“In his final moments, when the time was slipping away with his every breath,” he said. “That warrior from the far north-west had said the truth. He lied in that field of grass that shined with the morning dew, exhaling some of his final breaths, looking into my eyes with kindness when Wisdom had revealed itself to him. ‘They were my own thoughts, that defeated me, made me run from my brothers, kill my brothers . . . for my life, and enslaved me under that brutal master. And when I killed him, I was certain I was set free from chains’—he smiled to his own words—‘It is only one’s emotions—for me, my haterade—that binds us, enslaves our minds with its heavy chains. It doesn’t go away, and rules us until we have learned to handle it. You keep holding that burden until it has reached its limits, and so this malaise is manifested, and there’s no mercy for what has happened. Then people die. No heavens would bestow their lights over us until we have learned to handle it.”

Mary kept her silence.

“How strange are these memories, Mother,” William said to his mother. “Recalling— and re-living this incident—though against my wish—as I narrated it to you, you finally forced my mind to reveal the last of the memories I had no record of. My beloved Perrie, my lovely little white fox.”

And he went quiet, reminiscing over the events with cold expressions over him. The recorder had stopped, the cassette was completed, and the metal box holding it stood on the table between them, waiting for William.

“What do you think of?” Mary broke the silence.

“Memories, mother,” he answered. “How fascinating are they, and how strange they work. It amuses me, realising how our memories define, after all, what we are now. How our life experiences are so limited only to the memories we possess. Our life, and past, stays limited to the memories we possess. And it is with fear—for a being’s memories are very fragile to manipulate or tamper with—that I realise, knowledge of the world, and people and existence is not even in question, for we know very less of our own lives. What else might these memories be hiding from me, mother?”

“In the cave that we reached, finding our way through the higher illusion, the branch of leylines, the tree of life, had embraced you with their memories, son. Memories can not hide anything any more, unless you are not willing to accept them.”

“The leylines,” he said in a low tone. “I suppose that is why I get such dreams, such horrid at times, strange most times dreams of myself.”

“What do your dreams show to you, that you must hold such haterade toward them?”

“When the star fell from the sky, the young prince chased his horse, tailing its trail. The star took him to a lake in his own kingdom he had never seen, or heard of before. That is where he met the silver-white haired lady in the white, as if emerging from the shining waters. Those were the images, carved on the sealing, when I opened my eyes for the very first time. She stood over me with him and he held a girl-child, controlling the happiness of their first son.

“Then the kingdom fell. The crown, the throne was tainted with blood, and the castle engulfed in flames. You held me tight in the arms, and the other person held Maya, as the group covered in dark cloth made their way out of the burning nation. Am I wrong if I say, we are from the House Of Scythia?”

His words disturbed her energies and she had to stand and press her arms against her belly to calm them down. Horror filled her eyes when she said. “What— how— you,” she breathed. “How do you— You are not supposed to know that. You were merely three weeks old.”

“I dreamt of it, mother,” tears filled his eyes as he smiled. “I finally saw the memory of our blood connection, Mother. O’ how strong, beautiful, peaceful this word is—Mother.”

But Mary did not share his pleasure, for her mind questioned what had become of her son. “What else do you see in your dreams, dear William?”

William calmed himself, then said, “I saw the shining lights, I saw people shouting and charging ahead under my name’s flag, the same throne tainted with the blood stains, the rebellion. I see us in a sand-coloured clothing, and a girl guiding me through the long canyon as we made sure sun shall not cast its shadow on us. I see a group . . . and the most horrifying of them all, I see blood on my hands, and you stood in front of me, terrified of me.”

~~

“How is it for humans?” William asked while they had changed into a new pair of flowy, travelling clothes. Some days after the old man had passed away, and more of such strange outlanders were seen in the town, it was time they leave this town for good. For the lady’s safety. “For humans, does this haterade ever go away?”

The lady, standing on the exit of the town, took him in a tight hug. “You are very much of a human as I am, my dear son.”

“I fear I have learned to hate, dear mother.”

The lady caressed William. “And I believe you will, very soon, learn to handle it, and overcome it and will grow. We all hate, my dear child. Every-one hates something, but we find that one reason to keep such emotion of doom aside, and look at the brighter side of it. That is how we continue to grow, to live.”

Mary took the lady in her arms for the one final time, expressing her gratitude for sheltering them for such an extended time. Sheltering them without a shadow of doubt, even after the news of the massive attack on the Lydian capital and the rumours of involvement of the otherworldly beings—one with those peculiar hairs—in it.

They moved ahead after the bitter-sweet farewell.

In the following town, William visited the local tavern and asked about the group called Dwellers. The bartender replied with his confused face, ‘I see many travellers, but never heard of this group before. But in the southern parts of Assyrian lands, not toward the Thena’s side but the Babylonia’s south, there’s a trade route which could help you with it.’

William bowed and paid for the information, and the two moved ahead.

But the so-called barbarians were spotted and confronted. William tried to avoid but the Lydia’s king had asked for William, dead or alive. Yet again, he had to get involved in a battle which the town would never forget for their generations. The bloodbath it was for the soldiers.

‘He can’t be human!’ shouted the men who watched this fight in horror, seeing a sole man with his unusual hair, standing between the fallen bodies of many men. Mary saw with horror in her son’s eyes as she recalled the dreams her son had shared.

“Let’s go mother, we can’t stay in this town any more.”

“They will keep tailing us, where will we go?”

“We will return home.”

**** **** ****