I only, I alone, to tell thee…
I who have understood nothing, have known
Nothing, have been answered nothing.

My babies are dead. They're dead, and the sky is burning and the enemy will not give us even enough peace to bury them, and I fear I can no longer protect my beloved children, not even from their misguided parents. I am not sure what happened, even now. They are grown - they were grown - and it has been many years since their nanny was the central figure in their lives - the one who protected and cared for them. Now I am just an old woman, and no one will tell me anything. All I know is they are dead, killed somehow by the enemy. They are dead, and they are being sent away - Ravina insists. I don't know why no one tries to stop her - I suppose Traynor is too caught up in his grief to notice his wife's plans, Mila and Kirnan have already left this world for the next, and the rest, sure that this insanity will fail, see nothing wrong in indulging her. I, however, know that this plan will succeed, and yet fail regardless.

There is nothing wrong with the first part of her plan. Our scientists have possessed cloning technology for centuries now. We don't clone often, but only because it is not needed much. We have long since outgrown any fear of the process. It's quite simple, really, from what the scientists have told me. They isolate a cell from the person that is to be cloned, and put the chromosomes into a dormant state, withdrawing the genes that cause cells to reproduce. Then, they draw unfertilized eggs from a donor, taking out the nuclei, which contains the genetic material, so the egg is like a blank host. The two cells are combined, the growth process is continued, and the new egg is implanted into a surrogate mother. If no surrogate is available, we are also able to implant the new egg into a pod chamber, although that is not the ideal situation.

It is the second part of Ravina's plan that is completely foolhardy. She has decided that this war-torn world is not a place she wants to bring her children, Maslin and Iola, back to. But she is also determined that they - along with their mates, Tirza and Mischan - will be our salvation from the enemy and must be brought back as soon as possible.

So she will have them sent to a distant planet - one that we have visited often, because it is so similar to our own, or at least our own of millennia past. And, in an attempt to hide the four from our enemy, she insists that their genetic material be mixed with that of the planet's inhabitants. Most people who know of this part of her plan think it will not work - never before have our scientists produced a clone from a mix of our genetic material and that of another species. Ravina, though, is certain that this is the only way to save her children. Daily, she prepares things to be sent with them, books and maps and other objects to remind them of what she calls their destiny.

Visions tell me that these four children will survive, that the science experiment will work - better than any of us could ever hope for it to. The cloning process, to be done in a few days time, will be much the same as it usually is - with one vital difference. The initial cell will be that of Maslin, Tirza, Mischan, and Iola, respectively. They will be added to human eggs which have not have their nuclei removed. The result will be four perfectly healthy hybrids, the genetic essences of the four children mixed with human samples we have acquired over the years.

What will fail us, for the first time in millennia, is psychology. Ravina expects that her children, even raised on a different planet, even with human genetic material mixed in with their own, will be the same people. She expects that they will still know each other, still love each other, still possess the same fierce determination to protect their home. My visions tell me differently, but I know of no way to stop her.

I fret for many days, trying to find a way to let our children know that the way Ravina imagines their future is not the way it has to be, is nothing but a frantic, grief-stricken mother's hopes. Finally, I decide to write them a letter, hoping that they will find it before they suffer too much damage from Ravina's plans. My fingers are too old and frail to write calmly though, so I call on their beloved friend, Damia, to assist me.

As I write, I remember the past. I was like a second mother to all of the palace children, but these four especially. Their parents were the busiest, with affairs of state and other obligations. Of course they loved their children, but they also had a strong sense of duty - perhaps the strongest of any of our rulers, throughout history. Traynor and Ravina, our king and queen, along with their closest friends, Kirnan and Mila, worked hard for the well being of our people. And, for the most part, they succeeded. Our planet, for most of their reign, was as prosperous as it had ever been. But then the enemy came, and our planet was plunged into a desperate fight for survival, and they had even less time to spend with their children than before.

Eventually the children grew old enough to serve their people as well. I tried to protect them; I wanted to keep them safe as long as possible. But Ravina's sense of duty to our world extended even to her children, and she insisted that they become involved in the conflict. Mislan became the leader of our people when his father was too old to go into battle. Mischan was his closest counsel, his lead military advisor, and became the fiercest warrior our people had ever known. Iola also took her place among the soldiers, alongside her brother and her beloved. Tirza maintained the country while her family was off fighting, becoming the central figure of our world. When people thought of the palace, they thought of her, fighting to hold us all together. Some criticized her for not joining the battle, but she served in the best way she could.

One day, word came to the capital that Mislan, Mischan and Iola were all gone. Whether they were killed in battle, or by an assassin, I do not know. I'm not sure if anyone knows that. Days later, Tirza was dead as well. I imagine that one of the enemy murdered her, and the possibility of a traitor among us frightens me. But again, I am not sure exactly how she died.

I write all of this in my letter to my beloved children. I tell them who they were, in hopes that it will help them to discover who they will become. I tell them that their parents love them, that I love them. I tell them not to feel obligated to follow the destiny Ravina lays out for them, but I cannot bring myself to tell them my fears that she has become more than slightly mad from grief.

This present tragedy will eventually
turn into myth, and in the mist
of that later telling the bell tolling
now will be a symbol, or, at least
a sign of something long since lost.

This will be another one of those
loose changes, the rearrangement of
hearts, just parts of old lives
patched together, gathered into
a dim constellation, small consolation.

Accalia tells me her visions of my friends' futures, and I cannot help but weep for them. I know they would not choose this for themselves. True, they were heroes of our people. But that was not all they were. I saw them as many did not - as normal, everyday people with normal everyday wants and fears. I grew up with them, I was their friend - as close a friend as any could be who was not one of the four.

Already, their story is becoming embellished myth. I have heard the tale of their deaths more than twenty times already, each different, each telling more fanciful than the last. The latest version has an added feature - now people claim that the four will return to us when we need them most, as our salvation. Somehow this war has returned my people to a time millennia in our past, a time when we searched for heroes to save us and turned to legends to explain that which we did not understand.

So, I listen as Accalia tells me what will truly happen, and I weep. I weep for Tirza, who will be isolated and alone - her greatest fear come to life once more. During the conflict, however, she at least had our people's strength to draw on - now she will have nothing but herself. I weep for Mischan, so strong, reduced to a victim of violence and abuse. It is almost physically painful for me to imagine him too scared of discovery and physical violence to protect himself. I weep for Iola, too scared of discovery to let anyone close to her. And I weep for Maslin, too caught up in his need to protect Iola and Mischan that he will not allow himself to truly live. Mostly, though, I weep for their loves. Because I believe Accalia when she says that they will be happy, they will be loved and they will love, and then these messages from Ravina will come to light and cause turmoil in their lives.

Perhaps I don't need heroes as much as the rest of us. Or maybe, knowing my friends, my cousins, I have a more realistic faith in them. I have hope for them, but I do not hope that they will come back to save me - indeed, I fear we are all already beyond salvation. I hope that they will retain the strength that I remember. I hope they will be strong enough to follow their hearts.

The earth is too hot to last
though each time we tear it apart
we save the pieces.

In a spacecraft, I watch our golden-green planet as it diminishes from sight below me. Somehow I know, without anyone having told me, that the planet below is ruined, that although we have won the war against the enemy, we have lost our most precious resource - our home. Thankfully, though, our people survive. Eventually, we will return. Thinking of my four friends, so far away with their guardians, I hope again that my faith in them is not misplaced. I hope they retain the strength of character to follow what their hearts tell them is right - for, what an absolute waste it would be if they sacrificed their happiness and came back, finding no one left for them to save. I hope that at least some small part of them remembers home, remembers how they were loved, remembers their friend Damia who tagged along beside them without ever quite being one of them. I hope they remember, and I hope that memory brings them at least some small comfort.

It's a shock as my eyes refocus and see the blue sky. It is the wrong color. Strangely, though, the sea is still gold. Suddenly I realize that I am home - home in New Mexico. Instead of the blue-gray sea that should surround me, it is gold-red desert, and I stand in front of the cave where the pods are still hidden. I watch as Nasedo leads a small Tess out from the darkness, and an elderly voice in my mind whispers, "Poor Tirza." She seems at once both awed and confused, and I am overcome by sadness. I know that I will never be able to look at Tess again without seeing this small, frightened child, without remembering the love Accalia and Damia felt for their Tirza. I only regret that Michael, Max, and Isabel have already gone and I am not able to watch their emergence into this world, not able to give the presences I feel inside of my mind some bigger consolation. I try to whisper that the four children from so long ago are loved still, I try to show who those children have become. There is only a soft caress against me, what feels like a lullaby, lovingly whispered into my ear, and I am alone again.

And in that moment we became --- elegance of fire, the waving grass.
And it's been years.

And then sea and stone replace the desert, and Michael stands before me. His eyes focus on me, and I can tell that he, also, has returned from whatever journey he was on. Before I can wonder long whether he has seen the same visions I have, my mouth is crushed against his, and I can feel his every emotion. He loves me, and for some reason he is no longer afraid to show that. We sink to the rocks together, and begin to tell each other what we have seen.

What was blood
but a dream circulating,
so that the stars
would swing, and the