Paradox in Pairs

Letha looks up, through the center of an apple tree, old man’s beard hanging all around her, at the sky alive with nature. She squints at the brightness and holiness of the sunlight-filled sky. The wild birds cawing, chattering, and keee-arrring as they swirl about on edge. There’s a mix of some of the most intelligent and powerful - hawks, crows, ravens, and rooks. Letha always thought they were the closest and most holy of creatures to Aletheia - the Goddess she is in these lichen-coated trees hunting. NOT hunting exactly. Searching for. She has a request to make of the Goddess. As a DemiGod, everyone else in her pious little hamlet has advanced and grown more powerful, except Letha, leaving her feeling left out. For whatever reason, she hasn’t, despite striving the hardest to be worthy - no, the MOST worthy. She runs her fingers through some fluffy reindeer moss on the lowest branches of the trees while considering both the birds-they seem so free!- and her own lack of growth. The contrast is stark. She can’t understand it. She’s done everything she was taught was right. She knows she is close to Aletheia now. All of her senses are buzzing. Closing her eyes, she inhales while her fingers trace the moss, needing this moment of presence before she steps forward, one foot and the next moving her closer to her goal - the only thing that matters.

An apple hangs on a clean branch. Letha stares straight into it upon opening her eyes - the red contrast stark against the blue, cloudless sky. She can’t help but smirk at the perfection of it. Suddenly, she feels eyes on her, and she spins around to see a rook, head cocked, side eyeing her with intensity. She flashes a cynical grin. “See something of consequence, rook?” It answers with a short burst of clicks and twists its head to the other side, sizing Letha up the way a predator would. Letha answers in kind, mirroring the behavior and puffing herself up a little. She places her right hand on the hilt of the small sword she carries on her hip. She’s been trained to fight in the name of the Goddess her entire life. She senses the danger here. A crow lands to her left with a loud and higher-pitched “Caw, Caw!” Letha hears claws on wood to her right and instantly shifts her attention to see a hawk on another branch. As she makes eye contact, it screeches, “Keee- Arrr!” Her mind is spinning, making note of the direction each bird sits - rook to the north, crow to the west, hawk to the east.

Letha fully turns, knowing the raven, then, must be at her back. It is. This meeting is unlike the rest. The raven stares through her, its head angling side to side, taking her completely in and using a low scratchy voice some might find terrifying, mimicking “See something of consequence, girl?” Eyes rising in amusement and a little surprise, Letha smiles and states, “Oh, no doubt”. Keeping one hand on her sword's hilt, she takes a deep breath and calmly yells, “May we speak, Aletheia?” The raven begins a low, creepy chuckle. The hawk joins in with a rapid, loud, anxiety-driven cackle. The crow, also an expert in mimicry, repeats, in an annoying manner, “No doubt. No doubt. No doubt.” Letha angles her body sideways in order to see 3 of the 4 birds at once and looks at the rook sitting there in observational silence now. It is judging her. It is weighing her while she thinks What right does this filthy bird have to judge her? It is a volatile bird with its disgusting, mangled-looking beak. She sneers a violent little sneer and judges this creature back in kind, knowing that if this were any other moment in time, she’d likely have killed it and made a rook pie to share with her small hamlet. The rook remains calmly rooted to the branch upon which it sits. “She is here,” speaks to the raven in its creepy, gravelly tone. “Make your request, girl.”

Chin rising proudly, Letha replies to the Rook, “I am Letha Solvane of Halomere, and I’ve come to request my just reward.” Without warning, another rook flies into the circle and transforms into a striking woman kneeling before them. In a split second, Letha’s sword is in her palm and pointed at the woman. This time, the crow speaks, and the woman angles her jaw and eyes at Letha as a predator. “Reward?” The rook clicks. “Is it not deserved?” Letha states proudly. The ethereal woman looks upon her, maintaining her predatory nature, with eyes the color of a fall rain. The rook then gravelly states, “Hmm.” Pushing forward, she continues, “Have I not done EVERYTHING asked of me? Have I not dedicated my life to you?” A brief smile crosses the woman's pretty face, raptorial in its own way, and finally speaking, she retorts melodically, “Have you now?” Letha’s brows tighten into one another in confusion. “What kind of a question is that? Do you not see all, Aletheia?” “I do,” Aletheia says with a slight smirk still lingering on her face - “But I ask again, have you?” She pauses. “Or have you served others' agendas? Do you even know my own?”

Letha points the tip of her sword into the dirt and leans slightly, arrogantly, on it. “I’ve done everything I have been told, yet everyone has grown into themselves, but me. Why?" Aletheia muses for a moment.

“Why indeed?” she says flatly. “Tell me, girl, are you capable of an original thought?” Letha’s eyes widen slightly. Her face begins to redden. “I didn’t come here to be criticized. I came for answers and growth.” The Hawk cackles. The raven repeats, “Growth?” The rook chimes in with a low, rocky growl: “comes from inside.” Aletheia steps toward Letha, swallowing a deep, mournful breath, her chest puffing slightly, and says, “There is nothing I can help you with.” “That’s not true,” Letha states, becoming agitated. “You can help.” Aletheia waives a delicate hand, “I cannot.” As far as Letha knows, she only closed her eyes for a moment - just a blink. Yet, when they reopen, her sword is inside the stomach of Aletheia, and there is blood on her hands, her mind screaming “No, no, no, no, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO!”. It keeps screaming, the screaming growing louder and louder until it’s her own voice violently coming out of her, adding, “You WILL HELP ME, GODDESS!”

Runa:

Golden eyes stalk a gentle stranger from the brush. Runa senses she’s being watched, though by what or where eludes her. She is unworried. At peace with nature, she thinks, Nothing here wants to hurt me. Every inch of the forest, teeming with life, is busy surviving. On her shoulder rides Quill, a squeaky young pine marten. Named for sharp senses and quick wits, Quill is chatty today. They meander the forest, searching for Aporia, the Goddess her forest tribe, the Mossborn, has worshipped since before she was born.

The Mossborn found Runa after her parents were killed by some headhunters. They raised her to be of the earth. With them she learned what hard was, what balance was, what life was, and, more importantly, what humility was. She loved them and almost all things profoundly, having been born a natural giver and lover of words. Thinking of them, even now, on this journey to find Aporia so that she may humbly ask for more spirit and strength in the coming years of her life, which was the way of the tribe. They spend their time eagerly learning, teaching, cultivating, creating more than they destroy, giving more than they take, and then, upon the ripe old age of 18, they seek out Aporia - a rite of passage - and ask her for her blessing. It was an exciting and lonely adventure. Runa is chewing on her thoughts when a small growl rises from behind her.

Hands in a neutral position at her sides, Runa pivots slowly, eyes on the ground. She has learned the hard way that direct eye contact is viewed by most forest creatures as a challenge. Near the ground, she sees a giant gray, fluffy, and slightly matted white paw. A wolf. Even more slowly and with extra caution, she allows her gaze to move upward, taking in the wolf, careful to avoid its gaze. She notices it isn’t even looking at her, instead looking past her and growling low before it turns into a warning, “Huff!. Huff!. Huff!” She hardly processes what’s happening, and the wolf speeds off. Deep breath,is Runa’s next thought as she realizes she was not breathing. Sucking in a long breath, chest rising, eyes wildly trying to focus on what the wolf saw that she hadn’t. She spots it.

Wild birds! Everywhere, in the sky, flying in a vortex-ish shape. Something is wrong, she thinks. SOMETHING IS WRONG! Quill notices too and huffs and puffs- his tiny body shaking violently with each airy breath. Understanding now, she hurriedly takes off toward the vortex. She runs. Leaves smack her in the face, branches stick in her hair, as she dodges branches and hops and jumps over tree roots. She’s moving as fast as she can until she closes in on a dark scene. A pretty young woman is delicately and powerfully perched over a blonde woman, with both the sun and the moon in her eyes. What? How is that even possible? Runa asks herself. As the seriousness of the situation begins to kick in, her mind clears, and she knows she must help her; she must help Aporia.

Runa is pushing through the forest at an unnatural speed for a half-human. In a single movement, she unslings her bow from her left shoulder and draws an arrow from her quiver. Quill runs down her entire body, legs, and over her foot on his path to hide, huffing and puffing all the way. Within seconds, she has the arrow locked in and the bow string pulled back. Deep breath. Focus. Fire! Just as the beautiful stranger begins to bring her sword down, the arrow hits her in the fatty part of her forearm. The wild birds begin to scream. The noise is overwhelming, but Runa continues until she’s upon the girl. To her opposition's surprise, Runa, as she’s running, jumps and kicks with both feet, smashing her squarely in the chest. “Get away from her!” Runa growls through gritted teeth as she falls with this unknown person to the ground, rolls, and is back on her feet. The other girl curled on her side in the dirt, coughing from the powerful blow to the chest. She stalks toward the girl and, not missing a beat, she grabs her hair, yanks her head back, and slides a dagger into the slight indent of her throat.

“What is your name?” Runa demands. Lips twitching, eyes narrowed, and body shaking in anger- she sneers. Another, harder tug on the girl's hair wipes the sneer from her face. Runa presses the knife slightly deeper into her throat and demands, “NAME?!”

“Letha”, the girl, in a choked whisper, spits out through a clenched jaw.

Rapid glances allow Runa to note the wild birds perched, one in each direction, forming a circle around them just before her eyes find the Goddess, curled on the ground, expression watchful, yet pained. Aporia nods upward, and Runa knows. She pushes the dagger deeper this time, drawing blood, and purposefully states, “I’m going to back away. Will you remain calm?” Letha rolls her eyes, whole body still shaking, but nods that she will agree to that. At least for now. So, Runa releases both her solid grip and the dagger from her throat - to be met with a reverse head butt to her face. Runa lets off a painful shriek/growl combination and charges the girl, Letha, threatening to rip her throat out this time.

Letha punches and misses. Runa doesn’t. She cracks her skull into the other woman’s. Runa smiles and casually mentions she’s “ returning the favor,” but zero hesitation on Runa’s part has her rapidly adjust her body into a drop kick. Letha hits the mossy earth with a quiet thud as dirt and particles fly up around them. Runa kicks. Again. Again. Again. Seeing red, the intent in this moment is to kill such a wicked person. Mindset on finishing Letha off, Runa is about to issue a final, murderous blow with her dagger. Her mind is whirling - This is not how this meeting was supposed to go, she thinks to herself. Releasing a feral scream as she plunges her dagger down, and in the final moment it… stops? STOPS?

Runa glances down and finds Aporia, wide-eyed, looking up into her eyes - a silent plea to stop. So she does. Aporia’s head then droops as a small amount of blood dribbles from her lips. “Why are you stopping me? Look what she’s done to you?”

Silent and solemn, Aporia stares into Runa’s eyes. It’s an intense experience that leaves her feeling transported to another dimension. She’s pulled and, suddenly, pushed back into herself, feeling acutely known. Aporia opens Runa’s palm and runs her fingertips across it, and a shimmering crystal key appears. Stunned and confused, Letha’s eyes narrow and her head tilts a little.

Moving fast and still wounded, the Goddess kneels to Letha. She barely opens her eyes and coughs blood. Repeating the same thing with Letha, as she did with Runa, the injured Deity transports her away and then back, yet something else occurs in this process. When Letha returns, she is healed just enough and holding a shimmery onyx goblet. She is equally confused and looks questioningly into Aletheia’s rainy eyes.

Aletheia steps back into the shadows. The birds begin to circle. Letha stands up and, in confusion, looks to Runa, who is in deep thought, staring at the key in her palm. “I think,” she starts, “I think I understand.” She tries to hand the key to Letha, and her hand is swatted away. Surprised and not surprised at her actions, Runa shrugs. “Okay, suit yourself.” I believe that cup is for me and this key is for you, but if you don’t want to trust me, that’s on you.” Runa barely lets the words fall when Letha makes a grab for the key. “AHHHHH!” She screams, both in anger and agony. Before she sees, she smells, and Runa knows that she’s been badly burned by the key.

“See, forest rat. It can’t be for me,” says Letha.

“Call me that again and hope the divine saves you.”

She eyes Letha and states plainly, “Try to drink then.”

She does. It doesn’t end well. She is thrown, as if by some magic force, into Runa. Her adversary chuckles. “Well, that’s one way to get a little closer.”

Letha, angry, punches Runa in the eye socket. She sucks her teeth, “That’s going to leave a mark, forest rat.” Before she knows it, they are fighting again. At least until the Corvids swerve in pecking at them, forcing a ceasefire and distance between the two. “Grow up,” gargles the Rook harshly. A black feather floats to the pebbled earth.

“Fine.” On edge, Runa runs a hand through her hair. “You stay over there, and I’ll remain here.” Runa sits on a fallen tree, foot shaking in frustration, arms crossed.

Out of pettiness, Letha sticks out her tongue at Runa and rolls her eyes. After a beat, she asks her rival to try the key. “On what? There isn’t exactly a door anywhere.” Letha groans and replies, “I don’t know. Try something. ANYTHING.”

Tiny mewing sounds and rubbing at Runa’s leg suggest that Quill has decided it was safe to come out again. She offers Quill the key, colors changing as the light refracts. She is propelled forward, closer to Letha, and into the dirt by something invisible, which she assumes to be the same thing that knocked the girl into her earlier. “Hmm.” Letha scratches beneath her chin and puts the cup to her mouth again. She is again propelled into Runa, both of them lying flat in the dirt and releasing frustrated “Ugh” noises.

“Take the key, Letha.” The brat swats her hand away. “Letha. Take the key.” Letha again refuses. “Don’t you get it, yet, hamlet slicker?” Her foe shakes her head no. “These gifts were not meant for ourselves. They are lessons for each other.” Runa’s competitor purses her lips and thinks for a moment. “Say you’re right? How do you know that thing won’t burn me again? “ Runa replies, “I think it only burned you when you tried to force it.” Her opposition sits on the thought, wondering. “First,” she says, “take the goblet”. Confused by the sudden change in the woman before her, Runa accepts it. No burns. Letha’s face lightens a bit with understanding. “Now,” Letha says, “May I have the key?” Runa obliges. Both girls begin to feel warm, tingling from their appendages inward.

Hundreds of birds of prey swirl around them. There are caws and shrieks and chirps and clicks. They draw each other in protectively. In mere moments, it’s over, but to both girls, it feels like an exhausting hour, and when it’s done, they are both forever changed, bound to one another, and now carry one fire wing and one raven wing, one eye blue flame and the other an onyx void.

In the distance, their Goddess can be heard laughing with the rooks, ravens, crows, and hawks.