My mind was clouded and at that time I couldn't understand what was happening to me. I couldn't remember the taste of peöks, only the sound of our laughter as we'd chase them, and they seemed to enjoy their role in the great scheme of life, as we swam and swam, in the days when none of us knew what true hunger felt like. We were kids, I recalled, and Öe would cast its sparkling rays all around us through the water, as we rode the currents, imagining they were mighty dragons and we were knights from the deep, swimming in confrontation. Some were so powerful that eventually we could hold on no longer and we tumbled backwards until we landed in an adult's arms or on some colourful reef. Inside my shabby room, which I was sharing with numerous other women who worked in the quarry, I'd try to resurrect feelings of joy by recalling the sound of our laughter, which would, until dawn, carry me back home.
The leader of the Rayanars, Maáh, was an excellent swimmer. She could swim around the magnetic poles and even touch them; such was the strength which dwelled inside of her that she seemingly effortlessly dove into the mightiest of currents. Her crown was natural: three crystal spikes that She had made grow on Maáh's head on the evening of her coronation. These crystals were very enigmatic to me—most Rayanars would have concurred—as their role was to connect Maáh to all above and all beneath. Yet I had never satisfied my curiosity as whether we were oblivious of what the third crystal assisted her in doing, since I had assumed that one connected her to what was above and the second connected her to what was underneath. But what did I know at that time? I simply told myself that maybe all three combined fulfilled that task and that the above and the underneath represented something far greater than what an uninitiated dweller could have anticipated. And so it was, as I later discovered.
Lying on the hard bed, I smiled to another memory from my childhood. We used to impersonate Queen Maáh when we were kids; we'd swim all the way to Ángisär, a cave far in the north, covered by snow. The black shore of the sea was soft and lively with little creatures washed away by the waves.
Among our favourite impersonation games was the coronation ceremony, which was difficult to recreate due to shortage of actors and thus we would resort to invisible ones to help us deliver our play before God and Goddess. And I guess They rejoiced in our innocent games, as the winds were calm and the sea brought treasures before our feet, which we would immediately accept and incorporate into our improvised script. Sometimes, the sea herself would become a character, and we would tell her how to move her waves, or we imagined deciphering her answers in the sounds made by birds or the patterns left by her white foam. Occasionally, we would quarrel because we held different interpretations for the wind or because one of us would suddenly introduce all others to a strange, unknown character, who did not fit in the coronation scene. Then the one who had conceived such a new guest would defend the case:
'Our guest has come from a land so far that history has not yet returned from it. Our visitor comes bearing the gift of the new, of the strange, of the diverse.'
And since we knew not how was appropriate to welcome such an imaginary visitor, or what accommodation was appropriate, we'd kindly suggest the newcomer to sit at the back, while we finished organizing the ceremony, so we could begin.
As I grew older, I started cherishing solitary walks on that black beach and I'd visualise children playing Kings and Queens, the sea tumbling over with her noisy waves, the birds flying over their bare heads. Some of the birds overflying the fifth realm were enormous, yet they never attacked us. On the contrary, at times they dove into the sea to alleviate their pains and we would immediately rise in a circle, touching and blessing them. Afterwards, they would fly upwards, covering the sky. No sense of owing governed our ways, since we knew they had been sent by Her, aware that it was our duty to support Creation and prolong its existence.
Dawn came, a sign that we should all wake up and return to the quarry. I noticed everyone's faces as we got out of our beds: they all seemed disheartened and not eager to start a new day.
Walking towards Edel Khan, my mind was busy trying to remember something, an important trigger that would shed light on something which had been troubling me throughout the night. There was a taste that lingered, which bothered me because, despite my focused attempts, it completely escaped me; I could neither remember what it was, nor entirely forget about it. It was an unnamed feeling, which had emerged from the depths of my brain and kept knocking on a door which I didn't recall having a key of.
Edel Khan was waiting for me, his superior attitude red-flagging the fact that I had arrived late. I felt humble, yet not in a constructive way, but rather in a desolating sense of being unfit for this promised land and with no chance of ever rising at the level of what was expected of me by certain people around me.
'I apologise for being late,' I said, though I had spotted the clock on the wall which announced that I had not actually done so.
'Let it not happen again, or I shall cut the hour off your pay!' his voice thundered, making everybody turn and look at us.
I said nothing.
Taking the notes from his hands, after he mentioned something about having to explain too many things, given that I couldn't read Dwerléth, I hurried through a wooden door which led to the Administrative Scribe's office. My feet were cold again and walking barefoot did not help in the least. A woman had offered to lend me a pair of old shoes until I received my month's pay, yet they were too large for my feet, which were bound to remain cold until I could afford to buy shoes from the shop in which I did not even dare enter. I walked to forget the cold and I forgot why I was walking. Then the notes in my hands reminded me of their addressee. I had become numb.
'Is this how I shall live the rest of my days? Oh, Veel'le! Oh, Sá'aná! Must I remain a caterpillar for all eternity?' I spoke to myself, fighting back some tears.
A strange valley, east of Enó'ol it lies,
Where bottoms are summits in disguise,
As symmetric as the water reflects,
As entwined as the moonlight projects.
Should you one day forget where you stand,
Up or down it shall take you as planned:
And freely you shall walk up the wall,
As easily as you would walk on a floor.
Veel'le and Sá'aná were similar as regards the impulses they sent to the tunnels. Veel'le, being masculine, sent quivers that were easy to distinguish from the activity of Mount Enó'ol, back in the fifth. In the quarry, I felt that Sá'aná sent three consecutive waves, at given intervals, which felt like a blessing of the realm. The inhabitants of the seventh tunnel were ruthless by nature and hence the blessings were of great use to the sixth as it lay closest to our cluster's greatest threat.
Along the coastline of my home there were shelters for the needy among Onars, yet they hardly ever accepted a Rayanar's help, neither in advice, nor in the healing of their ailments. The workers of the quarry were equally stubborn and unwilling to accept that an outsider such as myself could help them. Nýriols and Layans believed that only their warrior shamans, the Eöri, could help them. At times, I felt their presence, like a vibe blending with the waves sent by Sá'aná.
I had been in the sixth realm for six days and it was time to rest and look upon the stars, yet they were hidden from me and I dared not ask for permission to exit the city; perhaps it was I who was hiding from them, in that place which was neither my own, nor to my linking.
As I did most evenings, I was eating by myself some sort of mashed vegetables that they served in the canteen. I had taken my plate and moved to a seat somewhere at the back, trying to remain unnoticed, although that was very difficult to pull off when you were the flamingo among the peacocks. Many of my fellow workers, in fact, seemed like they weren't from this realm either.
My reverie was swiftly interrupted by the agitation around one of the seven doors, which had opened, and a signal made everyone stand up. However, most of them seemed unaware as to why they had done it.
As I was pondering whether to stand up or risk rebelling against this unfamiliar protocol, a woman in a white dress approached me. Her hair was black, yet she seemed very old to me; while hers were the eyes of an old soul, her skin was that of a beautiful young woman. Her dress had tiny sparkling particles. Her fingers were long and one was carrying a golden ring with a red gem incrusted, some symbols cast around it. These symbols would light up in a clockwise direction, only one at a time. There were twelve of them in total.
Above her elbow, a bracelet coiled on top of her sleeve. It was entirely made of a gem which I had not seen before, somehow see-through, reddish and with deeper, darker shades of red inside. Around her neck, but only on the right side, there was a thin silver necklace, which started at the back of her head, moving one inch up, then coiling back and ending right under her clavicle, in an arrow-shaped tip.
Above her left eyebrow, there was a long white mark and right under the upper central part of her forehead, there shone a white crystal. Loosely covering her hair was a veil resting on her shoulders, white as the foam of my Mother-sea.
Her eyes were measuring me as well, as she was standing before me, motionless. I noticed Mikhael behind her, who signalled that I should stand up.
'Åsaïra,' I managed to whisper and to my surprise, I felt my blessing soothe my own throat.
She made a reverence, her right foot behind the left, bowing gracefully and I imitated her, although we were distant as distance can take two souls apart: I was dusty and unimportant, and she was tall in her shiny dress, wanting Veel'le knew what from me, I thought to myself. She smiled. Maybe Sá'aná had told her a secret that I had forgotten about myself in this cave so far from home.
'This is Önaha, an Eöri of the Moon,' Mikhael introduced his companion, and his words sounded so heavy that I felt the urge to fill my lungs promptly, using both my nostrils and the delicate gills between my ribs, loosening the grip of the fins that covered them so to allow more air to flow through.
'Come with me, N'aarat,' she said and lifted her hand, pointing at the door.
Mikhael again signalled to me by nodding, his head moving so subtly that I could have missed it altogether. I agreed to join her, right before Edel Khan appeared from my left, inquiring what matters had brought her to his quarry.
'My matters should not trouble any of the dwellers of Sá'aná,' she replied, without looking away from me. 'Shall we, N'aarat?'
We left the canteen and walked through the same door, then down an alley several feet long, finally arriving inside an oval hallway with three wooden doors ahead of us.
'We shall stop here for the time being,' she announced, then looked at Mikhael, who greeted us and left. 'He has been instructed to wait by the door, in case you decide to turn around and join him back inside the canteen, thus back to the life you have been experiencing on this land.'
Her voice was firm; not authoritative or harsh, simply firm. Her posture was natural and her white skin looked as soft as moondust. She carried on:
'The stars know you, as they know everyone else. You have prayed to them for your fortunes to change, and the stars are now presenting you with the opportunity to live differently. Should you consent to become an apprentice to the Eöri, you shall walk with me through one of those doors. Should you not desire to serve as a warrior shaman, Mikhael is standing by the door.'
'What shall become of my life if I come with you?'
She smiled, as if she considered that an impossible question; however, she did honour it with a reply:
'Nothing that has been so far will ever be again. The N'aarat from behind the door and the N'aarat standing here before me are as different as the moon differs from its reflection in a lake. The Eöri are a caste who serve the Goddess and answer only to Her. You will renounce your limited views of divided ellipses and join us in sustaining a higher cause.'
Higher causes meant great, tumultuous transformations. One becomes as great as the cause one serves.
'Do you honestly think I could become an Eöri?'
'What matters today is whether you think you could be one.'
'What if I fail at becoming who She expects me to become?'
Her silent lips and deep black eyes made me look down. Not realising what I was doing, I started walking around her. She didn't move with me.
'There was a time,' I said, 'when nothing seemed impossible.'
'This event, today, was triggered by such a belief. Can you still take a leap into Neen Th'al? Do you still wish to see beyond the stars?'
'Oh, that, I'm afraid, is something I cannot do anymore because I have lost my gift of sight.'
I had never admitted this since my arrival, not even silently, not even to myself, but it was true and it brought tears to my eyes, for I had lost the greatest part of who I was while being here and it had all happened without me even realising.
She smiled kindly. 'That is due to máhanat, a mineral hard as a diamond but in liquid form, which can be found everywhere in this quarry and in many other places around the city. It's black and its main property is inducing oblivion. It is harvested for medical purposes, most useful especially during surgeries in the Clinic.'
Now that she was speaking, I was growing more and more certain that her voice was carrying the echo of another. I looked at the alley that had led us there, the one at the other end of which Mikhael was waiting for a sign. Then I looked at the three doors and asked:
'What lies behind these doors?'
'The only way to know that is by deciding you are moving forward and not back down the corridor that shall take you to the quarry.'
Upon hearing her mention the quarry, I realised that I had to escape from it, since it felt it had become a prison.
'I agree. I want to join you. Which door shall we walk through?'
'Choose.'
Her answer startled me and moved something deep within me, as if choosing weighed heavier than being forced to obey. I couldn't understand what it had done to me, yet restlessness had instantly coiled around me, making me alert.
'Based on what do I choose?'
'Based on how it feels in your heart.'
She was looking at me with her black eyes, her skin shining beautifully, and I began to hear songs that did not come from her lips. My head felt as if it was moving as slowly as a willow in the embrace of a wind that had been created for me alone. That seemed an honour so great that I felt crowned, just as Maáh had been, long before, in the days of my sunny childhood.
'The first door,' I said, as if from a distant place.
'The first from the left or the first from the right?'
'From the right,' I replied, even if I was visualising the one on the left.
I then tried to tell Önaha this, but my lips were heavy and so I moved my arm, trying to point to the door I was clinging on to for some reason, the one on the left. I managed to point to the one on the right. My story, it seemed, was stubbornly writing itself.
'Walk through it with me, then,' she told me, opening the door, and I followed her and fell into the web of darkness behind it, conquered by a sleep as long as a thread from here to a lagoon of primordial stars which illuminate the birth of younger lights.
I felt safe, yet I felt I was falling. It was not the type of paralysis which had destroyed part of who I was upon my tumble into River An. I trembled and I began to cry as I remembered the fear I had felt when my back had hit the surface of the water. I had a clear picture of Nazull clinging on to my body and I could read his horror of water as he climbed onto me, reaching for the shore, without letting me go. It felt strange to receive such a vision and to see a diligence of tiny iridescent creatures rush underneath my body and hold me above the surface. On top of me, there appeared a face which was as if made of white smoke—and stranger yet, that face was my own. Thus I observed from a distance how I was watching myself lying unconscious.
Then I was pulled back into the darkness behind the door, and watched Mikhael in the doorway, looking at us with his greyish indigo eyes, preparing to close the door behind him. Edel Khan, his face grave and reddish in anger, walked to talk to him, yet Mikhael walked past him, leaving no room for conversation. A black Onar going by the name Nazull was furious and silent, holding his spoon firmly, his lips trembling and his arrow tattoo commanding that he remain silent, for to a slave speaking was as dangerous as drawing a sword.
Önaha moved farther down the corridor behind the door, her white dress leaving a trail of moondust behind her as she walked. It took all my strength to move my feet and follow her; such a long time I delayed there that it seemed I could have lived and died a thousand times. Eventually, my body listened to my mind and I advanced on the trail she had left, thus I arrived at a fountain behind which there was a black dog whose eyes had been fixing me for a long time. Önaha appeared by its side.
'This is Anatára,' she informed me. 'She protects the doorway into Níverin, the sacred chambers of the Goddess.'
Then they both disappeared into thin air. The water became mercury, which flooded the fountain and the floor around it. As I began to walk, trying to shelter myself from the mercury, I realised that it adhered to everything except my skin. Wherever I turned, the floor turned black, and that felt like soil, which later blossomed under my steps. My walk seemed to last forever, as if space itself had bent. I was moving ahead without advancing much, as the fountain remained by my side, the mercury still flooding the chamber.
Then there was light, dashing upon me and disintegrating the walls, to reveal a garden of such splendid emerald grass. Here and there, small petals, white as thought, rested on the beautiful green blanket. A young boy was playing the lyre on the margin of a fountain which resembled the one from before, in front of seven women, who were either lying on the grass or sitting on white, iron benches, listening to his song.
One of them turned to watch me; she stood up, picking a corner of her white robe and stepping barefoot onto the soft grass. Her name was Liona. Her soft brown hair was wavy and loosely gathered at the back of her head, from where it fell freely over her left shoulder.
'I am Liona,' she introduced herself, 'but you already knew that, didn't you, N'aarat of the Valley?'