What if (Part III)

 

Xena was sitting near the river, writing on a scroll, she can face things when she writing down her feeling and fears, she never wrote before but with time she learned with Gabrielle.

 

The air in my chamber was sharp and foreign, a scent of spices drifting in from the bustling street beyond. India was awakening, vibrant with cries, bells, and the distant laughter of children running toward the marketplace. I gathered my few belongings, a battered sword, a faded locket with Gabrielle’s smile inside, a scrap of parchment bearing Eve’s first scrawled poem, and stepped out beneath a sky painted gold and rose. Every step forward was a bargain with memory. I moved through the crowd, unseen, my mind wreathed with thoughts of home and the faces I carried within me. My mission pressed upon me with the weight of prophecy: defeat Indrajit, restore balance, and return to the ones whose love had shaped me into more than a warrior. Crossing the city, I found myself at the river's edge, where the water mirrored the morning sun and reminded me of the dream's gentle current. Here, too, people came to make offerings, to pray or to mourn. I knelt, letting the river’s coolness ground me, and whispered a vow into the trembling reeds. “I will come back to you,” I promised to the wind, to Gabrielle, to Eve, my hope echoing across continents and through the veil of worlds. As I rose, a figure detached itself from the shadows beneath a banyan tree. Cloaked, eyes limned with wisdom and sorrow, they beckoned me closer…….

 

finished the scroll but was interrupted by a stranger.

 

-You seek Indrajit. (the stranger said, their voice threaded with the music of distant storms) ....But to find him, you must first face what you most fear, the path is not straight. The journey will test the thread that binds you to the living.

- (I met their gaze, unflinching) ...I have nothing left but love and hope. That will have to be enough.

 

They smiled, fainted like moonlight, and pressed a lotus blossom into my hand.

 

-Then carry this with you. It is a reminder: even in the darkness, the heart finds its way to the sun.

 

I accepted the gift, feeling it's delicate weight, a promise, a prayer.  I cradled the lotus gently, petals trembling in a breeze that seemed to stir from worlds unseen. The stranger’s words haunted me, lingering like the last notes of a funeral hymn. In that moment, the river’s surface rippled, and for a heartbeat, I glimpsed my reflection, warrior, mother, lover, exile, all the selves braided into one. A hush settled between us as the stranger turned away, vanishing into the sunlit tapestry of the city. I felt the subtle weight of the blossom in my palm, its fragrance, a quiet promise of renewal. I tucked the flower beside Gabrielle’s locket and the poem, letting their nearness steady my heart. With each step back toward the waking streets, the world seemed newly charged, every color brighter, each sound more vivid. Somewhere in the labyrinthine alleys ahead, Indrajit waited, but the shadow of that destiny no longer pressed so heavily. Passing through the marketplace, I found myself pausing by a vendor’s stall, drawn by the shimmer of silk in colors that rivaled sunrise. A young girl smiled at me, her laughter ringing above the clamor, and for an instant, I saw hope reflected in her eyes, the hope I carried, battered but unbroken. The city throbbed with life, with possibility. And as I set out on the path the stranger had opened for me, I carried not just the weight of my quest, but the fragile, luminous certainty that love and hope, though often battered, would always be enough to guide me home, but this battle is different…I arrived to a hunt near the mountains of death, where Indrajit is supposed to be there in the underworld crossing those mountains, can heard voices said “Help” Whispering among the silent mountains, screams of pain and despair, a cold ran down my back, I leaned against the door frame and breathed deeply. Night descended with little warning, and the stars over the mountains of death shimmered coldly, indifferent witnesses to a world’s suffering. The path grew stony and treacherous as I climbed, the air thinning until every breath burned my chest. Shadows lengthened, and the cries, sometimes plaintive and childlike, other times guttural with ancient anguish, seemed to bleed through the rock itself. I pressed forward, the stranger’s lotus warm against my heart, its fragrance mingling with the acrid scent of fear. At the threshold of a gaping cavern, the ground trembled beneath my boots. Mist writhed along the passage, coiling around my ankles as if to warn me back. But there was no turning now. I drew my sword, the worn hilt fitting into my palm like the memory of Gabrielle’s hand. Each step was a prayer, each heartbeat a drumbeat in the silence. Inside, the darkness was alive, pulsing with unseen movement. Shadows flickered at the edge of vision, whispering my name in voices both beloved and betraying. For a moment, I faltered, recalling the words of the stranger: “You must first face what you most fear.” I stood on the precipice, and in the echoing blackness, I saw the specter of my own failures, those I had failed to save, the pain I could not prevent, the endless cycle of violence that threatened to drown even the purest hope. But the lotus in my pocket burned gently, a quiet sun in the void. I remembered Gabrielle’s laughter, Eve’s first poem, the promise made to the river. Drawing courage from love’s memory, I stepped into the depths. A low, inhuman growl reverberated through the cavern. Glowing eyes blinked open in the gloom. Indrajit, wreathed in illusions of flame and shadow, awaited me, his presence a wound in the world, ancient and undefeated. The air thickened with magic, memories, and regret. I raised my sword, voice steady despite the tremor in my soul. “I have come for you, Indrajit. Not for vengeance, but for balance. For the hope that clings to the living, and the memory that redeems the lost.” The mountain seemed to hush, the voices retreating to the corners of the dark, as if all the realms held their breath for what would come. The battle was beginning, not only for the fate of a city or a soul, but for the promise that, even among the mountains of death, the heart might yet find its way back to the light.

 

 

Gabrielle’s POV

I was at the river, writing one of my scrolls when suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my chest and an inevitable anguish took over me that left me breathless, Eve was nearby and saw me and hugged me, and Xena came to my mind, “this anguish, this pain that is burning me is not normal...what if Xena is in danger? What if she needs me? I am caressing Eve's hair, as she hugged me tightly. The night was restless, as if the world itself mourned.

 

-Mama? Are you ok?

-…. yes, my love, I am ok…. (I lied)

- (Look at Gabrielle’s eyes) …. you’re not…you’re pale mama, what’s wrong?

 

I wanted to tell her everything, the way the ache in my chest was shaped like a name, the way my spirit seemed to echo with sorrow, not my own. But how do you explain to a child that some hearts are stitched so tightly to another’s that distance and silence are wounds, that love can hurt like prophecy? I smoothed her hair gently, drawing strength from her innocence.

 

-Sometimes (I whispered) …. mothers feel things they can’t explain. It’s like a storm far out at sea, sending its waves to our shore.

-Is it mommy, right? (she asked, her voice trembling)

 

I closed my eyes and listened, not only to the river’s hush or the wind in the reeds, but to the trembling thread that bound me to Xena, humming with alarm, with longing, with love unspent.

-Yes… (I breathed, unable to deny it) …I think she’s in trouble, but she’s strong. She’s the bravest heart I’ve ever known.

-Can we Help her mama?

- (Tears burned unshed behind my eyes) …. I would love to cross every shadow to find her… (I said) And if she’s lost, I’ll bring her home, but we can’t my love, we can’t (sobs)…. That’s what love does. It never let’s go, not through fear, nor night, nor death’s cold silence.

 

The moon crested high, silvering the river, and in that hush, I sent a silent prayer to Xena, my warrior, my tether to this world: Hold on. I am coming. Whatever waits in the darkness, we will face it together. Eve’s breathing slowed as she drifted to sleep in my arms, hope and worry tangled softly as her dreams. I looked beyond the water, toward the mountains that haunted the night, and I knew, as surely as sunrise, that the journey for both our souls had just begun.

 

Xena’s POV

And my fight begun, while I was walking to Indrajit path, all my memories rolled back like a machine, every inch of me hurt, my heart is broken in pieces, but I must continue, I need kill Indrajit to be free and just finally, finally I will able to be with my Gab and my Eve…but I need to success on the kill of Indrajit, I lay shrouded in the hush between worlds, senses half-woken, half-dreaming. The cold stone beneath me pressed a reminder into my bones, but it was the ache in my heart—a far-off echo, familiar and fierce—that kept me tethered to consciousness. Gabrielle. Her name was a pulse in the darkness, a lifeline threading through the shadows that pressed close on every side. Pain radiated from my shoulder where the blade had grazed me, but I welcomed it; it meant I was alive, meant I still had a fight to win. I focused on the thread—her love, her fear, the promise humming at the edge of my soul. If I closed my eyes, I could almost feel the gentleness of her hand smoothing my hair, the warmth of her voice promising that I was not alone, not truly lost. Somewhere, beyond these walls, the river would be slipping through the reeds, moonlight glancing off its surface, and Gabrielle would be watching, eyes fixed on the horizon, willing me home. I gathered her hope to me, breathed it in as armor against despair. I moved slow and careful, testing the shackles at my wrists. The iron bit into my skin, but I refused to flinch. I was Xena—warrior, mother, beloved—and every wound, every hardship, was a testament to what I would endure to return to them. The darkness here was heavy, but it could not suffocate the ember burning in my chest. Hold on, I whispered back across the miles. I am fighting. For you, for Eve, for all the tomorrows we have yet to see. The night cannot last forever. And so, with the memory of Gabrielle’s courage and Eve’s innocent faith guiding me, I measured my breath, counted the heartbeats, and prepared to rise, one more time against whatever waited in the dark.  The night pressed in around me, thick as velvet, sifting shadows over my weary form. Pain was a steady thrum beneath my armor, yet it was the ache of absence that truly gnawed at my resolve. Somewhere, far beyond these hostile cliffs and the echoing clash of sword and shield, I could feel Gabrielle—her heart calling to mine, a candle lit in the dark. Each breath I took tasted of her name, bittersweet and strong. I pressed a shaking hand to my chest, feeling the bruises there, and let the memory of her voice anchor me. Fear nipped at my resolve, but it was banished by the memory of her smile, the way she believed in my strength even when the world did not. I would not fail her. Not now. Not ever. Above, the moon rode high, cold and unblinking, watching as I gathered what hope remained and drew it around me like a shield. The world seemed to hush, and in that silence I reached out—not with words or weapons, but with that invisible thread spun between our souls. Hold on, Gabrielle. I am coming. If night is the price, I will cross it. If shadow is the road, I will walk it. For you. The wind rustled through the pines, carrying with it the promise of dawn. Somewhere in that breeze, I thought I heard her laughter, light and sure, and my heart surged. Whatever darkness lay ahead, it could not overcome the bond we’d forged. Love, fierce and unyielding, was my compass and my blade. Rest now, I whispered to the stars, as if she could hear me. I will find you. We will find each other, across every distance, across every fear. The night may be long, but sunrise, I swear, will be ours.