Falls

She had wandered the winding trails, following the song of the river, weighted down by revelation and a raw sense of betrayal. Lysandra felt as though she walked between places, treading in the footsteps of ghosts. A humming started in her chest, deep and low; a melody that matched the song of the softly rushing water, and grounded her firmly to the here-and-now. And still, even with the duet setting the bones of her ribcage to trembling, there was still an otherworldliness about this place. The mossy rocks, and the early morning mist curling in graceful wispy tendrils among the ferns… Never had the mare with the star-speckled hide walked this land. And yet she knew this area, and had walked beside this river in her dreams.

To some, rivers were largely unremarkable, with one being nearly indistinguishable from the next, barring drastic differences in terrain, or distinctly unique features. But to Lysandra? Never.

‘Just close your eyes, and see yourself there, Lysandra. The riverbed is narrow and it runs swiftly. Follow the bend and continue upstream. There is a reflection pool not far from the roaring of the falls. Can you hear them? Keep going, don’t stop. Up close, the water is all you can hear. Feel the spray upon your skin. Do not falter, and step through the veil. Behind the cascades is a cavern. Someone I once knew sheltered there for a time. The way he charged headlong into the downpour, I wondered if he wanted to drown. I never deigned to pass through the water, for fear of the deep darkness I believed was waiting on the other side. The gentle kiss of the mists was enough for me. One day you will stand there, Lysandra, and when you do, you will know what you need from the Falls. Water reveals many things, your mother taught me this. Go, child, and you will see…'

The breath stuttered in Lysandra’s throat, catching and holding fast as she stepped into the cascading water. The pool had been cold as she strode into it, lapping at her knees, up to her chest. It was soft and hard all at once, pounding a rhythm against her darkened hide, turning her numb. The dark cavern beyond beckoned, but Lysandra did not heed the call. Distantly she imagined a shadowy figure plunging through the water beside her, and with a start, she pulled herself back, plashing clumsily into the pool. Above the sound of the tumbling water, she heard a voice, but couldn’t make out the words. Heat on her cheeks, and she realised she was crying. All her life she’d been denied the truth, and she feared it was a thirst that would never be quenched.

Lysandra gulped in great mouthfuls of water, before a peculiar taste dragged her from her reverie. There was a bitterness in her mouth – was it from her tears? Or was it just the rise of emotion within her, leading her mind to play tricks, just as her father always had. A coldness began to seep into her bones, but she refused to leave the water just yet. It had been their mistake, Lysandra could see that now. Her father, and the one he’d spoken of, who’d lurked beyond the veil of rushing water. This realisation drew a mournful sigh from the mare who stood as a statue, inky mane plastered to her neck, forelock drooped sodden across her face. They hadn’t entered the water and remained, the way she did. No wonder they had been so sad. The water had never been given a chance to cleanse them.

But Lysandra would be cleansed. She’d linger as long as it took to wash the sins of her father away, and the sins of her father. Because with his dying breath, the stallion who’d been father to her as long as she’d lived had revoked his paternal claim on her. It had been a blessing, but it would be some time before Lysandra fully comprehended that. As far as she was concerned, he’d cast her to the wind, severing all her ties. There had been no truth for her to seek in her mother’s homeland, and Lysandra felt the pull of the islands from her ‘father’s’ stories, believing that a meaningful purpose awaited.

Shadows coalesced in her peripheral vision, a black figure with a shining silver crown. The breath hitched in her throat, and Lysandra felt pain bloom within her. She snapped her head about, ignoring the tremble in her legs as she took a shaky step towards the stallion. "Come into the water, Moonwalker," she called, her voice lilting above the melody of the falls, blinking as she struggled to focus. "I feel sick from the guilt you carried in your heart all your life. Help me," she begged, fresh tears spilling down her already wet cheeks. “The water, the water, it washes all corruption away.”

"…"