It’s a wonder how we managed to reach the Temple of Thunder - I have sore swollen feet and bruised dignity to prove it, yet famine and exhaustion run through my veins. Little to no recollection as we crossed over the stream of Laima. Yet I can vaguely remember August mumbling about the cleansing and something pertaining to the purest state of one’s soul.
I shall hold on to it. But at this moment, in this joy of having reached our destination - whatever this destination is, wherever this is - I feel relieved. And I can’t wait to put my head on a pillow - or a rock for that matter - and close my eyes.
Maybe a bite or two, or a glass of cold water… This damned body was screaming, demanding even. Does that mean I’m still human?
Long intricate corridors. They didn’t seem airy or light, yet I could not call them murky, or uncomfortable. I suppose one develops a sort of tunnel vision after crossing the realms, refining their soul in the Void, experiencing the Thunder Gates and being paraded throughout the maze of the Sun’s Square as well as crossing this unknown land - Hiraeth.
It’s just walking - a continuation of walks and more walks - annoyed and tired I just kept mumbling in my head whilst unknown figures escorted my shadow to what I expected to be a bedroom. Any room, any space, as long as it has where to lie down and contains a door that would allow the privilege of shutting this whole world - and everyone within it - out.
A sharp turn to the left, “stomp”, “stomp”, “stomp” - our feet echoed through stone-paved corridors. A few seconds later an arched entrance with double oak doors presented itself. It was adorned with intricate metalwork of suns and moons, and an unknown symbol - or heraldic - welcomed visitors, possibly informing them about the owner of these chambers.
To my surprise, the servants briefly kurtzed as they passed me in pursuit of opening these gates of a door. “Creaaaaaaak!” - the old yet surprisingly well-kept hinges cried as heavy wooden wings opened to offer a glimpse into this new space.
“Sveika sugrizusi, vaidilute Deidre,” a small maid dressed in pale blue binged at me. She was smiling with the purest of hearts and I could easily tell: she meant well.
Yet that did not offer any form of translation. But I’m not sure one was needed - I could feel how welcome and appreciated my existence is here.
We stepped into the room and as I sleepwalked myself through the mushy carpets towards the massive white oak bed, countless hands brushed through me, untangling, unbuttoning, brushing off the dust as well as the worries accumulated, robing me in the mushiest of fabrics. Seconds later I was tucked between clouds and the softest of silks whilst these maids of fairies or fairies of maids hummed sweet lullabies in a language I never heard of, yet found mesmerisingly familiar and calming.
And then I fell.
There’s nothing quite as sweet as a deep dark night. And there’s nothing as sweet as a deep slumber after an exhausting adventure.
***
Fabrics rustling and feet quickly moving around the room whilst silent chatters and little giggles echoed in my ears. The curtains spread wide open baring the merciless rays of sun beaming through the crystal windows. Towards the bed, they go.
Straight into my face.
One could go blind from all this light, and my eyes aren’t even open yet! - I sent curses to the busybodies around me, now eagerly extending their arms towards this still stiff and sleepy body.
“Laikas keltis, mieloji vaidulute,” sweet voices were singing to me and I knew: they were here to help me. Wake me up. Get me ready.
For what? What is happening? Am I going somewhere? What time is it now and how long have I been sleeping? Wait, is time even a concept in Hiraeth?
I wove my threads of thought as excited fairy-like maids waltzed me to a lavish bathroom. Still struck by the sleeping spell I could barely appreciate the intricate ornaments embedded in the ceiling.
Blue and gold, depicting stars and the sun, a silver moon and delicate threads connecting throughout, extending towards me. Or the world. It was all-consuming. And I could swear - my crazed mind could swear - it was moving, and shimmering, glimmering… buzzing, even?
I’ve experienced Hiraeth long enough - or should I say, strongly enough? - not to discard myself as a total nutjob. It might just be something here… Let’s keep our mind open.
Whilst I drank the rich surroundings of tall white marbles and steps - or layers - of this outrageously beautiful bright bathroom, soft hands caressed and washed, soaking me with the utmost of care, respect and…love?
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This feels awfully odd - I was thinking to myself as my exposed shame got scrubbed by total strangers. Yet it’s somehow familiar, comforting even.
These fairy-like girls sang and hummed - melodies and tones I’ve never heard of, language I could not understand. But it was all too magical in this sun-light airy sauna of a bathroom where the tub seemed more like a swimming pool more suited for several people rather than someone like me. Nevertheless, I decided to swallow any protests - or pride - and let it all pan out.
The smell of chamomile, honey and…amber? It tickled my nose, drowning me in a symphony of comforting sensations. Soaps and body scrubs, a pond full of colourful bubbles and beautiful fairies. This was so far the best that had happened ever since I’ve awakened.
Deep breath.
“Mieloji vaidulute, vonia baigta, eisime rengtis,” - a sweet voice whispered into my ear and the figure on my right gently encouraged to finally get up and climb the stairs out of this massive pit of a bath. Two fairy-like maids wrapped me up in fluffy towels whilst someone gently whisked up my hair.
The maid from before was now standing in front of me - a satisfied look in her eyes. She held a bottle of thick liquid - I would presume it was oil or perfume, something for my hair or to moisturise the body. Who knows, maybe both?..
Her face lit with a gentle smile as she approached my squeaky clean self and gently applied the orange-like liquid - it melted onto my dry skin, evaporating an already familiar smell of honey, chamomile and amber. A weird combination, but I liked it.
Seconds later I found myself being dressed in the softest of fabrics - a white long gown wrapped around me and silver belts and sachets found place around the waist. There were intricate threads and decorative pieces woven into the white fabrics of my dress - they shimmered in both silver and gold when rays of sunlight caressed their surface. It was the most beautiful tapestry I’ve ever laid my eyes on.
“Mieloji vaidilute, mums laikas eiti,” - one of the girls at the back said as I felt my hair was somehow dry and beautifully brushed with a small braid capturing loose strands of my hair; tied in the back, falling on top of the waterfall of loose long hair underneath.
I knew it in my heart: we were going somewhere.
I took a deep breath as August’s face flashed in my memory.
“Let us be on our way,” I said.
***
Lost in my thoughts I could barely notice how I found myself in front of the high krivi. It was half walk and half transportation if I could recall it correctly - too many confusing figures and surroundings, too many twists and turns. However, it was impossible not to notice how high up we were - this place seemed like a tower.
If I had to bet, I would say we were at the top of the temple.
Beautiful white columns stretched towards the sky where intricate magic weaved stone and crystal, combining a sturdy structure. Yet it was openly exposed to the Void - or the sky.
A roof of crystal offered a glimpse of the ethereal tapestry consisting of sun and moon, somewhere far away the stars hid folded in the pockets of these vast skies.
Or perhaps the Void was observing anyone - or someone? - inside this unusual space - if it may be even called a room. Something unsettling, something constraining, a sense of heaviness floated in the air.
“Welcome to my humble residence, Deidre,” August’s voice echoed through the white marbles and unexpectedly hit her being, robbing her of the thoughts within.
“This is my crystal prison,” - he curled a devilish grin whilst the right eyebrow rose in scrutiny of my new appearance. “Well done, I see you have had a healthy rest.”
“What do you mean when you say prison?” - I gawked at him more eager than I would care to admit.
“Great power comes with great responsibility. Both of these things are well-coveted - no matter what realm you reside in,” August’s expression turned into a gentle smile. “But at the same time, great power is frowned upon - not because of considerations who should be offered such blessings, but more due to the primal fear of those who are stronger than us”.
“You occupy an important position in this place, I take it is as well-respected as it is deeply coveted?” - my eyes offered August a sense of endearment and consolation.
“This certainly serves as proof of ability, yet prestige and honour should not be taken for granted. Everything in this world has a price - be it magic or a rank of power. You shall learn of this soon enough,” there was sadness in his tone, but I chose to ignore it.
“Essentially, this room - this tower - is my prison,” I felt puzzled as August’s laughter echoed dancing its way through the marbled columns and bouncing back from the crystal roof of a sky.
“This room is embedded with vast amounts of mana and spellwork, making sure it withstands even the harshest of lightnings and the heaviest of thunders. In and out, that is… This is a beautiful crystal cage for one of the most feared entities in Hiraeth.”
“Why am I allowed here?” my stream of thoughts naturally flowed out into the open.
“Because we’re alike,” the high krivi tilted his head.
This habit of his was something I already got accustomed to. I was starting to find comfort in his oddly familiar body language.
“And because you are bound to face this soon enough.”
***
Our chit-chat ended swiftly as August introduced my humble self to this - as I was told - prison of a tower. We explored generously sunlit rooms and passages, finding our way through the scent of old books filling ancient-like libraries and archive rooms.
The high krivi guided me through the portrait room where entire generations of high priests and priestesses smiled from above.
“A day shall come where our portraits will be hung on these walls - we shall observe the younger generations in an imposing and threatening manner, emitting some sort of magical power - demanding utter respect and adoration,” - his voice was calm, but I could sense a good amount of irony and - is it possible? - self-loathing.
“I am sure one day you shall find a sunny place to rest on one of these walls,”
“We both will,” August bounced back faster than I could even begin to argue. “But before that, there’s something we need to do.”