Book II Chapter 1 : WEIGHT OF THE WORLD
The room was dark and cold, but Arma had barely noticed. Using her foot, she kicked the dried-up husk of a cockroach aside and pulled out the small, scuffed-up bench. She seated herself and rested her large, strong hands over the keys of the old upright piano. The yellow of the aged ivory had been hidden by a film of dust, which Arma tried to wipe away with the front of her shirt.
“Sorry I haven’t been by in a while,” she apologized to the instrument. “It’s been pretty crazy lately."
Crazy didn’t come close to describing the recent events that had kept Arma from the forgotten school’s music room.
Arma was the leader of a team of Guardians; girls with magical abilities they used to battle demon-like creatures seeking the Mother, a goddess of the earth they were sworn to protect. Unfortunately, one of her team members had gone rogue and the goddess they were supposed to be guarding was nowhere to be found! Recently all that had changed with the Guardian of Thunder being chased all the way to the abandoned fairgrounds, where the local militia had made attempted to capture the Guardians. Had it not been for the Guardian of Earth, Terra Maya, the Mother, Arma was sure her team would have met a miserable end. She was grateful, but felt confused all the same.
Where had Terra Maya been all this time? How did an innocent girl like Iris get involved with the Thunder Guardian? Nothing made sense to Arma anymore.
Arma snickered. Not that anything has ever made sense.
Wriggling her hands to loosen her fingers, Arma eyed the keyboard up and down before taking a deep breath and pressing her fingertips to the keys. The piano groaned awake; it needed to be tuned, but Arma did not let that stop her. With great skill, her hands danced across the black and white notes as she instinctively played the only song she could play.
Although Arma’s recital was flawless, her repertoire was limited. Perhaps in the past she could play Mozart, Chopin, or even Billy Joel, but as had been the condition for all the Guardians, Arma had no memories from before the day she accepted her role as the Guardian of War. In fact, she was not sure Arma was even her real name. She couldn’t remember even a fragment of a memory of her own past.
No memories, except for this single piano piece.
Since becoming a Guardian, though, she had made plenty of new memories. She was a high school student who occasionally went to church. She was friends with a priest at the local cathedral, and she was well-liked by most of her classmates. Despite being female, Arma acted very much like a man, and everyone outside the Guardian circle treated her as though she’d been born male. Even she herself had forgotten what she was until the fateful day she came into contact with a man named Boniface…
Arma’s nose crinkled as she hit a sour note, her concentration breaking with the memory of the person who overpowered her in an alley one night. It had nearly broken her spirit completely. “I guess I’m a little rusty.
At the thought of Boniface, Arma found it difficult to smoothly return to her music. She struggled to keep her hands from shaking, her fingers clumsily slipping off the black keys and accidentally hitting the whites. She still had no idea who he was or whom he was working for, but she had a feeling Terra Maya would know, and she’d stayed up all night in anticipation of the morning brunch that had been arranged between the Guardians and their goddess.
At last, her questions would be answered.
Arma banged her fists into the keys, causing the piano to wail loudly. “Why can’t I finish this song!?”
The melody she played on the piano was her sole recollection of a time prior to her life as a Guardian, but it was an incomplete memory; Arma did not know how to play the full piece.
A soft voice entered the room. “I don’t know how you were even able to start it.”
Arma did not have to look behind her to know it was Lamia, the Guardian of Illusions. “You can’t sleep either, huh?”
“Not with all the anxiety in this place, no.” Lamia, dressed in a negligee with a robe thrown over her shoulders, walked over and sat down on the bench next to Arma. Though she was the Guardian of Illusions, her abilities were not light based but psychic; she projected images into the minds of her opponents, but also had the ability to pick up the brain waves of those around her. “I can’t always block people’s thoughts and dreams when I’m asleep. You wouldn’t think it, but that Vesta is a dirty, dirty girl.”
Lamia’s joke wasn’t enough to shake Arma out of her funk. “You can read people’s dreams?”
“Sometimes. Just bits and pieces, usually.”
Arma thought about all the strange dreams she’d had where a beautiful child who resembled a fairy would speak to her in riddles. “Ever seen a girl with silver hair and big brown eyes before?”
“As if I’d peer into your twisted fantasies!”
“She’s like six-years-old.”
“I did say twisted,” Lamia said with a shrug. “Never pegged you to be the cradle robbing type…”
I should never have asked. Shaking her head, Arma tried unsuccessfully to return her focus back to the piano.
“Dammit, now I’m forgetting parts I just played!”
Inhaling deeply, Lamia reached over and placed her small, white hands over Arma’s large, dark knuckles. Though confused by Lamia’s gesture, she remained silently focused on the piano. She closed her eyes and began to play again, with Lamia's pale fingertips riding her hands along the keys.
Lamia closed her eyes as well; though her mixed feelings for Arma often clashed wildly with each other, leaving her moody and standoffish whenever she was with her polar-opposite, Lamia was drawn to the lonesome piano tune. With each flick of Arma’s wrists bringing forth the rich melodies she’d often hummed to herself when she was alone, Lamia felt she would never tire of this song. Leaning into Arma’s shoulder, the golden-eyed illusionist sighed. This is my song.
Arma reached the abrupt end to the incomplete tune, and Lamia’s trance immediately lifted. She realized her nose was dangerously close to the redhead’s armpit and jerked her hands away from Arma’s and stood. “I know you’re practically a Neanderthal, but this isn’t the Stone Age anymore. We have indoor plumbing, I suggest you look into it.”
“W-what?” The sudden onslaught of verbal attacks had momentarily left Arma stupefied.
“I’m saying take a shower, Big Red! Ugh!”
Arma watched as Lamia stormed out of the music room. Raising her arm, she took a whiff of herself and decided Lamia might have been right, even if her methods of addressing the matter were a bit over the top. But when it came to Arma, that’s the only approach she ever took, and the redhead had come to expect it.
With a final long look at the piano, she closed the lid over the keys and made a quiet promise to spend a little more time in the music room before making her way back to the main building to the old school house where she, Lamia, and the other Guardians made their home.
Arma wanted to try to get some rest before brunch in the morning. She wanted to be focused and alert for her formal introduction to Terra Maya.
But first, she needed a shower.
The morning sunlight cascaded into the living room, shimmering against Terra Maya’s golden tresses as though her hairs really were metallic. Wrapping a dainty finger around the handle of her teacup, and with the saucer in her other hand, the lovely pharmacist in a charming pink dress brought the warm brew to her lips. “First and foremost, this tea is delicious. I’m really glad I brought the roses over to boil. The aroma is simply divine, and I don’t want any of you politely abstaining. Indulge yourselves, I insist.”
Arma, Lamia, Ora, Vesta, Maris, and Neiva silently watched as their goddess took another sip of rose tea. Physically, she appeared to be around twenty-five, with wavy blond hair that reached the floor and soft, brown eyes. She had unusually long legs and full breasts for such a slim figure, and though it would not be hard to imagine her on the cover of a lingerie catalog, she would be far more comfortable in an Alphonse Mucha painting.
Personality-wise, the girls weren’t sure what to make of Maya. She was prim and proper, speaking with the sort of decorum you found in actresses from black and white movies, a faint Southern accent coating the ends of her sentences with the slightest of drawls. “Though if I’d only known Vesta dear would be making such a delicious lemon cake, I would have brought over some fresh raspberries instead.” She flashed the Fire Guardian a quick smile, adding, “It really is scrumptious, by the way. I would be delighted if you could give me the recipe afterwards.”
Vesta’s eyes widened as she realized she was being addressed directly. “Oh! Of c-course! I’d be happy to, Miss Terra Maya.”
The goddess raised her finger. “Just Maya would be fine. I’m not terribly fond of my full title.”
Vox, who had been happily nibbling at a small piece of cake, gave the goddess a curious look. “But Your Highness, the title suits you so well!”
“Oh, darling, don’t be silly. More importantly, you have crumbs in your whiskers.”
“My, my, you must find me absolutely boorish!”
Lamia and Neiva groaned almost in sync with each other; their secret hideout had suddenly become a socialite’s country club.
Maya attempted to cut herself another piece of cake when Ora stood. The youngest Guardian excused herself and seemed about to exit the room, when Maya stopped her.
“My dear, where are you going? You haven’t had any cake.”
Ora clenched her fists to her side. “I… I don’t want cake.”
“Well then at the very least stay for tea and-“
“I don’t want any tea! I want to see her!”
Arma and the others knew whom Ora was referring to. She of course meant Kali, the Guardian of Thunder, and formerly her best friend Iris. As soon as they had returned home the previous night, Maya had asked if there were any empty rooms before taking Kali’s body upstairs. She had insisted on dealing with Kali immediately, and had asked the others to stay away, adding that Vox would be by with ointment for their own injuries.
Maya’s voice remained soft and gentle. “I’m afraid that would be a bad idea. Kali is asleep, and it wouldn’t do to wake her prematurely after all the poor child has been through. And besides,” she added, puncturing a piece of sponge-like cake as if for emphasis, “she wouldn’t remember you anyways.”
Ora glanced back at Maya; she could remember a time when Maris, believed to be dead, had returned to life through Maya’s mysterious methods. But though her personality had not changed, she had lost her memories of the group and her short time as a Guardian. She’d been a blank slate, and it had been very hard for the group to adjust to. “Iris… Kali will get her memories back, right?”
The goddess nodded as she cut another piece of cake, this time for Ora. She held up the dish and beckoned the Wind Guardian to return to the group. “I supposed I’ve been beating around the bush long enough, haven’t I. Would you all like to hear a story?”
Neiva, the no-nonsense bookworm of the team, folded her arms and sneered. “I think we’re beyond stories, at this point.”
Maya laughed. “While I assure you everything will be based on actual events, you might find the truth to be a little more like fiction.”
The group was silent, and after a long while Arma spoke. “We’d like to believe we can trust you.”
“Well, I haven’t given you much reason to be faithful, have I…” To everyone’s surprise, the goddess set down her teacup and got down on her hands and knees, her hair trailing behind her like the train of a wedding dress. She lowered her head and bowed. “I humbly request your forgiveness.”
The group looked at each other as Vox scuttled around the tabletop in a panic. “Great Mother, please! You’ve done nothing wrong! I’m sure the girls will recognize you had only good intentions if you simply explain-“
“Even if they could comprehend the basis for my decisions, it would be irresponsible of me to pretend everything up until now hasn’t possibly inconvenienced these six in some way or another.” Maya lifted her head and smoothed out her pink dress as she returned to her seat. “I suppose all stories need a beginning, so let’s start there, with my beginning.”
Maya reached over for her purse, and in one swift gesture the intensity of the mood had shattered; Maya held in her hands a stack of illustrations on cardstock that appeared to be drawn in crayon. “I took the liberty of preparing a series of pictures in hopes it would better illustrate the complexity of my story.”
The drawings were terrible; scribbles at best. Had the artwork been by anyone else, Lamia would have laughed. She could feel her diaphragm spasm, but resisted the urge to open her mouth by pressing her nails into her arm. The pain helped her focus as Maya held up the first card.
“Once upon a time, a beautiful woman with dark skin and dark eyes gave birth to twin girls; the first-born had hair like the sun with a healthy pink tint to her skin, while the second-born had skin the color of sand, and hair as black as coal. The sisters were as different as night and day, but there was no denying this family had been molded from the same mound of clay; we were Aeons-not true goddesses, but very powerful physical representations of components of Earth.”
Maya held up a picture of three stick figures holding hands while standing on top of a globe. “My mother, Mater Gaia, is the earth. When we move from place to place, we are walking across my mother’s flesh. Her tears filled the oceans. Her true form is this planet, but the form that cradled my sister and myself was of course her spiritual form. She was a beautiful woman…”
Lamia’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets; the next card showed a grave marker that read “Mommy” with a sad face drawn under it. Maris nudged Lamia in the ribs, but that only forced the pent up air to escape Lamia’s lips in a barrelful of laughter. “Ahaha-ha! Am I the only one who finds this fu-“
Vox leapt from the tabletop to Lamia’s lap, where he used his sharp incisors to give his least favorite Guardian a quick bite. She jerked her hand back with a yelp as the mouse returned to his spot next to Maya’s teacup and continued the story where Maya had left off. “We believe she… the Original Mother, has passed away, and the earth now is merely a… well, merely an empty shell of her previous existence. That is why her duties have been passed along to Terra Maya and her younger twin sister.
“Pistis Sophia is the embodiment of the world’s fauna, that is to say the animal life on this earth. From single-celled creatures to gargantuan blue whales, their life forces are all connected to Sophia. It’s difficult to fathom, but if all the animal life in the world were leaves, then Pistis Sophia would be their tree of life. She can sprout new buds of life in spring and those leaves may have their life cut short come autumn, but the tree still stands and grows independently of those leaves. However, if that tree were to be cut down, it would have an effect on the lives of those smaller leaves.”
Maya took a sip of tea and chuckled. “That’s an interesting allegory you chose, Vox. I can think of someone else it would apply to.”
Vox nodded, continuing his explanation. “Terra Maya, however, is the embodiment of the world’s flora. Every plant and plant-like organism on the earth is a part of Maya.”
“That’s right. The salad you eat, the strawberries you pick, the tea you drink… You are all savoring my body.”
At this, Ora spit out the rose tea she had poured herself.
Lamia, having regained her composure, was skeptical. “So you don’t just have some strange control over plants, you are the plants?”
“That’s right.”
“Do you bleed green?”
Maya’s lips curled back into a smug grin, coyly avoiding Lamia’s slight affront. “Perhaps it would interest you more if I talked a little less about myself, and a little more about why I’ve summoned you.”
Lamia leaned forward and kept her mouth shut.
“What on earth would an Aeon need with Guardians? Well, it’s unfortunate, but we’re having a little trouble settling a family dispute over inheritance, as pathetic as it sounds. Fifi-I’m sorry, Sophia and I both have received the power to control the earth element on top of our other duties. With our mother gone, the fate of the world naturally lies within our hands. For eons we were able co-exist as children, with sweet Vox here supervising over us after our mother sent us to earth. But as we got older, we slowly drifted apart; conflicting ideas and interests left us unable to communicate, and the harmony we had spent our whole lives building was being threatened. My sister seems to have forgotten herself entirely, and I fear she can no longer hear the cries for mercy the planet beseeches us.
“Unfortunately, I cannot close my ears to the cries around me. If something drastic is not done, the balance of life will crumble, and the future will be beyond saving.”
The atmosphere in the room had grown dense; Terra Maya wasn’t seriously suggesting they would have to save the world, was she?
“Large portions of the biosphere are dying off at alarming rates. When I realized this, I informed my sister that we’d have to do something or else…” Maya sighed; the memory of her last meeting with her sister had been a painful one. “And all she could say was ‘let it be.’” At this, Maya held up a card with a photo of the musical legends The Beatles. “Like some… irresponsible hippie!”
Maris and Vesta exchanged looks as Maya’s lip quivered; she lowered her head and began to sob into her hands. Maris went to her, rubbing her back gently as Vesta poured Maya another cup of tea.
“Oh, you two…” sniffled Maya as she sat upright. “I’m sorry, this is a sensitive subject for me.”
As the two Guardians went back to their spots, Arma made an assumption. “So basically, your sister wants to see the world destroyed, and you want to prevent that.”
Maya nodded. “It’s as though she’s turned her back on everything we’ve worked for…”
Arma continued. “And to stop you, she’s sent demons to kill you?”
“While I haven’t confirmed my sister is behind the demon raids, she is the only one who could conceivably create those monsters. Ten years ago, when I first realized she’d sent them out into the world I separated myself from Vox, to keep him safe, hoping he could in the meantime bring together my legendary band of Guardians. I was shocked that my sister had sent her assassins to destroy me, until I realized it was not me they sought-out. Most likely, they are hunting Death.”
Neiva crinkled her nose. “Death? As in, the Grim Reaper? Is he an Aeon as well?”
Maya shook her head. “He is actually an angel-and a very high-ranking one at that.”
“Former angel, ” sneered Vox with a flick of his tail.
“Yes, I’m afraid Vox is right, he is unfortunately a castaway-in fact, he was exiled to earth by my own mother, for reasons I don’t fully understand. But he is the only celestial creature on Earth who can be of any help to us. In order to save the world, Life and Death must join forces and work together. All we have to do is convince him there is no other way to save Earth.” She pulled out another card, one that showed a stick figure with long blond hair holding hands with a winged figure surrounded by hearts.
Ora was, for the first time that morning, feeling optimistic. “Well, that doesn’t seem too hard. Who doesn’t want to save the earth?” She blushed when Maya gave her a bewildered look. “Oh, I mean, besides your sister…”
Maya chuckled at Ora’s innocence. “If only Sophia were as sweet and pure as you, Ora. My sister knows of course that I will be seeking out the great fallen angel, and she will likely stop at nothing to destroy him.”
Arma suddenly understood. “We aren’t supposed to guard you…”
“Correct. I need you to help protect Death from my sister’s assassins. I will of course try to change her mind diplomatically, but if that fails, I’m afraid a war may be on the horizon.” Maya smiled and raised the final card, which was an illustration of her as a Guardian, smiling, and standing before seven smaller stick figure Guardians. “This time, I’ll be fighting along with you.”
Maris looked hopeful. “And that’s why you’re also a Guardian?”
“Of course. It wouldn’t be right to leave everything to you. My sister and I don’t look it, but we are quite powerful. As you seven grow stronger, you will discover within you new abilities to aid you along the way. My sister, upon realizing that I have assembled together my Guardians, will likely retaliate.”
With a sigh, Maya rolled her eyes to the side and watched as a hummingbird drank from a wildflower outside. “I ask many things of you girls, but the hardest thing I must ask of you is… is to not blame my sister. She has a good heart, she has simply lost her way. I’m sure a part of her even believes that what she is doing is the right thing. If you must hate someone, please be angry with me for bringing you all into this while largely keeping you in the dark. Let’s have a fresh start, beginning with the promise that I will make myself more available.”
Vesta and Maris were visibly relieved to hear that; for Maris, it was a sign that Terra Maya really did intend to make up for her previous absence. Vesta didn’t fully understand, but she felt Maya had their best interests at heart.
Remembering her promise from earlier, Vesta stood. “Let me go find a notebook to write down this cake’s recipe for you.”
“You really are a sweetie, thank you so much!” said Maya. She collected her drawings and put them back into her purse before turning to Ora. “I’m going to go check on Kali now. Would you like to come with me? You can be my nurse.”
Ora’s complexion brightened. “Really? Can I?”
“Of course! Why don’t we take some tea and cake upstairs for her. Even if she doesn’t remember you, you can certainly get on her good side before the full moon in the next few days.”
“And then she’ll get her memories back, right?”
Maris smiled as she watched Maya and Ora, with Vox hitching a ride on the youngster’s shoulder, head into the hallway with a tray of snacks for Kali before turning to face Arma and the others. “She seems nice. Like, really really nice.”
Lamia turned up her nose. “Figures you would like her. She’s like Vesta version 2.0, complete with a verbal upgrade.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
Lamia stood, stretching her back as she did. “No offense to Vesta, but I’m saying she’s a chatty dolt. Not really what I was expecting from a goddess-or Aeon, or whatever she calls herself. I think we’re all doomed.”
Neiva and Arma remained noticeably quiet, not daring to stick their heads into the argument between the two strong-willed girls. Maris, as they had expected, reacted very strongly against Lamia’s words. “That’s a horrible thing to say! Maybe she hasn’t done anything for you yet, but she saved my life, remember? I owe her big-time, and I’m not going to disrespect her just because the woman is a polite, artistically-challenged blond.”
“You know, Maris, I hate to point out the obvious, but you would have never died in the first place if it wasn’t for Madame Picasso’s overblown sibling rivalry.”
Maris held her breath and narrowed her eyes as she looked down at Lamia, who had her lips in a victorious cat-like grin. She huffed as she turned on her heel and headed for the kitchen without saying another word. Lamia had definitely gotten on her bad side.
After a moment of awkward silence had passed, Neiva cleared her throat as she stood to leave. “You’re wrong, Lamia. I’m surprised you of all people failed to notice.”
“What do you mean? What are you talking about?”
“Terra Maya is quite intelligent. She chose her words very carefully…” Neiva folded her arms and turned away. “She revealed everything without revealing anything. She evaded any discussions about our pasts specifically, and we only have a vague understanding of our new objective. Find the fallen Angel Of Death… Do you think she is referring to Neco?”
Lamia threw up her arms. “STOP! Whoa, whoa. You are giving her way too much credit, my friend. And besides, Neco’s a Guardian, not an angel! We’re not angels-we’re not immortal, as Maris and Iris-I mean Kali proved already.”
“Terra Maya’s obviously immortal, but as we have recently witnessed she is moonlighting as the Guardian of Earth. It is plausible, don’t you agree, Arma?”
But Arma had another idea. “I wonder if the Angel of Death is Boniface…”
Neiva and Lamia exchanged a quick look. Did she just make that up?
“Oh, I get it, Big Red… that’s the name of your underage dream girl, right?”
Arma reached over and grabbed a piece of cake, which she shoveled into her mouth carelessly, her eyes unfocused and facing the wall. “My dream girl…” Now that Arma had seen Maya up-close, she realized the two shared more than a passing resemblance. “…maybe they’re related…”
Neiva shrugged as Lamia shook her head, figuring Arma’s brain was still half-asleep. Neiva returned her attention to Lamia. “I am suspicious, but I am willing to go along with the yarn Terra Maya has already spun. I’m… I’m not exactly the best judge of character…”
“Well, I’m not going along with anything. I’m just going to do what I want, when I want, and if I disagree with any of that bimbo’s fairytales I will simply choose not to believe them. Nothing’s changed, right, Big Red? ”
Arma was silent. She disagreed with Lamia; things were about to change. She wanted to say something clever, but the words wouldn’t come to her.
Instead, Neiva found the response Arma had been looking for. “I’m not suggesting we believe any of her tales, but for the time being I have decided to turn the page.”
If Neiva was good for anything, Arma thought, she was always good for a book-related metaphor.