, that's the one.”
“Then why's it have the year 1913 engraved on it?”
Tristan's eyes widened. “Let me see that,” he demanded, holding out his hand expectantly. Cattallus gave it to him, surprised at his reaction. He read the words slowly. “Regnum Police... fifteen years of service from 1898 to 1913.” He squinted. “It looks like one of those special badges that you get for being in service for a certain amount of time.”
“But why say that for years that haven't happened yet?”
Tritan gulped. Someone else, it seems, had traveled back in time, and he had a very, very small list of suspects.
One, to be exact.
He could tell that Esilanna was reaching a similar conclusion, and she frowned. “You know something, don't you?” she accused.
“Yes,” he admitted, and sighed. He knew they'd find out eventually. He might as well tell them now.

“Look! Belladonna, this could cure you!”
“What?!”
“If my theory is correct, this binding could cure you of any and all illnesses- including the one taking your life right now.”
“Oterra, this is truly amazing.”
“Just think what an asset this could be in the war. We could crush the invaders. Our soldiers would never have to fear for death.”
“We've been cheating it in so many ways, we might as well add one more to the list.”
Laughter.

Surprisingly, they weren't very stunned. “Ghosts don't exist,” Esilanna said, “but you claim to have been one.”
“Maybe his body was trapped in the Gate somehow,” Cattallus declared, “and we can get it back. ”
“If we use the River, we could bypass the Gate,” Esilanna said.
“True,” Cattallus agreed. She shivered at the mention of it. “River it is, though it’s a bit riskier…”
“Where are we going to do this?” Tristan asked. The message on the note in his cuff flashed across his mind.
“Someplace quiet,” Cattallus answered. “Like a warehouse.”
“No,” Tristan said. “My house.”
Esilanna and Cattallus exchanged glances. “All right,” Esilanna said slowly. “We'll do it in your house.”
“Now?”
Cattallus frowned. “Well, I guess we could...”
“Please!” Tristan urged. The feeling that he just had to get back was so overpowering, he was surprised he wasn't begging at their knees. He knew that he couldn't wait much longer, now that this strange desire had welled up inside of him.
Esilanna's gaze turned to one of pity. Had she ever felt something similar? If she had, where did she long to go? Back to Aeternam, a capital of civilization that was now nothing but ashes and tumbled stones? “I remember my home,” she whispered quietly.
“How could one forget?” Cattallus shivered. “That place was horrid.”
“Win some, lose some,” Esilanna replied somberly.
“No, Esi. It's more like 'win none, lose all.'” She sighed. “We have the most blasted luck in the entire world.”
“Yes,” Esilanna agreed. “Yes, we do.”

“They're here!”
“Barricade the doors. Quickly now! Esilanna, come here, close to me. There's a good girl. Where's Cattallus and Ariana? Oterra, where's your sister?”
“I don't know.”
“Is it possible she...?”
“Impossible. She would never do such a thing.”
“Oterra, I wish I could share your confidence in her.”
“She’s family. Who else do I have?”
“You've got me.”
“Ha ha.”
“Seriously.”
“You're not family.”
“Esi, stop eavesdropping. Oh, there's Cattallus. Be a good girl and shut that door behind you...”

Esilanna looked up from her memory as she heard a hard rap on the door. “You're having visitors?”
“No,” Tristan answered. He stood. “Who is it?” he called.
“Open up! We are under orders to detain the two rebels in your home,” came the reply. “You have thirty seconds to hand them over or we will obliterate you. Repeat,you have thirty seconds to hand them over or we will obliterate you. Starting now.”

“Why do they want us? It's just two scientists with some children.”
“Because they're evil.”
“No one asked you, Esi.”
“Well, they are.”
“Honestly, though. Why us?”
“Why not? We're Victura. For them, that's a good enough reason to kill us.”
“This looks bad.”
“No duh.”
“Stop talking, Esi. You're not helping.”
“Do you have a better idea?”
“We could try-”

“The River!” Esilanna cried. “Now! If we hurry, we might escape in time.”
“Go for it!” Tristan agreed.
“Take Catty's hand, and mine with your other. There we go.” Once they were linked, Esilanna warned, “You may feel slight nausea.”
“Just do it!”
“We're coming in!” declared the voices behind the door.
“I'm doing it. Whatever happens... happens,” Esilanna said. She closed her eyes, whispering words unintelligible and ancient. Tristan felt his stomach fall to his feet as he was whisked away, just as uniformed soldiers burst into the house. There was a bright flash, and he was immersed in pastel colors, floating in a River so eerily beautiful and bright. He was drifting in it, submerged, and his hair floated above him. He turned and looked at Esilanna. The joy on her face of being here, with her long silver hair around her like a large halo, was of pure rapt devotion. The Victura loved the River. They were made for it.
Beside him, Cattallus was grinning from ear to ear. She sighed, content. Tristan noticed that no air bubble came out of her mouth, and he realized that they were breathing, even though they were under water. No, not water. Whatever they were in, it was not water.
Time, he heard a voice say. He looked at Esilanna. Her eyes were closed, and her lips hadn't moved, but he knew it came from her. We're floating in Time.
How was she communicating? Could she normally brush against his thoughts like that? He heard another voice, Catty's. Here... we are the way we were born. Full bodies, full potential. I never want to leave. Full bodies? He saw that now she had two arms, even though she'd lost the left one before. It was glowing now, as if it was part of his imagination. It is. When we leave, it'll be gone. That's the snare of this place. It gives you so much ecstasy, you never want to go. But you have to. Otherwise...
...Otherwise, you're stuck, Esilanna finished. Goodbye, individuality. It's happened before. Victura go mad and stay too long, and they become part of the River. It sucks one in. That's why we're leaving. Now.
Now? Cattallus groaned. Tristan had no clue why; whatever joy they derived from being in this strange colorful nihilism, he didn't feel it. For him, it was a feeling of not belonging. He wondered if that was how the Victura felt outside of the River, but he pushed it from his mind.
Just a little longer-
WE'RE GOING! Esilanna mentally screamed. The colors swirled fervently, making a wild whirlpool around them, and then turned to a pale white.
Then he was in Emma's basement.
His body was gone; he was an obambo again. He realized, then, what had happened to it. They had lingered too long- not too long for a Victura, maybe, but long enough for a mortal human, and it'd cost him his body. He didn't know where the information came from. It was just there. It might have been an ironic gift of the River.
Tristan stood, and shouted. “Esi! Catty! You didn't tell me! You didn't tell me I had less time than you! Esi, Catty, answer me!”
Emma scrambled to her feet. “What are you shouting at? One minute we're listening to the phonograph, and the next you're screaming names!”
Tristan stopped. He heard the Orange Tomatoes' screeching in the background, saw everything exactly as he'd left it. “How... how long have I been gone?” he asked.
“Gone? You’ve never left!”
Tristan took a moment to process the information, letting it sink in. Then he resumed his shouting. “Esilanna! Where'd you go? Why would you leave me like this? Esilanna Aquila!”
“What the ba-
Then he felt a deep pain, and he was surrounded in the pastels again, and Esi was staring into his eyes, her bright, violet ones gazing into his hazel brown pair. I'm sorry. Sometimes... I forget how weak your people are compared to mine. I forgot how the River affects you. Thank you, for the safe haven, short as it was. Catty and I owe you our lives, and that is a debt we'll never forget. We're going to Regnum, and we plan to live there for centuries. Who knows, though? We won't get much older than adult, so maybe you'll recognize us. Wear the feather, Tristan, and no matter how old I am, how weak, I'll help you, because I can never repay the debt that I now have. If I'm not there, then Catty will be. We promise. I can't stay much longer. Goodbye, Tristan.
Tristan smiled, and he willed himself to respond. Goodbye, Esi. Her eyes widened as the message reached her, and she seemed ready to say something, but by then the colors swirled once more and he was alone with Emma.
Having never left, apparently.
“-lly blue blazes are you talking about?” she finished.
“Nothing,” he replied. Then his ghostly eyes widened as he remembered exactly where he'd seen Cattallus' golden star.
Carmen! YOU were wearing it! Where’d you get it from?

Poor Tristan. Victim of poor planning. Fingers crossed for him finding his body!

Dragonlord Stephi : Excellent work . For the first time we actually see what the river is like rather than hear about it . The description of it made me feel like I was sleeping on rainbows ... its like I was apart of it .. thats when you know its good writing Wandavar