As Priya cycled through everything and everyone that made her who she was—her family, Serah, her friends, the other children in the village, the mothers and fathers she grew up knowing, Tohki—she began to sort through the identities that were her own and the ones that were assigned to her by others. To her parents she was Priya, their beloved, their daughter. To Serah she was cousin, sister, and friend. To Galia she was a friend and confidant. But what was Priya to herself? As she searched for an answer, she felt the stillness within her turn towards her, observing her with the same intensity as she was observing herself. Each reflected the other and in that moment of realization, Priya felt herself slip out of her body and into the stillness. She was no longer daughter, cousin, sister, friend or Priya. She was part of the vast depth of the timeless expanse within her.

“I am,” she spoke into the quietness of the forest around her.

Opening her eyes, she saw Tohki smiling.

“I will tell you a different story this time,” Tohki said. “Years ago, a man wondered about the land. At the top of a distant peak, he found shelter for the night. He wasn’t a prophet. But he was searching for God. And as he sat, gazing at the fire, he saw that he was as much part of the fire and the fire was part of him and he heard a voice within him speak the words, ‘I am.’”

“Why is the story different?” asked Priya.

“Because we need our stories to be myths to help us understand why we believe what we believe.”

“Is Eusou real?”

“For eons, people have ascribed names to their deities so that they had a name to call upon when they pray. God didn’t create man in his own image. Man created God in their own image. The infinite, eternal, and unnamable was named and reduced to an idol in man’s mind. Across the great waters and in other parts of our land, there are other names for Eusou. But at the heart of it, God is that stillness inside of you, regardless of his name. Eusou didn’t begin existing a millenia ago when the prophet heard his voice. This stillness within you, what you just named as I Am, has been there since before the beginning of time.”

“But I saw him and The Mother last night. They are real,” Priya pleaded.

“What did you see?” Tohki asked.

“I saw them come together to create Terra,” Priya replied.

“Sometimes what we see during the passage is a manifestation of our shared beliefs. You grew up listening to the myths of Eusou and The Mother. If you remove their identities from their vision, does it change what you saw?” Priya thought for a moment and shook her head. “Does it change any of the lessons you received from your vision?”

Priya shook her head again. “The lessons don’t change. But The Mother. I felt her presence and saw her. I drank from her breast!”

“The Mother connects us to the I Am within ourselves, just as we came out of the womb tethered to our mothers. She is there to help us remember who we are and from where we came from. She is our guide back to the womb, to find the stillness within ourselves, and our guide back to the final womb when we rest in the ground.”

“Does my mother know all of this?” Priya asked.

“No,” Tohki replied. “There is secret knowledge that I only know. It was passed to me by the Crone before me and the Crone before her.”

Sighing, Priya laid down in the cool grass. “Riddles, Tohki. More and more riddles.”

“Do you want to tell me what you saw last night? And I’ll try to provide guidance.”

“I saw a lot,” Priya began. “At some point, I felt as if there was a lion prowling around us, just outside the light of the fire. And then, there were all the tiny creatures—lizards, snakes, some mices—running around the floor, climbing the walls.”

“Even the little things provide lessons,” Tohki whispered.

“And they did. They kept me from focusing on the songs or Eusou. It made me think of all the things I do to pull me away from the stillness within and how I need to be stronger, so that I can find the stillness even when I am away from this place.”

“And you saw Eusou and The Mother?” Tohki prompted.

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“Yes. I felt Eusou all around me. It was like I was at the bottom of the lake, my ears filling with pressure. It was terrifying and amazing, all at once. Then The Mother was there, holding me, and I saw myself being born, and then my mother, and my grandmother, all the way back to the beginning of Terra. I saw Eusou and The Mother come together and create Terra and then I was being born and reborn as my ancestors until I was back in my own body. The Mother asked what I wanted and seeing how much her and Eusou loved each other, I told them I wanted to love as they did.”

“And what is that love?” Tohki asked.

“It’s this.” Priya pointed at the center of her chest. “It’s this stillness. That which I am, they are.”

“Yes,” Tohki whispered.

“And when I spoke of my desire to have and to be their love, The Mother offered her breast to me and I drank from it and I saw the world burn.” Priya felt tears welling up in her eyes and she remembered the horrific vision. “It was awful, Tohki. I saw this spring dry up. I saw the ashes of our village. Everywhere I looked Terra burned. But then Eusou came and offered me a cup to drink from. And I saw life grow from ashes. It was beautiful. It started with a single seed and it spread across the land, bringing life to everything that had burned.”

“From death comes life,” Tohki murmured. “Given what I have shared today, what do you think it means, Priya?”

“I am not sure,” whispered Priya. “I think in some way the visions are connected: the creation of Terra and the destruction of it. Or that it was a visual representation of my journey from being a child to a woman: leaving the aspects of childhood that I cling to, being reborn as a woman. But I also wonder if it is a premonition for what might come. In accepting Eusou’s love and wanting to be a vessel for that love, perhaps by showing that love it’ll bring about the destruction of everything I have known and love. And yet, even with my known world gone, something new, something greater will bloom from its ashes.”

“Can I tell you another story? A secret story?” Tohki asked.

“Of course,” Priya replied.

“Long ago, the world did burn. It burned because man thought they could control who Eusou was. They made him small and held his power over the people of Terra. While they taught that Eusou was love, they made his love conditional. Only those that followed the rule of law or who prayed a certain way was worthy of his love. But then, like a soft breeze, people began to see the love of Eusou. They heard his voice in the wind and saw him within the stillness of their hearts. And this made the leaders of Terra scared. They made stricter rules. They told their people that they had to follow the rules in order for Eusou to welcome them into his kingdom. And they said no. And they died. Countless people died. Cities burned. Smoke hung in the sky for years dropping remnants of ash upon Terra. Our people didn’t come from the sea, but from beyond the mountains. They escaped the smoke and the dust and found shelter in this vale and so we’ve remained for hundreds of years.”

“How could I have seen this if I had never heard this story?” Priya asked.

“It is a gift you have been giving,” Tohki replied. “But I am not sure what you saw was the past. Humankind has one trait that has continued for thousands and thousands of years: we don’t learn from the past. Especially if stories aren’t told so that each generation can learn from the prior generations' faults. The same darkness that burned through the land can and will happen again. There will be a time, perhaps in your generation, when the veil will be lifted between what is myth and what is real so that people can understand and see the I Am in them, just as you have.”

“But if I do share, what harm could I cause?”

“I think it depends on how you share and what your intent is. If you share so that you can hold power over people or gain importance in the village, then that path will cause your world to burn.”

“I don’t want power,” Priya said. “And I just want to be me, not some village elder.”

“If you act in accordance with the stillness within you, that path will lead to that new growth springing forth from the ashes.”

“But how?”

“I can show you,” whispered Tohki. “Do you want to learn more?”

Priya sighed, “Yes.”

“Then choose the way of The Crone. I will teach you the medicine of the forest. I will tell you the stories of old and share with you the hidden secrets of the world. I will teach you how to heal and how to hunt. I will show you how to harness the invisible spirits of the air and how to hold the power of the Gods in your heart.”

“But what about—” Priya began to protest, but Tohki cut her off.

“What about Kuji?”

Priya blushed. “How did you know?”

“Just because I am old doesn’t mean these eyes can’t see. If you chose the Path of The Crone, you cannot also follow the Path of The Mother. Your womb will remain empty like mine has. The village will be your family. The people there, your children. This has been the path since we first came over the mountain and settled in the vale.”

“I don’t know, Tohki. Thank you for sharing with me your stories, but I don’t know if that is the path for me.”

“Besides,” Tohki said, grinning, “Kuji wouldn’t be attracted to you for a mate.”

“Why?” Priya asked, her heart racing. “Was it something I did? Or said? Is it because I don’t braid my hair?”

“No,” Tohki laughed. “He doesn’t like girls.”

“Oh.” Priya sat back, her heart slowing back down. “Are you sure?”

“These eyes see everything.”

Priya was quiet, picking pieces of grass from the ground between her legs. Tohki watched her, her eyes shining.

“Eusou’s balls,” Priya muttered. “Fine.” She flung the pieces of grass off to the side, brushing the dirt off her hands. “I’ll do it. The Path of The Crone is my path. When does Crone School start?”

Tohki grinned. “Crone School starts tomorrow.”