The Wolves of Gryning: Chapter 12
Chapter 12: The Ballad of Siljna
Now understand when I tell you that the land as we know it has existed far longer than even the wolves. It has seen the forming of dark seas, and the thrust upward of land. And with land came bright spring green. It came first tentative and slow, then all at once shooting up to the sky, which still bore the light and dusty shine of morning. Before then, reality and time both lose shape. Before even that, you have only the Flame.
This is the history according to the wolves. Our world has many origin stories, every one of them true - or, possessing a grain of truth, they have evolved into something more. My kind, the foxes, speak of the Flame much as the wolves do; but our fables speak of a cyclical world, that has ended and been reborn a thousand times over, guided always by the Flame; nor do we discount the presence of the other gods, or the ancient powers. The deer in Brand revere Cellha, the Blessed Moon, and a host of gods and spirits in the realm of the unseen. The skunks in the South believe in one god. Their ancient deity is named Akalesh, and he keeps a limbo where the souls of the fallen tarry until the end of days; and when the name of Akalesh is forgotten upon the face of the world, they believe he will return and destroy all beasts. The desert rats in Tern preach the Untish wisdom, which believes in the unity and eternity of all things, connected by spirit and bound in eternal consciousness. But this way of thinking originates across the Wide Sea, in a distant land of other beasts, and few of their kind ever travel here, much as few of ours ever go there.
Surely you have some understanding of these fables. And while each in turn is worth studying, it is the wolves that we speak of now, for their fables have much of the real truth in them. Let us imagine, then, that we are like they; and that every word is true.
The Flame was and is and ever shall be. It resides within all of us; yet it is all of us. All things belong to the Flame and all things are bound by it. But it burned even before that. It lit all things and it was all things, and so passed the First Epoch of Flame.
And so it was that the Flame, ever lighting the way before it, came upon stone. It stepped out upon the surface of the stone. There was a burst of light as the Flame illuminated the world around it. No beasts, but oceans and streams ran abundantly across the world's surface. They fueled those first spring greens, and they caught the light of the Flame and refracted it upwards into a band of color that shone across the sky. As the Flame brought another foot to the stone it felt a part of itself separating from the rest. That part was what stood upon the world, and it had two legs to hold it up. It beheld for the first time its own arms, and it looked like the form or outline of any common beast. Yet it glowed, still burning with that power of everything. And it felt itself first become flesh. The part of Flame trembled then, and it understood the duality of its own nature. Flame gives life, and comfort, and warmth; yet also it brings sorrow, pain, and burning. And the absence of Flame was Shadow, which was death. But the part of Flame understood that even Shadow was a part of it, just as it was a part of Shadow, and they were all one and the same. Bound by the same power, linked irrevocably. And the part of Flame beheld a part of Shadow standing on the same piece of stone, and they saw now they were in a basin of stone. The forests and seas had become many miles away.
They were the first wolves, and their forms became solid, ceasing to glow. They saw themselves in the flesh and understood how beautiful it was to live, how terrible it was to die, and how both were the same. They felt the weight of eternity, and the beginning of time; it was so great upon their young shoulders that both began to weep. Their tears filled the stone basin little by little. But the basin seemed to grow bigger and bigger around them even as it filled more and more. The world, like all things, was still growing, and things like stone and soil were not yet fixed in place. They could bend and mold and grow, and they spread till they'd fully formed the lands. A thousand thousand years the world continued to grow and the wolves continued to cry. And when finally they stopped they saw that their tears had filled the basin to the rim. It had become a small sea, and a narrow inlet connected it to the body of water that would become the Hatskav. From that day forth it has always been known as the Bay of Tears, and sunsets glitter with fire and shadow in each of its waves.
The two wolves understood each other as though they shared a mind. He was Valenthi, messenger of Flame, and she was Siljna, mantle of Shadow. And they both, understanding each other as they knew themselves, felt the tug of love immediately upon their hearts. But everything in the universe, being real for the first time, came as a great shock. Such was their shock that the two wolves felt that love inside themselves thrumming immensely through their veins. It was as though their hearts would burst. Daily their love increased, and the immensity of that love has never been matched. But they knew nothing of how to love, or its consequences - as no beast knows at birth. So they were shocked for a second time when Siljna bore their first pup.
But the pup had been born still, and without breath. For the first time in Siljna's life she had seen death with her own eyes. Being the mantle of Shadow, she had always known death and understood it; but to witness it was something else. And again she wept. She called upon every power of darkness to restore life to the pup, willing it not to be dead. But no power of death can restore life. The pup came back not as it had been but as a deep and loathsome thing, and it was Death embodied. Its hide itched and creeped across its flesh, and where eyes should be were nothing but empty holes. The thing could not enter the mortal world, but its soul had been pulled from the Twilit Forest, where all souls wander in half-light forever.
Siljna was frightened by what she'd done, and did not want Valenthi to know. She set their nameless firstborn in a chamber, the Twilit Forest just beyond. There it waited, crouching atop a tomb. They say it still guards the way and that all souls must one day face that hideous thing that is Death.
Valenthi knew nothing of what had happened, but he knew his firstborn had died. It troubled him. But in the time since the First Epoch of Flame, as his mind had begun to shape and form, he had forgotten the truth of Death. His power was Light and Life, and he possessed not the connection that his beloved did. He wept once for their lost pup, and in a terrible fury he struck the ground with both his palms. The stones that he struck broke apart from the mainland, separating into the sea, and thus the Fractured Isle was born.
Embittered by sorrow, Siljna often wished that she could forget like Valenthi had. And by forgetting, cease to suffer. But she could no more renounce her connection to Shadow than she could renounce herself, for the two were one and the same.
They still loved each other. That had not changed, though one could no longer understand the other. And the passage of time brought them another pup. With their first surviving pup ends the Second Epoch of Flame. The Third Epoch would be one for living beasts. More and more children were born unto the world, and eventually even they began to multiply. Across the seas, wolves began to meet other beasts that were not of their own. And so Valenthi and Siljna understood that Flame and Shadow had manifested elsewhere, in other forms, to create all the beasts of the world.
They lived a long time, being the first, and witnessed the deaths of many beasts. For each lost soul Siljna wept mightily. They were all her children, and she watched them filling up the Twilit Forest. Never once did Valenthi understand like she did, and over another thousand thousand years she grew to resent him. She resented that he could laugh, and that he could smile. She herself had not smiled for so long she thought she'd forgotten how.
"Look!" Valenthi would say, pointing to the pups running and playing in busy villages. "Look how our children live! They live and they prosper, every one."
Always she would think of the others who had perished, and all she could do then was cry.
"Yes, they live, and yes they prosper. And yet none of them is spared in the end," Siljna replied.
So a time came that Siljna, though she still loved Valenthi, could bear to live with him no longer. She left him in the night and fled to the mountains in the Rim of the World. Valenthi, left alone, was angry. He loved her dearly, and could not believe she would abandon him. What right did she have to desert their life together? He was the messenger of Flame, and would never understand Death like she did - and did that make him evil?
In a rage he struck the ground with his palm, and a hilt of stone emerged fully formed into his hand. He spoke a word in the Ancient Tongue, that true speech long forgotten, and a fiery blade burst forth from the hilt. Then Valenthi lifted the weapon and struck once more the stones of the world. A mighty fortress leapt forth this time, a stone and marble hall. Its name was Gryning, which meant Dawn.
In the halls of Gryning he roamed alone. It was a holy place and his presence sanctified it. Other wolves appeared at its gates and begged entry, and before long the place was bustling. Servants waited on him hand and foot. Valenthi in his wisdom knew to share his power, and he taught beasts how to make medicines and how to treat the ill. His power was Life, and though he carried a sword he would fight no battles. He did settle some disputes, though typically with words first. And his presence alone was enough to keep the fortress safe, for every beast feared what skill he might secretly possess with the blade. He was the first king of Gryning, and with kindness he ruled. The beasts followed his lead, and the first branches of the Order began to appear, dedicated to worshipping the Flame, and their god-king. Valenthi was respected and loved by the wolves, but for all his company he was lonely. Siljna had been his love and her absence made him weary. Alone, he lived in Gryning for many thousands of years. It became so that he longed to die himself, but death would never come for him. Flame burned within him and brought him endless life.
Siljna too lived alone. She wandered the kingdoms, and never stayed long where she went. Those beasts she met no longer recognized her, and she stopped using her name. It became so that she forgot what she was called and no longer thought of herself as anything. But Siljna found some company in the homes of others who would give her shelter and food. Many of those beasts had sick or ailing family; there was little she could do to repay their kindliness, for she was unable to heal. After she left, many beasts found that those suffering had died of a sudden, and peacefully. It was the only kindness she could offer, but it made her feel sick to kill her children, such that she wished she too were not alive.
The only emotion stronger was her rage, directed at Valenthi. How could he know nothing of his children's suffering? How did he not cry out every night, so loud that she'd hear it across the heavens?
And so an anguished Siljna traveled to Gryning. She thought, When he faces his own death, he will understand. If that is what it takes I will do it. Though I have not seen him for many thousands of years, I will bring death to the one I love.
On the day she arrived, Valenthi was overjoyed. He had heard that Siljna had arrived, and he did not wait for her to come to his throne. He leapt to his feet and ran through the halls to find her. Then he flung himself upon the stones and wept, kissing the tops of her feet. Siljna endured all of this for a moment, then took Valenthi's sword from the scabbard on his waist.
"Sil? What need have you of that?"
They were the first words he'd said to her in all this time. She made her reply in motion, and thrust the fiery sword through Valenthi's heart. He grunted, but the pain he felt came not from his wound. Flame dripped from out of his veins and forced the blade out, then the wound closed on its own. Siljna burst into tears and dropped to her knees, clutching the blade again.
"What are you trying to do?" he said.
She choked on her tears and stood, holding the blade between them. Then she turned and offered it to him.
"Kill me, then," she said. "Do it now, I beg! If you cannot die then I must. I will suffer this no longer. I cannot bear it! Oh, if you love me - if ever you loved me - then do it now. Do it now, kill me!"
But he stepped around the weapon and took her in his arms. He stroked her back and soothed her and her tears slowed.
"You mustn't talk like this," he said. "There's no need to suffer anymore."
"You'll never understand," she said; and those were her last words. With Valenthi still holding her, she plunged the sword through them both. Death and darkness welcomed her as they would not welcome him. Valenthi found himself on the ground pinned to her corpse, and Siljna was no more.
For the next year, Valenthi spent his days and nights in his chamber weeping. She had been wrapped in orange silks and perfumed, preserved, made ready for burial. Instead he had taken her with him into those private rooms. Even his most devoted servants saw him little, bringing food to his door. But he would not take it until they had left. He would take none of it at all in the first month after.
Then one day, precisely a year after her death, Valenthi took her from the fortress. Her small still form accompanied him through the woods and forests, past the Bay of Tears, to the hills. Deep in the country he built her a tomb, huge and heavy, and laid her body to rest in that darkness, betwixt stones. Above her he placed his sword, the instrument that had taken her life, and sealed the tomb off. They say that the fire of his blade still glows, but no one has ever found the tomb, and with Siljna it rests.
Little happened after that. Valenthi went to Gryning and appointed a successor. The chosen wolf was Queen Shuul, who ruled twenty years and died. After Shuul died, the throne was possessed by her mate, the King Senthis. But with no task left among the living, Valenthi departed from Gryning and journeyed North to the Moljna Plateau.
With Valenthi gone, the members of the Order scattered from Gryning. A number remained there and the others, lost pilgrims, travelled the lands. They wandered for many years before settling on the Fractured Isle, setting up their Grand Cathedral in the city of Himmel. There they have remained, and it has been the center of their activity ever since.
No beast had trod upon the Moljna Plateau before Valenthi arrived, and little is known of what happened when he ascended to the top. Most believe that the heavens themselves parted, accepting him back into the Flame. Some believe he remains up there still, alone all these thousands of years.
And so the two lovers have been apart ever since; Valenthi wherever he may be, and Siljna in the depths of the Twilit Forest.