Harmony

It wasn't a path. It was a causeway, one of those raised rock passages that seem to extend on forever. In a forest you can forget how long you've wandered—all these trees can’t possibly be the same—they shelter you as if they were one. The comfort of leaf tunnels always made the drudgery pass faster. Without that illusion, the sky is infinite. On clear days like this, it felt even bigger. The causeway was an endless portal, with an end on the horizon that appeared changeless, save the glitch of the haze in the distance. At least you could look back and watch home become smaller, to believe in progress. The legends say our ancestors built over the divide rock by rock until it rose from the depth of the lake; they are two lakes now. Some still claim it appeared overnight, an act of holy dictate. Some insisted the pinnose and spotbacks had their final underwater war, and this was the result of a peace treaty.

People carried stories. I never much liked them.

The rocks were smooth and alien. I had never seen a similar one in Calesp. There were debates on that too. I know rocks, they have a home. All things have a home, until you force them to believe in the unknown. These rocks fit together, seemingly designed for the causeway. I suppose if you break something enough times, it will eventually fit with other broken things. Today, traversing atop the legends, they felt even more unbelievable.

Where we were going, stories didn't return. I was excited for that. My parents didn't seem to like where I was going, said all sorts of spooky nothings that I should pay attention to. I had forgotten most of them before we left, now I had plenty of time for the subconscious to nag me.

"The boundary, it is not a line, you won't be able to see it. Do not let anyone bring you beyond the boundary."

Boundary is a funny word. I imagined it as a dark bottom ravine, or a well fed river. Something to bound across with all the faith that you were strong enough to defy nature. Yulreth and Veytra didn't like questions, or me calling them by their first names. They didn't see themselves in me, how phlegmatic they were, as if someone was pulling on their strings. Dance, dance, little people, and say all the sayings exactly how they are said. I knew I inherited my parents' vacant gaze. Even when they performed emotions, their sight betrayed a desolation. I didn't mind it. I knew before anyone had the courage to tell me: peeked in black puddles or the lakes on a still morning. Reflection is a scary thing, not knowing how deep the object is, maybe it doesn't know either, but it can tell you all about yourself. I wasn't ever sure who was staring back, but they didn't seem to care, so I stopped too.

Maybe the other side will cure my distaste for our stupid world. Or... nahhh, I like how I see things. I needed this more than my parents could understand. We all had to do it, and most of the other kids were throwing fits about it, even now, on the trail. Iplith kept crafting new scenarios that would allow him to turn back, take an elder with him. They could wait, you know, until the next ritual passing, and just take another kid with them. I guess none of us truly knew how the elders were chosen. They never complained. I wasn't either.

The rocks caressed our toes, radiating. The sun had drooped. Some of the elders had slowed. It wasn't normally this hot for the passage. I remember when my pop's pop, Verull, left. We were still in the thaw. I asked him so many questions, we all had a vision of this far off place. I thought it was all upside down, like the trees grew from the sky and we could walk with the clouds. And we would all float to sleep in the steady cradle of the forest above. Verull didn't have many answers for me, besides basically saying no to all my dreams with a belly laugh. There was one thing that he didn't laugh about, when I asked why he could come back. Something practiced appeared on his lips after one of those twitches that rips at your jaw, begging to be let out. He paused too long between the twitch and his response.

More stories. I should have known. You aren’t allowed to bring truth back from the other-side.

“I bet it’s boring…” Zax sighed. “It always is, you know?”

My focus didn’t waver, externally. My imagination was, however, curious. “It changes you.”

“Yeah, right. My brother, he didn’t change… He’s still an asshole.”

“Guess there’s no hope for you then.”

“Huh?” Zax’s ignorance was not blissful. He got that from his brother. “I heard they don’ have rules on the other-side.”

Freedom, or the freedom to learn the real rules. “Stories, Zax, why do you think none of us know what’s coming, do you think?”

“I hear—” Zax’s whole face frowned. “HEAyyy!”

Before he could wrangle me down by my pack, he was being lifted himself, by Xertain. “Zax, you are still little, a big emotion does not make you grow.” Xertain smiled, cradling Zax in the shade of his enormity.

“Yewww, yewww…” Zax strained, “you will be old soon, too old, and not return’n.” There moved something behind the face of Xertain, some knowing thing, that he was too good at hiding. I watched his eyes change, them seeing something of past or futures.

“We all arrive soon.” Xertain’s cheer was a solemn kind of hope. He guided Zax back to the rocks, following behind.

Before long, the sun’s location was inspiring whispers from many of the elders, inspiring whispers from us. I stayed quiet. I didn’t mind the stars. Wind began lapping the lake to our toes, a welcome cool. Nobody had promised we would make it before nightfall, anyways.

The change of shade beamed from the lake, brighter than the sky. It had the ripple, the distortion of living things. It brought the dance of sundown to life at the edge of our walk. I thought of little, sometimes a glimpse of home, and a peace in the knowing that tomorrow would be the beginning of life, the life I had been waiting for.