Every Third Day

Part I: Breathe Me In, Breathe Me Out

Outer Plane: Arborea
Long ago

"…oh he's coming!"
"Wake up little nymph…"
"…hurry, hurry, look awake!"
"…be still my heart!"
"…is he.. an angel?"
"…no, he must be a god!"

The voices grew louder to her ears as she lie there on the forest floor not yet ready to wake and seize the new morn. The nymph relished the gentle warmth of the sun rays peeking through the trees as it fell across her skin. It was another beautiful day where the birdsong echoed softly through the ancient elms, but the usual voices of her fellow tree and flower spirits were more alert and lively than usual. She turned this thought about in her head, only half-wondering why they were so active when she was clearly trying to tune them out and claim a bit more sleep for herself. And a soft, contented sigh escaped her lips as she turned her head away from the footsteps nearing closer.

Footsteps! She was not alone. Her eyes fluttered open with a start, heart hesitating a beat or two just as a tall, well-muscled form stopped and knelt down beside her.

"Fair maiden, are you well?" The gentle but resoundingly masculine voice roused the nymph from slumber. "She has most certainly been ravaged by the satyr. Poor Princess," the man whispered on bated breath as he caressed her messed hair. His eyes wandered over the curves of her body as he waited for her to fully awaken.

The small anthousai's gaze rose sharply to the man and she smiled dreamily, for the man before her was like a bright shining sun, blinding her with his breathtaking warmth and tempting her with his beauty. She found his face captivating and strong, curtained by long blonde hair, a pale shade much like her own.

"Yes, yes, little nymph," one of the nature spirits started, but Etain shunned the voice.
"Silence!" She beseeched them within her mind as she further studied that angelic face looking back at her.

He had features befitting an angel, a god. Chiseled cheekbones, a strong square jaw, inquisitive pale lavender eyes. She started to speak, her gaze following his line of sight as he then looked down to the murdered satyr. Etain's heart thumped loudly in her head and she felt intense pressure there. What would he do when he realized she had viciously killed it?

"Looks like someone beat me to being your savior this day, fair maiden," he softly and matter-of-factly announced, looking around for any signs of another in their presence, but whoever it was who had helped the young maiden previously had since vanished, he reasoned.

She blinked, full lips parting briefly, and she had the imprudence to smile, exhaling softly as she did so. "Yes, my lord," the flower nymph said as her gaze fell upon him and felt something deep within her stir.

"Well, there is still some justice in this world," he said as he slid his arms beneath her legs and back, and lifted her to the crook of his body. "Let's get you back to your village, my lady."

"Little nymph, he is no mere…" Another voice hissed but was quickly cut off as the nymph spoke quietly to the man.

"You are most kind," she resolved, and gazed upon him one last time with a wide-eyed innocence before dropping her head to rest gently at his shoulder. "I live here in the wood, my lord. You can take me closer to my home, but I prefer we part ways just outside of it, if you please. I do not wish to alarm my sisters," she explained. "They worry so." She then pointed when they came upon the little spot at the foot of a great oak. "Here, here please."

The man had carried her deeper into the dense forest and stopped, looking to the peculiar area she pointed out. It was a lovely glade with a lush bed of grass and primrose in the center of it, and just beyond it was a band of wild birch trees forming a natural gate. Beyond that, a garden of flora in the most magnificent array of colors as far as the eye could see. "I insist on seeing you home safely," he contested.

"I know, my lord, and it is quite admirable of you, but trust me when I tell you this is for the best," she murmured, and lifted her head to smile up at him so sweetly, so soulfully, a mortal man's heart would ache. "My sisters," the nymph reminded gently and lifted her chin, offering her lips to his.

He looked her over, noting her unearthly beauty and grace. "You are a nymph," he acknowledged at last, then leaned in to kiss her deeply. When she finally pulled away and he had lowered her feet to the forest floor, she conceded, "Yes, my lord." Her eyes met his, and another teasing smile curled her lips.

The nymph tugged at his heartstrings, this much was true. "I must see you again," he breathed, looking her over once more, taking in her otherworldly feminine grace. Her hair was long, easily brushing her hips. Luring soft, green eyes imploring him to stay and embrace her longer. Her bared shoulders in the torn gossamer silk gown, tempting him to never leave her, but to kiss, to worship the exposed skin. Again. And again.

Etain nodded. "Here then. When you wish to see me…" she started and leaned in to kiss him farewell, which he followed suit but instead of meeting her lips, he pressed his kisses hungrily over any part of exposed skin he could find. His eyes shut tight as he explored her, unseen, with his lips alone. After many moments, it took nearly all the strength he could muster to release her. "Every third day. I will meet you here every third day," he insisted as he put distance between them and promptly turned to leave.

"And so it shall be, my deliverer," she soothed to his retreating back, watching him briefly before turning to move deeper into the wood.

He did come to her every third day at morning's first light, as promised. The nymph looked forward to his visits where they lay upon the beds of flowers and tender pads of grass and made love, laughed at each other's stories, and shared secrets to pass the time. It was said they were greatly enamored with one another. Although there are other versions of the story too offering other alternatives. But in all recounts of their story, what is consistently told is that the nymph did not know, until it was too late, that he was a god and was already wed to another.

His wife was the goddess of Enlightenment. And when she discovered her husband's betrayal, she had him followed and learned of his whereabouts on those days he went off to see his nymph lover. Armed with the knowledge and details of his extramarital activities, she began plotting her revenge. She vowed the two would not go unpunished.

One day, when the sky was painted high with a silky sheen of thin and wispy clouds and the two lovers were intertwined in their nature bed, the scorned goddess entered the nymph's sanctuary and lit it ablaze. Smoke filled the air, and the smell of burning brush was suffocating. The nymph rose from her lover's arms and sprinted toward her dwelling with the god following close behind. The screams of a thousand nymphs pierced her ears, causing her heart to bleed. Flames spread, licking at flora and chasing away all living beings that could flee. The space around her had blackened and was filled with ash. And her eyes closed. All Etain was left with now were charred trees void of their spirits, the ground burnt and smoldering, and the beloved flowers, most all of her sisters, incinerated.

Etain dropped to her hands and knees and felt the wetness on her cheeks. She was weeping, her heart was broken - soul crushed. Her shoulders shook from the pure agony coursing through her. Her sisters had been slain by the goddess, wife to her lover - the nearby tree spirits outside of the devastation told her so! And she would return, they warned. The goddess' husband knelt down beside the anthousai and placed his hands upon the her shoulders to console her. He wanted to embrace her, but she would not allow it to be.

"Leave me. I know you are wed to another. This is her doing. This is your doing," she accused. "You have deceived us both and, in turn, destroyed us all."

"I will handle her," he reacted, his tone dull, his face without expression. "You will not speak to me so."

"Leave me," she echoed.

And he did retreat while her heart rent to pieces from the anguish consuming her. The last standing flowers, trees, and grasses, that miraculously survived, swayed under the oscillating crescendo of her screams. She slumped against a lifeless birch, catching her breath and wondering if, pleading for, death would still come for her. She was lost without her sisters. Worthless. Alone. Incomplete.

But Etain knew proper grieving would have to wait. She could still save what sisters were left, she would search out a safe place for them, and they could start anew. She wiped at her eyes, her nose, and stood tall. Her gaze swept over the carnage, her breath ragged and catching deep in her throat. And the nymph lifted her hands high into the air above her head, her face following suit with eyes closed. "Sisters," she implored. "Aid me!" Etain called upon her fellow breeze nymphs and they took their two-legged maiden forms and met her there. They each linked hands, standing in a large ring facing one another and invoked a high wind, one so strong in which to open up pods, spill seeds, snap stems of flowers and branches of trees, sometimes pulling up roots and landing them all near Etain's bare feet.

There weren't many that survived, but Etain collected these and a bit of the soil into a pouch. She would flee, find a safe grove or hollow and then, once established, she would avenge them. She would avenge them all.