The Stormwatcher

“I... why couldn’t I remember until just now? Seeing you, when we met outside Palais Crossing, I felt you were familiar, but it wasn’t that you were familiar to me. Not really, not you – it was how you felt. You know when you catch a smell that unburies a memory from near the beginning of your life? Let’s say you smelled your mother’s hair when she came from the bath, and she pulled you onto her hip, lulled you to sleep with a song and a bounce and your chin resting on her shoulder, your nose ensconced in the sweet aroma of her rosewater soap. And when you’re walking through a market one afternoon, the sun warming the air and filling it with all the spices and teas and fragrances carried by those hopeful vendors who line the streets. And your nose realises before you even do that you’ve found that scent of home, brings your meandering feet right to the stall of the rose vendor, who also specialises in body and hair washes, and you realise then, as you appear at the stall, that you smell something familiar. Such is the way you triggered my own memories of my youth. Not by your form, but... something within you. As if I, albeit unaware, caught the smell of my mother’s hair on you.

“But I see you here, we are here together, and I smell nothing. I don’t know what it is – and yet I know completely, entirely. It’s within you. The perfume, I mean. It dances upon your skin, but it isn’t something you wear; it’s something you emanate. I can hear her, your deeper soul, the medium through which you resonate with the universe. I heard it when we met; it’s what drew me to you. Or perhaps you to me. Both, perhaps. More like. I am a goddess. Of what, I cannot remember... why can’t I remember? What subdues my memory? I remember conflict; I remember awakening. I was so confused. I am confused. Isra is but a part of my name... why can’t I recall the rest? A concussion, affecting a god? Why was I wearing this form – was I summoned? Did they need me? I feel as if I’ve lost... oh. Oh, Sampaa... I remember. I... my friends. They called my friends but they’ve been entrenched for so long, they couldn’t answer, but I was awake. I could answer. I... I did. I answered. I abandoned my friends for these mortals and I...

“It takes so much to be matter. You have to relinquish so much that cannot be contained in a mere form. Your innate self taps into this when she sings – she sings beautifully, I should say; she sings softly, not coarse, nor ruthlessly – but imagine that song being your whole essence. Your whole self, intention, untethered to manifestation. Sheer will as self. We have to pack that into ourselves when we become a body; it is not easy. Necessary sometimes. That which is necessary is rarely easy to do. But I did it – I became matter. I materialised. And made new friends by those who called me Isra. Was this once someone else? Am I wearing Isra? I feel as if I became her, and as if she became me. Perhaps I have always been Isra, though only in part.

“I wish I could remember. What good is a deity if they cannot remember themselves? Why did they call me? Not me... who did they call for? I am not one oft summoned. Sailors, perhaps. Mountain-climbers. Sometimes farmers. Rarely for anything directly; I’m called upon to warn against travel, to protect crops. I am not summoned to battlefields, to broken homes, to lost causes. I thought... I...”

“You saw a need and answered it,” I suggested.

“Yes... yes. My fellow gods were resting, exhausted by all the goings-on, all the prayers they were answering without the reverence festivals. They were tired. It was my job to watch, as I always do, watch over them. Are they still sleeping? Are they dreaming? I wonder... I... I remember the Heart found us. They ambushed us. These new ones... Sampaa, they are so strong. So fast and smart... not the ones we were used to. We didn’t realise they were different until they had chased us into a corner. I was working on a way out, trying to form some kind of miracle, but the boats were destroyed years ago, and crop-making was moved underground. Stupid... so stupid! Why did I think I could help? I was the weakest! I am the weakest! Why... why did I try to help?! The... I remember seeing their necks broken to paralyse them without damaging the heart... I couldn’t go that way. I couldn’t die. And she... why did she throw herself between us? And I fell, and the screams...”

You’re too kind, Sampaa, Noora hissed, indicating that I should be spending our moments with this goddess asking for a way to break our curse rather than listening to her sorrows. Or for a way to return home.

“When i awoke, I found that my bones were broken by the fall. Isra had died; the body was mine to inhabit. I restored her form and elected to keep her name, for it had become mine. I had no idea who I was... who I am. Eventually I found my way to the place Isra and her friends had been headed. They welcomed me. I told them of my friends’ capture. They helped heal whatever wounds I carried still. So much I could have done... I forgot. I forgot. I am a goddess. I am the Stormwatcher.”

“Is it possible that you’ve been watching for a different kind of storm?” I asked, hoping to assuage the disappointment she directed towards herself.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been a scout for those mortals being ravaged by the Heart, keeping an eye out to ensure they aren’t surprised by those newer soldiers. Keeping an eye out for any sign of an oncoming massacre – which surely is a storm of sorts. Can’t that count as a storm for which you’ve been watching? I know you were beholden to your godly friends, but the mortals here, they are the ones you serve, right?”

She pondered my statements for a moment, then smiled sheepishly. “We are beholden to the world system more than to they, but...”

“The Heart disrupts that system.”

“Aggressively,” she sighed, wiping tears from her face.

“And your godly friends were asleep, but not endangered by the Heart?”

“While the poor mortals suffered, yes. Yes! We need some way to stop them, to spare my world from them. But I am not like the others... I’m not a god of battle nor fire nor ocean tides... That is why I cannot help you, Sampaa. Not in the way your spirit insists. I have heard her since she realised I could, but her songs are not effective upon me – not because I am apathetic to your conflict with the Nameless. I have tried to awaken my brethren so as to stifle and obliterate the Heart, but their sleep... sometimes the longer they sleep, the longer it takes to stir. And, as I said, I am not strong enough to do so myself. I am the Stormwatcher. I am a harbinger.

“Alas. I can only offer this: I see in your future a great many storms, Sampaa. They will fall upon you as daggers at your feet.” The Stormwatcher knelt before me, immersing me in the scent of thunderclouds and rainstorms, and smiled, tenderly caressing my face. She placed her lips to my ear and whispered, “I imagine you could find them more useful to you, having not lodged in your heart.”