Chapter I: Eternity

The decayed flowers crumble as she begins to wake. Vines tear as she rises. A week passes as she remains seated, an empty stare. The others are still asleep. The room is as dead as the flora, save for the ear-scrapping chanting heard playing from the speakers. Finally, she looks around to a stopped timer. 2,301 years. It’s not enough. She lays back down. 2,575 years. She lays back down. 4,459 years. She lays back down, it’s not enough but she can’t go back to sleep. She still remembers it all. How could she forget, it’s only been 10,372 years after all. She rises from the bed, covered in dust. The bed beside her has new flowers. A new death. Suddenly, someone rises from the bed across the room, a familiar face.
“Z-a?” She tries to mouth a name, but her dried throat won’t let her form Lunarian words. The figure across the room comes closer, grabbing an hourglass-shaped bottle along the way.
“My! You’re quite overslept aren’t you?” the stranger says, offering the blue liquid.
The woman drinks, taking a long pause to clear her throat. “T-thanks.”
“It’s nothing! What is your name? I'm Silim!”
The woman’s eyes widen, filled with at least 9,000 years of sadness. She takes a moment to drink some more liquid, then says, “My name’s Vanita.”
“What a lovely new name! I believe I heard you say something earlier, what was it?”
“Oh…” Vanita finishes the liquid. Silim takes the bottle. “Just- It’s nothing. You just looked like someone I used to know.”
Silim gasps, dropping the bottle and a plastic rattle echoes through the room. “You have memories?”
“No it’s-”
“Did the ritual go wrong?”
“That’s not-”
“Oh, dear I’m so sorry. We need to fix this!”
“Can you-”
“We must talk to the grand priest at once!”
“STOP!” Vanita yells, grabbing both of Silim’s arms. She freezes. “Calm down okay. It was… It was just a dream.”
“A dream? You had a dream, during the Namus-kur? Well, that’s-”
“Also strange, yeah.” Vanita lets go of her arms. “I don’t think it’s anything big but I’ll go ask the grand priest myself.”
“Are you quite sure? I could follow along!”
“Don’t worry about it, you have to check in with one of the priests right?”
Hesitantly, Silim says goodbye and heads off leaving Vanita in the room. She slumps over in a corner with no intention of seeing the grand priest. She knows why the Namus-kur did not go as it should. This was all just to pass some time, as little as that may be for a Lunarian, a being that lives 100,000 years.
“Zila,” she mutters under her breath. A name long since gone.
•
“Vanita. Vanita?”
“Oh, Zila! Sorry, lost in thought. I’m just excited to tell your brother about my new spell,” a younger Vanita says with a smile.
Zila stops in place. “Modii? Didn’t he…” She covers her mouth. Vanita gives her a puzzled look. “N-nah, it’s nothin’,” Zila waves a hand dismissively. “What’s this spell you’re talkin’ about?”
“Ah! Well, hmm. Can you keep a secret?”
“Course!”
“Okay, this might be silly. Well, I know it’s silly but-”
“C’mon, out with it.”
“Okay, okay. So, we Lunarians don’t spend all that long on one single life right?”
“Yeah, otherwise we’d go bonkers.”
“Exactly! The Madness. What if there was a way to avoid that?”
“Uhh, there already is. It’s called the Namus-kur.”
“But that’s flawed, don’t you see? All these feelings; any sense of history; we just throw away any meaningful connection we’ve made and start a new life?”
“Ohhh… Vanita.”
“And, and it’s become so normal to go through the ritual without a second thought! People just toss away everything on a whim, because they’re bored! Did you know, in ancient times, Lunarians would go through the Namus-kur only when it was absolutely necessary?”
“Vanita, your paren-”
“Don’t talk about them!” Vanita yells, inching towards Zila. Startled, she took a step back. Vanita took a second to compose herself and then slouched. “I’m sorry. It’s- look. This isn’t about them. I just want to spend a little more time on this life. With this spell, I can stop the Madness.”
“Really?”
“Yes! It’s all Modii and I ever wanted, a way to stop death!”
Zila grasps her own arm. “My brother…”
“Do you know where he is?”
She turns around, unable to face Vanita.
“Zila?”
•
“Zila,” Vanita says again, getting up. She never did tell her where Modii was. Nothing ever changes on this damned moon. It’s been the same for hundreds of thousands of years, in isolation. Dusty, ancient, cold, yet inhabited pillars scatter the surface of Silica. The Lunarians are satisfied living simple lives over and over as they ‘die’ again and again, all within the same lifespan. The Namus-kur ritual allows for a death-like slumber that causes a ‘rebirth’ upon awakening, blessed with a new identity. Names are erased; memories are swept away; sometimes even appearances will change. All to stave away the Madness that comes from living far, far too long. How envious, Vanita thinks as she enters an empty training ground.
Unable to go back to sleep, Vanita burns her soul away by casting obscene amounts of magick on an open field. To cast magick is to eat away at your life. Just another way to lessen her lifespan, even if just a tiny fraction of her years. Training dummies are burned away, one by one, and reappear shortly after. Rapid and relentless bursts of fire magick start to turn the rocky moon floor molten. Vanita’s very flesh starts to bubble under the immense heat. The training dummies are no longer rematerializing, yet she continues all the same, for hours.
“I had been receiving reports of disturbing flashes of light,” a voice calls out. Vanita turns around to the grand priest. He grimaces at Vanita’s face, of which he can’t make any detail. It had been charred and melted beyond recognition. The embers on her visage start to calm, and sinews reconnect. Her ecru-white flesh begins to mend.

“Sorry, I’ll try to keep it to a minimum,” she says as her casper-colored eyebrows sprout back.
The grand priest clears his throat while Vanita casts a spell to repair her own pale purple clothing. “You forgot the crown,” he says. Vanita recreates her golden civilian laurel; it forms a half-circle atop her casper hair. “That was an impressive display of magick. What is your name?”
“Vanita,” she blurts out regrettably as her floppy beige ears grow back. “Ambrose.”
“Vanita…” he whispers. “How have you attained such great fire and life magick? It was quite impressive. Magick of that level is not common among Lunarians.”
“What’s it matter?” she says, fidgeting with the freshly grown skin on her two bull-like tails.
“Mere curiosity. Please, regale this old man. I am sure you understand how monotonous our long lives can be.”
“Look I woke up from a death sleep not lo-”
“Come now, I have lived long enough to know that magickal aptitude such as yours is not possible without having been awake for at least a thousand years.” He circles around her.

“How long have you been awake?”
“Long enough, I should undergo the ritual for real this time.”
“Ah yes, the Namus-kur. I had also received a report of a recent ‘awoken’ who failed to check in with any of the priests. An account from the one known as ‘Silim’ was very enlightening,” he emphasizes and tightens his grip on his staff.
“So you knew the whole time.”
The grand priest continues to circle Vanita, his long robe kicking up dust. “All I wish to know is why the ‘death sleep’, as you put it, failed to have any effect on you. Something tells me you are past the years when a normal Lunarian would go mad, yet here you are—sane. How?”
“You’re Idim, right?”
Idim halts, not having heard that in a very, very long time.
“Yes, it is you isn’t it? I thought I recognized that face. What name do you go by now? No, doesn’t matter. Aren’t grand priests mandated to go through the ritual every 1,000 years, at most? Well, I remember you.”
Idim’s own two tails stand alert .“Actually, I am now also the Moon Ruler.”
“Please, that doesn’t change a thing. How long have you been awake; 2,000 years? 3,000? Even for the Moon Ruler, no, especially for the Moon Ruler that’s far too long.”
“Well, it appears that we both have something to hide.”
“Hide what? Hide that I’m a tired old Lunarian that just can’t die? No, I don’t care. I’m not the one under a mandate here,” she says as she starts to walk off. Idim yanks her arm; they give each other piercing stares and Idim can feel Vanita heating up. Wordlessly, he lets go, face twisted in a rage knowing he would lose. Vanita smirks and leaves.
•
Your secret’ll be expooosed!
That bitch wouldn’t dare.
We mustn’t take the chance.
B-but she seemed pretty apathetic…
That’s exactly fucking why we must take care of her!!
Do not be foolish. What would that accomplish, we are in need of her secrets after all.
She’s too powerful. We wouldn’t be able to even if we wanted…
We’ll find another-
“SHUT UP!” Idim yells, slamming his desk then grabbing his tails furiously.
“S-sir?” the two Lunarians respond. Backs straightened, they adjust the elite guard laurels on their heads.
Idim’s face softens. “Apologies, not you two… You…” his voice trails off as if addressing someone other than the guards. Keep it together. He sits back down, head hung. “Not you two. Apologies.”
Idim sits in his office after his encounter with Vanita. He’s not sure how much longer his Madness can be contained. Countless voices speak in his head, yet simultaneously they say nothing. Every year a new voice. He sends the two guards to wait outside. Something must be done. Idim stops the trailing one at the doorway, beckoning them.
“There is a Lunarian who must be taken care of. Her name is Vanita, the Galga priest should have the information you require. Detain her.”
“What should I tell the captain, sir?”
“I will talk with the captain,” Idim says and rises. “Now go.” The guard puts both their hands on their chest then bows, a Lunarian salute.
•
Idim finds the guard captain at the barracks wearing the usual Lunarian pale purple attire, but clad in blackened metal. As usual, her full circle laurel is nowhere to be seen. She’s tightly grasping her sheathed sword as she overlooks a group of Lunarian guards in training. The group of recruits is not new, but at a glance it could be assumed so. Their swings are awkward, their spell casting is ticklish, and their stamina is quickly drained. Every few minutes, a guard sits down for a break. For a Lunarian guard, this is common, expected even. There is not much to protect Silica against after all, nor is there much crime. The masses are weak and malleable. Pitiful.
“Oh, grand priest Lulu!” the captain says, straightening her collar and performing a salute. “Strange seeing you here.” MOON RULER.
Idim pauses, the captain tilts her head. ‘Lulu’, answer. That was real. “Ah yes, Captain Salla. Yes, I have been searching for you. I see training is coming along…” He looks over at the ‘practice’ taking place. “…nicely.” Disgraceful.
“Hahah You can be candid with me. It’s awful. We both know the guard is mostly for show anywho.” Idim squints. “Oh come on, it’s true. Tell ya what, you should come by when the elites are training; say next week, same time?” I’ve always hated how casual Salla is. She should be replaced soon.
“Never mind that. I came here to make you aware of a Lunarian that will be held in custody.”
“Hah, really? A direct order; how long has it been, a couple hundred years? What’d they do, steal some lunar cheese?”
“This is no joking matter; do not treat her lightly,” Idim says, brows furrowed. “Her name is Vanita Ambrose. Take her into custody with whatever force necessary. I want her cell to be always guarded.”
“Alright, alright. If you say so. Are you gonna tell me what she did?”
We need an excuse. Idim paces, “The details are…” and turns away, “unclear. Simply know that of the consequences, exile is in consideration.”
Salla whistles. “Exile, to there you mean?” she points.
Idim looks to the planet above Silica. “Yes, to there,” that’s where we’ll get her. Isolated, away from prying eyes. Salla looks doubtful. “I can not tell you much more yet, but hear this, and keep this close to the chest, I have reason to believe that the Namus-kur does not work on her.”
“HUH? Tha-” Suddenly, a stray icicle sails their way. Salla intercepts with a magick shield, pushing Idim out of the way. “Hey!” Salla shouts, then looks at a supervising officer. “I want their laurel turned in by the end of the day!” Salla turns back to Idim. “Sorry about tha-”
Idim is engulfed in disgust. Touched me. She fucking- Idim’s ears ring. His face reddens and he begins to walk away.
Salla whispers, “Sheesh. Someone needs a death sleep alright.”
•
She’s not detained, Salla thinks to herself. The guard sent to search for her said it was handled, but that can’t be right. Salla enters the Urunu church and finds the Galga priest. He leads the way to Vanita, sleeping soundly in a ritual bed.
“She- the guard- you’re saying they talked with her,” Salla says pointing to Vanita, “and instead of bringing her into custody, they agreed to let her go through with the death sleep?”
“Yes,” the priest responds. On Silica, the greatest punishment one can receive is eternal exile or to be forced to undergo the Namus-kur ritual, thereby washing away their sins and becoming a new person. By law, the one who committed the crime would be dead.
“But… she can’t-” She catches herself and tells the Galga priest to leave them alone. He gives her a salute and exits. She can’t go through the death sleep, unless Lulu was wrong? Salla pokes her arm and leans in. “Heeeeey, you really dead?” No response. She gives her a few gentle slaps, pulls her tails, calls her names, and licks her face.
“Gross,” Vanita says.
“S-sorry!” Salla backs up. “AH, you’re-”
“Hi, my name is Muslu.”
“You’re joking.”
Muslu tilts her head. “Excuse me, but I must check in with a priest.”
“It’s impossible to wake up from a sleep in less than 100 years; you’ve been dead for an hour, two tops.”
“My! Was I? Well, I will be certain to mention that to the priests.”
“Look, Vanita, I know your secret. Th-”
“Vanita… Was that who I once was?”
“Quit pretending and give it up, you’re under arrest.”
“You must be mistaken, I- Give me a moment,” Muslu says, reaching for a bottle. She takes a sip and spits its contents in Salla’s face, running out.
Salla curses, attempting to follow but a wall cutting off the exit is erected by Vanita. Salla immediately bursts through and runs after her. They run through the city as Vanita haphazardly casts a variety of spells to slow Salla down: Fire magick blazes on an open street; water magick floods the hexagonal Center of Silica; earth magick sprouts several vines that damage the pale pillar-shaped buildings; until finally Vanita stops. She turns to face Salla on an empty plot of moon dust.
“I’m surprised you managed to keep up.”
“Yeah,” Salla pants, “well…” She coughs. “I AM the captain of the guard.”
Vanita chuckles. “Well, captain, aren’t you going to take me in?”
Salla smirks, “Done running? You’ll regret this.” She wastes no moment, aiming for Vanita’s chest with a thrust of her sword, expecting immediate deflection. Yet, Vanita simply stands still. The sharp metal passes through just as soon as it connects, blood decorating the ground. “What are you-”
“I’m waiting,” Vanita interrupts, gripping the blade, “to die.”
Salla lets go and soon as the sword slips out, the hole in Vanita’s chest starts closing. “How- That’s not life magick is i-”
A bolt of lightning strikes at Salla’s feet. “Aren’t we supposed to be fighting?”
But what ensued wasn’t a fight at all. It wasn’t a beating; it wasn’t a massacre; it was simply repeated gratuitous murder. Vanita refused to dodge any attack or spell. Salla refused to relent, some sort of morbid curiosity to see how far she could push it. She had been waiting for any excuse to let loose and this was the most excitement she had experienced as the guard captain. Vanita seemed to be fighting back, but when she finally got bored of her flesh rending and her nerves splitting and her limbs crippling and her viscera slipping out and her bones shattering and her heart stopping, she quit pretending. Her raw hands grabbed Salla’s, tight and inescapable, and she said, “I give up.”
•
Vanita sits in a cell, personally guarded by Salla herself. Casual as she may be, she takes her work seriously. She’s been staring down Vanita for the last hour. There are a few other inmates, but the prison is deathly quiet. And terribly dusty.
Vanita breaks the silence, “You’d think this place would be easy to clean.” It’s a small prison with only 50 cells.
“Yeah, I should sentence some guards to cleaning duty,” Salla shrugs.
“I could help clean.”
“You’re staying in there.”
“What laws did I break again? I don’t believe staying awake is a crime.”
Salla exhales, “Well, you messed up the city pretty good when you were resisting arrest.”
“Under false pretenses,” Vanita says and rolls her eyes.
“You ruined like five businesses.”
“They can go take a death sleep, won’t remember a thing.”
“And that kid is just going to regrow an arm like you?” Salla says, arms raised.
“The reconstructors can fix that when the kid’s old enough for the Namus-kur.”
“The ritual isn’t an answer to everything you know.”
“Really? Sure seems like people treat it like it is.”
“Look, Lulu wants you in custody, so here we are.”
“Lulu? Lulu…”
“Uh, yeah. Look, I don't care to play these games.”
“Ohhh, Idim.”
“Who?”
“That’s- Actually, you should ask ‘Lulu’ about him. Gods, when did we become a theocracy. Must’ve slept through that change.”
“That’s what happens when the High Priest is sworn into office.”
“How is that even allowed?” Vanita asks, exaggeratedly shaking her head. “Utu would not be pleased.”
“If Utu cared, I doubt he’d allow… whatever you are.”
Vanita looks at her hands. Perfectly smooth, not a single scratch. “That we can agree on.”
Salla sits down on a nearby chair. “For what it’s worth, I also think the Namus-kur is a terrible idea. I’m pushing it off as long I can. I mean that fight we just had, wow. Not something I want to forget. Hah, not sure I could.”
“That, we don’t agree on.” Vanita stands and walks up to the bars to grab them. Salla’s hand jerks to the hilt of her new sword. “You and every other Lunarian are so fortunate. There’s great power in forgetting.” The two stare at each other for a few seconds. Salla’s eyes shift away from the void, and Vanita sits back down. The two continue to sit in a now dreadful silence.
After another hour, Vanita begins weaving earth and life magick to construct a soft wooden bed. Salla’s jaw drops as Vanita hops on. “What, do you want one too? Might as well get comfortable if he’s going to take all day”
“Well…” From within the cell, still lying down, Vanita forms a cozy rocking chair next to Salla. The guard captain hesitates, poking at it with the end of her sword, but soon plops onto the chair letting out a sigh.
“You could do a lot of good with your magick you know,” Salla says, sinking into the cushions. Lunar moss scented, like wet lavender.
“That’s what he used to say all the time,” Vanita whispers, closing her eyes.
•
“All of them?!” a freckled Lunarian exclaims. He wears a researcher’s laurel.
“All-of-them… Modii I- She- What am I going to do?” Vanita says, sobbing. “Without those… Maybe I should just sign up for the Namus-kur.”
Modii sits next to her, putting an arm around her shoulder. “Hey, hey. We promised we’d stick it out right? No Namus-kur. We don’t need those notes.”
“THOSE NOTES WERE EVERYTHING! The past fifty years, gone!” she yells, unable to look at Modii.
Modii opens his mouth, but instead of speaking, he holds Vanita tighter. She sobs louder and louder, then quieter and quieter.
When the tears stop, Modii says, “We can start over.”
“I know.”

“We’re still young; we don’t need a death sleep..”
“I know.”
“I still remember a lot of the notes, the experiments.”
“Me too.”
Modii loosens his grip. “This wasn’t really about the notes, was it?”
“No,” she says, resting her head on his chest.
“We’ll make new notes, new memories,” he rests his head on hers. “I love you.”
Vanita turns her face to look at him.
“With your magick, we’ll do so much good,” he whispers.
•
“Fraternizing, are we?” Lulu states. Vanita wakes up. Salla bolts out of the chair, back straightened as she performs a Lunarian salute. “Thank you for keeping watch, you are relieved.”
“But-”
“Go,” he says firmly. “But stand by outside. I will soon need you again.” Salla walks out of the prison, throwing her hand back to signal goodbye.
Vanita uses death magick and the bed starts to decay. “About time,” she says, “I was beginning to think you forgot about me in your senile age, Idim.” He remains silent, back turned to Vanita. “How’d you trick them? Did you fake your death sleep? I’m surprised you didn’t bother reconstructing your face. Say, you’re a little taller now, aren’t you?”
Business. “This report from Salla,” he says pulling out a clipboard, “details how you survived several mortal blows. A ruptured heart, a spliced brain-”
“So we’re just going to skip over the innocent lives hurt during the chase?”
Shut the fuck up. “Salla claims the healing she witnessed was unlike any life magick she’s seen. Rather, she writes that it is ‘likely not life magick’. Quite the claim.”
“Would you believe me if I said it was?”
“This spell that prevents death… I know I will not be getting any answers out of you. Not yet.” Maybe after a little bit of ‘persuasion’.
“You can’t keep me here forever; you couldn’t keep me here at all if I didn’t want to be here. I’m here because I want answers.” Vanita walks over and melts the bars with several quick touches. Just enough to walk through; Idim doesn’t flinch.
“You will not be getting any either.” She thinks she can intimidate US? “You have no proof of my age. You do not even know my true age. Tell me, how certain are you that this is my original face. You do not know.”
“Please, everyone knows the age Lunarians start to develop Madness.”
“Do you know of any Lunarians who can delay Madness? Do you?”
“I can think of a couple.” She looks up and down Idim, in particular his rumbling eyes.

“One better than the other it seems.”
Idim’s eyes twitch. Keep it together. He shakily sighs. “I am not here to interrogate you, not yet. No, I am here to sentence your exile, to the far-side of Zidiri.”
“What, you can’t be- Do you think you’ll get anything out of me there?”
“I do not think anything other than you are… a threat.”
Zidiri, or as the Zidians call it, Earth. Vanita had read about it extensively during the period where she sat and read most everything that the Center of Silica had to offer. Still, her knowledge was limited. Not many Lunarians have gone to Zidiri. Free travel between the two was restricted sometime after life was birthed in by the now absent gods. There have been occasional expeditions but contact with the locals is limited. In truth, the idea had piqued her interest. Perhaps, on a planet where people live such short lives, she could learn to die. However, she could not get there by her own means and the last expedition was far before her time and the records on the last exile were hazy.
“You are to be exiled immediately,” Idim says while pulling out a communicator that utilizes mind magick. He contacts Salla, he tells her to come back to prison.
For the first time in decades, Vanita genuinely smiles.








Author's Note: The end goal is to get officially published. Once the novel is completed, many revisions will likely be done and the (hopefully) published version may be quite different from the original version.