RCG-I Seasonal Salon
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When Destiny Walked the LabrynthChapter 8: Ansel's EpiphanyLate that night, the feast and even the clean-up afterward long since over, Ansel awoke to pale moonlight bathing her face. She had been dreaming vividly, yet the images ebbed before her waking mind, leaving only a shadowy trace of uneasiness in their wake. Shaking her head slightly, she sat up in bed. I am not at all sleepy, she thought. Drawing back the bed sheet, she lightly swung her feet to the floor and stepped to the window. The scant maiden moon cast wan light upon the glittering whitestone of the courtyard. The feasting tables still stood below, ghostly reminders of the lively meal they’d hosted. Cocking her head, she heard the soft, even breaths of a sleeping Geneera in the next room. Ansel shuddered in lonely delight at her solitude. A longing to see the ocean by moonlight filled her heart. What a lovely night it is, and I’ve not walked the beach at night in so long, not since before Amnisos. She hesitated at that thought, then set her jaw and decided it was long since time to resume her night wanders. Even in an Artemis bow moon, the sparkly whitestone path leading down and away from the Agronos reflected enough light for Ansel to see without a lamp. She knew it well anyway. Following the narrow trail, she picked carefully over the jumbled stones so as not to turn her weak ankle. The night air was deliciously cool and soft. Ansel hugged herself and hummed a cheery tune to suppress any feelings of grief as she neared the cliffs. Soon she stood at the edge of the foothill just as she had that morning the wave came. She heard the sea before she saw it; a sigh, then a rush, an inhalation and an exhalation. At night, the beautiful sea was some great breathing creature lying in wait in the darkness. More confidently now, like a wild mountain goat, she descended the shattered steps leading to the beach. In the semi-dark, she could pretend Amnisos was just at rest. Ankle forgotten, Ansel ran lightly along the beach on the balls of her feet, digging her toes into the yielding sand, still warm from the day’s sun. The muscles in her calves tightened as the sand gave way; it felt almost like running through the water itself. At the firmer water-smoothed shoreline, the tiny sand granules sparkled from the wetness of a receding wave. Here and there, round stones graced the ground like fallen stars. The next wave rushed over her feet, cool and foamy. Despite the memory of Amnisos, Ansel was a child of the sea-blessed island, and the joy of feeling the ocean water again coursed through her body. She jumped back from the next wave, and on impulse began spinning on her toes in the soft sand, arms out from each side. She began singing aloud an old sea melody her meter taught her when she was little, first softly, then louder as she lost herself in the lovely melody. “Meter Moon, my heart turns to you and to your beloved, the shining sea. Meter Sea, my joy knows no bounds, like a little child who kisses the stars who fell into your cup of plenty. Meter Moon, I kiss my hand to your beauty. Meter Sea, Meter Moon, bless me, for I am your child.” Dizzy and breathless, she stopped spinning. When she regained her balance, she began to dance, still humming the ages old ode to Moon and Sea. Sway, step, sway, step, then cross one leg behind the other, imitating the ritual dances of the Priesera she had seen. She snaked out a spiral pattern in the sand, then stood still in the center and faced the sea, beginning another verse of the song, “Meter Moon, my heart turns to you . . ..” Something made her stop and stare. Not twenty-five foot-lengths away, a glowing woman stood before her. Ansel wasn’t sure if the woman was an apparition or flesh. Her skin glistened in the moonlight, but her long hair, hanging in strands like seaweed to below her waist, shadowed her face. Her garment, inexplicitly flowing despite the water, draped over one breast and was pulled snug against the woman’s small waist. In one hand, she held a conch shell. The sea foamed dreamily around her knees. Ansel stood stock still, frightened and mystified at the woman’s silent appearance. “Ansel, little one,” the woman said, her voice husky and dark, “I claim you now as my own daughter. Come to me when you are ready. Tell the Priesera. The sign is bestowed unto you.” The woman raised a hand, palm out, to Ansel. A bright, golden, thread of light extended from her palm, touched Ansel between her breasts, then receded. Ansel felt her heart surge and gasped loudly. “What? Who are you?” She gulped in breath for several moments before her heart returned to a normal beat. But Ansel was again alone on the beach, and the breath of the sea was the only sound responding to her voice. Copyright by the Kassandra Sojourner ~ All rights reserved |
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