HeatMarie

The Meaning of A Name

Light flickered from the old hearth as she sat crossed-legged on the cobblestone floor, drawing little patterns in the dust. Her eyes followed the old witch’s hands as they moved methodically, pressing the wooden pestle into the mortar. 

“Ya never let ‘em know yer name, girl,” her mother’s fingers were stained shades of green and purple from the leaves and petals she was crushing. The old witch never pulled her eyes away from the mortar. Kali didn’t mind. She didn’t like it when her mother looked at her. There was always a darkness stirring in those forest eyes, filled with shades of brown and green, with a hint of a storm hidden inside of them.

“Why can’t they know my name, Mama? They’re my friends!”

“They ain’t no friends!” And there they were—those hazel eyes found her. Kali slunk backward, trying to make herself small. “Names got power, ya understand? And those folk are royalties, Prince and Princess. They don’t want the likes of ya.”

Kali, only five years old and barely up to her mama’s knee, tilted her head. “They said they was my friends. And it’s just a name! They told me theirs!” She gave a small little shrug and looked down at the ground.

Her mother slammed the mortar down on the table and rushed to her daughter, grabbing her harshly by the chin. Her long shriveled fingers and pointy nails dug into her cheeks. “Did ya tell ‘em? Did ya tell ‘em yer name, girl?” 

Kali’s eyes widened with fear and she shook her head frantically. “No Mama, I swears! I didn’t.” The old witch let go of her cheeks and walked back to the mortar.

“When they speak yer name, it echoes, deep down.” The old witch tapped her head, and then her chest. “Ties ya, like a thread. One pull on it and ya unravel, bit by bit. They pull hard enough, they make ya dance their dance.” 

“But… you say my name sometimes. Do you control me, Mama?”

The old witch’s eyes hardened. She brought herself back to the herbs and said nothing.

“Mama, but how would–” 

“Is all ‘bout power and intention, girl. Someone says yer name—specially a Prince or Princess—they stitch another piece of that thread to yer heart, ‘nother tie, ‘nother claim. Once enough of ‘em have that hold, they’ll pull, and ya’ll a go a runnin’,” the witch said. 

“So… I shouldn’t tell anyone my name… ever?” She bit her lip, afraid to hear the answer she already knew.

“Aye,” she said. “Cause if ya do, they’ll blacken yer heart.” 

The image in her dream changed. Once again she smelled her mother’s fish-oiled breath. “Go on then, I’ll be waitin’ to tell ya ‘I told you so.”

Kali woke with a start, disoriented by the darkness. The waves’ rhythmic sound grounded her mind and the way the flame of the fire cast moving shadows across the sand told her she slept longer than she was supposed to. Blinking, she turned and saw Caius sitting up, his expression distant, like he was lost in thought.

“You didn’t wake me?” she murmured.

He turned to her, a smirk already forming. “You looked peaceful.” 

“That wasn’t the deal,” she said, sitting up, her attention fully awake and her tone sharp. “You should have woken me.”

He shrugged. “I’ve been paying attention. Besides, I’m not tired.” 

Kali narrowed her eyes at him, clearly unconvinced. “You’re impossible. Go to sleep. I’m awake now.” 

For a moment, he studied her, as if gauging whether to argue. “Alright,” he said quietly and moved his bag to lie down.

Kali waited until his breathing evened out before letting her shoulders relax. She pulled her knees to her chest, eyes drifting out over the dark waters, lapping softly at the sand.

I shouldn’t have told him. Her mother’s words lingered in her mind. “They’ll chew ya up and spit ya out… Not before ya catch ‘em feelers, though.”

She knew better. Names were never just names. The druids in the forest taught her that much. She spent five years learning their ways. They taught her how to communicate with the wild. They gave her knowledge on herbalism and healing. And they showed her how to control the elements of the earth. The druids taught her many things. Their teachings began by showing her that her mother’s caution wasn’t just to frighten her; it was the truth. Once you knew a thing’s true name, you could manipulate them, control them, force them to grow, to move. It’s how she was able to soothe Thorne on the trail. Names bind a person, rooting them to their essence, entwining with their soul. They are not mere sounds; they are threads, delicate and strong, woven around a person’s true self.

She looked down at the Prince. That is what he was. The Prince. A man promised to the Princess, the Princess promised to him. The moonlight traced the curve of his cheek. How many threads has she allowed him to weave? How many more will he force upon her? The Prince… What a fool I’ve become, to whisper my own secret. 

The knot in her stomach tightened. The thought twisting like a needle burrowing deeper with every breath.

Why? Her mind churned, turning over each moment with him like pages of an old, worn book. The way he walked in silence beside her. The way his laughter slipped past her defenses, making her smile. The soft breath that escaped his lips when he whispered those words, and the way his eyes—those eyes, those steady deep blue eyes beholding her, seeing her, caressing something deeper, something hidden.

Kali’s breath caught. She felt it—warmth, connection, something—

A beautiful soft hum drifted over the ocean, a whisper in the night, and then it grew, unfurling with a graceful melody that wrapped around her senses. 

Kali gently pushed on Caius’s shoulder until his eyes fluttered open. He grumbled as he turned to look at her. “Come on,” she whispered. “But be quiet.”