No matter how much I try to scream, nothing. My words and tears abandoned me. There's nothing but sand, silence, sickening cries that I was once responsible for. This dysfunctional system of a world that I caused. A million apologies I begged to give. Yet I cannot. Imagine, begging to say sorry. Destiny would laugh at me. I was once told,
"Trust in Destiny, believe in what she tells you."
What a joke.
I've seen six full moons leave me, walk past me, forget about me. I've disappointed them, and I'm incapable of pleading them to stay. Who knew a voice could give up on you so easy. It's quite pitiful. I'm pitiful. I was once loved by all, and I loved. My God, I loved so much it hurt. I still love. I can't let go, regardless of how heinous it was. I pray, love me again. Love me so much I can forget the pain I caused my people.
Every decamillennium, the Dragon's tear is bestowed to the purest priestess. Historical writings have recorded the bearers, but none explain it's nature. It was mine for 18 years, I never understood it. I'll never understand it now. I live as a dancer, roaming the sand, and entertaining as a means of survival. There's not much I can do without my voice. I communicate with sand. I haven't seen water in half a moon cycle. I've survived so far drinking cactus water, but I've lost as much blood as I've drunk water. I'm hazy. The men want me. I can't say no. I've lost my tears. I can't scream. I'm silent. Destiny falls silent. I struggle to keep my balance from desperation for water. I don't even know what hunger is any more. I don't care for it. The occasional splashes of water by men who hope to see more electrifies me. Not because they're men. I need water. I'm so thirsty I'd do anything. Ever since he took my voice. Explosions of nuclear power plants have caused the temperatures to increase rapidly. The state of the world is unbearable, and it's all my fault.
Breathing is stifling. Every breath of humid air cremates me. I miss the monastery. I'm not allowed to miss anything. I gave up that right when I let myself lose everything. The monastery was our oasis. Our salvation. Our love for this land that had been cultivated throughout since the origin. Now I wonder, aimlessly. I am wondering in hopes of reaching a bar gone under. The Great Restoration, lead by by him. Kallias Dimitreseu. I spent 8 years with him but never quite understood him. I never understood why I fell in love with him. Perhaps it was Destiny that fell in love with him, not me. He leads the Restoration army. He leads my heart. The beats of my deficient heart, 1…2…3, he commands them. I thought we were both unaware of our fate, but he knew. He always knew.
"You seem lost. May I interest you in your fortune, Missy?"
How long since someone spoke to me? I can't respond. I let out a failed attempt at a word and all I do is let out a pitiful breath.
"Missy?"
I trace the sand with my finger and hope he understands. I hope he's literate. This irrational excuse of civilisation, education was always sparse. The Restoration didn't need people after the development of technology and artificial intelligence. But it did need manual labour. Children, women, men. Whatever they could get. I only learnt to read and write at the monastery. There were only 3 of us there. Mother and Father taught us literacy. Brother taught us survival and history.
"Are you mute?"
He asks too many questions.
I look up to him and nod. Blue eyes clouded by a midnight sky. His hood covers the majority of his tanned face, and his hair barely gives way for his eyes. But I recognise those eyes. I know those eyes. What do I know them from?
"Have we met before?"
No. We haven't. I tilt my head in confusion.
"Your fortune?
I shake my head. I already know my fortune. I destroyed the world's fortune. Fortunes don't exist any more.
"Well then Missy, destiny tells anyway."
What do you mean destiny tells anyway? Wait. Why is he walking away. God, where are his eyes from? I need him. I can still sense his destiny. I sense revolution. But I can't see it. Please let me see his destiny.
"Lilac eyes? Your name is... Elayne. Elayne Atreus Kyrene... Is it not?"
He senses death from me. His ocean eyes reflect his soul. Empty, and only mirroring what he sees. I've only ever read about the ocean in the scriptures, but I'm drowning in his sorrow.