We Stand in Moonlight

We walked around the castle’s defences again. The moon is full tonight and she is stronger than me. As we walk, the guards stare at us, probably wondering which one of us they watch. No one approaches us; they never do. We stand and watch the moon rise over the tallest tree that was planted generations ago. Soon, the moon will reach its highest point. We wait; she wants to see the castle’s lands by silver light and I have neither energy nor inclination to resist her. I do resist sometimes, usually out of anger but sometimes out of fear. Sometimes, the guards don’t even look at us, unsure of which one of us we are or of interrupting us. Sometimes, people even fear to approach us during the day, not even waiting until moonrise to wonder. I do not understand how they can make such a mistake; we act differently and dress differently – something that used to result in a fight, but I have since learned to pick the battles to expend energy on – and her eyes are silver. Even when we wear my clothing and the sun shines, our eyes give us away.

As we stand, I can feel her presence; now, she is soft and quiet inside of me. She is like a hum that grows every stronger with the moon. Soon, she will deafen me, drown out my own thoughts. Fortunately, I only ever feel her that strongly during the waxing moon. As we wait I wonder what it must feel like for her. I wonder if she feels my thoughts as I feel hers? My emotions? She is so calm, so quiet most nights, that I can almost remember a time when we were not “we.” Once I was alone. I remember I was alone and that there was no hum, but that was years ago, when Mother was still alive and Father was the lord. Dorian does not talk about what happened to us all those years ago; there was an illness, a fever and mother died. I know Father changed after her death. I know he grew scared and tried to save us, my twin and me. I remember the moon and sun shone together that day, bright and a strange cross between silver and gold. Then I heard a song, at least I thought it was a song, and I wasn’t alone any more. I became We. Her. Azkadelia.

The moon is over the castle wall now and is nearly over us directly. She is content now. She is strong again and I just listen to her. We move now; she moves now. We walk to the centre of the northern wall and wait. In a moment we will begin to sing, but, for now, I still think, remember that first song. It was soothing, like a lullaby. She sang no words; without a body, I am not sure if she could have. Perhaps I would have heard them in my head anyway if she had, like I do now if she needs to tell me something. I knew the words anyway; Mother worshiped the Old Gods, so we – my brothers and I – were all taught the old prayers and songs. The song is a benediction. I wasn’t sure what that word truly meant then, only that it was for protection. Now I know it is a plea and a promise; now, through me, she fulfils that promise if she can. We fulfil that promise. She hums louder now, so I hums back her song. Soon, we will sing:

Moonlight, oh moonlight,

Shining, shining so bright,

Grant to me this wish tonight:

For all who look upon your glow,

For all who call your name below,

Guard them. Guide them. Protect them and Hide them.

Tonight, that benediction will protect that castle and it’s lands, hiding it and us from the Darkness that the moon illuminates. That is why she needs me; I can sing. I can give voice to her power and make her light shine through my body. She saved my life that all those years ago so we could stand together. We are separate, but we are one. And we are feared, loved and worshipped. That scares me, but I think now, after so many years, I would fear the quiet more. I have grown too used to her and her humming; it is not Her that I fear but the power that we exert. With her, I can heal the sick, guide the lost and shroud those in danger. I can hear them tonight, praying to us. We can’t save them all; I am still human for all that I am immortal – a living Goddess or at the least an Avatar of one. I must choose how to use her power after I hide us. What if I make a mistake? She hums louder within me; I do not know if she heard me or if she is gathering her power or both. She often ignores me now in preparation for the benediction. That also angers me, but we have duties to perform.

Now, the moon is nearly in place directly above us. My elder brother joins us. He will collect me after the songs are sung and heard and will take us inside to rest. It will take me several nights to fully recover, and I am glad we only sing to guide tonight. It takes more of my energy to hide and protect, but more people need Her guidance so it is more draining at once on the fullest moon of the month. There are so many people that are lost; their minds see their path as shrouded in darkness and we must lift that darkness. Or, rather, we shine a silver light to cut through the darkness and illuminate the path. Or paths. She tells me that some people have more than one; sometimes, both are equal and sometimes one will lead to pain, but that is not for us to decide. We can just guide. I try to let the happier path glow brighter. We guide, but we must also protect them, even from their own paths, if we can, I say. She has not stopped me yet. Sometimes I wonder if I ever had another path, but mine was chosen when I first heard her song. It does neither of us good to dwell on the past.

Only a moment left now; I’ve gotten good at learning when the moon is in position. With a nod I send the guards away; they never stay to watch. The moonlight is silver now, an odd kind of liquid silver pouring around us. We stand, waiting. I breeze begins to blow softly, caressing our skin and making our hair and gown dance in the light. I try to clear my mind; she will need it now. I wait. I prepare myself as best I can for the fear, the confusion, for the darkness itself. She reminds me that I am stronger than the darkness. I cannot fight it like my brother can, but I can banish it, even temporarily. We breathe; in and out, in and out. Her humming is deafening now. We stand on the castle wall, tall and tense in the cold night air. We are as silver-white as the moon for above us it reflects in our sky-dark hair. We are one, we are Her. We are Azkadelia and the Moon waits for its Goddess to sing. We are waiting; we are ready.

Finally we hear it; the cries on the wind, carried to us by the silver light and we sing.