Weep Not For the Memories

In worlds far removed from the gods, soul-memories get buried deep. But the closer to the heart of all worlds one gets, the closer to hidden truths one becomes.

And in the innermost worlds, those that are separated from the heart of all worlds by the thinnest membrane, pulsing in time with the living heart that All That Is...well. In those worlds creatures are born remembering everything.

"I used to live in a jungle," a child will say. "I used to live beneath the sea. I used to be a pixie, I used to be a lion, I used to be a sylph." And no adult would ever think to question them.

"I have a soulmate," a little boy says, black curls blowing wild in the wind, hazel eyes wide and earnest. "Not just a regular soulmate. The gods made us as one thing, and then split us into two."

The little boy's brother nods at him. "Have you been with him in many other lives?" He asks.

The little boy nods. "Almost all of them. Cooper, I miss him."

"Does it hurt?" Cooper asks. "Being apart from him?"

The little boy nods again, miserably this time. "Will you help me find him? Please?"

Cooper hugs him. "Of course, little B. Tell me what you know."

Far away (but closer than either of them dare to expect), another little boy is crying as his father holds him.

"Why can't I find him?" He asks. "I've been looking for so long."

"You're only seven, bud," his father says, trying to placate the child. "Most people have to look a lot longer than that."

The little boy shakes his head, his blue-green eyes spilling over with tears. "It has been longer than that. We didn't find each other at all last time. Last time was long and sad and lonely, and I miss him so much I feel like I can't breathe."

"I'm sorry, kiddo," his father says, rubbing gentle circles on his back. His father does not ask the question that hangs heavy between them; what if he isn't here this time either?

"He is," the little boy says, without being asked. "He's here. I can feel it."

Blaine tells Cooper everything he knows about his soulmate, but the issue is one that has persisted for years in this world: the things that Blaine knows are not things they can use to trace the boy. Blaine knows the boy's essence, physical features that tend to be consistent across most incarnations, the sense of peace he gives Blaine - but he couldn't say what the boy's name might be. He couldn't say how old he is or where he might live. He can't even say if he's a he this time. Blaine's only six, so he isn't sure yet whether he likes boys or girls or both or neither like that.

All he knows is that he wants his soulmate. That he feels empty without him.

That summer, the little boy with the blue-green eyes takes a cross-country trip with his mother and father. They are going to a popular tourist destination, a region where magic is thick and adventure is inevitable. The little boy - Kurt - is excited. This will be his first time adventuring with the adults, and he can't wait to see what sort of quest is in store for him. He falls asleep in the back seat of their station wagon, and dreams about adventures he's had with his soulmate. He dreams of a time when he was an elf and his soulmate a human, and they spent hundreds of years together and everything was sweet and sad and vivid and intense. He dreams of time when he was a cat and his soulmate was a dog, and they ran away from a house of cruel humans and ended up living together in a house of kind ones instead, their lives short and sweet and simple and content. He dreams of times when he was simply a boy, such as he is right now, and they found each other and lost each other, and found each other and kept each other, but they always, always found each other.

Kurt wakes up alone and starts to cry.

Cooper brings Blaine to the enchanted forest that summer; their parents had agreed to pay for the boys to spend a week there, provided Cooper agreed not to bring Blaine on any of the high-risk- adventures offered. They wander along the forest gate, listening as nymphs and gnomes whisper to them about quests that must be fulfilled. Worlds in peril, gods entrapped, innocence threatened. Cooper finally settles on a simple mission: a small, pale nymph with sad brown eyes tells him of a lost baby unicorn, destined to be an important leader of creatures in the forest. The little unicorn can only be summoned by the heart of a child. It's perfect for them.

Cooper and Blaine spend the first day of their journey assembling clues and seeking guidance from tree-dwelling sprites. They sleep in a small, abandoned cabin with a rather tame poltergeist, and gather berries for their breakfast. As they advance deeper into the forest they begin to sing softly together, their voices winding around one another pleasantly as muted green sunlight shines through the leaves overhead, lending an unearthly glow to the world around them.

Until Blaine stops with a gasp.

"He's here."

Blaine runs as fast as he possibly can. He faintly hears Cooper in the distance yelling for him to stop, to slow down, to tell him what's happening. But he can't, he can't slow down, not even for a moment. He can't take the time to explain to Cooper just what's happening, because all he knows is that he's being tugged as if by an actual rope, pulled through the dense vegetation, deeper and deeper into the forest.

He manages to navigate thick, gnarled tree roots, rocks, shrubs and snakes. It isn't until he reaches the little clearing that he falls hard, skinning both his knees.

Blaine cries out in pain, but the sound is cut off abruptly when he looks up and finds himself faced with the most magnificent sight he could have possibly imagined.

In the center of the clearing, standing in a beam of pure sunlight, is a unicorn foal. Its coat is pure gold, its eyes indigo, and the tiny nub that will one day grow into its horn is bordered in soft, downy fluff.

And on its back sits the most beautiful boy Blaine has ever seen. His hair is a glossy chestnut brown, and his blue-green eyes are stunning in the sunlight. If it weren't for his modern clothing, he could easily be mistaken for one of the many woodland elves peppered throughout the forest.

Blaine climbs to his feet and moves toward the boy and the foal, heedless of the blood running down his legs from his scraped knees. His eyes lock on the boy's eyes, and it feels like electricity is buzzing through his veins. The boy's breath hitches, and his face settles into a shy, hopeful smile.

When Blaine finds himself standing just inches away from the boy, he reaches for him and takes his hand, kissing it softly before looking up and meeting the boy's eyes once again.

"My name is Blaine," he says.

"Kurt," returns the boy, his voice clear and pretty as a bell. He doesn't let go of Blaine's hand.

"Kurt," Blaine repeats softly, returning Kurt's smile. "There you are."

"Blaine," Kurt replies. "I've been looking for you forever."