I am not wood. I am as a being that is of the universe, from the universe, which is everywhere. These words were on the mind of Voltan who was at the moment, going through a stream in search of food. His teacher had tried explaining he shouldn’t hunt, that he only need speak what he needed, but he did not believe her. No Gath had ever been powerful enough to avoid a hunt, and he was hardly a Gath to begin with.
Tradition so far had taught him to be stealthy and carry a sharp stick always. The jungle called it of him. He kept himself covered in mud, to avoid the incessant mosquitos. Cautious to keep himself free of their bloodthirsts.
A boogalion swam to within the reach of his spear, and in a thrust, he had caught a heavy fresh water fish. The orange fish fought the pull of the spear and failed as it was brought into the pouch of the Gath in training. He heard the voice of his teacher once more, let this one be free, to continue its journey in life. The hole you put in it is gone now under my power.
He knew not to speak back to his teacher, but he felt as if he should scream against the orders. It was hard enough living this life away from his village in uncharted territory. There wasn’t much choice to it, the fish had to go. When he looked in his pouch the fish was well alive and had not a sign of injury.
He picked up the boogalion and it spoked to him. “Young Gath, put me on your spear and you shall have fish anytime you desire.”
When his teacher did not speak against, he obeyed and the fish was speared once more, and in a moment, it was gone. He looked down to say a prayer and before his eyes he saw many fish jumping about him. He steadied himself from shock and reached to grab one and placed it in his pouch. We do not use wood to kill, only to build. He closed his eyes and said thank you to the spirit of the boogalion, the fish of the jungle’s northern rivers.
A tingle came to Voltan suggesting that soon the rains would fall. He backtracked to a temporary shelter under an outcropping of rocks. He reached into himself and pulled out an ember of fire and threw it against the ground. Fire erupted in a flash and set flame to the dirt before him. He cooked the fish.
The fire burned away the scales and boiled the guts so that nothing was truly wasted in preparation. Only that the fish was given true respect. Voltan’s powers as a Gath was becoming of his body’s desires. But his teacher wanted him to focus on a higher purpose for the forces he called into existence.
It was too difficult to suggest that ignoring the body would lead to anything but death. Voltan feared it, he was consumed by it when he tried to push away the voices of his body. Nothing much could be done about the power of the body. He knew that.
When the fish had finished he ate of it methodically. Enjoying all it had to offer and saving the bones for a later use. As he lay under the canopy of the thick jungle save in his temporary shelter, he thought of what it would be like to be a tree.
His teacher really did not want any of her students experiencing that, as it could be disastrous in her eyes. Yet Voltan saw the beauty of being a tree, the joy of never having to leave for anything, ever. He knew the wandering trees were the odd ones out, but even that seemed like a higher form of existence. As if man had become a tree once.
He took the soils around him and shaped an asharon, a bowl of energy, and put in it the remains of the fish that had no purpose in the physical world. When he closed his eyes, he saw water rob from him things he needed. In fury he shouted at the water and the rain came.
The plopts of rain on canopy soothed his nerves and he returned to his vow of silence, and it began that he reconnected with his teacher. The asharon spoke to him, I am Maya. Do not treat me poorly. Speak of me to others as the body of the planet. Sing a praise to the birds and you shall see what is to come. Sing a praise to the animals, and you shall see what has come.
He saw the waters overcome him, and when he surfaced he was given the answers to all his sufferings of the flesh. In a moment he was under the water, inside its embrace, and the next it was gone and he was in the rain speaking to his asharon. A glance back at his camp and he realized he didn’t actually walk, there were no tracks in the ground from him or anyone. It took a moment to realize what had happened, then he took a deep breather and walked back to his camp.
The asharon had nothing on it now, the carcass was gone to another place he knew little about. His teacher spoke to him.
Take a seat and meditate about that fish. You took its life and it offered itself to you freely. What are you willing to offer its soul?
Instinct told him to sit in the first position she had taught him. One that created a center around himself, and offered his thoughts to the otherworld, the place where spirits and souls embraced another. He sat himself down and put himself in the first position, and as he closed his eyes his mind ascended to another realm.
There he saw the fish struggling to breathe. Voltan spoke the words for water and the fish was given breath. The fish had no flesh, so he spoke the words for body and the fish was made into the image as it is on M’rak. The fish had no scales and it felt as if it were vulnerable.
The fish came to Voltan and screamed terror at him. Voltan did not react in fear, but instead reacted generously. He ripped off his spirit’s skin and offered it to the fish. With a smile the fish swam off with its new gifts and Voltan began to feel terrible pains.
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He reached with his hand to the asharon, and his teacher gave him the word to hold his hand above it but not touch it. Do not disrespect your offerings. Be patient and allow the pain to wash away.
The pain grew deeper and he believed he was truly dying, even his body on M’rak was growing heavy with agony. He was experiencing the death of the fish, he knew now why his teacher told him to not speak of anything but the food he needed, and to not hunt anything of M’rak.
He wanted to retract his hand to end this passage, but his teacher continued to insist that he be brave and maintain his stance until it was over. Sweat beaded on his arms and palms, and his forehead began to sweat. Until finally it was unbearable and he removed his hand from over the asharon. He saw his skin turn blue and when he opened his eyes, his skin was indeed blue.
He knew this was his cost for the blessing he claimed from M’rak on this day. All he took of the planet would cost him, for he had sworn an oath to force himself to near death before all would be given to him. But as he approached it day by day, he realized such an oath was incredibly demanding on his being.
His mind often drifted in his pursuit to condition himself, to memories of his own family. Of his father and how he had made many great instruments, and his mother’s voice as she sang lullabies to him at night when the night drew fear in him. And it was in these thoughts he realized how he was overcoming himself and becoming what he was meant to be.
Fright nearly consumed him over his new appearance, and his teacher spoke through his mind. It is only a body, it is not who you actually are. You aren’t just a body.
He couldn’t find security in her words, for he knew without a doubt his journey would forever change him. The more he sought of her teachings, the more he was made into something new. No Elore had ever discovered her secrets, and he feared all it would lead to would be his death.
He calmed himself by calmly patting his arms with his hands and he chanted, “Ona wan natu.” The recitation of these words continued for what felt like eternity, until the sun began to bring gloom to the canopy and clouds above. His nerves finally became placid as he entered his twentieth day of sleep deprivation.
His teacher spoke to him through his mind once more. In the twentieth day, the trees will reveal their secrets to you. Do not judge their secrets, just accept them as they exist.
Under his new wisdom, he set forth into the thick of the jungle, passing up snakes and insects of all sorts. He came to a tree unknown in the lands of the Elore, only existing far to the north in colder climates beyond the Kand’al mountains where the Khrma’sta lay claim to vast wealth.
The tree was barely able to reach Voltan’s knee, and was struggling for the small sunlight seeping through the jungle canopy. Voltan saw it as a gift to be admired, so he stayed near it as he searched nearby shrubs for a berry to offer to the tree. The tree shook when he looked back at it after having found a gift worthy of the tree.
He felt as if the sleep deprivation was playing tricks on his mind, and figured the tree wasn’t actually making a motion. Yet when he offered a Kanta berry and the tree revealed it had eyes.
Daedronitsu… Voltan thought to himself.
A being only known in legend to many Elore, especially those who never committed to becoming a Gath. The Daedronitsu, or daedro (for short), reached down and picked up the berry.
“You don’t look like anything of M’rak. Your skin is stained blue, yet you have the height of an Elore… You are short like me, but deceitful about who you really are,” the daedro said. It was wielding the berry as if it were a coin.
Voltan could not believe he could understand the Daedronitsu. There was no written or spoken record for their language. His teacher assured him, “You are learning a secret of a being of this world. Don’t be afraid to speak of it.”
Voltan understood there wasn’t anything to fear, but he did not want to disappoint his teacher. As he searched for the words, a bird landed on the daedro. The tree-being laughed and asked, “What bird is this?”
Voltan smiled, for the nature of the daedro beinjg shown in this sapling was nothing like the rumors his uncle had told him. “It is a red Jasli’pata, they like those berries.”
The daedro drew a lid shut over its eyes and lifted the berry to the bird. It did not move or speak beyond that gesture, even if the wind tried to rustle its leaves.
The Gath in training knew there was meaning in this encounter. Sleep deprivation was really taking a toll on him. He continued on never actually forgetting about the encounter.
His mind drifted with the passing of the winds. He remembered his friend from when he was younger. When all the worries of he world were on his friend from his father. ‘Dela’ was what he knew him as.
Dela’s father had grown wicked after the war with the Othra. When he had returned his Wola-Drac had been gravely wounded, and this had cursed the father’s mind.
Voltan used to hide with Dela when they would sneak their way into the tall fields; escaping the wrath of the cursed warrior.
He was brought back to reality when he sat beneath a Gorvos tree to regain his strength and meditate. As he focused on his breathing he drifted with the tree’s spirit. He saw nothing, but felt the tree obey the winds.
He escaped the tree and was one with the wind. He did not know if he knew or commanded the wind, but he was with the wind. He scribed in the soil an image and a story for the tree.
Little insects collected before him and showed an image to Voltan. An Elore of considerable age. The insects appeared to be vibrating.
Voltan blinked his eyes in disbelief, but they continued to appear this way. Soon everything appeared to be vibrating. The trees, the undergrowth, the soil, it was all vibrating. He could not feel the ground shake or the air move.
He held shallow breathes, but the world around him was rattling. He closed his eyes and evcen the darkness behind his eyelids were vibrating.
His mind closed and he fell asleep under the Gorvos tree. But his spirit wasn’t tired, and it departed from his body into the sky above. Where it looked out upon the lands of the Elore, and the lands and oceans that surrounded them. His spirit felt so free until he heard the voice of a being he deeply feared.
“Stop,” was the command echoed from the ethereal realms all around. Its voice was like that of falling rock.
His spirit tried to escape the voice’s power, but he was suddenly in the ethereal realms with the dead and spirits. An Elore presented himself to his spirit.
“Voltan, thank you for seeking the knowledge my daughter is unable to obtain. Her voice was stolen by an Owlua that cursed me here. You will have to face an Owlua if you are to free her from this cursed life.”
His spirit shook and suddenly the ethereal realm came to a close and his spirit was at peace and at rest within the seat of his being on Elohan, the vast planet he called home.
He did not bother to recall anything of his dreams, and his body thanked him for the allowance of rest finally free from the grip of anguish induced from sleep deprivation.