by B L Barkey
"The creature then reemerged and took flight, dueling with what seemed like a massive eagle of darkness. Not only this, but there were two trees that then appeared on the beach. I ran down to the sands after seeing lightning strikes. One tree was of glass, and the other was burned black. There was no mention of the creatures, or of a second tree from Master Lyon, nor from anyone else on the island. Yet I know what I saw.”
He could hear the question circulating in their minds. ‘And? What did you see?’
He paused, wondering how to ask his ultimate question. The Council remained silent, which felt very… wrong. He had captured their attention. Every one of them. He felt part of his answer come from their silence. It was more than just some storm after all. He continued.
“Guardians, I must ask. What do you know of this event, and why were there no Guardians to protect us?”
The air became thick with uncomfortable shuffling. He had the familiar feeling he was in another body, surrounded by a council of beings he couldn't fully see or understand. It was the feeling from his dark dreams.
This was exactly what he had hoped. He felt like the storm and his dreams were connected somehow. By getting answers about the storm, I might understand these dreams of dark angels, as well as the greater picture. He couldn't ask them about the dreams directly. If he shared them, the dreams might fade, or worse, the Guardians might think him insane. Worse still, they might associate him with the storm beasts themselves, assuming him a threat.
Their faces turned towards one another, then towards Guardian Cinder. She alone kept her eyes on Ammon. When she spoke, her voice was steady and unashamed.
“Master Lyon has addressed the Cephasonians on this matter. What he has spoken is the truth.” Her tone was more soothing than before, with hints of understanding and even… empathy?
“We are not sure what you mean by creatures, nor do any such storm beasts exist to the knowledge of this Council. In addition, the Sector Guard exists solely to provide protection to our island. We will always do what is required to defend our island from darkness.”
Then why is my friend injured, and why are his parents dead? Why is Maison a murderer, and why did he seek my life? The thoughts caught him off-guard. He had wanted to avoid such things until after the Trials.
Guardian Cinder turned her head slightly, seeming to look at him closer. “We suggest you refocus your attention on your current task, should it truly be important to you to join our ranks. Perhaps then you will find more of the answers you seek. Now,” she said, her tone switching to one of finality.
“Leave us."
Screams ripped from all directions.
“Go on, get out!”
“Disgrace!”
“Didn’t even know our names! I can’t believe we are allowing him to even continue!”
“What a joke! His parents must be useless too, to bring this joke of a son to us!”
“Such foolish questions, all of them!”
The curtains fell into place behind Ammon, concealing the voices within. Relief poured over him. He walked for several minutes, then looked back at the gazebo. There was no sign of movement within the glass and golden structure. He proceeded north then, walking further away from the temple.
Chapter XXXIII
The Second Key
The temple was now a small square on the backdrop of the Isle. Ammon walked amongst the brush. Surrounding trees threw shade upon him, giving him rest from the Sun. He repeated the first temple key in his mind.
Let the light of the world shine within me,
Enlighten my mind that I may see.
Sun, moon, stars, and spheres,
Teach me the way that I must be.
Over and over again, he repeated it in his mind. He could not forget them. His life calling depended on it. In them were the keys not only to the temple, but to the rest of his life. He also thought about Mikael. Where is he? What about Jaqlin and the other younglings? He had yet to see one other apprentice on the entire isle. Was it really that large? If it was possible to take him through a false temple, an alternate reality of sorts, was it possible they were doing something similar with the entire isle?
He had been walking around the north end now for almost an hour. He had no clue where to go. He had been flipping rocks, kicking brush, leaning on trees. All objects are movable, Cinder had said. Perhaps it isn’t so literal?
He was growing thirsty, tempted to return to the fountain. Yet something told him that if he returned without the second key, he would fail this second phase of the Trials. He pressed on.
All things are movable. Even people? He had searched everywhere and had not found a trace of the second key. Ammon sat upon a shaded rock, closed his eyes, and focused on his breathing.
In. Out. In. Hold. Out. Hold. Rustling palm leaves above. Swooping birds. He felt a disturbance in the air very near his right shoulder. He received a slight urge to lean forward. He followed it, and just then the tip of a bird wing brushed his neck. That was very close… He was thrilled, while also calm from his meditation. He kept his eyes closed, drifting further into his mind.
The second temple key. He needed to make sure he was entering the right temple this time. He had the first key, which was a four-line poem about being enlightened to see. The way that I must be…
Teach me the way that I must be. That I may see. He thought these words so fervently that he wondered if he spoke them aloud. Then he opened his eyes.
The sight before him looked the same. However, he had a different feeling within this heart. He now understood that he was looking in doubt. Only seeing what he expected to see, which was indeed, nothing. This time he decided to look with belief. He would find it. I will see it. He stood and let the wind slightly nudge him to the right. He felt free, as if whatever happened next would be okay with him. He felt exhilarated.
He stumbled over familiar rocks while kicking dead brush. Trust myself. He moved further north. A breeze blew him slightly left. He then followed a gentle nudge within to follow this new direction. He trusted himself, and his thoughts told him to trust his surroundings.
Much of the scenery seemed familiar to his subconscious. However, a few of the rocks seemed newly placed. Others were much larger than he had remembered.
Suddenly, he saw a stone that made him pause. A chord was strung inside him, prompting him to act. He approached the stone which stood at his waist. It was fairly round with natural jagged edges on its sides. What made this stone different than the rest? He decided to quit questioning it, and instead pushed his shoulder against it. With moderate effort, the stone slid out of place, flipping over its top to reveal a wooden hatch beneath.
His heart nearly leapt from his chest. He smiled so wide it hurt. He knew he had found it. He reached down to grab the cool iron ring attached to the door and pulled it open. He could see stairs leading into a room below as a musty scent swung into his face. Ammon descended into the hole, wondering why he was so calm. He looked around the room, searching for his next move.
A flicker of light illuminated the far end of the room. The walls were a couple feet away on either side, with small pieces of worn furniture scattered about. Several old books lied sprawled on the dirt floor, covering ancient rugs. He wondered what these books contained.
He picked one up and read from its open pages. Nothing in particular stood out. He decided to see with belief once more, reciting the first key in his mind. He looked away from the book and flipped through the pages with his hands. He then looked back at the book, flipping three more pages to the left. He stopped there and read.
On the page was a heading for the second chapter, along with two underlined sentences. They read, ‘And Alphas made them in his image, according to appearance and personality; for you see, eternity is a long time, and a wide space. To enjoy either alone is to not feel joy at all.’
What a curious passage to turn to. He thought about this for a second, escaping his reality. I wouldn’t mind a few days down h
ere, given bread, cheese, and water. Just then, he heard a slight whimper near the candle, snapping him back to the present. He stared at the white stick candle. The hatch he had come through was sealed tight. For that candle to be lit, it would need oxygen. This meant that the hatch had been opened recently, or else there was another entrance into this place. He kept this in mind as he carefully stepped towards the flickering flame.
“Who’s there?” Ammon called out. Another whimper rose and fell. As he approached the candle, he noticed a hallway to the right.
“Who’s there?” he called again, this time down the hall and less kindly. The whimper ceased. The silence itself seemed to be listening now. He saw a slight shift in the darkness ahead, stopping him in his tracks. He crouched near the ground, grabbing a handful of sand.
“Ammon?” The figure croaked, approaching with an awkward sway. “Ammon!” The figure ran towards him. As Ammon prepared to whip the sand into its face, his limbs went still.
“Mikael!” cried Ammon, dropping the sand. He rushed to his brother and embraced him. Mikael was sopping wet, as if he had just left the ocean. Ammon pulled himself away and looked at his brother.
Wounds were on his arms and stomach, bleeding through holes in his shirt. He was still wearing the clothes he had brought from the island. The wounds were very similar to the ones Ammon had received during Phase One with the tree, except they weren’t healed in the slightest. Instead, they were open and raw, exuding an awful, pungent smell. His brother was rotting before him.
“Mikael... what happened to you?”
“Ammon.. It’s been terrible,” Mikael choked. The surrender in his voice made Ammon want to cry.
The energy that had brought Mikael into the embrace immediately dissipated as he fell back against the dirt wall, sliding down with his knees to his chest. Ammon knelt down next to him, looking him over once more, hoping his eyes had lied to him. The wounds only looked worse.
“What happened to you?” Ammon asked again.
“I hardly made it through the swim. You saw the sharks in the waters? How they were shooting them before they assaulted us? Well, the Guardian watching over me missed one, and the shark came at me before the Guardian could take another shot.”
Mikael leaned forward, revealing his back. A gaping wound was still wet on his torso, deep wounds spaced in a wide arch. Ammon wanted to throw up. My poor brother… I wish it were me instead of him.
“That’s not even all of it,” Mikael continued, seeing Ammon’s concern.
“They shot the shark then dragged me to the Isle. From there they said I could continue to Phase One if I chose to. So I followed three Guardians to a tree where they told me to ascend. You did the same, yeah?”
Ammon nodded.
“Well, I was able to make it up for the coconuts the first time. Then they told me to hold on for as long as I could…”
He paused to take a few ragged breaths, coughing in between each one.
“I tried my hardest Ammon, but it was impossible with my back. I even made it twenty minutes before I lost so much blood that I fell to the sand. I couldn’t see or hear at first. I felt dead. Literally dead.”
You look dead, Ammon thought.
“Brother…,” Ammon whimpered, feeling helpless.
“They gave me some fresh water then. It helped, though my vision is still foggy, my ears ringing. Then they told me I was finished. I would never become a Guardian.”
Mikael stood, quivering at the knees as Ammon supported him. He then walked over to the candle, displaying more of his wounds. How is he even still conscious?
“After several minutes of my begging, they finally revealed my last hope.” He was staring into the flame, as if it held comfort for him.
“If I were to obtain the keys to the temple, I could still enter and skip the other phases. However, they would give me no hints to where the keys were located.”
He then turned to Ammon.
“As I approached the shores, having lost all hope of completing the Trials, I returned to the shore. After sitting in there for a time, looking upon our island, I heard a quiet whisper from deep within the rocks. I crawled back there to find a hole in the wall. Figuring I had nothing left to lose, I crawled through this hole. The space was tight and damp. I got stuck several times, and even resigned myself to death. Then, after hours of crawling, I tumbled into this room. As I went to stand up, I found this under my hand.”
Mikael held out his fist and opened it. Inside was a stone figurine, fitting just within his palm. It glowed faintly in the dark, revealing its shape. It was a small turtle shell.
“Do you think this could be it? The key they spoke of?”
“I don’t know,” Ammon said.
“Do you know what the other key is?”
“I do. It’s a set of words.”
“Really? Hmm. You must have received that during Phase Two, then.”
Ammon nodded.
“Ammon, the way I see it, we can both use this key, and you have the other. We should then be able to enter the temple together.”
Ammon was silent.
“What are the words?” Mikael asked. For the first time during their conversation, Mikael sounded hopeful, if even just a little. It pained Ammon greatly.
“I…cannot say,” he said, looking down.
Mikael looked taken aback. Then a look of disdain appeared on his face.
“You don’t think I deserve to pass the Trials.”
“No that’s not it,” Ammon said, stunned. “Of course that’s not it.” He gave his brother a weird look.
“Then what is it?”
“I was told to never repeat them aloud.”
“Ammon, I’ve searched this place up and down. There is no one here. Plus, they should have protected me like the rest! I deserve to hear those words.” His gaze fell. “This is our dream. Our childhood dream. Would you deprive me of our dream?”
Ammon’s heart ached. This was the worst moment of his entire life. It was cruel what he had to do.
After a long pause, Mikael finally spoke. “You won’t give it to me, will you?”
Ammon slowly shook his head. He then looked at his brother, then placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Maybe I can write it to you somehow. They said I couldn’t speak the words, but perhaps I can write them.”
Mikael looked up. He sounded brighter, though his eyes remained dark. They almost appeared as black orbs, dilated past the point of normalcy.
“Yeah… Yeah, that could work!” Mikael said, sounding joyful, even warm.
“Let me see the second key again,” Ammon asked.
Mikael paused. “Why?”
“Perhaps the words are engraved on the key, since they accomplish the same goal.”
“I don’t want to pull it out again, Ammon. I’m exhausted. It hurts even to blink.”
And there it is, Ammon thought. That look in his eye. That feeling. His suspicions were confirmed.
Ammon rushed forward, driving his shoulder into his brother’s chest. They both fell upon the candle flame. Ammon heard it seer the flesh on Mikael’s back, causing the boy to scream. His pitch transcended the sound barrier, creating a large clap which shook the earth around them. His ears ringing, Ammon pinned his right foot on Mikael’s neck, reaching for the hand which held the second key.
“Ahhmmenn!! What are you doing, brother! Would you take my only key from me? Ahh, it burns!! Ah-ah-menn!!”
Tears doused Ammon’s foot. He pried open Mikael’s fingers and removed the turtle shell. And suddenly he was alone in the room. Mikael had gone. Bookshelves laid tilted and empty. The candle was gone. Ammon was alone.
II
Ammon lifted himself out of the hatch, his arms trembling. Adrenaline was still coursing through his veins. He felt tired, closing the hatch and then sprawling out on the sands. He looked up at the sky.
It was an exact replica of Mikael. Just like the old lady in the false temple. It felt so real at first. But
as their conversation went on, Ammon felt his joy draining from him. In all their lives, even in the most desperate of times, Mikael had never been one to leech off others. He was a giver, always emanating light in the darkest of times.
At first he thought this oddity was in response to his brother’s wounds and misfortune, for their childhood dream was at stake. However, the dread continued to spread, squeezing even the air out of Ammon’s lungs. But as he asked to see the second key again, the creature had tried to take advantage of him. It had been a taker, not a giver. The real Mikael would never keep anything back from Ammon. Which was why it was so draining to keep the first key from his own brother.