Chapter 9: Journey

The constant pressure is there to remind me I'm still breathing.

I remember each of the seconds I've lived. From the first to the last.

I remember how I opened my eyes for the first time, breathing in, discovering green gems up brown diamonds: Trees.

I remember how I for the first time breathed out, feeling my lungs slowly let out air, lulling for brief instants my mind to sleep. Then screams. A red tidal erupted from the green gems far to the west.

I remember how I for the first time felt warmth: Fire.

I remember dark grey gems filling the sky, it was pretty, but it hurt and made me cough. I did not understand that feeling. Why did it hurt even though it was so pretty? Maybe pretty things were meant to be hurtful.

I remember how I for the first time was enlaced. Long, warm, soft arms grabbed me, lifting me from the ground and letting me admire the beauty of the sky up the green gems. The sky did not hurt, nor did the green gems. Instead, they glowed, letting escape trails of warm red gems from which ascended dark grey gems. Those green gems meant not all pretty things hurt.

I remember how a beautiful lady with long, majestic dark hair bowed to pick me up, and stopped a second to let a white, translucent crystal escape her, the crystal landing on my forefront: Tear.

I remember the first drop of blood. The lady was running through the leaves and roots amidst a sea of trees. At times when her path was obstructed she raised her arm and Nature made way for her, trees bowing to her and leaves lending allegiance to her person. Another living being appeared, seemingly sliding off a tree's shadow, leaving on it a trail of blood rotting life away. He was tall, maybe around three meters, and was all red from head to toe except for thin yellow strips on his face, his left eye refusing to take a distinct form. He elevated his voice, declaring Tetlacuhtli, the woman holding me, a traitor. He then proceeded to tear off his arm, letting a tide of dark red gems fly in the sky for few seconds. The dark red gems met the ground, and something sprouted: Wolves. Velvet wolves growling at us, eyeing us with their devilish eyes, licking their bloody teeth at the prospect of the soon-to-be feast.

I remember them lashing out on us, terrorizing me to my core, although I did not exactly understood why.

I remember Tetla raising her arm just the way she did when she carved her way in the jungle. This time, however, the trees did not bow, nor did the leaves lend allegiance to her. Instead, they shrieked at the hounds. Slight tinges of green appeared deep in the red eyes of the monstrosities, making them stop. After a while, they stopped growling, tumbling from right to left, their mind groggy. Finally they fell down, a green hue ever so gently appearing inside the hounds and eating away the remnants of red. Beautiful trees sprouted from inside the blood wolves and started attacking the man.

I remember how it all happened, how she ran, how I discovered the world, and how the ocean of green gems burned down, leaving death and a hollow world behind.

I remember how she hid me inside a cave, how she ran away and how the man appeared with a deep and bloody scar on his left arm and pierced her back with a red spear.

I remember how she collapsed head first, but with a smile, one holding hope for a different future, my legacy a world of death and charcoal to explore to my contentment.

I remember each of the seconds I've lived. From the first to the last.

I remember growing up wandering scorched lands, rapidly discovering I had something with me amidst this world of emptiness: Magic. I could bend earth at will, change wind into water, create a storm out of a gust, and I could draw fire from my bare hands. Although I did not have to think to discover it, using magic did not feel natural, as if everything was entangled, trying to mislead me before I could make my will known.

I remember how I killed for the first time. I wandered all alone for the first years of my life, but after tens of years of void, I finally walked out of that haunted forest. It was so pretty, to once again see the green gems atop pillars of brown. I discovered for the first time animals, plants, I could glimpse and see my reflection on the ever-flowing water of the river. I spent months discovering each parcel of this haven, discovering the taste of food - before that, I relied on magic to feed, it was tasteless, like the action of breathing. It was across that very river that I saw the first human: a young boy, his torso visible to the eye, his skin like the coconuts I often caught in some trees. He held an elongate stick finishing in a pointy end, and said words I did not understand. He was screaming, no fear in his shaking voice, only hatred. "BECAUSE OF YOU!... MONSTER!" He raced to me, his piece of wood held high, and tried to pierce me. He scared me, I could understand the violence in his scream, but not in his tool, what was it, what purpose did it serve? But I knew one thing, he desired to harm me, why? I turned ablaze, screaming a growl ordering him not to approach. He ignored it.

I remember the crisp sound of burnt flesh, the horrible stench of the corpse. I remember what it once was and what it had become. There was blood on my hand, was I at fault? I was a murderer. But it did not bother me : I did not possess the knowledge of right or wrong, only survival. I already killed, only difference this time would have been my reluctance to feast off my prey.

I remember, hours later only, discovering a hive of unnatural trees, all sharing similarities. Inside them were herds of humans, all forming one grand tribe. They didn't possess the hate the kid bore to me, instead it was fear; there was a slighlty wrinkled lady, running at me when she saw the blood hanging on my hands. She, too, screamed, but unlike the other one, it saddened me. Were screams spells? Surely not. I left after that, figuring out staying here would only bring me troubles.

I remember every first time: the first time I touched snow, deciding to climb the moutain from which it came in hopes of seeing how such a thing was made. There was no answer atop. The first time I touched sand, wondering wether it was dried tears. The first time I saw stars. It was inside a cave full of wooden structures - from thereon centuries had passed, and still I did not interact with humans, but I knew it was their making - near the end of the man-made cave were piles and piles of sparkles of dead stars, I wondered what their use was. The first time I wondered what hidden treasures the sea jealously guarded. I had let water engulf me, drowning me to its hide. It started to hurt at some point, so I decided to stop.

I remember when I first learned I was different. My travels landed my in some village in the middle of a grassland. They were different from the last ones. Maybe it was because I lost myself so far that they were so pale compared to the others, maybe it was also because I was so far from my green gems that they did not hate me. Instead they taught me how to live. I learned their language, embraced their customs, hunted alongside them, but I did not die alongside them. I never died alongside them. So I left.

I remember how many times the processus was undergone, rinse and repeat. For each hamlet I settled in, I was taught new concepts. That way, I learned of philosophy and its intricacies; mathematics and its never-ending questions, always asking more, striving for a more precise answer, one that could bring humanity's prospects to greater heights; the fine lines of morality, the right one not always being the good one, and that an action could not only be judged by its outcome, but also by its intention and making. Of all the things I learned and understood, one still eluded me: love. How can one love something destined to die? Must I end my life after their passing, or continue and find another soulmate? But then, do I really respect them, do I not tarnish their love for me by not mourning their death? But how can I live an eternity of mourning, is this the price for love? Maybe it's my punishment for letting the green gems fade to charcoal. After the forty-second hamlet, there was nothing for me to learn anymore. So I left.

But I met her. Already it becomes difficult to remember the warmth of her voice, the longing in her eyes, the selflesness flowing out of her laugh. Why? Out of everything, why must my memories of the time spent with her fade away? I first met her in the summit of a moutain, in the Himalayas, I think. She hadn't awakened yet, but Will coated her from the cold and lack of air. However there was another nature to that Will, one that ate her away, as if not meant to protect her. At the beginning it was simple curiosity, what kind of business did such a woman had to be there, and how was she surrounded with Will without knowing of its existence, did she know someone of importance? It was the second time I met her that our fates intertwined, or maybe had it already intertwined the first time? It was in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, I had decided to dive one last time to uncover the treasures the sea kept away from me. The sky had turned black and a cloud had surged out of the water with force, in it were two people: her and a god. He was about to kill her, and, out of reflex, I protected her, putting an end to his life. After that I could finally talk with her, but everything happened so fast... without realizing, months had gone by, bringing the inevitable closer. And died she did. Her legacy a golden wreath painted with purple gems, a gift of love the siblings stole from her.

As for my name? I was born without one. That is why it makes it all the more painful. For my centuries of wandering across the round globe, she named me Limbo. The soul that can neither reach Heaven nor descend to Hell, condemned to a never ending search, no rest accorded to my mind, an endless labor I must carry on.

Now that she is gone, the constant pressure is the only reminder I'm still alive.

My name is Limbo.