Fanfiction
In Time
by Kristen Murphy
"The eternal cannot change. It's not touched by time. As soon as you have a historical act, a movement, you're in time. The world of time is a reflex of the energy of what is eternal. But the eternal is not touched by what is here." —Joseph Campbell
It was sunset, and the Great Temple of the Ninjetti was awash with fiery light as Phaedos' star sank gradually toward the tangled darkness of the Neola Jungle. The naturally warm colors of the Temple and its rocky plateau leapt into flame beneath the glowing touch of the sun.
On the opposite horizon where blue still tinged the sky, a black speck came suddenly into view. Tiny at first, it appeared high in the sky and quickly grew in size as it descended, revealing itself to be a sleek black and silver spacecraft. It came down in a graceful swooping arc over the ocean, its dark, polished surface reflecting the red-gold of the waves, and moments later it was soaring across the rocky coastline. The plateau loomed before it, a vast, monolithic tower crowned by the Temple complex.
The ship did not fly directly over the plateau — to do so would have been an act of sacrilege — but rather banked gracefully to the right and glided down to a landing platform on one of the lower cliffs. Its arrival prompted a flurry of activity among the few spaceport workers, who hurried to activate landing lights and other systems needed to guide the ship in safely.
The only unoccupied person on the platform was a lone man in red who stood waiting on the tarmac in the relaxed "at ready" posture of a seasoned fighter. Although the spectacular sunset was not visible from the platform, its colors were echoed by the powerfully built Ninjetti warrior. He wore a sleeveless red tunic and leather sandals that laced around his muscular calves, and his short, coppery curls were ringed by a thin circlet of gold. On his left wrist he wore a very wide gold armill set with rubies and engraved with the undulating form of a Phaedan dragon. The man's hazel eyes were bright as he watched the black ship hover above the platform. The spaceport lights caught and reflected from the ship's smooth hull and the golden crest of the Eltarian Senate emblazoned on its side.
Dust swirled up around the sleek spacecraft as it lowered itself with a hum and the blue glow of antigrav repulsors. It took a few moments, but both dust and ship soon settled to the earth.
A uniformed worker approached the man in red. "The Eltarians request permission to disembark, Master Nathen." The worker spoke with the melodic accent of the Ninjetti.
Nathen smiled and nodded. "Permission granted." His deep voice matched the other man's accent.
As the worker returned to his post, Nathen approached the small ship. A hatch opened in the side of the spacecraft, and cool, pressurized air came rushing out to mingle with the heat of Phaedos. The temporary breeze ruffled the hair and clothing of the two figures who stood in the hatchway waiting for the ramp to be extended.
The older of the two visitors was the first down the ramp. He was dressed in a long-sleeved shirt and pants that were completely unsuited to the Phaedan climate, but he showed no sign of discomfort in the heat. The warrior on the ground smiled. That was Caleth, always at his ease. The Senator of Elaria was a cheerful, handsome man in his mid-hundreds — quite young to hold such an elevated post. There was no trace of grey in his sandy hair, and his ready smile was as sincere as it was charming. His light blue cape fluttered cheerfully behind him as he walked down the ramp with easy, relaxed strides.
Behind the senator came the slightly smaller figure of his young nephew. Nathen was always struck by how similar the pair looked. Both of them shared the same slender build, dark blond hair, and stormy grey eyes. However, the boy's features were drawn into a much more serious expression than that worn by the lighthearted senator, and his dark green and black clothing made him seem little more than a straw-haired shadow in the fading light. The boy had grown since his last visit, Nathen thought, although he still wasn't as tall as his uncle.
"Welcome to Phaedos!" Nathen called to them over the fading whine of the spaceship's engines.
Caleth broke into a grin as he caught sight of the one-man welcoming party. "Good evening, Nathen!" he returned. "I hope we haven't kept you waiting out here too long."
"Not at all," replied Nathen. He reached out to clasp the senator's hand in a warm, though brief greeting. "I've only been waiting a few minutes." He turned his attention to the dark-clad teenager standing behind Caleth. "Hello, Zordon," he greeted the boy. "It's good to see you again."
Zordon bowed formally. "It is good to see you as well, Master Warrior."
Nathen hid a grin as he acknowledged the boy's greeting with a dignified nod. He wished Zordon would learn to loosen up around him. Even on social calls, the young man always accorded him formal respect, and Nathen was never quite sure whether that was because he was the Master Warrior, or because he was Kesmira's father. It was endearing, but it also made him feel rather old.
"Why don't we start down?" he suggested. "Meleda and the girls are anxious to see you both, and supper should be nearly ready by now. I can arrange to have your things brought down to the house later."
Caleth grinned broadly at the mention of supper. "That sounds wonderful to me." He turned toward the sandy-haired teen at his right shoulder. "Unless Zordon would rather wait," he teased.
Zordon smiled at his uncle's joke, but his grey eyes were distant and his thoughts were already elsewhere. Caleth could tell that the boy was practically vibrating with anticipation.
Caleth contemplated the young man for a moment. He tried to be a role model for his sister's son, but he often felt that he didn't really understand the boy. Zordon had had to deal with the loss of his father when he was only twelve, in addition to the lifelong burden of his magical abilities. Caleth himself had never shown even the slightest potential in that area, and he thought there was something about all mages that was just a little bit "off." His solution to the boy's seeming loneliness had been to start taking him along on his various diplomatic trips around the galaxy. No one but Caleth had been more surprised when on one of the earliest trips Zordon met Nathen's daughter Kesmira and the pair became almost instantly inseparable. They were kiariyri — soul mates — a rare thing to discover at any point in life, much less at the tender age of thirteen. Caleth knew such bonds were not unheard of — their host, Nathen, was another who had been blessed to discover his kiariyr — but Zordon's relationship to the Ninjetti girl was one more thing about his nephew that he didn't truly understand.
"Let's get going, then." Nathen spoke briefly with one of the spaceport workers, and then he led the two Eltarians away from the landing area to the place where the cliff joined on to the main bulk of the towering stone formation. There was a path there, a steep, rough-hewn trail that zig-zagged its way down to the base of the cliff, and the red-headed Ninjetti started down it with Caleth and Zordon close behind him.
The sun had set completely, and far above them the colonnade of the Great Temple was visible as a black outline against the darkening blue sky. Zordon lagged a little behind the adults as he paused to look up at it. From this angle he could just make out the glow of the eternal flame at the center of the Temple. For some reason he found it reassuring.
Zordon breathed deeply and glanced back at the path. Nathen and his uncle were several meters ahead of him, talking and laughing as they made their way down the steep trail. Zordon hurried to catch up with them.
The moons had not yet risen, and it was quite dark on the lower cliffs. Small, oval-shaped glowlamps marked the edges of the path, but Zordon and Caleth still had to be rather careful as they picked their way down the trail. Nathen, on the other hand, could have negotiated the rocky trail without fear even in pitch darkness. Confidently, he led his two visitors down toward the collection of warm, inviting lights nestled at the base of the looming tower of rock — down into the city of the Ninjetti.
The city had no name. It was customary among the Ninjetti to refer to natural landmarks rather than manmade ones; thus, a traveler bound for a city beside Illura Falls would speak of going to the falls, not to the city itself. The distinction seemed trivial to most outworlders, but to the Ninjetti it was a crucial subtlety. To them it was the natural world that mattered; cities and starships and computers were necessities, but not ones the Ninjetti found particularly interesting. The only artificial construct they honored was the Great Temple, which almost looked like a natural outgrowth of the plateau anyway.
The city at the base of the plateau also seemed very natural, an impression fostered by the almost organic-looking architecture and the exotic gardens that had been coaxed from the dry, rocky terrain. All of the buildings were very similar to each other so that no one in particular stood out, and they were clustered together in an irregular fashion more suggestive of organic growth than of a carefully planned metropolis.
The path from the spaceport led down into a residential area, and it was only a short walk from there to the home of the Master Warrior. Nathen's family lived in a house made of interconnected earthen domes of various sizes. A rock garden out front was lush with thick-leaved succulents and other dry-climate plants; even a few hardy specimens from the nearby jungle had managed to assert themselves. Two of the domes were partially covered with ropy green vines that bloomed with large yellow and lavender flowers. There was no glass in the semicircular windows — when needed, thick drapes could be used to keep out inclement weather. It was dark before the three men reached the house, but soft, golden light glowed from the windows and around the door, which was really just a heavy curtain with weight at the bottom to keep it from flapping in the unpredictable breezes around the plateau. Nathen pushed the curtain aside with one hand as he beckoned the others to follow him.
They stepped from indigo darkness into the warm, homey light of the main dome. The large room was both living and dining area, and it was comfortably, though minimally, furnished. Colorful hangings brightened the drab walls, and there were a few pieces of low furniture cushioned with bright pillows. The golden light came from large translucent globes filled with phosphorescent moss that hung on braided vines from the domed ceiling.
On the far right side of the room was a large table that appeared to have been sculpted from the wall itself. It was like a shelf jutting out from the wall, with one end roughly carved into a supporting column and the other gradually thickening until it merged seamlessly with the earthen side of the dome. The table was flanked by a pair of wooden benches, and a single large glowlamp was suspended over it.
A young girl in a long blue-violet dress was setting the table for supper. Her back was to the door as Nathen and the Eltarians came in, and she spun eagerly to face them.
"They're here!" she called delightedly, and dashed toward them with her lustrous black hair flying behind her. Caleth, grinning, sidestepped neatly out of the way as the girl flew past him and flung her slender arms around Zordon's neck.
Zordon colored slightly at the enthusiastic greeting. He was usually much more reserved, particularly in front of an audience. Still, he couldn't help but smile as he returned Kesmira's embrace.
<<I missed you,>> she told him silently, and pulled back to meet his gaze with deep blue eyes. Her soft voice was like music in his mind.
<<I missed you, too,>> he replied across the thrumming resonance of their bond. He had not realized how much he had missed her until that moment, when the joy of reunion mingled in him with the ache of long separation.
"Just in time for supper, I see." The light, musical voice belonged to Kesmira's mother, Meleda, who had just emerged from the adjoining kitchen. She was a petite, fragile-looking woman whose features were a more delicate version of her daughter's. She had 'Mira's dark, curly hair and midnight blue eyes, but her eyes were incredibly large and her small face was pointed and elfin-looking. She stood just outside the kitchen archway, wiping her small hands on a cloth as she pretended to chide the newcomers.
"But of course," said Caleth, grinning rakishly. "The mere thought of your culinary brilliance made the light-years pass more quickly."
Meleda laughed as the senator bent to kiss her cheek in greeting. Next to the tall Eltarian, she appeared as tiny as a child, despite the golden armband that marked her as a Ninjetti adept.
A young redhead standing at Meleda's left rolled her eyes at the exchange. The youngest in the family, she took everything seriously and had little patience for those who didn't.
Zordon greeted her with a smile. "Hello, Dulcea. It's good to see you again."
Dulcea turned toward the boy, ignoring Caleth completely. "Hello, Zordon."
Zordon smiled to himself. He had always liked Dulcea. Like himself, she was fiercely devoted to her training and serious beyond her years. She was training as a Ninjetti warrior, and she was almost fanatical about it. Many people were put off by her singleminded intensity, but it had paid off: at thirteen, she was surpassing trainees years older than she. Dulcea was a coltish girl, all arms and legs and already taller than her mother. She was dressed plainly in a short brown tunic, and her long, red-gold hair was tied back in a thick braid. She almost always dressed that way: rough, practical, no-nonsense. Zordon was sure there was a sense of humor lurking somewhere behind those intense blue-green eyes, but so far Dulcea didn't seem to have found it. He had the feeling a lot of people would be shocked when she finally did.
When the greetings were over with, Meleda told everyone to get ready for supper and ducked back into the kitchen. Her cooking wasn't quite as good as Caleth claimed, but the smells wafting out from the open archway still made Zordon's mouth water.
He washed up in another domed room, one of several that opened off of the main living space. When he returned, he found Kesmira already seated at the table. He took the place across from her on the long wooden bench and rested his loosely clasped hands on the earthen tabletop. Slowly, he raised his grey eyes to meet her blue ones, and his serious face broke into an irrepressible grin.
Kesmira grinned back and reached out to place her own hands over his. She loved it when he smiled. It made him seem his true age instead of some grave old man trapped in a teenager's body. <<How was your trip?>> she asked him, delighting in the telepathic contact. It was rather unnecessary, since they were sitting right across from one another, but it had been so long that she couldn't resist.
<<It was all right.>> Zordon seemed slightly pensive. <<I was glad to get here, though. I've really missed you.>>
Kesmira wondered what was bothering him, but before she could ask he was inquiring about her Ninjetti training. Zordon frequently found ways to evade her concern, although they never worked for very long. 'Mira decided that she would humor him for the time being, and she began telling him about her latest activities as a mystic-in-training.
Dulcea came in from the kitchen carrying a stone pitcher of water, and she smiled at the sight of Zordon and her sister holding hands and gazing at each other in silence. "Sorry to intrude," she said with a hint of amusement. They barely acknowledged her as she moved around the table filling the cups that were set at each place. "Guess this means I'm going to finish setting the table myself," she remarked, unheard, and vanished back into the kitchen.
A few moments later, Nathen and Caleth reentered the room. This time the couple did take notice and withdrew their hands, Zordon with a faint blush as his uncle sat down on his left.
Caleth grinned knowingly at the boy. He could see that the pair had wasted no time in getting completely lost in each other.
Nathen sat across from his guests, next to 'Mira, who seemed unembarrassed by the interruption. He regarded her fondly for a moment before addressing the senator. "So how was Edenoi?"
Caleth redirected his grin. "Cold and dark, as usual."
Nathen laughed heartily at that, and even Kesmira and Zordon joined in. The conditions on Edenoi weren't that extreme, but its reddish sun did burn much cooler than those of Eltar or Phaedos.
"What's cold and dark?" Meleda was just coming from the kitchen with a large serving bowl and had caught the end of the exchange.
Caleth didn't miss a beat. "This room, until it was filled with your radiant beauty."
"Oh, of course." Meleda rolled her eyes and began dishing out soup. Dulcea, who had followed her mother out of the kitchen, placed a platter of warm bread on the table and went back for more.
The meal was simple, but it smelled tantalizing. There was freshly baked bread, a clear soup filled with assorted vegetables, and pinkish-white fillets of fish. Meleda spoke a Ninjetti blessing over the food, and then everyone dug in with enthusiasm.
"So how was Edenoi really?" asked Nathen after a few minutes. "Did the ceremony go well?"
Caleth nodded as he tore off a piece of bread. "Splendidly, as a matter of fact. The place hasn't looked that festive in years." Their previous stop had been on the planet Edenoi to attend the coming-of-age ceremony for Crown Prince Lexien. It was traditional for the king's heir to accept the Masked Rider powers and the role of planetary defender at the age of fifteen. Caleth had represented Eltar at the state occasion, and Zordon had accompanied him because the teenaged prince was one of his closest friends.
"Lex wanted me to tell you hello for him," Zordon said to Kesmira, who also knew the prince. "You too, Dulcea." There had been a Ninjetti delegation at the event, but the girls' training responsibilities had kept them both on Phaedos.
Kesmira smiled, a bit wistfully. "I wish I had been there," she said with her soft accent. It had been a long time since she had seen her Edenite friend. "How was he?"
"Same old Lexien." Zordon grinned. "But I think receiving the powers affected him more than he wanted to admit. He seemed a little dazed afterwards." Perhaps Lexien's brush with Power would make him think twice before teasing Zordon about his own magical studies.
Zordon's mind drifted back to the majestic ceremony in the Great Hall on Edenoi. It really had been an amazing thing, watching his friend be transformed before his eyes by the power of the Masked Riders. Lex had seemed almost preternaturally solemn and much older than fifteen as he had accepted the trust that had been held by his father and grandfathers since time immemorial. Lexien and his father had regarded each other for a long moment after the transfer, and for a brief instant they had not been father and son, but brothers — kings — sharing a moment of grave and deep understanding. Then the moment had passed, and King Rerion had looked on his son with the proudest smile Zordon had ever seen as fanfares rang out to acclaim the Crown Prince.
Zordon had been thrilled for his friend, but the ceremony had also made him ache for his own father, whom he could remember looking at him with that same kind of pride. Zordon missed him fiercely.
"Well, if he was dazed, he certainly didn't show it." Caleth's remark pulled Zordon back to the present. "All the heads of state were very impressed with him."
That was no surprise. Lexien was brilliant, in politics as well as in science, and his charming manner made it easy for him to win people over.
"He'll be a popular king when the time comes," Nathen predicted. "Not that that won't be for a long time yet." The warrior helped himself to another bowl of soup.
"He may have to be Masked Rider sooner than he thinks, though."
Nathen put down the serving spoon. "What do you mean?"
The senator returned his questioning gaze with suddenly grave eyes. "The Khogar are up to their old tricks again."
Meleda looked alarmed and raised a small hand to her face.
"What happened?" Dulcea asked, intent.
"They attacked a farming community on Aquitar two days ago. It was completely unexpected. They killed about fifty people and made off with most of the harvest."
Nathen looked grim. "The Khogar haven't struck this far inside the galaxy since I was a boy. I wonder what Korim could be up to." Korim the Vicious was the leader of the Khogar, a race of intergalactic warriors and pirates that lived by conquest and sudden raids. In the last millennium those raids had been confined to distant worlds in territory the Khogar claimed as their own. The planets of the Eltar Alliance, nestled deep within the Andromeda Galaxy, had been inviolate for centuries.
Caleth knew this, and his grey eyes were dark as he informed them, "It wasn't Korim."
"What?"
"Apparently the raid was led by Korim's teenage son. And if the violence of this attack is any indication, he's trying to outdo his father."
"Korim has a son?" Nathen repeated in disbelief.
Caleth nodded. "It seems so. They call him Prince Zedd, but other than that we don't know much about him. From the eyewitness accounts, he doesn't even look like a Khogar. He also seems to have powers unlike anything we've seen from them before."
"So they didn't catch him?" asked 'Mira. Something about the senator's tale was making her very uneasy. She glanced toward Zordon, but the young man's expression was veiled.
"No. The authorities got there too late to do anything but pick up the pieces. They tried to chase down the Khogar ships, but there were all sorts of strange technical problems, and they lost them." Caleth gave a small, mystified shrug. "One thing's certain: we probably haven't heard the last of Prince Zedd."
Everyone at the table was silent for a moment as they contemplated the news. It was hard to accept that the peace they had known for so long could be so suddenly and unexpectedly violated.
Not for the first time since he had heard this news, Zordon found himself thinking of the speeder accident which had killed his father three years earlier. He thought of the Aquitian farmers who had been alive one instant and dead the next, without warning, without preparation. Zordon knew that death could come like lightning from the sky — but the thought of someone deliberately causing it to happen, of violence that destroyed entire families, filled him with anger and a sense of deep betrayal.
<<What is it, kiariyr?>> He heard Kesmira's voice inside his head. He didn't answer, but looked steadily for a moment into her beautiful blue eyes. Right now they held concern for him and distress at Caleth's news, but beyond that something about them was serene and untouched. 'Mira knew nothing of death, he thought. She had never lost anyone close to her. And although she could read his heart as if it were her own, the betrayal he felt was one thing he didn't believe she could truly understand.
<<Zordon?>> she ventured again.
He projected her a vague sense of reassurance, the telepathic equivalent of a shrug, and tried to smile. 'Mira looked unconvinced.
Meleda ended the brief silence. "Is Aquitar recovering?"
"Most of the victims were beyond recovery," replied Caleth sadly. "They're getting things cleaned up at the attack sites, though. It would be going faster, but those Aquitians are too damned self-reliant to accept Alliance help. Of course, that hasn't stopped Lord Hethyr from launching his own investigation."
Despite the grim subject, Nathen couldn't help but smile a little at the mention of his kiariyr. "How is Kiyrs?" he asked.
Caleth smiled wryly. "Furious with himself for not knowing about this sooner. He was gone for Aquitar the instant we heard."
"How could he have known?" Meleda pointed out. "Korim has so many concubines, he's probably been keeping a dozen sons tucked away."
"Well, don't tell that to Kiyrs, or he'll go tearing the universe apart until he finds them all," said Nathen. Only Nathen knew the atrocities Kiyrs Hethyr had once suffered at the hands of the Khogar. Nowadays, the head of Eltarian defense took every Khogar attack personally.
"He's already determined to find this one," said Caleth grimly, "and I pity Prince Zedd when he does."
Kesmira shivered as the uneasy feeling raced up her spine again. She sought out Zordon's stormy gaze, and this time she could tell he felt it, too.
The house was slow to give up its heat, and after supper Zordon retreated with 'Mira to the blessedly cool outdoors. The twin moons cast a refreshing silvery light over the small front garden and threw sharply defined shadows all over the ground. Distant sounds came from the house behind them, where conversation went on as Dulcea cleared the table, but the two older teens were silent as they perched together on a large rock in the garden.
Kesmira pulled her knees up to her chest and sat with her bare toes peeking out from under her long purple gown. Her ebony hair had taken on a bluish sheen in the moonlight, and even her golden-tanned features seemed pale. Beside her, Zordon looked like a thin, silvery spirit with his fair skin and blond hair shining against his dark-colored clothing. His changeable eyes were dark, though, and troubled.
"What's bothering you?" Kesmira asked softly. "It's more than what happened on Aquitar."
Zordon shrugged, a bit uncomfortably. "I just can't stop thinking."
'Mira smiled to herself. That was hardly unusual. "What are you thinking about?" she asked gently. When Zordon got into these moods the only thing that helped was to coax it out of him.
He said nothing for several moments, only stared off toward some unknown spot in the garden. Finally he turned his head toward her and met her gaze with his dark grey eyes. "Everything's changing," he nearly whispered. "Everything at once. Time goes so fast…"
Something in his voice made Kesmira ache to take him into her arms and comfort him. Instead she questioned softly, "What's changing?"
"Everything. Like… like Lex. He's the Masked Rider now. He's different. I don't think most people could tell, but he is." He gave a soft, contemplative laugh. "You should have seen the way all those diplomats were talking to him, like he was running the planet already. And he answered all their questions just like he was one of them."
"Zordon, he is a genius." Lexien was, in fact, the most intelligent person she had ever met.
"I know that. But he's a child. We're all children. We're fifteen, 'Mira." That didn't seem to require a response.
Zordon fell silent for a moment and then continued in a seemingly unrelated vein. "I had a dream about it," he said. He looked down at his feet clad in soft black boots. He was sitting flat on the rock with his legs hanging over the edge, not quite touching the ground. "I dreamed that I was coming back from a training session at Master Barza's cottage, and the sun was shining and the wind was blowing over the meadows… and when I came over the last hill and looked down to where Elaria should be… it was gone. It was burned and lying in rubble, all the buildings… And the people… the people were just gone. Mother and Uncle Caleth and everyone… the city was empty. And I was all alone." His voice was haunted.
"Oh, love…" Kesmira slipped her left hand into his right and held it tightly. Her eyes were moist with tears, although Zordon's were dry and distant. <<You are never alone,>> she told him fiercely.
"It could happen so easily," the boy continued. His voice was far away and thoughtful. "One strike from the Khogar, or someone else… one rogue asteroid… one incurable bacterium… everything could be gone. And I wonder…" He never said what he wondered.
<<Kiariyr?>> 'Mira prompted when Zordon lapsed into silence. She shifted position so that she was sitting cross-legged on the rock and turned toward Zordon, who hadn't moved. She was still holding his hand.
"We're rushing toward something," he said. He sounded more present now. "Maybe not the end, but something. We're moving toward it faster and faster. But we're still children. We're not ready."
"Everyone is a child, love. No one is ready. But we can't stop time. We have to live anyway and take what comes."
"I suppose." They sat in silence for a moment, punctuated only by the rustling of some small animal in the foliage. After a while, Zordon slipped his hand out of 'Mira's and reached for an object at his side. It was his precious Eltarian flute that he always carried with him: a slender instrument hand-carved of dark wood and inlaid with gold and rich green enameling. Zordon raised the flute to his lips and played a few experimental notes. The instrument's tone was high and clear and blended into the moonlight. He paused for a moment, letting the nighttime silence seep back around them, and then took up the tune again with slight variation.
Kesmira closed her eyes as she listened to the haunting melody that seemed to be spun from the moonlight. She breathed deeply of the cool night air, opened her eyes, and began to sing.
Somewhere in the darkest night
Peace will come as the spirit flies
As you weave a spell by another name
Snow falls with the summer rain
Then I will come to you, my love
With the passing of the days
And I will set you free each time your heart is bound in chains
Innocents and wise men can somehow be the same
And you and I will take our place in time
And find a way to fly
Her clear soprano voice soared with the flute, weaving an almost tangible web of melody around them. The moonlight seemed to draw in like a veil, dividing them from the world outside. It was something light and delicate, but powerful in a way that could only be felt and not described. For a fragile, crystalline moment, everything seemed suspended, and the young man and the girl and the twinned Phaedan moons were all one Being bound by light. Then the moment passed and time flooded in again.
Zordon laid the flute gently across his lap and sat gazing up at the moons as the last notes faded away into the night. He looked unearthly in the moonlight, with his hair a lambent halo and his eyes gleaming silver. "What do you want to do, 'Mira?" he asked. His voice was low and very calm. "What do you want to be?"
Kesmira felt her entire soul ringing with Power and the bond between them. Her indigo eyes fairly glowed as she spoke the answer he already knew. "I want to be with you. I want to live as a Ninjetti and serve this Power always —" she nodded at the moons — "and I want to have a family and raise them to do the same."
"Do you think you'll get that chance?"
"Yes." Her voice was certain. "Don't you?"
"I don't know." He shivered suddenly in the moonlight. "I feel… I feel as though time is shorter than we think… like before we know it, before we've even begun, it'll all be over. Sometimes… I feel old. I know that's ridiculous." He was all of fifteen, and Eltarians measured their lifetimes in millennia.
"Maybe not," Kesmira offered. "The Master Mystic says that time is all subjective. It depends on our own perceptions."
"I know that," Zordon replied. It didn't make him feel any better.
"But she also says that this is the only realm where time exists. The deeper reality beyond this life is eternal and timeless. It's all one infinite moment that encompasses everything, made up of truths that cannot be altered. The mystics' task is to live in harmony with those truths, even as they walk in the world of time."
"Master Barza says that, too. I can draw on that Power, but I don't think I really understand it."
"Maybe we can't understand it… at least not here, in this realm. Maybe we just need to know that it's true."
"Maybe." Her confidence warmed him, but Zordon still felt unsure. He had never been able to rely as completely on faith as 'Mira could. He could call the earth's own fires to his hand or weave melodies that bent the very fabric of existence, but in the course of daily life the wonder behind those mysteries all too often eluded him. Never 'Mira. That was who she was, deeply and joyfully in tune with every aspect of life. Sometimes he envied her that faith… other times when her soul touched his, that joyful trust became his own. He thought that was what he loved most about her.
"Zordon?" Kesmira asked after a moment. "What do you want to be?"
He sighed and looked into her eyes. "I don't know. I used to believe I would have time to decide. But now… I think it might be decided for me, and that's frightening. I don't know what the outcome will be, or how I'm going to feel about it."
"The outcome's not important," 'Mira told him. Her deep blue eyes fixed him with an incontrovertible gaze, and he could feel the strength of her belief flowing into him. "What matters is who you are. You are Zordon, whatever happens, and I love you. Always, kiariyr. And that bond was forged outside the realm of time. Whatever happens here cannot touch what we are."
Zordon reached up to brush her face with his pale fingers. "Truly, kiariyr?" It was an irresistible, but frightening hope.
<<Truly. No matter what the future brings, we are one.>>
He smiled softly. <<I love you, 'Mira.>>
She smiled back and pulled him to her in a kiss. <<I love you.>>
As time rushed on through the dark and quiet of the Phaedan night, the silver moons shone down their gentle blessing.
Author's Notes: Kesmira's song is "Nimue's Lament" by Alkaemy, from the album The Merlin Mystery. "In Time" was written in July 2001 and is dedicated to Bre for her 21st birthday.