Entwined in This Infinity

5. Dreams - Elm

“I’ve got a story to tell you, cousin.”

“What kind of story?”

“I dunno. I had a dream and I can’t remember it that well, so I thought telling you would make it all come together.”

“O-okay . . . as long as it isn’t scary.”

“You’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Okay.”

“Ahem:

“There’s someone up in the stars. It’s a woman. Her name is Maylyal, and she has been there for so, so long. There’s no one up there with her, just the black nothing of space and the others stars. But they aren’t creatures like she is, who can think and feel, they’re just billiard balls floating in space. They’re not even dead souls, they’re just objects. She knows a dead soul when she sees one. She’s seen plenty.

“In the sea of billiards, suddenly there is a supernova. It’s not from any cue balls spinning out of energy or an eight ball being sunk to the wrong corner pocket. No, it’s from a being, a being just like her, and he is bright and awful – awful in the old sense, of being so brilliant even looking at him will fill you with awe, though I suppose he is also awful in the new sense as well.

“He is strong, stronger than Maylyal, but he is dying now, so it doesn’t matter anymore. His death is so bright that it bleaches the space around it for octillions of light years. Have you ever seen an old Polaroid faded with age so it’s nearly white, cousin? That’s how it looks, just this bright spot standing out in the black. It is so bright that Maylyal’s pupils are stained white, all thirty-seven of them.”

“Thirty-seven? I thought she was . . .”

“Well, of course she’s not human. She lives in the stars. She is as un-human as a being can get, with wings sprouting from wrists that branch off into three different hands, and teeth that form a maze of interlocking cages that she keeps dead souls in, and—”

“Stop, stop, stop! She’s scary! You told me that you wouldn’t tell me a scary story. You p-promised.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d find her that scary. Really, she’s beautiful.

“And she’s powerful. Maybe not as powerful as the being that bleached space white, but she is his keeper now since he’s dead. She is not Death – no one knows who or what or where Death is, if it’s a being at all – she’s just a warden for the dead, and that bright, awful being is dead now.

“‘Did you see how I died?’ he asks Maylyal. He can’t see his handiwork himself, for the dead are blind.

“‘I did,’ Maylyal replies simply. She’s not very talkative because she’s never had any reason to be.

“‘Was it brilliant?’ he asks.

“‘There is not glory in destroying the universe. Try to change it next time, and then you may impress me.’ Her voice is terrifying. Deep, humming, shaking the bones of thousands of surrounding galaxies.

“And you know what he learned, cousin?”

“What?”

“Nothing.

“Maylyal swallowed his soul, and he slept in the cage of one her teeth, and he dreamed that when he lived again, the supernova of his next death would kill her.

“‘That will impress her,’ he thought.”