Nyella Lichenstone.
23rd of Ianua.
Rhar Mountain Range, Central.
11:52 PM.
***
We've been riding for days without stopping. Carried by these magnificent steeds of leather and steel, we moved continually forward, burning under the sun each day so that we could bathe in Mani's light each night. Each passed meter gave us a wider picture of this grand realm we found ourselves in. Each step brought us a new perspective. Humbled us more. But no matter how far we traveled, no matter how high we ascended, we seemed to never get closer to the woven world above.
From violent beasts to civilized folk who convinced themselves to be doing good in attacking us to the very air thinning with each step, we faced many trials on our climb to the summit. But so too have we seen many blessings. So too have we seen many miracles, in our being accompanied by wolves and carnivorous deer in our travels. In our being guided toward our destination by dozens of silvery moths. Now, after nearly a month, we faced our last hurdle. A thin pass between towering rocks. The perfect ambush spot, we all were sure, but also certain no such troubles were to find us here.
No, the troubles came at the end of the pass, where a sheer climb to the summit would be endured before we took a final leap of faith.
As it had been the way through, Lady Zakira went first. The roughly six hundred Eomen went next. I came last.
One by one, I watched the devoted murmur and close their eyes in prayer as they walked through the narrow pass. Those murmurs rose to spoken words as they climbed the rock hand over hand and finally stood before their final trial with no fear, trusting in Mani to guide them to where they should be. And with a final shout to the woven world above, they dove off the mountain.
The last to dive before me were the promising acolytes who proved themselves along the way. Chosen not by us but by the wolves and the Silver-Horned Stags that joined us of their own accord. They were better judges than we, for it took days for me to notice they were the ones who showed the most fervor in their commitments to helping those with us, just as they were helped- saved from a lifetime of slavery in the Shadeforge. They were the ones who showed an unbreakable conviction to defend this congregation and what it stood for. And so, they would be rewarded.
"After all this time. Heh, I can't believe how beautiful all of this is."
A wide smile stole any hopes of me verbally agreeing. So instead, I turned to the young acolyte with an almost tearful smile. He was a young one, no older than our God. But he still held the scars of his bondage and more, he displayed them proudly. We all did, despite looking so different. He- Lawrence Griffin, was no longer emaciated or dirty. His eyes had the fire of life burning in him once again. But the scars left from an accident involving hot slag left two large spots on the side of his head, leaving significant gaps in his growing hair; shocked from color by stress and trauma. How at peace he seemed now. His face held a smile of contentment and his eyes contained a sparkle of a million emotions and convictions as he gazed upon the surface.
Seeming to catch me staring, he gave his magnificent companion a firm pat and turned his eyes to me. "I'm still surprised to find a deep gnome adapting to the sun so well."
"Hah!" I laughed heartily, remembering one of the greatest days of my life. "I had the same blessings and visions to acclimatize me to the surface as you did. Although, the sun still stings horribly." I chuckled. "Still, though, it is worth it. The surface is beautiful, and the Lord's work is in full bloom, even during the day."
Catching my meaning, he turned his gaze up to the woven worlds dancing above the peninsula. They were both big and small. Tiny specs of light and towering monoliths floating in the sky all the same.
We continued admiring God's work, even while we walked through that narrow pass. Even while we climbed the rock wall. And for some, even as they fell from it, losing their purchase.
It was another acolyte. An older woman by the name of Grace Duffy. She was the first chosen by the wolves and worked with them furiously to protect us from harm. Now, a single misstep saw her plummet from whence we came. And so, with equal fury, I dove off the cliff after her, uttering a prayer to slow her from her fall. But before my words could form into power, I found myself shrunk down to the size of a doll, resting in Amun's cupped hands.
"That's one way to do it." He smiled as if he wanted to laugh, spreading a similar sense of humerus joy through my spirit as I was lifted and placed back on the rock wall, just as I'd been. Only now, tears befell my face. Grace's as well.
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
"Did you see him too, Grace?" I asked, assuming I half knew the answer.
Assuming.
"I did!" She smiled wide, still looking up as she climbed hand over hand. "And more. I was shown a grand future. A duty and an honor, bestowed upon me by Mani himself." She fell to her knee the moment she rounded the summit, embracing her wolf while they both looked to the sky with the fires of determination. "I will be the thread to the World Weaver's needle, stitching freedom into the lands in his wake!"
"And may those worlds dance beautifully!" I echoed along with the others, and together, we turned to see the end of our pilgrimage.
We turned to see the summit from on high. The summit of the mountain we'd spent all this time climbing was down below, at a point that made us crane our heads up so as to see a once-buried hand surfacing and detaching from the realm's tallest peak. The palm of that hand was like a floating dais that held no buildings, tents, or holes. Only a silver forest that spiraled around a monolith of white metal. Its fingers were forests, seas, grasslands, desert, and tundra; detached to orbit this platform- this Planetary Sanctum, in perpetuity. Within them were apartments, farms, and all the other things we needed to live sufficiently and see each denomination increase its service tenfold. But here, in the palm of God's hand, was where we were served.
Here, above the rolling white blanket spread around us, Mani's uninhibited light poured into that spire, giving us a blanket of protection, light, and hope. Giving us wings, eyes, and legs. Ever devoted, were we, we approached that spire before all others, approaching with prayers and offerings before we joined Lady Zakira in acting as sentries next to the spire, watching the promising acolytes like Louise and Grace sort the hundreds of others into their denominations.
"This is the first of the World Weaver's Temples," she said after moments of admiration. "Like Mani and the worlds orbiting it, the worlds he will weave for his Legions will be unique. No matter where we go, a world will follow. As will we."
There was no emotion to her words, only an absolute finality. The same finality one used when they mentioned going to the lavatory. It seemed blunt and insignificant, yet it was anything but.
"Yes." I nodded. "It shall serve as a model to all other Temples."
The Silverskin Lady shook her head. "Not just that." She paused, turning to me. "I am the first cleric. You are the first priestess. We'll be leaving this place with Amun next year. Someone here will become the Core of this World, Nyella."
"Then you shall have my word," I said, both to her and God. "I, Nyella Lichenstone, shall serve as the model for all others to follow!"
Now she smiled. "Good." Then she turned to look over the various worlds, bringing me to remember the glorious feeling of satisfaction when we shared yet another change to the almost complete Order of Worlds.
"Louis will lead them well." I nodded to the sphere of forests and ponds in the distance. "He has likened to calling them the Silverhorn Herd."
"Yeah." Lady Zakira smiled wider. "The deer made him wiser. He's been teaching people and helped a lot during the journey, making sure people were okay."
"He has expressed great interest in reforming people as well. And liberating them." I added before turning to the Blood Moon of Wolves. "Grace is the same. She and her wolves have been fighting tooth and nail to protect everyone from wandering rangers. I'm sure, after some rest, she'll need no convincing to join him."
Our lighthearted talks continued in the same pattern as the Water World of dual purpose. Two creatures swam in the seas of that world. Cephalopods and Cetaceans. And yet, only the Dolphins and their chosen humans dwelled on or near the few islands on its surface. Patty Combs and her dolphins had shown fervor in venturing down and across the mountain in search of more acolytes, using their blessings of flight to make contact with as many people as possible and initiate them into the Order by way of a leap of faith. On the contrary, Nigel and the cephalopods were therapists and healers. In their bubbles beneath the sea, they chose to offer a soothing respite for those troubled and traumatized by the horrors of existence. Or anything else for that matter. Then there was the Eclipse Council. The most complete denomination as of yet was the World of Lunar Moths, led by Lula Livingston. Seers, they were, graced by the touch of divine moths to give guidance and counseling to others, be it spiritual, financial, or otherwise in nature. In that regard, Lady Zakira referred to them by another name.
Oracles.
I could only imagine their accomplishments over the coming weeks, but now was a time for rest. They knew it as well as I did, for the scattered lights that flicked on just moments before were blinking out faster and faster. But…
"Is there a world for us?"
She had grown so much over the last two tendays or so. But always, there would be a childish nature to Lady Zakira. It showed after my inquiry in full force. The Silverskin Lady grabbed my hand, only releasing me once we approached the edge and my momentum could only carry me forward. Yet, I dove all the same. Face-forward, I jumped and saw the world open up beneath me. But I did not fall. Not down at least. Upwards, I fell. Up and up and up until my feet landed on solid ground; wherein I turned my gaze upon a shattered bowl of white stone, silver grass, and a lake of holy water. A cirque. One with a cave opening up on the rising slope.
Grabbing my hand once more, Lady Zakira led me into the cave, which became a sparkling annex of crystals and jewels that continued to a lawn of miniature trees set between two abodes. One was carved into the likeness of an estate with open rooms and the other a gothic castle, both carved out of the white rock itself. Between them, encased in the crystal wall, was a pristine set of armor that seemed as silver as the homes straddling it. Its metal plates seemed to be without seams, except the joints, of course, but even the helmet had a face that bore no holes or markings. Only a ponytail of blood-red strings protruded from the back of the head; on the chest, a tiny world, beating like a heart.
No. Not just a world, and not like a heart.
It was the beating heart of Mani itself, and, trapped in the crystal beside it, was a white robe that contained a similarly beating heart.
My beating heart.