by B L Barkey
To make covenants of love was binding. It was meant to be that way. It transformed the relationship between two people in a moment, and forever. But no. He would not say it now. Right now, she knows. Words would do it injustice. Her eyes reflect my own. Right now, she glows as a fourth light. As do I. Together, we glow as a fifth sort. And that is enough. That is the highest. That is fine. That is just fine.
The music changed and swept through the grove, rippling the waters with a gentle, playful touch. Ammon fell forward and caught himself around her, touching her in the same way the music now touched the trees. There and gone, as a whisper. They moved to new rhythms, to new times, as the water slowed their motion, taking time in exchange for elegance. They fell and were caught. Drifted and twirled. Before they realized, they had pedaled through petals, and into a column of bright starlight. Stardust.
As they spun, Ammon realized they were the only ones in the column. The third light. He saw the eyes of others watching them dance, rejoicing for them. Feeling no envy, while giving more joy to their dance. And Ammon smiled, holding the memory in his mind. A memory. Something to hold and use to light the way in coming darkness. A light. The sixth light.
He breathed in deep as she slid away, their fingers sliding to the tips, then catching just barely. He held his breath while looking into her eyes. She looked back, longing for him but willing to wait forever in a patience crafted and renewed by the Lake.
He breathed out slowly, taking in every detail. The movement of water away from their movements. The falling leaves from the canopy, almost unnoticed. The swiftest underwater currents flowed from the turtles swimming by. Her soft, velvet touch. Her whimper, her grasping.
He pulled her closer. She folded into her own arms, and then into his, losing all features as she welded with the starlight for but a moment, before every curve and feature became perfectly defined against him.
He could see her. He could see all of her. Her legs, her arms. Her breasts, her soft belly. Her wide, innocent eyes. Her curved lip, held between her teeth. Her motivations, her hopes for the future. He saw something within her, so defined he wanted to reach out and hold it. He saw her dreams, to be a mother and have three children, all with a caring man whom she loved. Especially to one whom she loved. He understood her. Oh Cephas, I love her. I can’t take it.
He wanted to kiss her. So he did, though only on her cheek. He had read the emotion on her face. It was the sweetest gift he could have given her. They were connected, understanding each other perfectly.
Her eyes flickered, looking deep into him. Then she pulled him under the water, both sinking to the shallow bottom. Sound was muted. He opened his eyes. Hers were already there. As were her lips, brushing his own. Turning ever so slightly, then locking into place. It was truly just them. He pulled her in close, fitting into her grooves. A feeling as if they were connected in every way. Their spirits, their spheres. Spheres… The word echoed in his mind, then slipped away. A turtle brushed by in divine approval.
As they resurfaced, he touched a peculiar stone with his foot, the texture a pleasant coarseness, feeling noticeably warmer to the touch. He couldn’t look away from the emerald eyes before him, yet he noticed a slight flux in all lights. From the fireflies. From the ether stones. From the stars through the canopy. From her spirit. From his own. From their spirits, together. The memory to be cherished, just formed, still warm. The lights. The first, second…third through the sixth.
What do memories do then but give us light for the future? Can memories create further, or are they the end? Can they create new lights? A seventh light in this place of peace?
The song cascaded into its final reverie. Ammon kissed her other cheek. She wanted the balance. He knew it. He heard her thoughts. She smiled. They began to drift back to the shores of the moss beds, further to the north where Firefly Cove reached into the bank.
As they approached, only half looking for others, they found their friends. It was almost a disappointment. Their time together was closing. Though not yet. Her fingers slid down to his and he held her. So soft to touch, so firm in memory.
Ammon spoke with his friends, though few words were needed. It was time for them to leave. They had planned on meeting up with Jonah in the Leviticum for a movie. As much as he wanted to, just like he knew he would, he wanted to stay in the wood, holding her forever in his arms. It could never grow old in such a place. A fountain of youth. Yet he had things to do. There is work to be done.
Sadie brushed his hand, almost unnoticeably, though he felt her reach out with emotion. She laced her hands behind his neck. He placed his own around her hips.
“Elizabeth is over there waiting for me.” Her voice was angelic, fumbling over her words in the slightest and cutest way. It was almost a lisp. He pulled her in close again.
“She wanted to talk to me about something. Probably her date with your brother.” She rolled her eyes, showing she did not really want to leave his arms. His heart nearly exploded as she confirmed her mutual affection.
“Yeah, I should probably get going too.” He sighed. “You sure you aren’t going just to find another boy?” he teased. He knew she was honest. But the small affirmation would be sweet as fresh blackberries.
She smiled, then leaned forward and kissed his lips. It was affirmation enough. Intensity tripled in all his senses. He could smell the sweet pollen of the flowers all around. Could hear the music of the crickets and thrums again. Could see her, though his eyes were closed. All of her. Body and spirit and mind.
It was like when he played his music. Two hands with parts of his mind, playing separate and together. His mind seemed separated and together. Fixating on the other senses, understanding them. Searching them, then weaving back into one. Into himself. But how many parts was his mind in? Three, four?
The potential of this state of mind is incredible. Imagine the things one could do with mastery of this. But as it always happened, focusing on the phenomenon itself weakened the shards. He felt them fuse back into two parts, then one.
Sadie let go and floated backwards, winking at him and holding her hand out with his. They held fingertips until the last moment, where she then pulled away, stepping up from the waters and walking towards Elizabeth. He watched her go. She looked back for half a moment, kissing the air between them. His heart was like an overflowing pitcher of liquid honey, filling faster than it was growing.
Bastion touched his shoulder. Ammon nodded, knowing what it meant. He pulled away, looking for any distraction. Any ease from the pain of her absence. He hated to be dramatic, but sometimes the emotions were just there. Rest came quickly though, as was the nature of the Lake of Light. He was with his beloved friends. All was well in his world.
III
They would stay for one more performance. It was the most anticipated, recurring performance of the year. It would be a story from their eldest friend, Vothek the Storyteller.
They sat for a time by the edge of the pool, kicking their feet back and forth in the water. Ammon watched as minnows approached and nibbled on their toes, feeling like the most satisfying tickle and scratch at once. They spoke of light things, pointing here and there to share laughter and joy of what was before them. Bastion and Krystal drifted off for a dance as Ammon watched, content to watch his friends being happy.
Several different girls, including Leilani, who looked a hundred times brighter away from the coalstone of Chalice, walked by and brushed Mikael’s shoulder, wishing he would ask them for the next dance. He went off with one girl for half a song, then came back, seeming to miss Ammon’s company.
Ammon was proud to be Mikael’s brother. He would stick with him to the end, even if such things as brotherhood and parentage did not exist in the next life. It did not matter. They would stay together.
As the other girls walked by, Ammon could hear their whispers. They spoke just above a normal volume, as if they wanted him to hear. As if they wanted him to answer. He did no such thing, yet smiled to himself.
“Most amazing song I have ever heard,” one said. “Even better than the songs of old?” said another. “Hmm. Just different I suppose. But of the songs written by Cephasonians? No question,” answered the first.
“Did you hear the wind?” asked yet another. “The wind called to him, Anthel. It sounded something like “ah-monith-ili…. Something. But at the same time, that wasn’t it at all. It was more of a feeling. Ohh, I can’t remember!” Her friend Anthel chuckled, and they faded away. Ammon was glad to hear how others felt about his song, their song. He had sung it with the pure intent of lifting spirits and sparking excitement.
“After Vothek, we should go,” said Mikael to the three of them. “It’s almost the final hour.”
That late already? He looked back towards where Sadie had been. And there she was, floating around and dancing with Elizabeth. She was laughing. He felt a pang of jealousy, wishing he had made her laugh this time, and every time, and forever more.
It was a silly feeling. Selfish. But it was there and true. It hurt. But then the Light was there, soothing him back to contentment. Sadie looked back, catching his eye. They shared another smile. Ammon slowly looked away, his heart aflame. “Yeah, okay,” said Ammon. “Vothek.”
Every year before the Trials of Guardians, the story of the Angel Killer. Ammon had missed it last year, and had regretted it every day after, though the title of the story still confused him. Why was a story called ‘Angel Killer’ told in the peaceful Lake? He still didn’t know. But what he did know was how he felt each time he heard it.
The story was told by the same person for the last twenty years. Known as Vothek the Storyteller, for he was full of such telling, he would weave the most enlightening tales of fiction so sincere, the heart begged for it all to be true.
Whenever inquired, he would tell you a new story, as if you were doing him the favor of listening. If you dozed for even a second, he would disappear like a shadow, unwilling to speak to those uninterested. Yet he never held a grudge, and the next time he found you, he’d offer another story. His stories required deep, curious minds. Needless to say, his greatest audience was found under the canopy of the Lake of Light.
The instruments from the band were set aside. They brought three ether stones onto the stage, clearing all else away. After a few moments of anticipation and whisper, a figure stepped out from blue shadow. He was now illuminated by the stack of ether stones, smiling his usual, subtle grin.
His hair was red, thin and wispy, perpetually floating about his head. He wore a serious face most of the time, though his eyes were always playful, ‘as are such eyes that hold three-thousand-and-three stories’, he would say. The only time he grinned outright was just before he shared one of his lyrical treasures.
“The story of the Angel Killer is the oldest of the land,” Vothek began. His voice was rough but warm, evoking trust in his words.
“To some, it is true. Others call it legend. Some say it happened long ago, before Proelum was flooded with fire, nay, even before it was flooded with water. Each of you must decide what you believe. For that is life. Such is the purpose. Such is living.” He sat on the largest ether stone.
“Come,” he beckoned with his voice. “Follow me.”
IV
Once there was a normal boy. He lived on what seemed to be a normal land. But it was not a normal land, nor was he a normal boy. The land was a blessed land. As long as those who lived in the land followed the covenants bound to it, they would prosper in all aspects of life. This was not to say that life would be easy, for such a thing could never exist. Such a thing would break universal law, after all. Yet ultimately all people would prosper, if they just endured to the end.
The boy was also blessed. He was born a normal boy, with the potential to do great things. Whether these things would be good or evil, or both, was up to him. As he grew up, he did normal things, learning little by little of the world around him. One night in his young adulthood, he had a dream. It beckoned him to leave his land. And so he did, saying goodbye to all that he loved.
Years passed. Decades. The world became a darker place, and evil spread throughout the land. This darkness approached the land of the boy, it being the last land to resist the darkness. As the darkness rose up like a tsunami, the boy returned. He appeared as a normal boy, and all recognized him for who he used to be. His parents were ancient, his friends all now parents of their own. But the boy appeared mostly unchanged, though taller and lean in muscle. He was more cheerful, brighter. More innocent, if that were possible. And so it was.
Then, a look crossed his eyes as he peered into the darkness. The boy knelt, placing his palm on the dirt beneath him. There began a great shift in the land. All could feel it, though none knew what it was. Some said it felt as if he were reaching into the heart of the planet itself. Seconds ticked by, and the darkness fell upon the boy who now appeared a mighty man. A face appeared in the shadows, as if to swallow the brave man who was standing.
A light came out of the ground, like a seed being pulled from the soil, its young roots receding into its shell as if to condense its power. The man then stood, looked back at his people, and smiled. And then, he swallowed this radiant seedling.
Immediately, the light poured from his eyes and mouth. His body lifted from the ground and glowed, brighter and brighter until none could look upon him, nor look away, for he was everywhere. There was one present who kept her eyes open the longest, gazing directly at his body. Her account is the only one that exists.
“A pillar of fire descended upon the rock before him. They spoke, though no words were heard. All matter surrounding him then began to vibrate, then fuse. His shape was gone, though his presence remained. There was lightning then. The wind beckoned. Rocks arose and fell. Time skipped through forgotten frames. Water poured down, then fire. There was a roar from beasts all around, and then… Silence. Absolute silence. Not an absence, but a presence of something fulfilling. Something full. The most whole.
“Then I looked away. I could not take it in any longer. There rumblings and blasts for who knows how long. Honestly, it felt like an eternity.
“And then it was gone. Silence again, though different from before. It was our familiar world, quiet as a land after storm. I looked up, and there he was again. The boy. He looked normal.”
It was from this account that people began to speak. They retold the story, saying the boy absorbed the light, then used it to vanquish the evil. In doing so, however, he killed the light, in order to kill the darkness. Both the light and the dark were angels, and he killed them. The boy was first revered, then feared. And soon, he was cast out, then sought after for execution. But they never found him again.
The darkness was gone from the land, but not from their hearts. The world had seen a change that day, though it mostly remained unchanged itself.
The real trick of it all comes from another man, who was a visitor to this Last Land where angels were killed. He had been there for a year, and had received no hint of kindness. He tells the story of seeing the wave as the light, and the boy as a demon, summoning shadows from the dark center of the world to combat the light. Such a perfectly opposing tale makes one wonder what sort of angels were defeated that day.
V
As the story ended, another song climbed into the air. It was soft and sweet, soothing those who mourned the end of the story. Ammon looked at each of his friends. They all nodded. It was time to go. As they walked along the waters, Ammon searched for Sadie. Though he couldn’t find her, he was happy enough with their new memory.
The four of them entered the trees as another song began to play. It was a song of goodbyes, though many of the Cephas younglings would stay to dance for a few more hours. It was a song of parting friends. It made him weep, though he knew not why. After discreetly wiping his eyes, he put his arms around his friends, feeling too realistically what it would be like to lose them.
He almost sobbed then, but peace came upon him. He laughe
d with relief. Thank goodness for the Light. He didn’t know what he would do without any of them. I have to protect them.
He had to pass the Trials of Guardians. For his loved ones. Even if it meant leaving them, for a time.
Chapter XI
Dark Energy
They left the wood of the Lake of Light as if stepping from a dream. Laughing and jesting, they spoke of what they could remember whilst leaping atop moonlit cobblestones.
As they drew closer to the Leviticum, Ammon was once again amazed at the near-perfect smoothness of the quarried stone and curved glass of the walls. The contrast of white and black was stunning. Above each of the main doors on the western and eastern walls was a quote. It was written in gold letters, slanted elegance connecting each word. The quote read:
Remember who you are, within you lives true potential.
You are all little worlds, within you the Sun, the Moon, the Stars.
Entering the main corridor, cold air blasting them in the face, they took the first door to the left and continued forward. Lamps and candles were scattered throughout, yet darkness prevailed within the open chamber. It was three stories high, with translucent walls and towering book shelves.
It was a reverent place. Ammon wasn’t sure why. It could have been the respect for knowledge, or the fear of being reprimanded by the Levitians. Perhaps it was just an ancient custom carried on through generations. Whatever the origin, it felt wrong to break the quiet calm.
They entered one of the elevators in the cylinder and proceeded to the second level of the South wing, also called the White wing. Near the elevators were secluded rooms for groups of twenty to read or study. Tonight they would use one for their films. And not just any films, but the last two movies in a series of seven about fictional space explorations, topped with vivid soundtracks.
Ammon entered first, excited to see their friend. Jonah pressed one final button on the glisc projector then whipped around.