Chapter Text
Excerpt of the salvaged Chronicles of the Mistress of Rain
The Final excerpt
There is a house all the way on the top of the mountain, connecting its summit with a long and well-threaded trail to the base where another house stands. With the years, both the houses and the trail have been built and rebuild, adjusted to the newest technology and its aging owners.
The house on the bottom of the mountain is simple in its design yet functional. It is not like the pod-like houses in which humans nowadays prefer to reside, built in factories and stuck together from pieces at their destination. It’s still made from wood and stone carved by machines and put together by human hands.
Pat always called it a passion project. Every year he would have to retouch some of the aging materials, think of new ways to bring innovation, and choose to paint over what the sun or rain had damaged.
The house on the top is far more extravagate. It spans several floors and even buries itself into the mountain itself. The rooms are seemingly random and hallways never are where you expect them, windows show sights you find nowhere else. Its basement is older than the house, older than my brother and his lover who own it, older than all of us. It depicts the earth’s past and present, but also its future, all in one.
I find the roof the most beautiful, even though I’ve never been where it’s based upon. With thin carpeted walls, a glass rooftop, and a highly functional lay-out it reflects a home upon the Clouds, where a race called Phoenix once lived.
I climbed the path and its long trek up again yesterday. Recently it takes me longer, I easily get out of breath. Pat teased me I’m getting old, Pran scolded him and told him to look in the mirror first.
The grey patches of hair in between the dark brown fit my brother well. As do the laugh lines carving stories filled with happiness on his face. Pran is much the same, although his genes seem to spare him from greying. Although perhaps it could also be due to his heritage.
According to the stories of old, Phoenixes lived much longer than Humans. Now that everyone is equal and the same, it’s a blessing to still see winks of that past reflected in the present. It’s also a blessing to see them aged and still unconditionally in love.
Father left us too early, even in this new world, his body was still worn from the old. Many who once bore Trinkets that disappeared as if the rain washed it away left us too soon. Pat is an exception. We have received many blessings throughout the years like these.
It still baffles me even upon this day, of all the things we went through and everything that happened. They all seem just stories now, happened so long ago, but if there’s one thing, I’ve always been taught is that all the stories ring to be true. And I’ve lived this one, of course it really happened.
The war, the two races, the prophecy… The last stand that took all the magic from the world.
Well. Writing all the magic would be like lying to myself and to this journal. I know ma would disapprove. Not all the magic disappeared, not really, not yet, and maybe never.
Because I’m still alive, and I’m still young – younger than most.
Even with all the time that passed, all the memories that have faded, I still remember what happened back then like it was yesterday. After the reveal that the world was trapped in an eternal cycle, I both felt depressed and hopeful. After losing the love of my life hours after only just meeting her, and everything changing around us, I think the three of us knew we had to cling onto what remained.
We had to cling onto Ink. And I think that’s why we believed she hadn’t left us. She hadn’t died. And thank the Sea we never stopped believing. We knew that Ink would come back, but with the words of our parents echoing inside of our heads, we weren’t sure when.
What if she’d come back only in the world’s next cycle? What if she’d really left me?
At that time, I didn’t allow myself to think like that. I couldn’t. None of us did, and we kept searching, together. But time didn’t stop, the days still went on, and the reality was that we couldn’t stop living either.
We had to move into this new world while finding a place for the things we couldn’t forget from the old. Many evenings we ate dinner in silence those days, just processing what had happened. We lingered in memories and wondered if it was okay to continue like nothing had happened. If we were allowed to live and love just like all the other unknowing people in town.
Pat had it hardest with Father, who was convinced this was some whole new lie that we must bring to the light. The truth about the old world and the old magic. But Pat was right, what was the use of reminding people of wonders we had lost? Of a war that had raged the world and taken its possessions and turned some people into animals? Wasn’t it simply better to…
Forget.
A thing we could never.
And because we could not, we decided to go back to where it all started. Or, oh well, to where it all ended. A year after magic disappeared along with Ink, we took a boat back to the Island. It had reminded us of the trouble getting off it in the first place, how we had sent people to the land in the one lone boat we came with in the hope they’d return and pick everyone up. How our first challenge after the war had been getting many with severe insomnia to work together so they could get back to the mainland. How many of them had been injured, and yet none of them had died of their injures.
We’d silently agreed it had been the last mercy the old magic had given us. But then Pran said something as we arrived on the Island again that changed my whole world one more time.
Although unsure, he shared his theory that it was not the old magic that had aided their healing, but that it had been me. Little old me who had limited experience tending wounds from when Pat used to go on hunts. I had offered my services to all, because I wanted to be helpful.
As if my presence alone had made them survive.
It seemed like another nice story to hear, but… as I’ve always been taught…
All the stories are real.
We made use of the old camp we set up back then on the Island and had lunch on the beach. In the afternoon, we located a translucent blue lake in the centre of the forest. There we traded stories about the old days, that eternal silence finally broken. It was as if a dam broke lose.
It was freeing and fun, but also left me feeling deeply sad. I couldn’t help but wish that Ink was here. That I had been present in those stories. That I hadn’t…
Bereaved the world of its magic.
I left my brother and his lover for a reprise at the lake. I was crying, the tears falling into the water, and I felt so alone.
And then suddenly. I wasn’t alone anymore.
There are no right words to describe what happened. Even now, I still think my eyes betrayed me on that day. Those tears and the indents they left on the water, created a ripple around me. And then suddenly the water was moving, down, up, around me.
Before I knew it, two warm arms replaced the coldness. Ink hugged me so tightly as if she never wanted to let go. I know I didn’t want to either.
We haven’t let go since. Every moment since then, we’ve spent together. Years have passed but I still love her as much as I did then, or maybe, no. I love her more than back then. Every day I spent with the love of my life, my heart burns brighter with affection.
And I know that same affection is returned.
Ink came back to me, because I had missed and willed her to, she had come back. With those last remains of magic streaming through my body, it forced the world to hasten its cycle and bring the first mermaid back – only this time, she was just like me, fully human.
She was younger, gentler, smaller. It was like she’d been remade for me.
Just like I knew in that moment that I’d been remade for her.
As many times as the cycle continued, we’d always be made for each other.
Sometimes it feels like we share one heart, the way I am attuned to her. Sometimes I think it’s the magic Ink shared with me, binding us together for eternity. Sometimes I just accept things as they are and live my life as it is.
It’s a peaceful and loving life. There is no more beautiful thing out there.
Well, except Ink, of course. She is the most beautiful of all.
With my back to the mountain where my brother and his lover reside, I returned back home to our abide by the Sea. To the pull of the water that brought us back. It feels peaceful.
The excerpts of the Salvaged chronicles of the Mistress of Rain were found on top Doi Suthep, located nearby Chiang Mai but estimated to be from a civilisation much older. It is one of the only written materials found in the neighbourhood, and thus highly valuable to researchers. It’s seemingly written by one woman throughout her life, speaking of a fantastical journey with many ups and downs. It’s highly likely that, contractionary to its diary-like style, it is a piece of fiction.
Since its discovery, several media based upon it have been made, all of them entertaining a high appreciation by its viewers or readers. It shows us that the people who walked this earth before us dreamed much alike us, and that we can still find pleasure in their legends.