Heavenly Creatures -
CHAPTER 12: Avalokitesvara
Sun stared, transfixed, at a space beside me. I turned to look as well. At first, I saw nothing. Then, so faintly I almost missed it, there appeared to be a shimmer in the air, like the film of a soap bubble. I saw scales, then the shining eyes of a giant bluish green dragon.
I gaped at the dragon. It began to shrink and melt until it had transformed into a beautiful woman.
Sun seemed to choke. “Avalokitesvara! It was you this entire time? How could I have not known you?”
“Hello, sister,” the woman said, ignoring him. “Or should I say ‘brother’?”
Something clenched in my chest and squeezed so hard that I couldn’t answer or breathe. I wanted to run to her. Tears welled in my eyes. Habit made me push the feelings away until I had gotten a hold of myself.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“You know me as many things,” the woman said. “Three thousand years ago, we were brothers. In this life, I am your protector. Here,”—she gestured to our surroundings—“you knew me as Arthur.”
“King Arthur?” I gasped.
“You watched me die first in Mongolia. It’s only fair that I had to watch you die first, metaphorically, here,” she said, indicating the English fields around her.
I couldn’t speak for feeling too many emotions at once. There was the constant feeling of abandonment that now decided to rear its head. There was despair and helplessness. And there was grief—or maybe disenchanted love, as Sun had said earlier.
“Why,” I croaked, before clearing my throat. “Why are you here now?”
“I never left,” the woman said. “Sometimes, I would incarnate with you. And other times, I remained as I was in this life: a spiritual protector.”
“But why reveal yourself now?” Sun asked.
The woman turned to Sun with a smile. “Because while I commend your effort, I didn’t want to see you continue to botch things.”
Sun bristled. “What do you mean, ‘botch’ things?”
“This isn’t what Tara needs,” the woman said. “She doesn’t need to rehash the pain of her past. She needs to find mother.”
“Mother?” I asked, finally able to speak.
The woman pierced me with her eyes. “She is out there, still suffering for what she did to us. She is the one who left us in the woods, after all.”
A dull anger rose up within me. “Doesn’t she deserve to suffer, then?”
The woman shook her head. “Tara. To live is to be in danger of crucifixion and of crucifying others.” She seemed to sense that my heart remained immovable, but she smiled. “No matter. Let’s go.”
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