Welcome to Gaia! ::

The walls were of stone, cool and aloof as her heart. She had been feeling pain for so long that she did not know if she wanted to feel anymore. Wouldn't it be better not to?

An old stallion approached her on her entrance. "Greetings child," he inclined his head to her.

Her eyes were hot with tears when she looked at him. "Valar Morghulis." Her voice was soft as a whisper, lost almost in the vastness of the room in which they stood.

His smile was kinder than any she had ever seen. "Valar Dohaeris."

She tilted her head at him, "What does that mean?"

"Don't you know child?" His voice was sweet as summer, as refreshing as a cool breeze. "You said to me, 'All men must die' and I said to you. 'All men must serve'. Do you know what that means?"

"It means all men must serve the many-faced God?"

"Is that a question?"

"No," she said more sure of herself. "And that is what I wish, to leave behind my old faith and come to serve."

"And do you fear death child?"

"Not anymore," Kamila Maluhia answered as a crystalline tear fell from her eye. "Death is nothing at all. But it is a gift I wish to give."

"What is your name?"

"Kamila Maluhia," she answered.

"No. You are No One."

And that was how it had began.

How long ago had that been now? She could not remember. That was Kamila's life. Kamila had lost a lover. His name had been Keaton. His hair had been long, the color of corn silk. Even when the Butcher had stained it red with blood, it had still looked lovely.

Under that guileless sky, Keaton had died. And in some ways, so had Kamila. All the peace that had been left in her soul had shattered at his death. There was no consolation or light that would shine in the darkness that enveloped her soul.

No One had stopped mourning that mare long ago. No one prayed every day and attended the dying with compassion as they drank the poison of her faith. She cleaned their bodies, prepared them for burial as she was told to do. No One never asked any questions, her faith was whole, complete.

And so, No One served her new god, the god of death. Because all gods of death were the same, only wearing a different visage in each faith. The temple showed them all, but the face did not matter because faces could be changed or altered. What was true was what lurked beneath and it was he who resided there that she served.

No One had learned to serve. In serving there was learning. She opened her heart to the understanding of her faith. Long ago, a stallion had realize the truth of it--that all the gods were the same, the god of death. It was he who had become Faceless granting the peace of death to the slaves who wished release from their slavery. Because death was peaceful here. Not as it had been for Keaton.

But No One did not know Keaton, only Kamila had known him as beautiful as morning sunlight. He who had been poetry in motion, a string of beautiful words made into flesh.

And when the kindly stallion asked her who she was, No one would answer. "I am No One."

"Lies, though you do not know. Lies child. You must let go."

Night and nights, she stood before the pool of poison. All Kamila had to do was drink and she would be gone forever. No One closed her eyes and visualized it happening. Visualized Kamila taking a drink from that pool of death and passing peacefully away to be with her Keaton.

And for the first time, No One truly opened her eyes. All thoughts and memories of her old life gone. Kamila would be a face she wore, a persona. But deep inside No One, Kamila had died.

And when the kindly stallion asked the mare who had once been Kamila who she was. She answered, "No One."

"At last, the truth," the kindly stallion said. They were the most beautiful words No One had ever heard.

The road was paved with stones laid orderly across a dirt path. The place she came to homed a big herd that was always seeing new soquili everyday. It was a hub of trading and information.

Before she had left the temple she had been given over to three raccoon's who helped transform her appearance. One of them used some kind of dye or cover-up to take away her markings until her body was a dark brown canvas without markings.

Another had bound up her hair tightly and then weaved different hair over the top of her own, until her locks were long, blonde and curly. The third wrapped a bright shaw over her back that concealed a blade, poison, and antidotes.

The Kindly Stallion blessed her and she went out to look for her first mark to grace him with her gift.