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The Veil Between Worlds: Fleeting Innocence
The darkness today was unsettling, oppressive in its nature with how it clung to ones skin, making the aether in the air buzz and crackle. Not even the birds or the undergrowth stirred as pink eyes looked up to the thick canopy, faintly glowing.
Yet not even that seemed to pierce the darkness.
It was proof that today was the day of the Midnight Sun festival and the weight of it was felt on her shoulders, small fingers picking at the loose bark of the branch she was sitting on. This branch, this tree that she was sitting on has become her home of late. She was never a child that enjoyed walls or closed in spaces, the aspect making her skin crawl as they often contained unblinking eyes peering through her, lifeless, yet assessing.
Iza was a creature of nature, it even showed in her magic, born within her veins as if the land gave it to her with how she could mimic the world around her. However, this had no place within the halls of death, her Elder… No her mistress, teaching her to remove herself from it so her mind can be opened to what she was meant to become. But instead of this being her usual escape it has turned into a spot where she could spy, “…Oh there she is!” She whispered to herself, shrinking down so she wouldn’t get spotted.
It was because Iza has never seen anyone with such small ears before or such a towering stature, it was interesting to her mind and when something was interesting, it caused her to think. So as she crept along the branches, following the researcher as she navigated the land, a small hand would lift to break a twig free from her perch.
She wanted to see her face again, and was raising a hand to throw the twig to try and draw her attention without being seen. You see, no one aside from her mistress was allowed to speak with this woman but with Iza so close, always in the shadow of her presence she grew bolder, crafty in how she would approach her. She wanted to know who she was and where she came from.
But just as Iza was about to toss the twig, her wrist was grabbed, causing a quiet gasp of fright to escape her, body twisting and hand gripping a dagger. “Your mistress is looking for you” Vasilli spoke, his emerald eyes softly glowing in the near darkness as Iza tore her hand away with a blush. “Why she send you? Why aren’t you with your brother?”
“Because if the rumours are true, there will be a number of us to be hand picked”
Iza frowned at that, even puffed out her cheeks as she stood, the dagger going back to her hip. She didn’t like the boys of Grimrost at the best of times, and Vasilli annoyed her the most because she couldn't get a read on him. It also didn’t help his face was stupidly pretty. However, they had to work together so eventually she had to learn to tolerate him.
That was the rite and rule of Warders, Weavers, Temple Guardians and Death Shamans…. One was always assigned to another to ensure survival, a cycle established to keep the wonders of life and death flourishing.
It was the cycle of the flow. Birth, life, death, decay to bore new life.
However, today was not that day where she wanted to be kind, Iza pushing him as punishment for frightening her, “I am not a baby!”
And of course he landed like a cat onto his feet, the researcher long gone as Vasilli stared up at her. “Jumping on me also won’t help your case so rethink yourself” He bluntly spoke, no emotion to his voice where it was borderline cold. This alone made Iza pause, looking at him in utter confusion.
Vasilli wasn’t one for emotion, but she noticed he was getting more withdrawn the longer he was with the warders, his smiles less common but still breathtakingly warm when he did finally smile a smile that touched his eyes. Stepping off the branch she let herself fall, landing on her feet with a light thud.
Out of instinct he turned, leading the way and she followed, watching his back where the silence stretched between them. Puffing her her cheeks and then popping her lips, she eventually broke the silence with careful consideration “Are you okay? Is the warder life what you thought?”
Vasilli took his time in responding “…I love the freedom it offers, love being amongst the land but they weren’t lying that within the first summer most would be lost.” Despite the lack of emotion on his face, she could see how his ears were flicked back, which caused her to pick up her pace and look up at him, keeping the horror of it to herself.
Which Death Shaman did they go to? She doesn’t remember seeing any of the young warders come their way. “...I’m sorry Vasilli.” And he shook his head, his tone distant “What can we do anyway?”
“We can make it better for them, for us, it’ll soon be our turn to be the adults!” Maybe it was the childlike positivity and hope shining through, wanting to see their world as constantly beautiful. But as she watched Vasilli she noticed how his lips parted to speak, how there was a moment of vulnerability, something fragile, but just as quick it was gone, as if it was discarded, his eyes fixating instead on the hut before them as bone charms rattled in the soft breeze, the lack of light nearly all consuming until an orb of light bounced forth from Vasilli’s fingers.
She watched him in awe with how easy it was, with how the jungle softly glowed around him. How easy the gift of pure magic, vitras came to him. It was rare to be able to summon, conjure and control pure aether. Iza knew that if he kept showing such talents he would be picked by the weavers. Then she looked back to the imposing hut, noticing a pile of something smouldering to the side of its foundation… Though she knew better than to be curious over such things.
Turning, she would step inside, noticing the rug was missing. Zych had her back to her as she washed her hands and face in a large hand carved wooden bowl, red dripping off her fingertips. “You are late Iza and shouldn’t be going against my word” There was the slightest hint of sharpness to her tone that made the young Viera look down, that was until pink eyes noticed a box on the sitting table.
“This is your first Midnight Sun festival and a step closer to who you were destined to become young Iza, this is a gift, one of two toward your trials”
She hesitated some, but when she looked up to the woman that was mentor and guardian both, there was an air of expectation as she finally stepped forward. Carefully opening the lid, she saw a crystal with swirling aether within. “…What is this?” She questioned, fingertips gently touching the surface.
“It is a balance stone to keep your elements in check” The statement made Iza feel conflicted. She was born with magic too, born of the earth where she could learn from nature and mimic it but it was too wild, to raw and not something that was wanted when her pathway was about delicate touch and powerful rituals worthy of shaking the soul. They couldn’t be wild, reckless or free. But despite her age, she was always proud of being given such a strong purpose and so would pluck the necklace up, stringing it around her neck, its weight heavy but the crystal warm against her skin as it shifted and pulsed with her heartbeat.
It felt soothing.
But something in the depths of her mind told her is wasn’t right as it thickened in her blood, containing something.
Then Zych spoke further, drawing Iza out of her thoughts as the words held a weight to them that made Iza clutch the crystal as if it would give her strength, the sense of vulnerability crippling as Zych’s strange eyes cut down to her very soul. It was as if she was being weighed.
“Should you survive and showcase you are worthy of your position young Iza, you will become a Death Shaman and be granted your final gift, pray the prophets don’t touch upon you this day…”
With a hesitating step she went closer to the door, her pink gaze tracking her golden, waiting and seeing and when Zych didn’t respond, let alone twitch, Iza knew she was free to go. It was like she was cut free with how rapidly Iza pushed past the entrance, beads and bones rattling in her wake, running straight to Vasilli.
“Land take me, are you okay?” He grabbed her shoulders as she all but ran into him and when she didn’t respond right away he gave her a moment as her brows knitted, her gaze fixed behind her. When she did finally speak, her words were low “She doesn’t want the prophets near me”
“…That is odd…”
Iza then shook her head “Might just be a death shaman thing, doesn’t want me to know because what will be will end when I dunno, become?” She shrugged, not wanting to think on it and how weighted the words were. She had no idea what she was in for when it came to these rites, but if the rumours were true she will be expected to look at the veil and weigh her own soul. Yet what did that even mean?
In the end all she could do was shrug “Whatever,” She so easily dismissed it and then began walking “Plus you promised us the Midnight Festival” which Vasilli indeed did. Each of their parents or mentors knew each other so they have been fast friends since they were able to walk “I think you will like it for the music, I think my brother will like it for the spirits and pulse of energy” As he spoke, he waved his hand to make the orb of light float ahead of them so they could pick their steps with relative ease.
Aside from the soft glow of plant life, it was as dark as pitch, hands barely able to be seen in front of ones face until torches and lanterns dotted the horizon along with a harmony that seemed to thrum through the very land like a heart beat.
It was hard for Iza to describe the feeling, let alone relate it to something when it felt so otherworldly. It was like her heart was beating and yet it wasn’t, it was the earth, the trees, the pulsing glow of every plant, shadow and spirit as if it was one and whole.
And as the old ancient trees of the depth started to part, revealing the temple gutting out from the ground with rings upon rings of people chanting, praying and swaying in perfect timing and harmony she realised it then.
“The green word. The mothers spirit” Her tone was breathless despite not once running, the chill and energy of the ancient building surrounded by their entire village sending a chill down her spine and along the skin of her arms. And when she looked up to Vasilli, to his softly glowing eyes, she saw it in him to, the never ending awe and pride for their people. However, this was too new, too overwhelming that all she could do was follow Vasilli’s lead, let him guide her until she was in the thick of the crowd, side by side to him and clutching his hand and the hand of another, joining the chanting.
It was in the chanting that Iza realised how time seemed to slip and bleed, the young viera one moment thinking it was the pitch of night and then suddenly squinting when the first rays hit her face.
How long was she here? How did time shift like that?
Light here in the depths was rare, fleeting and dappled. They lived in shadow and darkness, taking advantage of the fleeting rays, but this? This was blinding. And as she pulled her hand free from Vasilli to shield her eyes, she gasped, falling to her knees from the sheer exhaustion. “..Huh?” She murmured, worried gazes fluttering to her but in the end all she saw was Vasilli who crouched down and helped her onto wobbly legs.
“Our sacrifice for our land and spirits is our aether, give yourself a moment and inhale slowly”
While her head swam, vision blurring for a moment, his words reached her and she did as she was told, parting her lips and forcing a large lungful of air into her system so she could inhale and exhale slowly until the world came back into view and with it the sudden, skin prickling silence as all gazes turned to the prophet draped in silks.
She was old, her form swallowed by her clothing, her hands like claws, yet her voice was strong, her long hair immaculate, decorated with beads of opal and pearl, her drooped ears clamped with various decorations. From behind the veil, she could feel her gaze looking over every single Viera, assessing their life, past, present and future and then she began to point.
First somewhere off to the right, then to Iza, then to Vasilli and then to Myrun…
Iza froze, her blood going cold as her gaze then flicked up to Vasilli, seeing that he too went deathly still, colour draining from his face as the voice of the prophet echoed over the entire crowd.
“It shall be on the day that the sky burns with fire, a woman of grey shall cause an age of misfortune and the dawn of evil” The prophet paused and then looked to the three young viera, her gnarled finger moving from the right to point directly at them “As soon as the last one is reborn, two siblings shall mark a new life”
Fear was quick to sweep over the crowd in murmurs, gazes rapidly trying to find the one that will spell their doom. “What do we— ah!” Her heart leapt to her throat as she felt herself suddenly get grabbed, Iza swinging around and freezing in the last moment as she realised it was Zych, her face hidden by a mask but her tone, strained and furious curled out. “We leave. Now.”
“W-Wait!” Iza called out, trying to resist, reaching out to Vasilli, who she realised was also being dragged away by his mentor as well, rapidly and quickly and when she looked for Myrun, he was gone too.
What was happening?
Yanked forward, Zych said nothing as Iza was pulled back into the depths, her voice an echo that was left ignored….
END.