It seemed sudden, how the days slipped away and Illus found himself nearing the end of summer, when the comet would arrive and rivers would dry. When the new world would bear down on Imahken and never relent.
“Is she still on your mind?” Ciun tapped her toes against the water at the shaded edge of the lake, lightly mimicking the “plish plash” sounds a few times before turning her attention to the young man seated beside her.
Illus fell out of a daydream, fishing rod in one hand, the ring fumbling between his fingers in the other. “Oh, I just fuss with this when I’m bored,” he lied, frustrated that Anilee still lingered in his head.
“When you’re bored and missing her?” She tapped the back of his hand with ease.
He sighed, Ciun’s constant prying like pins on his skin. He hardly noticed at first until she had picked him apart. Making light of it was the only way he avoided falling into self pity. “It’s hard to say. It’s more like… hmm. Do you ever feel like you’re just not going anywhere in life? Like you’re stuck in the same place and everyone is moving on without you?”
Her lighthearted expression fell flat and the mask turned out to the lake, then the mountain that was once a flourishing temple, the trees which had grown over her home, then herself, static in time. “No, what’s that like?”
Illus smirked guiltily. “Nevermind it, I didn’t mean to-”
Ciun couldn’t fight the corner of her mouth down. “No, please, enlighten me about this feeling that I’ve somehow missed out on in my short life.”
He pocketed the ring and chuckled away from her. “It’s like that pit in the bottom of your stomach,” he glanced at Ciun, who was nodding along, acting like it was all new information. “You find out your younger sister is married and going to be well on with her life while you’re still hung up on a woman without a care for anything other than herself, leading you along aimlessly like a child. When you’re stuck in a place where your only aspirations in life are working for a living, and working for a loving, so to speak- of which both would replace you in a heartbeat. And now you’re imprisoned in a futile game with the odds stacked so far against you that it may be more lucrative to simply leap from the mountain. Even if I make it back… I’m back to it.” Illus’s eyes fell. “Sorry, it’s an awfully dismal way of seeing things, I suppose.”
The mask turned to the ground for a moment as Ciun lifted sand and watched it fall. “Yet you still persist. Why is that?”
“No matter how thin those odds are, they slowly grow the more I act according to my will. I had next to no chance, infinitesimally small- if at all- before you agreed to help me. But there is a way forward, and as long as I know it’s there, I’ll always try to find it.”
She laid back in the sand. “Then what’s there to worry about?”
“How it goes, obviously. I don’t have the luxury of returning to life when I am gravely injured. I want to prepare myself for any possible obstacle.”
“Do you think you’re prepared?”
“As much as I can be.”
“Then what’s worrying going to do besides sour the present?”
“As I said,” he pulled his line back and recast, “what home will look like, who might be coming, what I left behind… it’s all approaching so quickly.”
“Is that why your eyes sag even after I lent you my mountain getaway?”
He gritted his teeth. No response.
“Hmm,” she propped herself up on an arm and turned to him. “I was in a similar position a while ago.”
“A while as in a year or a while as in before my civilization had begun?”
“The details don’t matter.” She bit her cheek. “It’s difficult to recall most things until they’re brought up when you reach my age. But I found myself scared and worrying all the time. Who will be coming next? What would my family think about me now? What would my city think of me? Admittedly, there are some scars that never fully heal, but…” she paused, staring at Illus. “You reminded me what living feels like. How much I can experience in a single moment once I open myself to the world. The feeling that keeps me going when I’m alone with myself for centuries on end. I forgot that I could feel that with somebody else.”
Illus side-eyed her, a twinge of irritation creeping into his chest whenever his eyes met the mask. He envied her lackadaisical manner. “Must be a nice feeling, but I can’t just toss away all my worries.”
“You’re missing the point.”
“Am I, now?”
“Worries and regrets only exist in your head. They come and go, but you have to let them go to be present.”
“Am I not present?”
“Presently drifting away, fiddling with that ring like all that fuss in your head is trying to find a way out.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
She reached out to him, gently setting her hand on his. “I’m only saying this… because you’re not grounded. That’s my half of the bargain, right? Same as you need me to trust you to be faithful, I need you to trust me on this.”
“Ground myself.” Illus laid back in the sand next to her, turning his hand around so their fingers were on each other’s palms. “What do you do?”
“Just breathe and feel what your body is feeling. Don’t overthink it. Don’t think at all. Trust yourself. Trust that when the time comes, you will know how to act. And if you don’t trust yourself, you’re not grounded.”
Illus turned to Ciun, the sunbathed sand warming his whole body. “You’re not afraid of what’s to come?”
“I will be. We’ll face that fear when we see it. But there’s no use in being scared, worried, or anxious now. Now, when we have all of this to bask in.”
She stretched her hand out to the scene around. Chirping birds and gentle lapping of water against sand. Sweet, floral pollen in the light breeze and warm sand against his back. The sun radiating heat onto his tired face. And a strange sensation in his chest, a light, airy breath of peace every time he saw Ciun. Her silky long hair sprawled out on the sand beneath her. That little mouth with pretty lips which would stretch into such bright expressions, that mouth which smiled warmer than the sun. Her pale skin, now slightly suntanned, wrapped loosely in the sun bleached, weathered blue nightgown. Her sand-covered feet swayed side to side like leaves in the wind. Her always reassuring words for when he doubted himself. The cheerful air she brought with her whenever they were together that always seemed to overpower whatever struggles he was facing. And the ivory fox mask, obscuring all but her mouth and cheeks. Ornately littered with geometric designs of gold and blue.
That strange sensation, like everything made sense when he was with her. Like all those worries were simply just worries. Yet the anxiety never left… or it manifested in a different way now, because of her.
Illus couldn’t help the light smile that his cheeks seemed to naturally allow. He shook his head, the fluttering in his chest letting him know that it was already too late.
“There you are,” she said.
“It’s easier to be like this when everything makes sense. Just thinking about home, about her, it makes me feel like I haven’t done enough even though there’s nothing more I can do.”
Ciun brushed her hair in her fingers. “Every time somebody else arrives, I find myself slipping back into the same old habits of distance and fear. I was almost too late for you. But I’m glad you woke me up.”
“It reminds me of the fox’s mirages, living as a slave of reaction, no sight of myself.”
“I warned you to keep an eye on yourself.”
“You did,” he chuckled, “you did. By the way, it just occurred to me that I keep forgetting to ask, but when did you take that nightgown?”
She pursed her lips in a smile. “You were having an argument by the mosaic, the pack was on the ground, and she was getting on my nerves so I snuck in behind you all and took it.”
“Hah, I’m glad I wasn’t the only one getting frustrated at her.”
“Oh,” she leaned in to gossip, “I was mad at her for you, especially after everything I heard… everything.”
“Is that why you flashed your shoulder?”
“A little jealousy served her well. I thought it might help you get closer when you…” her voice fell, “get out.”
He took the opportunity to change the subject from Anilee. “Does anybody ever get out of here?”
Her hand halted in her hair as she thought. “Only if they leave before the mist. They never make it far if they’ve fallen to the fox. It always comes back with some trophy of them to gloat with. If they get stuck, well, you know what happened to you. But they usually have less… noble motivations.”
“Oh, you think I’m noble?” Illus played the compliment up.
She paused. “Be honest, you didn’t care that much about treasure or the ruins, did you?”
Illus shook his head. “I figured treasure and acclaim would be a nice benefit, but… you know what brought me here.” His expression had been slowly souring the longer they spoke of Ani, but only now did Ciun notice it.
Ciun tapped his forehead, which caught him severely off guard. Laying beside him, propped up on her other arm, her radiant smile brimming with bashfulness. “I’m glad it was you.”
His frozen expression chuckled itself away as he got lost staring at her. “I could stay here forever.” Then he stammered, realizing how forward it sounded. “It’s s-so peaceful. Serene.”
She paused, unsure of what he meant and anxious to assume it was about her. “As in…”
He shook his head. “Life is so simple here. Some friends and other things to occupy my spare time wouldn’t hurt, but it’s so unlike the city in such a wonderful way.”
“I think I understand.” She sat up, eyes to the far shore. “I loved meeting new people in the city streets. They were so bright and beautiful. We all loved home so much, and everyone was so happy. Life was so easy. It was bliss.” A melancholy air returned to her. “But for as fun and easy as it was, I would be happy just to work in the orchards for the rest of my days. I hope one day, even after I am gone from here, that these lands can flourish and joy may yet be found from my labor.”
“Is that why you like painting?”
Her face flushed, spare hand curling her hair. “It is. I want people to glimpse a place or a person they’ve never seen, to give them new life in fresh minds. I want to make people feel something when they see what I’ve made, even long after I am gone. I hope Enae’s mural makes it out at least. The fairest face in Imahken, maybe, but I did her no justice. I could never capture the radiance of her smile, the energy she brought to a room, the love she gave everyone she met.”
“Here.” Illus set the journal and pencil beside Ciun. “That journal has everything I’ve recorded about these ruins in it. It will be the first research to leave this place, God willing I get out. Draw to your heart’s content.”
Ciun raised the journal careful as a newborn, “are you sure?”
“I have nothing more to put in it. I’ve recorded what you’ve shown and told me, what is still here, and the darker parts of these ruins. Leave a little light for those ahead of us.”
She hovered the pencil over an empty page, “now I have no clue what to draw.”
“What do you want people to see from Imahken? What did you love about it?”
The mask turned toward the shoreline and held still while Ciun bit her cheek. Then, with a jolt of inspiration, she swept her hand through the air. A bright, sunny day like they were already in, except all of the trees were in the midst of their autumnal reds, oranges, and yellow. Fallen leaves speckled the lake and carved pumpkins lined a dock extending out before them. Wooden boats of all sizes rowed and sailed displaying carved pumpkins, gourds, and bright paintings. Imahks in their bright robes, the same colors of the leaves, played music from their boats, sharing drinks and selling goods boatside.
Then out on the busy dock ran a family of blue-haired and eyed people, all except the portly father and his red head of stringy hair. The mother lifelessly walked forward, the only one of the bunch without a sense of joy. Seven children were alongside them. The whole family dressed in pristine white robes, lightly billowing in the brisk autumn wind. A baby boy in the mother’s arms and newborn in a pack on her back. A young girl rode atop the father’s shoulders, arms outstretched to scare her two older brothers who ran down the dock to a man selling bread from a rowboat. Meanwhile, a short-haired girl only slightly older than the boys was reaching into the water in tears. Only one faced backward, a girl of maybe ten years leaping up and down with a cheery smile, beckoning Ciun to follow.
Illus turned to Ciun, unmoving, a trembling smile forced up her cheeks and a shade of a young girl ahead of her, afraid to step onto the dock.
The moment froze.
Her hand lightly trembled before it closed tightly around the pencil. “Life was so much nicer before we knew of the fox’s ways. Now that I see it, I can hardly capture it at all. Nothing can rival a memory, not even the greatest artist. But maybe…” she wiped her cheek. “Maybe I can capture the essence of it.”
Illus marveled at the intricately detailed lake, from the people waving out windows of brightly painted houses on the far side of the lake to the trout choking on her sister’s wooden doll.
“Love is in the details, isn’t it? The little things that most people wouldn’t pay mind to.”
“Perhaps, but it was quite the spectacle too.” She chuckled. “You should have seen it at night when the pumpkins were lit by candles. How they speckled the water so. Not the safest thing to do on boats, but I suppose the danger made it more fun.” Her nostalgic tone sobered itself, her drawing hand falling back into a tremble. “I often wonder if my memories are true, or if I’ve convinced myself that this is how it was like after thousands of years reminiscing, desiring this nostalgic memory that never existed at all. If it’s a dream or truly the past.”
“True or conceived, it’s a moment brimming with love for what was. There’s enough of the fox and the fall in that journal. You ought to show what good came from Imahken, else the world will think of you and everyone of your home as evil.”
The mask turned to him, softly smiling. “Perhaps. I hope the people of the future like our Departed Souls Day festivities.”
And in silence, she drew away. For the rest of the day, that vision sat still in time before them, Enae’s outstretched hand beckoning them onward until finally she shimmered back into memory.
Evening finally closed in and Ciun placed her hand on his, a somber sense of duty in her voice. “The comet is coming soon. We’ll move when the fox is occupied with whoever shows on the other side.” She shifted in on herself, her already soft voice falling softer somehow. “Can you meet me atop the mountain at dusk?”
Illus nodded, his belongings retrieved. “Of course. What for?”
She opened her mouth, yet no words spoke free.
“Is it a matter of the mask?”
Ciun shook her head, the mask angled down like she was afraid to see him. “I’ll send you up tonight. So make sure to clean and put on your best.”
He raised an eyebrow at that. “Okay.”
With a flick to his lower back, Illus soared into the air, almost seeming to float upward. He had gotten more used to the sensation by now, but it was still a little uncomfortable.
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When he reached the top, he entered the lower chamber, noticing some odds and ends missing, including her work-in-progress robes. In terms of clothes, Illus had a tattered shirt and pants that he wore the first day, and the clothes he was wearing today, which he had worn nearly every day. Or so he thought. On the bed sat his tattered outfit, repaired with the immaculate expertise of a millennium-old sewer. His tan collared shirt and brown slacks. Simple, but they would have to do. For what? He had no clue.
Once dusk fell, Illus stepped out onto the mountaintop. He was greeted by a clear sky, dotted by millions of twinkling stars and the luminous full moon. He glanced around, waiting for Ciun to show.
“Ciun?” He stepped toward the ledge overlooking the lake. She was nowhere in sight.
“What mortal have I here?” Her voice reverberated powerfully, reminiscent of when she first spoke to him as a sorceress. “Turn and show thyself.”
Illus fought back a smirk, not sure what was going on, then turned around.
There Ciun floated in the air, a spectacle of majesty. Her billowing white robes glowed in the moonlight. Long, flowy sleeves extended past her hands and ended in wavy mesh that melded into the sky behind her. Her shoulders were exposed- that scandalous Ciun- remarkably pale with noticeable suntan lines at her neck, but only showing to the tops of her collarbones before the robes descended into a loose, billowing, light design down to her bare feet. She shone like an angel in her simple elegance, an ethereal blue glow about her from the moonlight reflecting off her hair, loose and swaying down her back. Ciun’s air of mystique, her aloof smile and unreadable mask only enticed Illus into staring further.
Her mask’s glowing azure eyes met Illus’s awestruck expression. He suddenly felt very underdressed. His silvery gray eyes had a similar brilliance to her glowing dress. His hair had grown much longer, tied back into a messy tail that fell down his neck. Yet his form, Ciun silently admired, happy that he could not see her eyes so blatantly checking him out. So much starving left him chiseled and lean, but he looked so much healthier, fuller now. His shirt and pants hugged him in all the right places. She wondered how Anilee had ignored it all for so long, because she certainly couldn’t. But the confident air about him is what got to her, a casual slant to his proper posture, those inquisitive eyes like he was still trying to solve her, then that slightly cocky smile like he knew something she didn’t.
The starry sky seemed to spin as the air between charged with subtle electricity, a yearning for each other clouded by the slim possibility of hidden intentions. But that mystery only made them want to dare further. Neither was sure, or perhaps they both feared to admit, but over the past few months, they had become quite drawn to each other.
Yet they each found such peace in the odd anxiety that arose every time they met eyes.
“I’ll ask one last time,” Ciun seduced, letting her mouth hang subtly open, “what mortal have I here?”
He decided to play along and see where this was going. “Illus Hayshon, sniper. Am I to believe you’re the rumored sorceress of these ruins, Ciun? Are you not a deceptress aiming to steal away my mind?”
A fake Ciun laughed from below her, then dissipated into the wind as another appeared to speak from behind him. “Do I need to deceive you, or will you play nice?”
As it disappeared, suddenly her breath warmed the inside of his ear. “How do you know you are not under my spell already?”
Illus’s mind froze for a moment, the sudden closeness of the false whisper catching him off guard by its chilling sensuality. “‘Play nice?’ Is this part of your game?”
She chuckled. “Think of it like a game all you want, but I believe I owe you some magic.”
Illus’s eyes perked up and confidence took hold of him. “As you wish, sorceress. I’ll play along, for now.”
Ciun drifted lower to him. Her normal, casual smile was now deviously playful in a way that only drew him closer. “Take my hand.”
Ciun slowly floated down and held out her hand to him. He reached out and took it as though accepting an invitation to dance and suddenly he was lighter than air, clumsily trying to balance himself from walking too strongly. He floated toward Ciun and she spun around him, that smile locked on him, her hair fluttering like an afterimage.
Suddenly, she was gone- or rather he was soaring through the air, being pulled along by her hand. Above him the starry sky and below, yet more starry sky. Over the lake, slowly descending, all the hairs on the back of his neck stood up at the worry of the magic ending over the lake.
Then she righted him for the impact. Ciun landed like a leaf on the surface of the water while Illus’s boots clumsily stumbled to find purchase on the shifting floor. Trying not to pull Ciun around or let go, he flailed until she raised her arm to hold him up. His chin tapped the mask and suddenly he was staring directly into the mask’s azure eyes, barely a foot away.
“Let go,” she smirked, softly uttering the terms of the game, “and you’ll be lost to the depths. Take my mask, and we’ll drown in each other’s embrace. So don’t make me let you let go.” Her voice trembled slightly at the end, hand tightly clutching his despite her cool demeanor.
Illus tapped and danced trying to stand on the rippling water, “easy for you to say.”
“Shh,” she grabbed his other hand, “feel the water trust that I won’t let you fall.”
He glanced down at the swaying stars and the reflection of himself. They were hundreds of feet from the sandy shore. Ciun lightly caressed her thumb against the side of his hand more to calm herself than anything, but that only seemed to worsen a storm of tense jitters taking over.
Illus returned her smile and took a deep breath. “Don’t you get cold feet either.
She said nothing, but her mouth was pursed tight, their closeness seeming to cause her entire body to tighten as if she was fighting the urge to duck and run.
A worried chuckle crept up on Illus. “You’re not actually getting cold feet, are you?”
Ciun’s confident facade shattered and her voice became a stuttering mess of quickfire words, the mask looking down, twisted back and forth to keep tallies on his hands. “Yes. No! I- My-y feet are- my toes are touching the water and it’s incredibly cold- that’s it.”
Her hands turned noticeably clammy and struggled to hold on. Illus began to fear she might lose grip on nerves alone. He relaxed his hold on her hands to just two fingers and a thumb each, putting more space between them.
Then her left hand wrapped around his, forcing their fingers back to an interwoven hold.
Illus softened his voice, gently rubbing the hand she was struggling to hold. “Little steps, shall we?” He lightly rocked his body, setting a rhythm that his clumsy boots could sway to.
Ciun breathed deeply and forced a smile despite her tense nerves. “How about a song?”
The chilly air vibrated around them until light, soft chimes in a slow tempo rang. Gradually, an upbeat piano joined them alongside deep, somber strings. Low, rolling drums cascaded beneath everything, filling the song with energy. Their feet followed the cadence of the chimes, one two, one two, one two three- and so on. Illus and Ciun circled, warming to the touch of each other.
With his eyes watching his own two feet carefully and such distance between the two, he failed to notice the mask, trained on his face, carefully observing his every movement
Suddenly, Ciun’s fearful hand clutched his, not closing any distance, but pulling him into step with her, swallowing her fear. “Are you ready to pick up the pace?”
Illus raised his eyebrows. “We’ll see.”
“This song isn’t easy, are you sure you can keep up?”
“Lead the way.”
She fell out of rhythm as a thought gripped her mind.
Illus’s boot landed on her toes, his eyes locked on her. “Oh, I’m sor-”
The drums immediately ramped up into a chaotic bridge, high-pitched strings joining the orchestra. The chimes quickened in pace as the piano fell away. Ciun pulled Illus along right to left. Right foot behind left and vice versa were the steps. Arms outstretched, pulling in and out with the directions they rapidly switched between.
Illus’s feet fumbled to keep up, music growing stronger, faster. The strings and chimes rose to a peak that came crashing into a sudden melody of mid and high tone piano. Like the sound of waves crashing on a shore while the patter of a rainstorm fluttered behind them.
The dance flew into spins. Ciun’s feet tapped tiny ripples in quick succession, still moving right to left. Illus’s feet lifted from the water, unable to keep pace with her, and he found himself in line with the water below, his feet level with his head.
Ciun challenged him with a smile. “That’s it? I may have to let go or you’re going to pull me off balance.” Her confidence returned and Illus lost grip.
Light as a feather, he floated upward, away from her. “Ciun, I don’t know the steps or the music! I’m hardly a dancer as is!”
Suddenly, she was before him. Her hands clutched his again as they slowly drifted back to the water. The melody ended, returning to its initial chimes, though softer.
“So you weren’t ready?”
Their feet touched water and Illus thanked his lucky stars that she still held on. “I never said I was.”
“Is it confident courage, or rash recklessness?”
He smirked. “Depends on the need.”
Ciun tilted her head playfully, inspired by his willingness to jump into the unknown. “Of course, of course. You know, everyone in Imahken could do the ronulo. An easier song, perhaps? Maybe one for children?”
“Whatever you think I can do.”
She held both of their hands outward, feet planted on the water. “Hands out and keep your feet rocking. Back and forth, heel to toe, toe to heel. We would all stand in lines, back to back with other partners, so you had to know the steps and the rhythm.”
Illus swayed back and forth, in and out. “Is this it?”
“That’s the first part. Now you step while rocking. Since I’m leading, I step forward with my right, and you back with your left. Then you step forward with your right, then left. Simple.”
The lightly ringing chimes set a jaunty pace. One two, drum. One two, drum. A speedy, energetic and high piano joined in with some quick, feathery flutes. The music was hard to keep up with for Illus, and between the stepping and simultaneous rocking, Ciun gradually slowed the music to make it easier for him.
He soon matched pace with the song, though he struggled to rock and step at the same time. Ciun, however, bounded in and out with every step, giving the dance a flighty, fluid feel.
Illus chuckled. “Your dancing shoes have seen a lot more use than mine.”
“That’s…” her head fell slightly, “I’ve been dancing by myself for so long. Planting seeds I practice steps. Leaping from the peak I spin. Maybe it’s strange, I never cared. Life feels so much better when you treat the world like a ballroom. When you flow with the rhythms of nature in menial day-to-day life.”
“Menial?” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Caring for your ruins is a grander task than you make it seem.”
“They’re not mine.” Her head fell. “They belong to the forest. To time. My home only exists because of this eternal prison. I shouldn’t be here, nor should they. But because these ruins and I exist, I will preserve their memory so that none may suffer from the fox’s whims again.”
Illus’s heart sank, but it also began to race. “Well, then when I end this, how about you and I carry their memory back to the world together? Give them the peace they deserve, not just in the journal.”
“I-” Ciun stumbled, quickly catching herself. “Do I…”
“What is it?”
A long breathe escaped her. “Do I really deserve to be at peace, to be happy, to live and walk away after all I have done?”
Illus wasn’t sure what to say, further unsure as her steps slowed to a halt.
Her grip loosened on Illus’s hands, voice shaking. “Is it life if it never ends? Can I ever truly cherish it as much as somebody beheld to death, or am I a mockery, a pretender?”
Illus forced a smile through his somber mood. “You’re alive now, aren’t you? You’re more than the person you were before, even since I arrived. You ought to take your own advice, Ciun. Don’t be swept away by regret, untrusting of yourself. You have to trust yourself if you’re going to trust in turn- and I hope you can trust me. I trust you, and I’m happy you’re here with me now. I’ll be your dance partner any time, wherever and however you want to dance.”
Ciun paused, hands finding more comfort in Illus’s grip, the melancholy air blown away. “If I am to join your people’s way of life, then could teach me one of your dances.”
“It would be my pleasure. I know one you’ll like. It’s very simple, so even far off kingdoms and countries can share a dance.”
“Ooh, what do you call it?”
“The waltz.”
“Do you do the children’s version of this one too?”
“You’re funny.”
The mask bashfully angled downward, but Illus sensed her focus elsewhere, like she was still unsure.
“We call it ‘box stepping.’ When I move my feet, you mirror my steps in reverse.” He began the instructions, moving as he spoke. “So back with your right, then cross your left, meet with your right. Step forward with left, then cross right, and finally meet. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Simple as that. However…” He stopped moving, pulling his right hand free and moving her other arm out. “My arm needs to be over yours, on your shoulder, and yours under mine…” He noticed trepidation in her rigid stance. “...unless you want to do the children’s version.”
She bit her lip at the subtle jab, but despite her quickening heartbeat and trembling hand, she reached out and set her hand on his side.
Illus slowly brushed her hair aside, and set his hand atop her trembling arm. He halted before his hand found purchase, “Ciun, you can ease the death grip on my hand.”
She collected her breath and lightened her touch, the rigidity slowly returning despite her best efforts. Illus lowered his right hand to her bare shoulder, noticing how she shook at the lightest touch. Ciun quickly pulled her arm out and set her hand on his, the mask turned away.
After several thousand years of nothing, the sensation of a hand on her bare shoulder was enough to make her scream and soar away. But when Illus pulled his hand back, Ciun held it down, forcing out words between quick breaths. “D-don’t. Leave it. I’ll warm up.”
He softened his voice, putting on a more comforting tone. “A consistent tempo would suit this dance, if you have one. Piano, strings, and flutes, perhaps some brass as well. Something slow, intimate, triple meter.”
Her left hand twitched and a finger lifted. The music from before shifted into a light violin tune underscored with deep strings and light flutes that soothed their minds. Ciun’s hand stayed in place as their feet picked up, and her attention was so pulled by the sensation of his hand on her shoulder that she stumbled, forcing Illus to pause so he didn’t step on her toes.
Ciun, still angling her face away from his hand, seemed to be watching his feet while little shocks flinched in her every time his hand shifted a little.
“Ciun,” Illus reassured her, “focus on the dance or we’ll have bruised toes come morning.”
“That’s what anyone would-” she stopped herself, the mask slightly turning back toward him. “We’re not spinning right now, are we?”
“No, just breathe and step.”
Gradually her steps became more sure and she fell into cadence with Illus. The mask finally returned to looking up at him. His moonlit face and glowing white hair gave her the confidence to let his hand go, to slide her arm beneath his, and gently lower her cheek to meet the back of his hand. A freeing smile broke out with a relieved breath, her cheek caressing the back of his hand. His reassuring smile instilled her with a joy she didn’t know she had lost.
“Now,” Illus straightened his posture and stepped in closer, “are you ready for the fun part? I promise I’ll try not to step on your toes.”
Ciun nodded fervently, her anxiety dissipating into excitement.
“I may spin you, I may pull you close, I may go one-handed at times, but I won’t let you go.”
She shifted the music into a more extravagant melody of crying strings and tiptoeing piano that melded in and out of each other, rising and falling like gusts of wind and rustling leaves swirling together.
Illus carried her in a small circle, then spun her out before he pulled her right back in, sliding behind her. He caught her with her arms crossed over one another, completely vulnerable. And yet she didn’t resist. In fact, she leaned closer, peering up at him, though some tremors stole away any attempt to be smooth. Illus turned her around and held her in their starting position just as the melody softened, but he sensed an upcoming crescendo, strings, flutes, slowly joining in as the piano fluttered beneath them. Chimes seemed to slip their way in, or perhaps Ciun couldn’t help herself from the sound that comforted her so. They continued their box steps as it rose, the instruments slowly building like a wave about to crash on the shore.
Illus slid his arm behind Ciun, who straightened in surprise. Then he lifted her and bent his knees, leaping with all the strength in his body. His legs sank into the water with incredible quickness that caught him in surprise and promptly jettisoned them both upward in a burst that sent them soaring like a bullet into the sky. Illus pulled Ciun closer, the trees disappeared from around them, then Illus followed the side of the mountain up until it was no longer beside him. They spun, upside down and sideways, unevenly soaring up into the night. The building instruments suddenly ceased, making way for silence graced by sporadic, slow, light chimes that speckled the serene soundscape.
Bodies pressed, hands interwoven, and tightly grasping each other, they floated weightlessly into the darkness of night, surrounded by nothing but speckles of light.
Awestruck, Illus took in the expanse around him. His eyes traced lines between the stars, losing track of where he started as new, faint twinkles dotted everywhere he saw. The chilling breeze held them aloft, warmed only by each other’s bodies.
Ciun heard nothing save for her own heartbeat. Before her, touching her, holding her with the brightest smile on his skyward face, this man who came crashing into her dreamlike droning life, who reminded her what living felt like. She had seen the stars so high more times than she could count, but she could have sworn it was the first time she’d seen something she loved so much.
A sense of peace and clarity befell Ciun. She thought about what to do next, but she realized she had stopped thinking long before he leapt. And those thoughts began creeping back despite what her body was doing.
Had trusting her feelings been the right thing to do?
Had she not taken his hand and trusted him to leap, she would have never seen a sight that drew her in so much.
Had she not thoughtlessly strained her magic to keep them afloat, she never would have had the opportunity to caress his hand and pull his gaze.
Had she not leaned closer and raised her chin, he never would have tenderly kissed her lips.
There, weightlessly spinning in the air, Illus gently pressed his lips to hers. All tension in both their bodies fell away with the ground. They floated among the stars, who cheerfully ceded the celestial stage to Illus and Ciun.
She held them in the sky despite her waning consciousness. Ciun wanted to feel that moment as deeply as she could so she could perfectly recall it forever after. The softness of each other's lips. His tender, firm hold on her. Simply being in a warm embrace and feeling another person after thousands of years was more than she ever imagined.
“Are you sure this is no dream,” her voice crept out as if sleep was close behind, “that I will not wake and all of this will disappear in a moment?”
“I could never forget something so sweet as this.”
Ciun’s grip fell slack and her head fell to his shoulder, the magic’s strain slipping with slumber.
Illus pulled back, worriedly holding her while they began descending. “Ciun? Ciun, are you okay?”
Ciun’s head lazily fell back, struggling to stay upright when she uttered a whisper. “The mountain.”
She waved her arm, gently propelling them toward the bald peak. Like petals, they drifted downward as Ciun’s mind drifted off. Illus lifted her into his arms, her masked face pressed against his chest. He peddled his feet in the air as if walking down an invisible staircase.
Soon enough, his feet met stone and weight returned to them. Between the puffy ivory robe and her slender weightless body, he may as well have been carrying a fragile cloud. With a final glance to the sparkling tapestry of space, he set off toward the lower chamber.
“You do not take it.” The fox’s voice called out from somewhere in the darkness. “Illus the unfit.”
Illus scanned the surrounding mountain, then caught a glimpse of the blue fox, slithering through the air around the peak. “Call me what you will, but even if her love is a lie, it’s quite the spell she has me under.”
Suddenly, a rush of adrenaline took hold of Illus, amplifying his sense of emotion. His muscles twitched and his mind aimlessly begged him to do something, anything.
So he laughed.
A low, wry chuckle that broke into crying hysterics until he opened his eyes, and met the eyes of the mask, still against his chest. He couldn’t see behind it. He didn’t want to.
“I must thank you fox, because without this curse, without you, without the mask, without the clues, I never would have been able to know her. Perhaps it’s selfish of me to say that, but I can’t wait to leave here with her after you’re wished away.”
The fox blankly stared, a hollow darkness like catacombs’ depths in its eyes. Then a tiny cackle slipped out, a scale from low to high, breaking free into silent wheezing as the fox contorted its face in sick pleasure, swirling in the air.
“You always make me laugh!” It called out. “Never without a gaffe!”
Illus’s heart dropped, gaze returning to Ciun, peacefully dreaming in his arms, then back to the fox- no- behind the fox. Illus spotted a distant white streak across the sky. Still the size of a star, but with a brilliantly long tail behind it, like a paintbrush of white was swept behind it. The fox followed his eyes and cut off its cackle.
“Onward flies your fate. No more time to wait. Take her in that door, and you’ll have declared war. Remove the mask now, she’s eternally yours I vow.” The fox pridefully sat upon empty air, awaiting Illus’s response, his action.
Illus turned away, his legs still shivering from the adrenaline, a cold sweat running down his forehead. His mind was too blurry to trust, still rushing and uncertain. The comet had arrived. The rivers would be drying. Illus set Ciun in her bed and laid on a blanket across the room, then tied a blindfold around his head just to be safe.
How he wished to stay with her forever, but he realized that such a desire was far from the right one. The fox had inadvertently given him a hint to his request for the comet stone. Perhaps there were more hints in the depths of Illus’s memory, in the fox’s muddy meanings. Illus silently replayed all he remembered about his conversations with the fox until his mind gave in to sleep.