I was dreaming - for once, I knew this as clearly as my own name. Except, I wasn't who I had always been, was I? The name Kithrim surfaced within my being, a name that seemed so very familiar. And Auria. Who...? 1
Kithrim, came a voice. It was a strange voice, comforting and somehow disturbing; it was so alien, and so very dear to me. Suddenly, I took notice of my surroundings, or rather, they were revealed to me in that odd way that dreams sometimes did. 2
It was an odd room, a place I had never seen, but, like so much of this dream, it was familiar. It was fairly small, but not cramped. A large fireplace glowed a dull, rusty hue; the coals were nearly dead. There was little else I could see, save for the spacious bed she sat upon. An empty feeling resonated throughout the chamber: something dreadfully important was missing.3
Kithrim, the voice called again, and she turned eagerly about, looking for the source of the sound. It's time, Kithrim. You must remember now. Remember what? And now I could see the voice's owner. A large badger sat beside me, staring at me with glittering black eyes. 4
"Stanier," I cried, delighted to see my Spirit Form. It had been so long. Eagerly, I turned to scoop him up into my arms, and nuzzled him lovingly. "How I missed you! That's right... I was Sorrow for a while, wasn't I? It's good to be Kithrim again." Sorrow was English for Dierdre, my name for the last seventeen years of my life.5
It has been a long time. A full three years longer than I expected, Stanier sighed. But we're here now. Carefully, though; the hard part is yet to come. When you wake, you must know that this was not just a dream, and you must remember yourself. Do you understand?6
I nodded; of course I understood. 7
You have to wake now. When you do, I will be there. Remember, he added with a sort of snuffly badger kiss. But I might not be a badger. I could feel the pull of reality upon me.8
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I woke, and shivered in the piecing cold that seemed to emanate menacingly from the white tile floors, the pale green walls, the roughly textured plaster of the ceiling. Not wanting to get up just yet, I snuggled back under the covers, not yet aware that something had changed. I had somehow slipped out of the emerald-green comforter, and it was so very soft, and wonderfully warm. 10
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I shrieked, falling out of the bed, and fumbled away from whatever had so startled me. Now, do you remember me, or shall I have to sit on you? No, I didn't really remember him; the memory shrank and fled from me, evading my efforts to claim it. But I knew, instinctively, that I had no reason to be afraid.
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Orange cat eyes watched, unblinking, from the bed. St - sr - Sethra? Stell.... No, definitely not. I shook my head unconsciously, confused. I knew this name, as well as I knew my own. But then, I thought with a hollow little chuckle, how well did I know my own name? I wasn't Deirdre anymore. Now I was someone else.13
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Who am I? Who am I? I was really beginning to be upset now, terrified of not knowing, not understanding. It was maddening, to see the answer behind a glassen wall, to feel it with all your being, and yet to beunable to reach it. Relax, you're trying too hard, Stanier instructed.15
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"Stanier!"I cried suddenly. The name had come to me the moment I had stopped looking for it. At once quite aware of the icy tile beneath my unclad legs, I shivered, and returned to my bed. "You're fuzzy," I informed him. And he was: his long, luxurious, white fur was soft, but it stuck out in what seemed to be every direction. A wonder of snowy down, as soft as the spring rains; and yet, it needed a good brushing. "How I missed you!"17
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You did not, my spirit form chided contentedly. He rubbed his furry head against my knuckles, purring loudly.19
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I gasped - not in response to him, of course, but because it had finally come to me. "I remember," I said gleefully. "I know who I am! And Auria...." A shuddered wracked me, barely remembered anguish tormented me. "Auria is't... she's human..." 21
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Yes, but there have been witches who loved humans before, Stanier said encouragingly. Look at Melid, that man who found himself in love with a human girl. Look at Sorriel, at Aster. I'm not sure exactly when the tears started, but they surely ran faster when he listed that last name. I wailed in distress. Now what is it, he demanded crossly, annoyed that his efforts were failing.23
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"Aster and David destroyed themselves!" It had been because of Aster's love for David that she had lost her love for life, growing weary and forlorn until she could not, and would not, stand it. Her human lover had followed. Hers had been a terrible death, too. Beng a witch, there were very few ways to ensure that one wouldn't be reborn. One way was to drown oneself in holy water. The other way was to throw onesself into a fire of one's own making. As a bath of holy water was rather harder to procure, the heartbroken witch had chosen fire.25
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I had even been there, I could recall, when she wove the fire. She'd made it from the fire energy that radiated from the sun, grasping it in impatient fingers whilst she told me what she was going to do with it. Of course, she had lied. Supposedly, she wanted to experiment with something, and I never thought to ask what.27
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"What's going to become of Auria and I?" And, now that I thought of it, was there even hope for future lives? What if she was never born as a witch again? It never even occurred to me to abandon her. It never occurred to me to forget her.29
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For, though she did not remember me, I am a witch. We don't forget.31
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