The Eternal Blue

The pond was frozen as Egard's blinkered eyes stared out. He lay under the thick ice, not blinking as clouds passed on overhead. He would smile, but thoughts were impossible in this coldness, the ice unfeeling against his skin as he lay there inanimate as a statue.

Occasionally, ice fisherman and other such folks would see him, but they knew better than to disturb him: his eyes pierced right through them and sent a chill so cold that the air itself seemed warm by comparison. So instead, they let him to his rest as he had lain for centuries now under the thick ice.

Some called him an urban legend: newcomers to the area would never see him; his Psy-powers rendered their vision and cameras blind, leaving them incapable of any knowledge of his presence save for a vague sense that something was there, indiscernible but ever-watching. Ever knowing. Ever present. Not to be disturbed.

Instead, they trundled on, selfie-ready, unknowing of the legend that lay beneath their feet. Then, come the summer, he would emerge from his winter slumber, warming himself in the sunlight in a forest not too far as his body regenerated itself.

Siberia was unforgiving in winter but as isolated a place as a being like him could wish for. He called his home with the tigers, as they avoided him like a fellow apex predator, which he was. His long hibernation left him hungry, and he would snatch unsuspecting villagers from nearby, feasting on them under the moonlight as the villagers stayed away, 'lest they follow a similar fate.

His existence had been sustained this way for centuries now, a bedtime story told by the local tribes who dare not disturb him or mention him to outsiders: the deity from the gods, fallen to Earth like a star from the heavens many eons ago.

His memory gave him vague flashes of his past; lights, creatures, a distant shrieking noise like a hurricane, but it had faded over time. He left a record of it in the ice, the water freezing to contain the energy within that would find its way into the heart of one like him when it arrived.

Otherwise, he left paintings in local caves, an effort to leave symbolism for those who could decipher it. Papers he had left, but they would reach humanity when the time was right. For now, he played his mysterious game and looked at the stars above as they shone brightly.

He knew the ice water slowed his metabolism, enabling him to sustain a life amongst the frozen. He quivered as the cold bit into him, his body warming up after the long winter. An owl hooted nearby, and he grinned, inhuman eyes staring like coal light into the murky gloom.

He wondered what the owl saw? What wisdom it took from the eternal night? He had pondered this before and stared as it rotated its head, looking for signs of life in the dark. He was life, but of a different kind and pondered his pale skin, veins showing through; his medium, black hair, slick with cold and water, damp against his head.

He was tall, almost eight feet, but could adjust his size by several feet if necessary. Thought alone could do the trick, it seemed, yet he had never pondered it. Instead, it was as simple as breathing or speaking. He had not spoken for many years now, knowing almost nobody, his thoughts occupying his mind.

He knew of one other, Elizabeth, of the humankind, who came once in a while to obtain his thoughts. They had agreed this was to be kept secret; she the only one who had seen through the visage which usually kept prying eyes at bay.

It had been a long winter that year, and as he gazed above at the unending sky, her freckled, white face appeared, pure as snow, yet containing something far darker; a beating heart of passion which struck him with an intensity he had never felt before.

Long, red, wavy hair drew his attention, and, surprisingly, she smiled, kneeling down to press her hands against the thick ice. He knew not if he registered expression to her, but she seemed to respond and returned in kind with a letter, several days later, explaining her intentions to return in the summer.

They had met under a full moon; she seemed to know everything about him. His star journey, his travels in the great beyond which he now barely recalled. How she knew this she did not tell, only to settle him by firelight to tell tales of his adventures, only half of which rang true but which seemed oddly familiar.

Even now, they felt like a distant dream, as he remembered her warm eyes gazing into his. This was a life he'd known for centuries now and felt no need to associate with that he had left behind. He almost wanted to forget it and found solace in the meditation that winter in that frozen pond brought him.

Alien, visiting, recording, these were words he recalled but chose to forget. When he looked at his hands, they resembled hers, only whiter. He knew he had eaten her kind, but survival insisted, and he felt no remorse; only the same a tiger might feel after devouring its meal.

Eat or be eaten, as he was dimly aware the Earth saying went as the flames flickered in his face, casting a light deep in his soul. The fire reflected in the owl's eyes as it flew off silently into the night; a feat which the man never ceased to be impressed by as he whistled softly to himself; vapor in the cold night blowing in front of him.

He reached out with his thumb and forefinger and grasped a star in the night. Was this home, where he was from? He knew not but pretended it was, playing with the light between his fingers as he imagined himself their conqueror and returning hero, the long winter on Earth made him custodian of its deep inner wisdom, frozen as it was by the eternal winter of its bitter north.

He knew how to hunt, how to forage well enough. He had even taught some local tribes his skills, as they revered him like a god for his feats. He brought one of their kind back to life many years ago, a man mauled by a tiger who had less than a day left.

He felt pity for him, and having feasted on one of the man's family, desired to make right a small wrong and so brought him back. The man said he saw the man in his dreams often, an angel who came to save him from himself. Since that day, the man brought him offerings every full moon; deer, rabbit, even tigers occasionally.

The man did not eat the tigers: he had respect for them. He knew they were endangered and admired their beauty, their grace. Their fury. He had once seen a grown male tiger, a beast of a thing as it laid waste to a small hunting party sent after it. He had gleaned from their thoughts that they were private hunters hired by some wealthy man from Texas who wanted a trophy for his wall.

The man had watched with delight as the tiger pierced into them like spears in the night, red eyes gleaming as screams filled the night, and the beast devoured them one by one. How such a creature, a magnificent immortal being, could be endangered, hunted for its skin was beyond his understanding, and he looked at the tiger that night with mutual respect that shone from eye to eye as they saw each other under the moonlight.

The tiger had acknowledged him, and he smiled as it went into the night once more, a silent wraith of ancient fury whose bloody trail now seeped into the white snow, a potent reminder of Earth's bleeding and the wrath it would inflict on those dared to cross it.

He smiled at the memory and felt his temperature rising sufficiently, walking around as his bare skin grew hair and fabric to cover his hardened, sinuous outer shell. He walked for a while in the forest, savoring the cool air as he saw lights in the distance. The nearby town was his primary source of sustenance for his post-hibernation meals and tonight was to be no exception.

He trod carefully on the ground, silent as the owl as he saw lights on in a house. He made it quick, breaking through the door and snatching a man and a woman from their beds. Then, after many miles of carrying them, so they were numb from the cold and much weaker, he satiated his bloodthirst.

The ground was red with blood, and he felt life coursing through his veins. He looked at their blank expressions and thanked them for their sacrifice, much as native tribes had done for centuries. He retained their essence from the eating and would pass them into the water once more so their life could be preserved when his companion would return.

A date had been set, years from now, once the man's journey was complete, and he had absorbed the knowledge that Earth was providing into his subconscious. He would then drift into the cosmos once more, and his companion would return that knowledge back to the Earth; the disappeared reincarnating in new forms as new science would be brought to bear.

It had been arranged like an orchestral moment, he remembered, as the instructions, not the meaning, were preserved in his thought, chanting in his dreams. Dancing like sacred music as he dreamed blissful dreams of other worlds, bright in the sunlight as his many travels brought him to bear across much of the known Universe.

He slept well that night, dreaming of those distant stars as they converged upon him, caressing him with their light as he saw the women again, approaching. She stroked his hair, and they made love under those same stars, satiating a union for the ages.

"Tomorrow' she whispered, and he knew what that meant. The following day, he woke with pleasant surprise to see a plane fly over the forest. He knew it was her and waited by the meeting place on the edge of the trees. He saw the all-terrain vehicle approaching as her smiling face was clear through its windshield. She got out, waving to her guide as she grabbed her gear and walked towards him.

Their words were silent; they did not need them as they hugged and ventured further into the forest. They made love for real this time, their custom as he whispered sweet nothings, and they exchanged knowledge and passion, his only real connection with whatever lay beyond this frozen place. She would bear him a child, when the time was right, a child who would change the world, born of the divine and time.

"I love you," she exclaimed as he smiled and they entwined in each other's arms. He took her to the caves where he made his paintings, and she took her usual photographs. They said not a word to each other, their language silent and said between worlds encased in minds connected by the supernatural.

Their language was love, and their thoughts were pure as they walked hand in hand amongst the twilight forest. They had evolved beyond the need for words and sat together, watching the sunset on another Siberian winter. Then, in the distance, they saw a tiger strolling by. It looked at them, and for the briefest of moments, both man and beast said hello, in the only way they knew how, before merging back into the primeval forest.

He smiled as did she, the winter now a distant prospect as the moon began to rise, the cold started to encroach, and an owl hooted softly nearby.