by B L Barkey
The Guardians turned towards the temple and moved forward. “You have one hour. Your robes are in the annex of the temple. Once clothed, wait there for instruction.” And they disappeared into the Garden. Ammon remembered where the fountain was from his swim over the Corals. The swim he had done with his brother Mikael. How is Mikael doing? Do they have him doing the same tasks? I sure hope not. The pain he was feeling was not something he’d wish on anyone, even his worst enemies. Maybe on Bastion, though, he thought. Just for two seconds. Just to hear him throw a fit. He laughed to himself, providing a brief reprieve from his suffering. Yeah, that would be worth it.
This laugh gave him a burst of energy and he lurched forward in the general direction of the fountain. He thought for a second that walking straight to the unseen fountain would be too obvious. It would mean he had been to the Sector Guard Isle before, which was, of course, impossible. However, he remembered an old book in the Leviticum that had mapped out a vague sketch of the Isle. This had included the fountain. So the location was common knowledge, assuming everyone read random books from the Leviticum. This also meant that the fountain was ancient itself. Yet as he approached the fountain, it most certainly did not look its age. Perhaps it was just his state of mind, but the materials of the fountain glowed pure white, welcoming him. He jogged the last few feet, shooting pain through his body.
He fell forward into the fountain waters. He was unsure why he had done this irrational thing. He was sure the Guardians didn’t appreciate his open wounds in their clean spring of water. However, he realized the choice was never his. His body had taken took over, plunging him into the cool, soothing embrace. If it weren’t for his need of oxygen, his body might not have resurfaced.
He opened his mouth and let the water flow within. It seemed to enter through every pore, through every cut and scrape, renewing him. Within seconds, the burning sensations within him began to recede. He waited for the pain to return, but instead felt peace swelling inside. What is in this water? He thought with a bubbling laugh.
Ammon grabbed for the edge of the fountain and pulled himself out with renewed vigor. Instead of the chill that usually followed a quick swim, his body temperature immediately adapted to the air, conjuring the feeling of walking into silk blankets. Seriously, what is in this water… He looked down to his wounds, only to see none. They had been covered with new flesh a lighter color than his own. Of course, this was his flesh too. It was just new. But how had it grown so quickly? He stood back and looked into the fountain, stunned and grasping for answers as if they were minnows.
The continuous splashing in its center created a pleasant melody that vibrated through the air. Its water was crystal clear, seeming to pass light without any refraction. He placed his hand in the water to confirm his theory. It bent the image of his arm at the surface only a smidgeon. How peculiar. Is this even water? What had he put into his own body? Still, his thirst was quenched and then some. It reminded him of the legends told about the old spring between Cloud Mountain and High Forest. Living water. Memory ribbons. He wanted to solve this mystery. But this was not the time.
He felt a pull towards the temple annex to prepare for the next phase. He would have to ponder the legends of living water later.
He walked on cobbled paths towards the annex, looking for scars of the devastating wreckage he had witnessed almost seven years ago. Of course, he didn’t, for everything was kept in pristine condition. He had never seen the outdoors look so clean. It would even make the inside of his house look dirty in comparison, which was an impressive feat given Mother’s obsession with cleanliness.
Ammon walked up the stairs to the temple and gaped. Its sheer size was enough to inspire awe, not to mention the intricate designs covering its surfaces. It was magnificent. And he was about to enter its walls.
The white of its walls surpassed even that of the whitest marbles used in the Leviticum. Its windows were stained glass, depicting interactions between nature, animals, and mankind. It had one large spire that reached towards the heavens, with two smaller spires tucked further back. Atop the highest spire was a golden figure, a winged creature with a slight resemblance to a young man. Its wings reminded him of the dark eagle of the phantom storm. Was it only two nights ago? Cephas help me… He choked. No. No, thoughts be gone. Leave me.
He cleared his head as he approached the annex and entered through its heavy curtains. Iceland had given him instruction to enter the annex and dress, yet he still felt as if he were trespassing. The inside was decorated with fine ornamentation, outlined with thin strips of what looked like chalked seashells. Even this structure separate from the temple was exquisite.
He found his folded robes behind another set of hanging curtains. On top of the robes was a note. He read it aloud to himself while admiring the careful handwriting. ‘After dressing in your robes, proceed to the temple doors.’
He concealed himself behind these curtains and switched into his new garments. They came in two layers. The first layer was light and fine, so much so that they felt like air. The second came in two parts, garbing his lower and upper body. They were dark blue and form-fitting, though some sections hung loose at his knees and torso. All parts were short-sleeved, revealing his forearms and calves. His sores were no longer open where the cloth settled upon them with exquisite comfort.
Despite his current situation, he was feeling quite good. This made him nervous. He was in the Trials. I must remember the seriousness of this moment. Suppressing his own idleness, he swept from the annex ready for the next challenge, his new garments flowing with the wind. He felt new strength within him. He had thought the Trials would be an endless torment. They had been challenging thus far, but they had also included periods of rest and warmth. Which probably meant things were about to get bad. But that was fine by him. Bring the pain, he thought. He had not come there for comfort and free clothes. He had come there to become a Guardian.
He approached the large, golden doors of the temple. Etched within them were images of celestial bodies. Smiling suns with defined rays. Moons within different phases. Stars of varying luster spilled stardust over the surface. It felt disgraceful to even touch the work of art. Still, he gripped the handle with his fingertips and pulled it open.
Ammon entered the temple. As he did so, he felt the peace within him walk away leaving him alone. It was an unnatural, albeit gradual transition. It was a sign that he had entered the next phase
He was surprised by the amount of light. There were no lamps or torches in view, yet everything shined. Beams seemed to emanate from the walls themselves. Occasionally he would see another star or moon etched into the walls, continuing the patterns. Palettes of color splashed the walls by the light of the stained glass windows. Some of the images on the walls seemed to take new forms, as if done so intentionally. Yet he knew how much light varied throughout one day. How would they be able to design the windows for such a thing?
“Down the hall, third door on the right.” Ammon stiffened. His heart pounded in his ears. It had been the kindest voice he had ever heard, though it had caught him off-guard. He looked ahead, catching sight of an elderly woman standing near the wall. She was in a white gown, with white hair and what seemed to be the bluest eyes in the world. He was eerily comforted by this unique woman. Again, his calmness left him feeling disturbed. They want me to let my guard down, he thought. I will not let that happen.
“My dear, you better hurry. They are waiting for you. Down the hall, third door on your right.” Her smile made Ammon want to do anything for her.
Suddenly, movement caught his eye. He turned in time to see an image appear on the vast, open wall ahead. He saw a tree take shape and rise from the ground, the color of shifting rainbows. The tree grew and grew until its branches touched the ceiling and grew leaves. He looked back, searching for the stained window that was creating this colored image, yet he found none. He turned back to the growing tree.
Buried in its branches was a large beast, d
ark spotted, lying amongst the leaves. Its thick tail swung gently beneath it. The leaves of the tree appeared a palpable white, but so too did the beast, in between its richly black spots. Could this be… the snow leopard from my dreams? Now he was sure they had put something in the fountain water.
“Quickly, child. The Guardians will not delay another second.” It was a gentle scolding. He smiled to acknowledge her request, then looked at the wall one final time. The shapes were there, but the overall image had been lost. Instead it was just a tangle of random design, hardly resembling anything at all. How curious…
He walked down the hall careful to be silent, lest he scare away the surrounding peace. He counted down to the third door, then placed his hand on its golden handle.
“Oh, my dear? One more thing,” came the sweet voice.
He paused, then looked back towards the elderly woman.
A seared, black stump of a creature stood in her place, drool pouring from its gaping mouth. Sores seemed to burst all over her stretched skin, dripping tar that instantly solidified to hang from her limbs. With her head held back, flashing coals for eyes, she spoke in the same, sweet voice without moving her lips.
“…Not all things are as they appear…”
The last word hung in the air, transitioning from a church bell ring to a solemn screech.
Ammon shoved open the door and leapt out into the Sun, slamming the door and falling onto cobblestones. Terrified and confused, he squinted to see what was before him. As his eyes adjusted, his heart sank further down. He was in exactly the same place he had been moments before.
Straight ahead and to the right were the front doors of the temple. Directly behind him was the annex. His head started spinning. He was unsure of everything. There’s no way this is real. How are they doing this?
Then he noticed a figure to his left. He whirled around, realizing it was a Guardian. It looked the same as the ones who had accompanied Iceland from before.
“Follow,” the Guardian said, turning its back to him.
“How do I know if I’m supposed to follow you?” Ammon said, almost panting.
The Guardian stopped.
“How do I know if you’re taking me where I need to go?”
“Bright boy,” came the same, raspy voice of the black stump. The Guardian turned, its mask removed. In its place was the sweet woman’s face mixed with the ooze of the charred, drooping creature.
Dread filled his limbs. He felt like striking her. He felt heavy as if sinking into wet sand. His terror was unlike anything he had ever felt. He could see it for what it was, while at the same time experiencing it fully. Yet despite his understanding, he could not escape its grasp. He felt as if the very earth was quaking at his feet, vibrating the air around him and warping all light and sound.
“How indeed,” came another, softer voice. Ammon jerked around to find Guardian Iceland standing with the same two Guardians. He searched their features for signs of reality, yet he knew not what to look for. Then, having taken the time to recognize them, he felt a certain peace rise within him, confirming their identity.
The ground settled as his vision cleared. He turned to find the charred woman, expecting her to be right upon him. He could almost feel her breathing on his neck and down his spine. He closed his eyes, accepting his fate. How could I have been so stupid…
But as he turned and opened his eyes, he saw another Guardian standing in her place. She was also mask-less, a smirk touching her younger lips. She was beautiful. She winked at him, then replaced her mask and walked away.
“Phase Two measures your ability to determine truth from falsehood,” Iceland started. “That was the first half. We are now moving to the second, more challenging half. It will measure your knowledge of things that are, as they are, where they are. Knowledge is but the theory surrounding what is. There is one truth about all things in this universe, lingering amidst a web of near-truths. So how is one to determine what is true and what is not? How many illusions do all of us live with every day? Is anything that you think you know, actually true?”
He didn't know the answer. He had always measured things according to how they felt. He could usually feel if he was being lied to or not. But the old lady he had just seen… He had trusted her immediately after laying eyes on her. I could not have been more wrong…
“How do you know, from all the books you have read, that your life is not entirely made up?”
He had asked himself this same question before. When he read a new book, he measured its truth based on what he already knew. But what if everything he already knew, was also a lie? If he knew something to be true from experience, then he would use that to determine if other words in the books were true. It was a slow process, spiraling up staircase of knowledge, but it was built upon a firm foundation. Assuming my whole life isn’t a falsehood. For if his own experiences were also unreal… How could he tell what was truth?
He felt suffocated. His palms began to sweat.
“Follow.”
After a few seconds, feeling lost and hopeless, he followed the Guardians.
III
They took him to the left of the temple and around the back. Standing there at medium height was a garden house of glass walls. The misty glass depicted clouds and skies, making it difficult to distinguish the figures within. The Guardians entered through the walkway, brushing aside the golden curtains.
“Wait there,” Iceland commanded from inside.
Ammon halted at the curtains. His head was still reeling, trying to grasp the concept of truth. How did he know if anything he had learned throughout his life was actually true? Is there even such a thing as truth? Is it all dependent on the perspective of a person? Is truth a variable? His head throbbed. He reached up to rub his temples, then resisted the urge. He didn’t want to look weak. He didn’t want them to know they had gotten to him. Although that was exactly what they had done.
He heard only silence within the glass structure. Distant tides and chirping birds weaved all around them, teasing of a world without worry. I agree with Bastion. Life would be easier as a bird. He took a deep breath, trying to get a grip on his confidence.
Don’t worry. You know what you know. You have gotten this far in life. Trust yourself. Trust who has given you this knowledge. But who had given him his knowledge? Books with various authors? Levitians? He breathed in deep again.
Your parents. Your friends. Your loved ones. Those books. But what if they had also been lied to? What if all they knew was also false? He breathed deep once more, clearing his mind. Then he had a thought. Trust yourself. These two words gave him peace. He clung onto them.
“Enter.” The voice was unrecognizable.
Ammon stepped through the golden veil. Before him were three rows of marble altars. Each altar was long, with three Guardians sitting behind each of them like desks. The Guardians stood upright all at once.
“Proceed to the center of the room! And quit looking around!”
The voice was booming, aggressive.
Ammon snapped his eyes forward and jumped to a central point on the floor.
“Is that the center? What makes you think that’s the center? Move!”
A different voice, just as aggressive as the last. Heat began to rise within him. He did not like being yelled at. Ammon stood still.
“I said move!”
Ammon stood still. “Guardians, you commanded me to stand at the center of the room. I am doing just that!”
“How do you know that’s the center!”
There was a small circle where Ammon stood. From that spot, the rest of the room appeared symmetrical.
“I believe this to be the center of the room, sir.”
He held his breath. There was silence.
“The exact center of the room is in fact one step to your right. Move.”
Ammon took one step to the right.
“That was a rather large step, child,” came a quieter, yet uninterested voice.
&nb
sp; Ammon held his peace. They were trying to get him to doubt himself. He would not. He would trust himself.
He could feel their eyes upon him, scanning every measure of his being.
“We are the Council of Guardians.”
This woman’s voice came from the center front row. It made Ammon comfortable, relaxing his mind. He felt peace, while at the same time a chill rose up his spine. All grew sharp in detail. Brighter. He had a sense that he knew this place once before. The word ‘council’ rang like a bell within his mind, as if it had been rung centuries ago, and was only now reaching his ear. He thought of starlight, but the thought swept away.
The woman in front spoke again. He knew then that she was the leader of this second phase finale.
“You have been told the purpose of this phase from Guardian Iceland. We will proceed to ask you a series of questions. You will respond to the best of your knowledge. If we are satisfied with your performance, we will share with you another piece of knowledge. The pieces we will share, I assure you, are of the utmost truth.”