I'm a Wild Banshee." "What? Are you insane?" "Am I insane?" the voice said, its tone rising. "That's what _he_ said! He said I was crazy and that I was imagining things! That I was just a child who was hysterical! That I shouldn't have said things out loud because they were supposed to be secret! What do you think about that?" "I-I-" "I was not going to tell you anything!" the voice said, its tone rising, "but he didn't like me talking about it. I tried to tell him about it, but he said it was...not done. Do you know what he means? Do you know what he _meant?_ " "What?" the woman said. "What did he mean?" "I don't know, but he's been telling everyone that I'm nuts. He said that I should learn to keep my thoughts to myself and to never talk about the Wild Banshee again." "I-I'm sorry," the woman said, her voice trailing off. "It doesn't matter," said the voice. "I want to talk to a Wild Banshee." "I'm not a Banshee, but I know some. I'm getting close, but I just have to find one and I'll be able to tell you everything you want to know." "You must be very strong," the woman said, "to have traveled so far away from home." "How old are you?" asked the voice. "I am almost a thousand years old." "Then you can help me, for the Wild Banshee is a thousand years old too. I see you understand that we must be very strong." "I can't help you," the woman said. "I'm too weak. I don't know why, but I can't help you." "I'll come to you," the voice said. "I will come to you and we will talk and I will tell you all of the things that you need to know." The woman shivered as if an icy wind had suddenly blown through her. "I can't help you," she said. "I can't." There was a deep, angry howl, the sound of which echoed through the empty night, and suddenly it all vanished. The dark, cloudy sky opened up, the stars glistened in a brilliant light, the ocean roared, and two of them rose from it. The man was not like the other souls that the woman had seen that day, for there was a wild intensity about him and the light shining on his face made it look as if it had been sculpted from flesh. The woman found herself in awe of this god of a man, for he was strong and beautiful beyond anything she had ever seen. "What's happening?" she asked him, her voice rising out of the dream. "What's happening? What's happening?" "What's happening is that they are killing me," the man said. "These old fools that I have created are hurting me because of the light that shines in me. But they don't realize that they are hurting me because they do not know what they are doing." "Who are they?" "I know who they are, but I am tired of them." The man's eyes filled with anger. "I will tell you about the Wild Banshee." he said, his voice rising, "I will tell you the tale of how this creature had to flee her people because her very spirit was so powerful that they began to kill each other over it. She fled through time and the worlds, and she passed through the hands of many creatures, and in each of them she brought fear. She saw great cities grow and wane before her, and now she is here." The man glanced at her. "What's your name?" "I am not telling you." "Don't worry," the man said, "I don't care what it is. I only want you to be part of this tale." "Very well," the woman said, "then my name is Hare Kya. " "What do you do?" "I am a singer," she said. "My life is a story of great cities and great wars, of lovers and of gods." The man smiled. "Have you sung it yet?" "Not yet," she said, "but I must find the Wild Banshee, for I am to sing the songs of the Wild Banshee." The man held out his hands, and the woman's voice dropped away from her. The fire of the god blazed through her, the ocean roared, and then the man and the woman disappeared in a flash of light, and then the world shivered and shook, and suddenly she was running through fields of grass on the plain. "I have to find you," she said, looking behind her. "I must find you before he does." She knew that they were going to have to do something terrible. He had told her to find the Wild Banshee, and she was a singer, and she was going to sing him in her songs. It would all go away. The fire and the screaming would all just end. She would be free of him forever, and her children would be safe. The children were at least ten years old, she knew, because of the things that were happening on the plain before her. Hours passed, and she searched. Finally, she caught sight of something shining through the fog. She ran towards it and fell to her knees, and the light was blinding, and the singing was deafening. She rose to her feet, and a great roar filled her ears. She ran towards the light and it grew brighter, then dimmed and died out, and suddenly there was a great thudding noise. She looked down at the great mass of flesh that the woman had been wearing, then she looked up at the night sky. She stared and stared, and suddenly a voice came to her from the sky. "I am the Wild Banshee." The woman turned around, gasping. The Banshee's eyes were shining in the moonlight. "You are Hare Kya," said the Banshee. "You are Hare Kya, a singer. You are Hare Kya, who will sing a song that has waited ten thousand years to be sung." The woman stared, her mouth open, her breath catching in her throat. The Banshee's eyes were shining in the moonlight. "I will sing you a song about a great singer," the Banshee said, "and of a place where many gods gathered. I will sing you a song of a man who is to be born, and I will sing the songs of gods." "Hare Kya," the woman said, "can you sing it?" The Banshee laughed. "I can, I can sing it," she said, "but you can not." "I...I don't understand." "You are not the one who will sing it," the Banshee said, "for you are not strong enough. You are strong enough to talk to me, but I am not strong enough to help you." The woman felt a cold tear slide down her cheek. "Is there no way for me to stop him?" she asked. "Is there nothing I can do?" The Banshee shook her head. "There is nothing you can do, and there is nothing I can do," she said. "The world is coming to an end, and my songs must end it, but I will sing a song to help you. I will sing a song of the gods, for it is all I can do." The woman sighed and turned away. She fell to her knees, the tears running down her face. She turned and turned, and then she was back in the cave, and the fire was dying down. The candle still burned, though, and the old man was looking at her. "It's over," she said. "I can't." "I don't understand," he said. "Why can't you?" She said nothing. "I didn't think so," the man said, the old man that she had seen before in the river. "I thought you would fail me." "How many worlds do I have to leave you in?" she said. "Do you have to kill so many? Will you kill them forever? Do you have to kill them because you are selfish?" "But I am not selfish," he said, a note of fury in his voice. "I am the most selfish of them all." "What do you mean?" "Look at yourself," the old man said. "Look at your beautiful face. Look at your body. I gave them to you. They are mine, not yours. And all I ask in return is that you help me." "I'm not strong enough," the woman said. "I have to leave now. The Banshee is waiting for me, and I'm not strong enough." "Then you leave me no choice," he said. "You have to leave. Now." "You can't make me leave,"