Aahana-Prologue

         The moonlight wove through the shadows like a spider's web. It danced from the sky, slipping it's way through the inky black folds of the sky, to skim across the surface of the river. In the stillness of the night, there was a quiet, soul-stirring murmur. For someone unused to this place, it might be unclear where exactly it came from, but Aahana had been here long enough to know that it came from the river. She had sat here for so long, listening to the rising and the swelling of the song. It spoke of sadness, but of a beautiful sadness. The trees around her seemed to lean forward to catch that song; their branches quivered in sorrow, and they added their own mournful song to the haunting juxtaposition. Aahana wanted to sing too, and sometimes she felt that melody, seamless and perfect, rising up on her lips to echo in the night. Mostly though, the song stayed in her blood, vibrating through her veins. It felt best when it was a part of her, inside of her, like there was some kind of secret magic to it that no one else but Aahana could control. Always, though, there was a restless stirring inside of her. This river was Aahana's home; it was Aahana's very soul. But there was so much more, beyond the horizon...there was something missing, something that the song could not cover, something vitally important that Aahana kept forgetting. For now, though, she would sing, like an angel bathed in glorious, silver light, listening to the murmur that ran like little, teasing threads through the vast blanket of stillness in the night. Until she remembered, she would sing.
         And as she sung, hours passed. The blackness melted into the grayness. And as it did, mist surrounded her. It had eased up from the cracks in the earth, and soon it hung thickly around her, pressing down on her shoulders. There was an indescribable stench to it, one that clung to Aahana's skin and hair, accompanied by a chill which sank deep inoto her bones. Aahana's sad blue eyes peered through the mist, unable to see the surface of the water lapping around her ankles. She could hear the trees surrounding her moan, shaking their fists at the mist in outrage. They seemed to say, "Go away! Go away!"
         "Something's wrong," Aahana observed. She took another step forward, her teeth chattering. There was something in the mist, something dangerous, waiting for her. She could hear it breathing somewhere in front of her, and she could imagine the vast gaping maw of some beast open to swallow her. "Something's wrong," she repeated again. The wind kissed Aahana's face, as if to agree with her.
         There were no birds singing. The silence of the night wrapped as thickly around Aahana as the mist did. Not even the noises could break this silence. Not even the breathing from the thing waiting for her could break this silence. Death, Aahana knew, had never been so silent as this.
         Still, Aahana pressed forward. Now, the water was at her knees. Waves had formed, bucking and tossing so hard that it was all Aahana could do to keep going. The lovely song of her river had turned into a haunting dirge. "We're dying! We're dying!" The waves screeched, rushing past her in a frantic hurry, threatening to knock her over. Briefly, Aahana thought about letting them knock her down. Then she could die with the river, underneath the sweet, sweet blue. And a pleasant darkness would replace the manic, bone-chilling one that had so recently seized Aahana's in it's vice-like, ruthless grasp.
         As the night began to die again, feeble rays of sunlight beginning to shoot up into the sky. The whole world was lamenting now; the trees were doubled over as if in agony, and the waters ceased moving, their energy drained. Aahana sunk to her knees, and as the night was ushered away, Aahana felt sleep beckoning her. Aahana closed her eyes, the water rocking her to sleep. And in that sleep, the dreams would com. They made no sense, but lately nothing had made sense.
         Aahana watched it unfold as a stranger, unaware of the terrible significance that the dream and the tragedy revealed in it had to her life. The details were always the same; a man and two women, secrets, deaths, love, hatred, and jealousy. It was a grand epic. There had been others like it before in history, but surely none had shared it’s gargantuan proportions. And as Aahana slept, the stage was set yet again and the actors came forth onto the stage to tell Aahana their story for what must indeed be the millionth time. This time, there was a tone of desperation to their story and Aahana listened closely, knowing that this would be the last time they would appear and she had to understand.