“He fell from the maw of the golden beast. For us, he cast down gifts from above. Facing death to stop all who meant harm to his home. In the sky, he died.”

- An excerpt from Volume 3, The Lasting Song of the New Summer. Death of the Lord of Waters, the beginning of fall, year 60 New Summer.

*****

Water rippled, cutting the three moons into countless pieces. That was more interesting than looking straight up. The night sky was featureless without the moons, unsteady water added variety for the eyes.

A second of silence prompted the same discussion as the night prior.

“Do you think they are honest in their promise? Or.. or do you think they’ll do something to us?” Nial asked. The same voice squeaking out the same question. His eyes jumped from person to ground to person, like a fish washed ashore during a storm.

Everyone gathered there were of similar ages, ten to fifteen.

Nial, the one who was speaking, was somewhere in the middle, maybe on the younger side.

While most ignored his shaky voice, some gave a snicker, making a joke of his question.

Hao did not bother lifting his head. It was just last night repeating itself. Mundane wagging tongues, hoping to hear their own drivel.

“Hoho, ‘Do something to us?’ who? Do what?” The same person answered each time, the only one old enough to be called an adult. He was not part of the group. His appearance and features were different, even his clothing. Well-made cotton robes looked glorious compared to the clothing of Islanders, with their brown burlaps patched together.

“Be grateful, you babies are being taken to the temple of water!” The older boy shouted over the group.

Taller and standing higher, looking down on all below with disdain. He stretched his nose high every time he spoke. not that many were looking at him.

Hao leaned against the boat's railing, looking down.

Ocean water in small waves made by the tiniest shake of the boat changed everything about the moons.

It seemed impossible until you saw the moon in the water.

Hao was older than the average child corralled in the back of the boat. He didn’t know his own age by number; he was a summer child after all.

Whenever he was not sleeping, he was looking down at the water. Tuning out the words of those around him.

The older boy continued to speak harshly.

His name was Gils, his constant introductions made it hard to forget, and so did his unpleasant words and way of speaking.

He splattered spit with every syllable, singing songs praising the southeastern city where he was born.

Of course, in his self-praise, he never forgot insults. “shacks of sticks and stones, on soiled muddy lands. People with skin dried by salt and sand. The same sand and sun above make their hair shine, turning it gold. The beast's color!”

Hao did not care for the words. They were not kind, but far from threats. Normal insults whispered about for islanders; beast, or barbarian. It was nothing most of the boys had not heard before, common whispers from crude merchants' mouths.

Hao had other worries; why did a ship like this go to so many Islands this early? It was not unheard of, ships coming to the Islands to find kids to join the temple of water. Having one person to serve as a local monk at the temple on the island.

If the recruitment was done with a shred of resemblance to the expected way, it would have been welcome. However, they're two summers late and two summers early.

There was another thing that was itching at Hao. The ‘invitation’ was forceful, carrying more threat than benefit.

Hao arrived at the short-lived announced ‘invitation’ late. They were already on land, shaking a bag of coins, with tugging fingers on sheathed swords. His great-uncle was someone to stand by during it. Hao should have known it was a terrible decision.

The only thing Hao heard from him was a warning; “keep your eyes and ears sharp and steady. Summer will be long.” Such dramatic words from his great-uncle were usually in reserve for when the village was out of wine.

Hao wanted this at one point. But the new creeping hesitation left him half-stunned.

After Hao failed his Breaktide, it was something long discussed.

A debate held by those who remained of his father’s surname.

The best option ended up being Hao joining the temple of water.

Back then, it was a good thing. To his younger self, it was a way to see the world before returning to the island.

Finally capable of repaying his village for the food he failed to contribute.

More often than not causing trouble and strife in places he wanted to help.

But the entire event was too strange, too out of tone.

The way the ship landed on shore, making demands and threatening for recruits, froze the village still.

Inciting a silent panic among those gathered.

Hao gathered enough courage to take half a step forward, before being pushed forward ten.

His only farewell was an urging forward from his great-uncle, who if he got the coin would drown the village in wine.

If nothing else, Hao wished he demanded a chance to see his parents to say something to them.

Even if his father was stuck in a slumber, and mother would not respond to his words.

At least then he knew he tried.

Hao took a big breath in, blowing out as hard as he could onto the water. The first moon, the largest and closest during the kinder seasons, shook, vibrating from the breath. It was a fun and fascinating thought to the child; the moon shaking because of him.

It calmed him for a moment, but did not last. A big shake disrupted the reflection in the water, interrupting Hao’s thoughts.

Having no time to turn, bodies crushed into Hao.

His stomach and waist met planks of wood as air escaped his lungs, nearly falling to the water below.

Hao saved himself by pushing against the railing, which he spent most of the past two days sitting on.

As the people behind him moved, he fell back. With a clatter and a voiceless shout, Hao slammed the back of his head on the deck.

Standing as he gathered his breath, holding his head, finding the wound, just a bump.

It took only a glance as fast as a blink to gather the situation.

The largest boy among those from the Islands was driving his shoulder into Gils.

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Someone finally got sick of the constant harsh words and actions.

Deciding it was better to fight the older boy than hear insults.

It took a second look to confirm what Hao saw, leaving Hao surprised.

Zui was a boy from the Islands’ far taller, and broader than the rest. His neck was rather uniquely long and thick.

His large body and brooding face had yet to show anything but kindness before.

Hao took a liking to him when they first met. Receiving a warm welcome and hot food from Zui’s stern face on the day he boarded the boat.

The situation only escalated before Hao was back steady on his feet.

The once cowardly Nial charged with a courageous face, perhaps fueled by his discontent from constant insults.

The three moved back again, knocking against Hao.

Hao was already upset, lost in thoughts then having them interrupted before they could resolve themselves.

Only ever timid in words, never in actions, Hao leaped into the frenzy.

The wrestling match of the four gathered laughs and cheering.

Grabbing, pushing, pulling, the only hit landed was Gils hitting Zui in the eye.

A shout from the front of the boat cut their somewhat pathetic battle short.

“If you keep making noise, I’ll throw you off the boat myself!”

It was instant, the crowd snapped to quiet and the four that had a battle rolled away from each other.

Hao, with a sore head, returned to the room they all shared, wading through his thoughts.

With a knot in his stomach, he blinked his last for the day.

The sound of a gong and shuffling feet woke Hao the following morning.

Everyone was in a rush to go outside. Hao was quick to jump up and follow.

Today was supposed to be the last of their day on the boat.

The people from the Islands were eager to see land and confirm if any of the stories they heard were true.

Hao didn’t have to push past anyone; there were less than a dozen people on the ship eager to see the view.

Out beyond the water, they could see a gray and white shore leading up to a hill of brown with green stretching even further.

There were more trees than Hao could count.

He practiced counting every tree on his island, something he prided himself on.

He was expecting them to reach towards the sky like in his great uncle's stories.

The land only continued to grow.

Hao was eager, leaning further even more when a voice came from behind him.

“Bah, what are you all so excited about? It’s a fishing village,” Gils said.

Last night didn’t dampen his mood or attitude, maybe even made it worse.

He made a dumbfounded face and continued, “Or have you already forgotten what your villages looked like?”

I guess it is better. I wonder what faces you fools will make when you see a road.”

Gils chuckled and the men manning the ship joined along.

Gils’s words dug into a soft spot for many of the islanders.

Nial was not around, probably sleeping in or hiding, but Zui was charging toward Gils with burning eyes, one of them swollen.

“Enough!” an older voice poured over everyone.

Even the laughing group went frozen and pale as snow.

They regained their composure, ducking their heads before starting their work again.

“Everyone should be getting ready to step on land. Instead, you're playing some game.” The old voice said.

Stepping into Hao’s view, the person leading the group stepped onto his village's shore and dragged Hao away.

The Senior's eyes tore into Gils. “This little one greets Senior Ran!” Gils said. Continuously lowered his posture like he was going to bend in two.

Most of the people outside of the Islanders on the boat did something similar, not as formal.

“Hmm, yes, yes, I want to return to the Great Silver Valley as soon as possible.”

The Senior’s face swept the group. “You,” the Senior looked back at Gils, “Check the carriages are ready to take us as soon as we land.”

The Senior said to Gils, who was quick to respond, “Yes, Senior Ran”.

The Senior scanned the group again, turned, and walked away.

Leaving many people to stare at Gils. He had been bragging and insulting everyone who stepped onto the boat. But it seemed like he was just a servant to the one he called Ran.

Gils was slowly turning red, scowling in silence getting orders in such a manner in front of those who he insulted.

Everyone was quick to move after hearing the words spoken by the elder. The ship seemed to double its speed toward the shore.

They all had one last bowl of yellow slop before the second part of their journey.

Lining up to grab the bowl of food the workers called porridge.

On nights previous, a few among the children said they heard of porridge “It's just wheat and water.”

Hao didn’t believe it. How foolish, there is no way this is wheat. Besides, how much wheat would you need to feed this many people?

They probably believe all their elder’s stories about the continent.

Hao had seen and eaten bread made from wheat before. He had to break it with a rock and dip it in water. It was too hard to eat otherwise.

Trades were quite frequent, people coming to his village with boats full of oddities, mostly food, one time even a live animal. Sometimes a group of the older men in the village, along with an elder, would go out themselves.

Stories were brought more often than real goods, and there were common stories repeated by both strangers and the people he grew up listening to.

From Hao’s perspective, they were being silly; but nothing as ridiculous as the temple monk’s ramblings.

Hao was quick to eat his food, not knowing how long it would be till he tasted fish again.

He had nothing to prepare before leaving the boat. He had no time to bring anything. No one gave him anything, truthfully he had nothing of his own. At least I can earn something now.

The mood from the scolding of the elder carried well past the meal and kept the ship quiet.

Many of the island kids were eager to step off this boat, almost bouncing up and down in their silence.

Occasionally there was a whisper, questions of legend and tall tales.

“Do you think there are giant armies and flying fish?”

“I want to see an immortal.”

“What about a goddess that has the ocean in her eyes?”

Hao was among them, ignoring their words. He was calm and collected except for a foolish smile.

With a bang, the boat hit the shore and in that instant, people flooded off.

Gils was one of the first to dash by.

Heads of either gold or black hair blocked Hao’s sight as he tried to look around.

He was silent as his feet touched the stones.

The countless stories he had heard whisk by in his head;

The continent is just like the ocean, but with land, you can’t see the end of it…

The trees stretch to the sky…

They build entire houses from stone…

They have massive villages with thousands of people.

Shoved forward then and now, the islanders ignored the pushing from behind. Eager, nervous, a few trembling with excitement.

Hao finally saw a chance to contribute to the village that raised him.

That thought rallied him a bit from his long trip, but when his eyes got the chance to scan his surroundings, he was stunned back.

Some legends of the continent were true already.

Buildings with walls built from square stones.

Dozens of people working around them.

He couldn’t have imagined it, but it was in front of him.

Someone was shoving Hao harder and harder from behind. “Hurry, hurry!” The mad elder from before was having his underlings shove others forward.

“What of our carriages? They should remain ready!” Senior Ran shouted.

It took a second for anyone to respond.

Gils, who dashed off a moment ago, returned with a red face. “The carriages are readying the horses. They will only take a moment, Senior.” Gils said, head bowed.

He kept his posture desperate to catch his breath.

“All of you, go help quick, now. That would be faster. They are carrying you anyway. It still smells of fish and moss here. Hurry!”

Hao didn’t like this Ran to begin with, and his dislike grew every time he saw the Grayed man.

He was in a constant rush and spoke often of the “smell”. What else could you smell other than fish? To Hao, that was normal.

Hao’s village had drying racks near the shore facing the sun. The one called Ran didn’t like that.

A few of the ship's workers remained, the rest of the group going forward.

Just going a little uphill, they already walked the distance of Hao’s island.

All was ready before they arrived, the rush wasted, but not over.

Everyone was quickly crammed into the carriages according to the elders' wishes as soon as they arrived.

“I'll be taking one to myself.” Ran said. He glared at the first person to mention there were more than a dozen people, and three, four-person carriages.

“Then cram all these together and fit someone to keep them quiet,” Ran said. Carelessly swinging his hand, Ran boarded the frontmost carriage without looking back.

Ran’s subordinates fit the islanders in one, taking one for themselves. Any extra adults just sat with the drivers who they knew. Gils was unlucky in that regard.

As for the islanders packed like sardines, cramped and stinking, they fought for the little square window on either wall.

Trying to peek through the gaps in the wood walls to see outside.

Hao took an elbow to the head in the dark after his round of curious gawking.

Losing sight of the field of green they rode towards.