Ashiya’s Song

There was a moment of sharp pain and then numbness. The world surrounding me became a dark, featureless emptiness.

I knew then that I was dead.

I knew the tales of the restless dead who refused to leave the mortal lands. I have fought the diseased spirits who prey on others to feed their own existence. I have met the spirits who support the Valarian cause. Never did I think that I would be joining their ranks so soon.

Yet, for all that are reported to exist within the spirit realms, I was alone. In my loneliness, I could feel the nothingness of the Void pulling at my spirit, yet I knew that it could not quickly conquer me. As a Valarian, I had met too many who had faced the same trial and had emerged victorious. I resolved to do the same.

My anger, my fears, my ambitions, my dreams; these all joined give me the strength to resist the Void, if only for a while, yet I also knew that I lacked the power to sustain myself within the spirit planes and the lore to manifest myself upon the material plane. I knew I would need the aid of a shaman to cross, yet I also knew that the only shaman who could aid me was herself in durance and unable to assist me. The hopelessness that ultimately leads to the Void began to claim me.

And then, a timeless moment after, a voice called to me. I cannot claim that it was the Mother of All Things Herself who called me, yet I heard in that voice the combined sorrows of all mothers who mourn their children lost before their time, a voice that named my secret name that no one had spoken aloud since the moment of my birth, a name that none other would know.

I followed that voice, hoping beyond hope that assistance would follow, and I manifested in a temple of the Silver Lady, to appear before the others who had companioned me, the ones I befriended and protected as best as I was able. I heard the echoes of the ritual words, asking three times if the price will be paid, and I heard the replies of Sherri and Robert Smith agreeing to pay the price, no matter what its cost.

I heard the priestess pronounce the ritual words, saw her pointing at the still figure lying on the altar.

I saw the air about the figure glow with a silver light, a light that beckoned me closer, closer and closer, until at last spirit and flesh touched.

I felt the pain of rebirth, a greater pain than that of death.

I opened my eyes; I heard the cries of wonder and praise from my friends and companions, saw the welcoming smiles on their weary and haggard faces, felt the familiar rasp of breath as it filled my lungs again.

I was alive.