as the star pledges

as the star dances

we are in the wings of it all

emerging like butterflies

holding hearts together

missionaries of a greater good

hear us

the golden dawn of a new age has arrived

here and now

we are infinite

a million petals withering

and blooming at the same time

isn’t it wonderful?

this ultimate dance of life and death

eternal bliss and eternal undoing

umbilical cords

from eyes to eyes

hearts to hearts

ultimate connection

never to be broken again

yes, yes, yes

chanting of our souls

let us all dance to the notes of eternal magic

red cherries popping

wildflowers swaying

in forever sway

joyfulness in joyful smiles

unstoppable embrace

ultimate embrace

it has begun

it has ended

we are here

and we are already gone

—Excerpt from The Apocrypha of Eorbe, by unknown

Chapter 001:

Whisper of the Snowflake

As blind as I am sometimes to the many facets of living life never once has the magic of the sky been lost to me. It speaks to me, day and night, in a language that is as familiar and distant as my own existence.

Well, maybe it would be more accurate to say that it tries to at least. Most of the time I just want absolutely nothing to do with it. However, so far all of my attempts to put a stop to it have ended in nothing but failure.

Last year I stopped using magic for a couple of months hoping that would do the trick, but unfortunately that didn’t do anything at all to resolve it.

In fact, it only made it worse.

Not to mention that one time I got so desperate I even took advice from Ms. Frangipa, that weird Old World activist lady from next door, and attended a week long retreat in the mountains at some Levurian Monk Monastery.

The only thing that gave me was backpain, backpain, and even more backpain.

They did teach me some breathing exercises in order to help with my anxiety which was kinda nice. I still use them to this day so I guess it wasn’t totally pointless.

But as for my other problem? Yeah, going there didn’t do shit.

It seems that no matter what I try the end result remains the same.

Somehow, it always manages to find a way to speak to me.

Why?

Because, in the end, there is one thing that overshadows all other things past, present, and all future days to come.

It will never stop wanting to tell its stories and thus it will never stop searching for ways to be heard.

And I, like an utter and complete fool, am afraid that I will never be able to fully stop wanting to listen to what it has to say.

No matter how frightening those tales might be.

This is my spiral. This is my fate.

Someday this cursed curiosity of mine will be the end of me.

I am as certain of this as I know the fabric of my own name.

As I know the bones of my own body.

Still I can’t seem to stop searching for it everywhere, even when listening to it is what has gotten me into this mess in the first place.

This has never been more apparent to me than in this very moment as I am, once again, confined to a sight that has quickly become part of my daily routine ever since I was brought to this awful place.

Of course, today is no different.

As usual, thick snowflakes are gently swirling down from the grey clouds above and ever so slowly eventually some of them will land on the surface of the window next to me. Without fail, what follows after this mesmerizing spectacle always is the same exact haunting scene.

After spending more hours than I can possibly count gazing at this from my seat by this very window I have started noticing that, when looking carefully enough, a certain pattern in the falling of these snowflakes can be found.

For the path each of these flakes take in their descent from the sky is all different. That is, until they touch the surface of a window. From that moment on the fabric of their very being will be forever altered.

No longer can they freely fall as they wish. No, now they are forced to follow the path of their former companions.

Whenever I find myself staring at these melting bodies often there are more than a million thoughts running through my mind. Does this newly formed droplet of water remember who he was before he became what he is now? Does he remember what it was like to fall from the sky? What it was like to be free? If yes, can he whisper its secrets to me?

But there is one thing that I think about most often.

Hidden deep within me resides this desire, this unreasonable hope that somehow one of these flakes would find a way to break free from this all.

From this cycle of water rising up from the earth, to the skies, only to inevitably fall back down again to the surface.

Over and over again in their perpetual spiral.

I don’t know. Maybe I need proof of the impossible.

A defiance of the natural order of the world itself.

Perhaps if this little snow being could manage to alter its fate then well, so could I.

Looking down at the street below the window people are busy swarming up and down the sidewalks. They kind of remind me of these snowflakes. Just trapped in different spirals. Wake up, go to school, go home, sleep, and repeat.

Repeat until the day you graduate.

Repeat until the day you die.

Actually, it seems to me that we never even graduate at all. Maybe we are all still stuck in the sandboxes we once played in. Eternal children trying to catch up to the dreams we have buried in the sandcastles of yesterday whilst playing dress up in the uncomfortable, ill fitting clothes of tomorrow.

Maybe this is all we will ever be. Meant to be. Supposed to be.

Doomed to be.

Adulthood, I am still not sure if I want to take its hand or not.

Technically I should have been one of them. After all, this was supposed to be my senior year in high school. But I guess life has a funny way of not going the way you want it to go.

Ever since that day I have been stuck in this state where I am not here, but not exactly there either. Frankly, I don’t seem to know a lot about anything these days. However, between all the not the knowing there is one thing that I do know for sure.

Today will be the last day I will ever have to set foot in this god forsaken place.

Fucking. Finally.

It suddenly dawns upon me that it has been awhile since the clock on the wall behind me has chimed. Which means that it must be long past four o’clock. After all this time here I thought that I would have gotten used to not having any expectations anymore, but still I can’t help but feel the familiar irritation and anger warm my neck.

Perhaps someday I’d burn this whole place to the ground. Starting with this window right here.

I am still lost in a maze of thoughts when the door abruptly opens, followed by a woman with short pale blond hair stepping into the room.

Instinctively my whole body tenses up, nails digging into the leather covered arms of the chair beneath me.

“Graycoat,” hisses a voice from somewhere deep within the walls of my mind.

Hands grabbing me, holding me down, and I am screaming and screaming and screaming

I force it down.

I force it all down, down, down and I fold and fold and fold until it becomes a thing so small, so insignificant, that it can fit somewhere in a forgotten corner of my mind.

Until it becomes a thing that can no longer hurt me.

I manage to keep myself still, still and silent, even when every fiber of my being is screaming at me to jump out of the window.

Or to throw her out of it.

“Sorry to have kept you waiting,” she says, clearly not sorry at all as she fans her flushed face. “It just has been so hectic here because of the holidays, my goodness.”

Her signature long, ash coloured coat sweeps behind her, as she hurriedly walks over to the desk in front of me where she takes a seat.

C’mon, breathe. Just focus on something. Remember why you are here.

“So, Miss Turner, I am very curious as what it is I can do for you, given that we weren’t supposed to see each other until next week,” she beams at me, folding her hands on top of the desk.

Her teeth are almost just as annoyingly bright as the huge rock she is wearing on her hand. How much did this one cost? It certainly looks bigger than the one she was wearing the last time I saw her.

Taking a deep breath I force myself to sit up a little bit straighter and smile back at her. Only just not that brightly.

“I was actually wondering if you could take a look at this,” I say, as I hand over the papers I have been clutching in my hands.

There. That sounded confident enough. See Cas, you got this.

She reaches over and takes the papers from me with one hand and with the other she puts the glasses on that she has hanging around her neck on a golden chain.

Even though I must have gone over this moment in my mind over a hundred times, and definitely practiced more than that, the words still refuse to come out as I want to.

“So, I have been thinking..” I start to say, wringing my hands beneath the desk. “I am well aware of the fact that the official results of my clearance test are not supposed to arrive until two weeks from now, but I really want to take this year’s practical magic exams this upcoming weekend otherwise I won’t be able to-“

The more I continue to speak the darker her face gets until eventually she interrupts me by putting the papers down and taking her glasses off.

She lets out a deep sigh.

Fuck. This can’t be a good sign.

“Miss Turner… ,” she begins, rubbing her eyes. “I am afraid I simply can’t sign these papers for you.”

This time I can’t manage to keep a straight face and my lips turn down into a slight frown.

“What, why not? I did everything you people have asked me to do,” I say with a slight edge to my voice.

“I am afraid the results of your tests… well…you weren’t supposed to find out today, but you have left me no choice than to tell you now.”

She then looks me at me with this certain look in her eyes.

I fucking hate it when people look at me like that.

“I am so, so sorry to tell you this, but you have been diagnosed with stage one of the Mage Disease.”

I jerk back as if she has slapped me in the face.

Everything around me goes dark and quiet, as my lungs inhale air from all directions and, for a split second, I think that even the whispers can’t find me here but then-

In my mind, chaos erupts.

Thoughts screeching inside of my head like a thousand nightingales burning alive with

nowhere to go, nowhere to enter but

back.

I am back here and I think I am screaming but then I realize I am not screaming and now I am screaming at my mouth to open so I can scream and rage and cry and beg, beg, beg her to deny it.

Instead I just keep on staring at her. Silent. Voiceless. Like a puppet whose strings have been cut.

I can feel myself starting to slump back in the chair.

No. No. NO!

It can’t be true.

It mustn’t be true.

Today is supposed to be the day I finally get out of here for good. Not receive a fucking death sentence.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

“Thankfully, it’s still in the early stages so as long as you take the prescribed medication, follow the proper steps, and listen to our guidance you will still be able to live a… somewhat normal life.”

A somewhat normal life? Yeah right. Everyone knows that it is pretty much game over once you have been diagnosed with this condition. Those pills you have to take? No thanks. I have seen what it does to people and I would rather die right here and now then spend the rest of my life on some mind-numbing shit.

Yeah, I really should have jumped out of the window when I still had the chance.

Out of the corner of my eye I vaguely notice that outside the snowflakes are still falling, still striking the glass of that damned window next to me.

One by one by one.

For the last couple of years my world has been defined by the four walls of this room.

By the surface between those four corners of that window.

By the moment before a snowflake landed on its surface and the moment after.

I simply existed in the space between those things. They became my binoculars to the universe.

I began to see things I will never be able to forget. I began to see things I will never be able to fully understand.

Thus so it came to be that in this room, in the middle of a nameless night, with nothing but the distant light of those innumerable stars as my witness, I made a silent vow to myself.

I decided that once I left this place I will never let the borders of my world be defined by others ever again.

By anything ever again.

Never again will I be confined.

Bound.

Trapped.

The following morning after I had made this promise I noticed something.

For the first time ever since I was brought to this place my small world had become a little bit bigger.

It had become a little bit brighter.

Tick.

Tock.

Hurry, and open the window.

Just as swift and sudden the mists of darkness engulfed me earlier, just as quickly they fade away again, only leaving behind wisps and murmers of silent clarity and loud certainty.

I know what I have to do now.

“….matter of fact I will book you a new appointment right away.”

As she reaches for her computer I reach down for my bag and without saying another word I stand up, turn around and briskly walk towards the door. My hand is already on the doorknob when the woman calls out to me.

“Miss Turner, wait!”

Slowly I pull my hand back from the doorknob and let it fall to my side.

My mouth draws back into a smirk.

Tick. Tock.

I have come.

Humans are so predictable it almost makes me laugh.

I turn around and walk back.

The woman is still typing and looking at her monitor and talking, talking talking.

My god, when will she shut up?

“I know you must be very startled right now so I totally understand your reaction. However, if you run of like that one more time I, unfortunately, am forced to report you my dear. We can’t have unregulated people like you walk around now, can we?”

Ignoring her remark I scan over the desk in front of me until my eyes land on what I am looking for.

Bingo.

“It is best that we begin as soon as possible with the administration of your case. Are you free next week for a follow up appointment?”

I reach over to grab the frame that is standing on her desk. Inside it is a picture of the woman and standing next to her with his arm around her shoulders is a man with dark brown colored hair. Seated underneath them are two blonde little girls.

They are all smiling.

How nice.

“I actually am fully booked for the next couple of weeks, but the gods must be on your side for one of my appointments for tomorrow morning called this afternoon saying she fell ill so I can squeeze you in for then. My, aren’t you lucky?

Tick. Tock.

“Your family looks very happy in this picture.”

I have to give it to her. She keeps her composure very well, faltering only a little bit before she resumes typing.

“Yes, I am very grateful to be blessed with my two lovely daughters and wonderful husband.”

Of course. They always are.

Tick. Tock.

“It would be such a shame…” I start to say, slowly laying the frame down on the desk. “…if that were to change.”

Abruptly she stops typing all together.

I let my gaze wander in the direction of her right hand, to that hideous thing she is wearing. As if on instinct she immediately puts her other hand over it.

Even if you try to hide, it is no use.

“Excuse me, what is it exactly that you are you talking about?” she says with a slight tremble in her voice.

Tick.

I have come

and it is already to late to run.

I put my hands on the desk and lean over to look her straight in the face. “If you don’t want them to know about your little secret…”

Tock.

the game was already over

“…you know what you have to do right?”

Tick.

before it begun.

Her face significantly pales in comparison to her flushed look that she came into the room with earlier.

and now

We keep staring at each other until she eventually looks away and gives the slightest of nods.

Tock.

you are done.

I stop leaning over the table. “Good. Glad we are on the same page.”

I reach down to grab my bag of the floor where I left it earlier.

“Well, I’ll be going then,” I say merrily as I straighten back up. “I wish I could tell you that it was nice meeting you, but we both know that would be a big fat lie.”

However, again when my hand touches the doorknob something stops me.

Only this time around it isn’t the voice of the woman.

No, it is something far more dark and sinister that is calling me right now.

“Oh, wait. I almost forgot,” I say out loud.

I look over my shoulder to find the woman hunched over on her desk with her hands in her hair. At my words she slowly raises her head.

The second her eyes meet mine I am hit with a sudden realisation.

I can’t say that I am particularly surprised at how much I am enjoying this. How much I like seeing that look on her face. You know, the one people make when they realise they have underestimated someone.

But that is not what it is about.

No, it is about something else. Something I am not sure how I feel about yet.

Again, I am reminded of the promise I made to myself on that very first night I was brought here.

No. How I was dragged here.

That is why I don’t feel sorry at all when I utter these next few words.

“Happy holidays,” I grin at her over my shoulder.

Then I finally open the door and step out of that room. I finally step out of the confines of that small little world I have been calling ‘mine’ for the last three years.

And as I walk through the corridors of this place for the very last time I know exactly what that snowflake would have whispered to me.

Tell me, how far are you willing to go?

What price are you willing to pay to know what freedom feels like?

Now I have my answer.

I did not know it then.

How that day would turn out to be the beginning of the end and the end of the beginning of everything.

How that moment in time later would become something that would haunt me until the day I would die.

That I would look back at it again and again and again.

Each time with more desperation.

Hoping. Praying. Begging.

God, how I wish someone would have stopped me.

Or at least would have told me about what I was going to become in the future.

What I was going to cause.

For if I knew I never would have let myself walk out of that place alive.

Outside I am greeted by the familiar sting of a bitter gust of fir scented wind. I tug my scarf higher over my face and pull the hood of my jacket up over my head until all I can see is the dirty snow covered street beneath my worn out boots.

I fumble around in my bag until the back of my hand brushes against the familiar shape of my Magitek Device. Instead of the smooth, square outline of the regular models mine is a bit more round and bulky due to some alterations I have made.

I sign my password sigil over the activation button to unlock it until I come face to face with the blue of my home screen.

However, to my dismay, before I even can open the holographic map of my surroundings to check where the nearest Hoverboard Network Point is, a blue wall of text pops up in front of me.

“Due to the festivities of Hyggsdag, regular services requiring magic such as the Hoverboard Network, Monorail Network and the Transportation Platforms, will stop running after 16:00 PM. The Underground Subway Portal System will keep running until 24:00 PM. After midnight we advise to make use of the non-magical transportation services, such as the Sleds, as they will keep running as usual. We wish you all a very warm Return of the Sun festival this year!”

Ah, shit. I totally forgot about the fact that pretty much everything shuts down on this day. Which means I actually have to use the Portal Train.

What a bummer.

I am not a fan of Portalling at all, especially not in the presence of other people. Of course, today of all days it is more crowded than usual. Even from this distance I can already spot the masses of people trying to get into the Underground Portal Station.

Well, let’s just get this over with.

I hoist my bag higher on my shoulders and start zigzagging my way across the street until I am in front of the entrance of the station.

Right away I get stuck behind a group of people who clearly have no idea how to check in at all. They must be tourists from one of the islands in the Xiora region. I quickly squeeze between two of them and check in with my Magitek device.

“Hey”, one of them yells at me. “That girl just cut in line!”

I just keep going without turning around. Normally, I wouldn’t do something like this, or at least I would have shouted an apology. But after spending more than half of my day in that place I am kind of desperate to get home as quick as I can.

Even though I have not been here in years I vaguely remember that I have to take the escalator down on my left which, thank the Goddess, is in the opposite direction most of the crowd is going in. I guess everyone is busy trying to get to the city centre for the festivities.

As I am going down the escalator I get distracted by the loud advertisements that are playing all around me in colorful motion. Currently they are all related to one thing only.

The final of the Gravball World Tournament.

Ever since its invention a couple of decades ago the world has been absolutely obsessed by it.

Nowadays the players who manage to make it to the top are even more worshipped than some of the actual gods. I am also pretty sure that with just this one match those grav players will probably make more money then I will ever do in my entire lifetime.

This year they even went as far as to change parts of the station into Augmented Reality Zones.

I touch one of the screens on the wall next to me and a holoversion of one of the players that is competing in tonight’s finals comes alive to fly by past my head, showcasing a highlight reel of his best plays of the season.

I am mesmerised by this spectacle until I reach the bottom of the escalator and the scene disappears.

The spell is broken and, once again, I am back again in reality.

Eventually I make it just in time to the Portal Train before it has left, because as soon as I sit down in one of the corner seats, the operator announces its departure. Immediately my right leg starts twitching in response.

I really hope I won’t puke this time.

Breath deep in and out. Just five stops. You can do this Cas.

You got this.

However, it is after the third stop that pretty much everything goes to shit. I hear them before I see them.

“Hey, isn’t that girl over there Casey?”

My heart sinks into my shoes. Without even looking I already know that the face behind that voice belongs to one of my former classmates.

Panic seizes me by the throat in a vice grip and for one split second I am sixteen and back in-

Focus. You are here. Deep breath in. Your name is Casey and you are nineteen now. Deep breath out.

“Oh my god, wasn’t she the one that dropped out suddenly after that crazy incident?”

I pinch myself so hard blood starts trickling down my hand unto my black leggings.

C’mon, c’mon, c’mon. Why is the next stop taking so long?

In the end I keep myself distracted long enough to not lose my shit completely. As soon as the train arrives at the next station and the doors open I bolt out of my seat and sprint out unto the platform.

I can feel myself bump into someone, but I just keep going without stopping or looking back. There is only one thing going through my mind right now.

I need to get out of here. Fast.

I just keep blindly going and going until I finally reach the exit of the station, bursting into the streets where I instantly run into a bunch of other people.

Don’t tell me that they are having a procession for the holidays right here in this fucking street.

Now the panic becomes so much that even my sight gets blurry too.

I just need I need to get away I-

Why are there so many goddamn people?! Move! Just let me through! Please I need to-

I don’t know how, but I manage to keep going until I finally somehow stumble into a secluded sidestreet.

There I promptly puke all over half of my shoes whilst the rest splatters unto the ground.

Fuck. I am not gonna cry here.

But it’s too late for that. Tears of frustration and humiliation are already dripping down my nose and falling to the ground where they disappear into the dirty, mud stained snow.

I hate this. The not knowing when it will come. The not knowing what will set me off this time.

The uncertainty of infinite and eternal and unending, never-ending anxiety.

Sometimes it is kinda hard to live when your own breathing is a trigger.

It is even harder when your own breathing is also the very thing that is supposed to save you in moments like this.

Each time this happens I have to dive deep within myself as to find something to hold on to.

Something sweet enough, just ripe enough to bring me back.

Some people don’t even know how lucky they are. Not constantly having to find reasons to want to breathe, to want to live, is a fucking privilige if you ask me.

Often those reasons are not pretty at all.

Right now, the only thing that is able to bring me back and make me want to focus on breathing is baptized in waters that only know spite.

if I let go now, that will mean that they were right.

If I give up now, that will mean that they will win and that is something I won’t let happen.

So here I am, kneeling in the snow, covered in my own puke, having my third panic attack of the day whilst simultaneously trying to find reasons as to why I should care enough to stop this by doing some fucking breathing exercises instead of just ending myself so I won’t have to go through this anymore.

I don’t exactly know how long I stay like this, only that it is long enough for the procession to fully pass. After I have calmed down I wipe my face on the sleeve of my jacket and stand up to take a look around.

I literally have no clue where I actually am. I was so panicked earlier that I did not notice at all where I was going.

In these kind of moments I thank the gods above for the existence of technology. I quickly check my current location on my Magitek Device and see that I am in one of the eastern districts of the city.

Well, this pretty much means that I am fucked.

My district is at least two hours away by foot from here and that is if I walk very fast.

Sighing, I stand up and dust the snow of my legs. There is no way I will risk running into some of my former classmates again so I guess I have already made my decision.

Walking it is.

It is well past dinner time when I finally reach the outer ring of the sector I live in. Located on the very outskirts of the city it spans from the lower region of the bank of the Sullak River all the way up into the Rulagkkia Mountain regions.

Some days it is rather nice that my house is situated up so high in the hills, but today is not that day. Especially when I have been walking for over two hours already and everybody is making their way down the steps because of the festivities. The very steps that are the only way to get to my street.

This day just keeps getting worse and worse.

After wrestling my way through the descending masses for god knows how long I finally reach the top.

As soon as my feet touch the first cobbled stone of my street I put my hands on my knees to catch my breath. Fuck. I forgot how exhausting it can be to climb those stairs.

It isn’t too long before I hear a familiar voice calling my name. Or well, screeching my name is more like it.

“Cassandra Jean Turner, stars above, where in Temu’s name have you been?!”

I look up to find my grandmother hanging out the window of the second floor of our place with the ashes of a fire magic sigil card still drifting around her. Ah, she must have just finished hanging up the traditional lantern above our shop sign.

Every year during this time open-flame candle lanterns adorn the front of almost every shop in our street. Their flames are enchanted so that they will not extinguish as long as winter rules.

I still remember wandering around the narrow cobbled streets as a kid and often getting lost in the maze of twisting alleyways between all the shops with nothing but the light of those overhanging lanterns to guide me back home.

Our street is one of the last places in the city where you can still find handcrafted items like the beautiful jewellery sold at Ms. Graveliers Crooks and Crannies Antique Store. Or the delicious handmade sweets and pastries at Mr. Snickets bakery. Also, I am pretty positive that my grandfather’s shop is one of the last places you can still find handcrafted magical artifacts.

Combined with the look of the old brick colored timber-framed buildings and the paned glass windows it is almost as if time has stood still in this street.

I used to think that, because this neighbourhood is located north in one of the northernmost cities of the entire planet, that perhaps somehow the winds of time could not reach this corner of the world.

I still am not sure yet if I consider that to be a blessing or a curse.

I smile and wave at my grandma. “I am coming!”

When I open the front gate of the house I notice that there is lying something on the ground. I pick it up and turn it over. It looks like some sort of brown envelope with no address on it. Well, that is kinda weird. I tuck it under my arm and make my way to the front door.

As soon as I step into the house the warm scent of cinnamon and nutmeg envelops me in a hug that is a bit too tight for my liking.

Ah, grandma has been cooking again.

I take my shoes and jacket off and put some house slippers on. Then I walk over to the kitchen where I find grandma surrounded by an army of food. As I already suspected she is cooking with her back towards me.

I take a seat at the kitchen table where I also put my bag and the mystery envelope as well.

“It smells really nice grandma. What are you making?”

“Ms. Frangipa, you know that lady from down the street who refuses to use any technology? She brought some food over this afternoon and I figured I would return the favor by making some sun buns. Since you are here now, would you be a dear and taste one of the ones that are already done for me? I need to know if I added enough spices or not.”

“Yeah sure, where did you put them?”

“They are in that basket over there. On your left side.”

I grab one out of the basket and sit down again.

I take a bite and instantly my mouth fills with this weird bitter taste.

That’s strange. I don’t recall them tasting like this.

Then the coughing starts.

For the second time that day my eyes start stinging with the burn of tears.

In the background my grandma starts howling with laughter.

“Okay, so I have definitely added enough cinnamon to those ones.”

“Grandma, wa- water!” I eventually manage to get out.

She fills a mug with water and hands it to me whilst still laughing.

I gulp the water down.

“Grandma, that was not funny at all. I could have died you know!” I say, wiping my mouth on my sleeve.

“I am so sorry child, but the way you were puffing and huffing up those clouds of cinnamon was pretty kind of funny,” she says as she wipes a tear from her eye.

“Okay, maybe it was just a little bit funny,” I reluctantly admit. “My throat kinda hurts now though.”

At this she immediately jumps into grandma-mode.

“I will make some tea for you,” she says, grabbing a pot as she turns to fill it with water. “With lots and lots of honey.”

It is when she walks over to the stove that I get a bit confused. “Ehm grandma, why are you using…” My voice trails off as it hits me.

Oh.

It’s pretty simple. So simple that I almost forgot.

We have run out of sigil cards. Again.

My hands ball into fists beneath the table. This. This right here is exactly why I need to take that stupid test this weekend.

So I can officially graduate from that fucking school and get my magic license. So I can help grandpa in the store and make sure we won’t have to be cold or hungry ever again. I can tell by the stiffening in her shoulders that it would be wise to drop this the topic.

So I do. I always, always do.

“How was it at the facility today? You got back pretty late,” she says over her shoulder without looking back at me.

I pluck at the knitted embroidery of the cloth that is draped over the table. I am not sure what to tell her.

Should I lie or not?

Should I be honest or not?

I clear my throat. “Actually… I don’t have to go anymore. I have been cleared.”

At this she stops stirring the tea and turns around. On her face is a frown.

“What do you mean you don’t have to go back anymore? I thought..”

She suddenly stops talking when she notices the envelop on the table. “Cassandra, where did you get that?”

“It was just laying on the front-“

“Did you open it?”

“Ehm, no. I did not open it. Why, is something wrong?”

She quickly grabs the envelop from the table. “There is nothing for you to worry about,” she says sharply.

I flinch at the sudden abruptness of her tone.

When she notices the look on my face she adds,”Sorry dear, I did not mean to startle you. It is just that there have been some new reports about hate incidents going around again.”

At this my mouth drops open. “I just can’t believe those people! How can they preach about things like peace and still do stuff like that? I mean it isn’t like the ground we live on actually belongs to us so I don’t understand how they think that they can decide who gets to live here or not.”

My grandmother lets out a deep sigh. “Don’t worry about it. I will just throw it away.”

She turns around and stuffs it in some drawer. Then she grabs a wooden tray and two mugs out of the cabinet and places some food on it. The mugs she fills with the tea from the pot.

“Why don’t you bring this to your grandfather. He has not eaten anything since he started working this morning.”

She shakes her head. “I have told him so many times not to work so hard and take breaks, but he just doesn’t listen!”

I take the tray from her hand. “He is down in the workplace right?”

Before I could even hear her answer I am already out of the kitchen and halfway down the hallway.

Sticking her head outside of the door she yells, “Maybe you could try to shake some sense into that grandfather of yours!”

I am still softy chuckling to myself whilst I am walking down the stairs that lead the way to my favorite place in the house.

That lead the way to my favorite place in the entire universe.

Entering the workshop, even though I have been many times, still feels like an act of discovery.

Here, things like past, present and future have no meaning. They are simply things to be left at the doorstep of yesterday.

On most days I feel like my presence in this world is as fleeting and fading as that melting snowflake on the window.

Like I am just occuring coincidentally at the same as everything else that is occurring in that particular moment.

Even though we are all the same, still we humans seem unable to ever really come close to one another at all. Like parallel lines that never meet, we exist in this vacuum world, where our hearts are destined to wonder until infinity what it would feel like to meet eyes with another of their kind.

A meeting where one will see, not with their eyes, but with their heart. I feel like then and, only then, will you truly be able to touch anything real in this world.

Are humans actually capable of this though? I highly doubt it. I mean, and even if we are, I don’t think I even would want to if I am honest.

However, whenever I am in the workshop I feel like, that if I only wanted to, I could touch every single star in the night sky.

That I could unravel even the secrets kept within the vault of the heavens themselves.

That, if I only wished it so, every untold story in the universe could unfold itself on the surface of the palm of my hands.

No, I think I would not mind it at all. Not one single bit.

If my world was limited to this place for the rest of my life.

How could I?

When this place feels more vast, more boundless than every starlit sky I have ever laid my eyes upon?

As I open the wooden door my eyes immediately fall towards the huge bookcase that nearly covers the entire left wall of the room. It is filled with all kinds of books, rolls of parchment paper and astrological maps. Directly hanging on the wall next to that are a vast array of clocks differing in size and colour. And up above a gleaming, cobalt astrological mural adorns the ceiling detailing in gold design the different constellations that serve as embellishments to our nighly skies.

As a child I often spend hours laying on the dark floorboards gazing at this spectacle whilst making up the most elaborate stories you could possibly imagine.

What has gotten me through those long dark nights in my life were those times were I would let myself believe in those brilliant tales in which I was sailing amidst those painted stars.

In those momentarily moments, I was infinite.

My childhood days seem so far away now.

I used to be able to recall those stories so vividly in my mind, but as the years went by they slowly started to drift away. It happened so gradually, so naturally that it almost was unnoticeable. Before I knew it I had arrived at the threshold of adulthood.

I am nineteen now, but I still don’t know what it feels like to be alive.

The only light in the room comes from a pair of oversized, hanging pendant lamps who, at this moment, are busy casting a delicate orange hue upon my grandfather’s face as he is hunched over at his desk in the corner. As usual, he seems to be completely engaged in whatever he has been working on.

I think I got that from him. We both are constantly performing an intricate balancing act in our lives with on one side the lands of creativity and on the other the realms of just complete and utter madness.

Sometimes I feel like there are only two types of forces in this universe. That which moves in the same direction to the flow of the unseen force that moves forward the hands of time and that which moves in direct opposition to this.

Logically, following this there then must be only two types of people in this universe as well. The ones who are able to live their lives in counterclockwise motion to this unseen force and the ones who are not.

People like to call those who are unable to do this ‘blessed by the forces of divine creation’ for it is believed that the best art pieces, creations, and inventions in our history sprung forth from the minds of those who have to spend every second of their lives living it at the mercy of that mysterious force.

However, it sounds more like a prison to me.

When the swing of every step in your life has to be in sync with the swing of the pendulum of the universe itself.

And as there is only path in life, for those of us who have to follow that spark of divine creative madness, there is only one path in death as well.

One day my grandfather will follow that same force as he has always done.

Its hand will feel just a little bit colder. Its grip will be just a little bit tighter.

But the feeling its familiarity will bring, is still just as warm, just as comforting as ever.

He will let it lead him to that place where dreams are born, and in accordance to the laws of this universe, where they will return to once they die.

One day my grandfather will quietly embark on the greatest adventure of his life.

There, beyond the very ends of time, he will make his first and last discovery he can’t tell me about for he has walked down the one path I can’t follow.

He has gone to the one place I can’t reach, and he has met the same, sad fate that awaits us all.

Someday we all have to come to terms with the ultimate truth of our existence.

That it does not matter how much you love someone in life.

They are but mere momentarily illusions to, at best, keep you warm at night by chasing away that universal, uninvited nocturnal visitor that likes to come in through slightly open windows and forgotten half-closed doors.

However, eventually a day will come when those cold drafts of truth will find you.

They will make an eternal home out of you.

This has been ordained since long, long ago.

Before the very first star drew its breath.

Before time was born.

Before there were things such as you and me in this world.

In the end, even the strongest bond forged in life will break when standing in front of the face of death.

There, the only real thing in our existence is left standing.

The truth is that we always have been walking alone.

Always were and always will be.

But, tonight I will close my windows and doors tight and let myself be warmed by the fires of illusion for just a little bit longer.

Tonight, the story I choose to believe in is one where I will never have to know what it would feel like to walk through life without feeling the warmth of my grandfather’s hand in mine.

I carefully walk across the dark floorboards of the workshop to where my grandpa is. There I set the plate of food down in an empty space I narrowly managed to find between the many sketches that are scattered all over the desk. Peeking over his shoulder I see that he has been working on what looks like to be some sort of Graphein. Only I don’t recognize the gemstone he is using for this one.

After a minute or so when he still hasn’t noticed me I decide to speak up. “What kind of stone are you using as the conduit for this one grandpa?”

He lets out a sound of surprise as the stone he is clutching slips between his fingers and falls to ground where it quickly rolls out of sight.

“Child, you almost scared this old man of yours to death!” he exclaims very loudly whilst dramatically holding a hand over his chest.

Okay, so I really hope I have not inherited his flair for drama from him as well. Rolling my eyes I get down on my knees to search for the fallen stone.

“Well, I have been standing here for over five minutes now.”

“Really? That’s strange. I didn’t notice you at all.”

“That’s because you always go somewhere into outerspace when you work,” I reply from underneath one of the desks.

“Ah, yes I think you may be onto something there,” he says, thoughtfully stroking his white beard.

“Did you see where the stone fell? I thought it ended up somewhere beneath this desk, but I can’t seem to find it.”

“Wait, I dropped the stone? I did not realize that either,” he says sheepishly.

It seems he wants to say more, but instead he is interrupted by a nasty cough that is trying to cleave its way out of his body.

My eyebrows furrow down. “Grandpa, you really should try to clean up more. There is just so much stuff and dust here that…” my voice trails off as my gaze falls upon something that is sticking out from behind a box of discarded mechanical parts.

I reach over to grab it and then sit back on my heels to take a proper look at it. Only, as soon as the light hits it, I wish I hadn’t.

“Ah, Casey I can explain-“

I interrupt him by standing up and walking over to one of the overhanging pendant lamps. There I throw the thing I am holding in my hands into its flames.

In silence me and my grandfather watch as the paper bottle label slowly burns until there is nothing left of it but a few ashes. Somehow the falling of these ashes makes me more sad than every snowfall ever could. This is why I don’t want grandpa to see my face when I say these next few words.

“I know you probably won’t stop no matter what we’ll tell you, but at least… try to not leave anything behind that grandma can easily find. If she saw this first you definitely would have been in so much trouble.”

After a few moments of silence my grandfather lets out a heavy sigh. “I am sorry, kiddo. I really am.”

I turn around.

“We all have our poison I guess,” I eventually say, shrugging my shoulders. “Hey, at least you are not running around trying to kill people.”

I walk over to where I sat the plate of food down. “Also, grandma prepared some food for us. We should eat it before it gets too cold.”

“I knew it! That’s why I was smelling something funny earlier.”

I grab the plate of food and walk over to my grandfather where I sit down on the only other chair in the room.

“Her cooking is not that bad. It’s just a little bit… peculiar that’s all.”

He gives a snort of laughter. “Tell that to me again after you have lived as her guinea pig for almost 50 years.”

Just like that everything returns to normal. As long as I keep folding.

As I always, always do.

I hold out the plate to him with a raised eyebrow. “Well, you’ll be glad to hear then that the food on this plate was not made by grandma. This is from our neighbours.”

It is almost comical how quickly my grandfather’s expression changes into one of interest.

“What are you waiting for, kid. Let’s dig in then!”

After we both have grabbed some food I set the plate down behind us.

When I turn back around I find my grandfather looking at the food in his hand with an almost wistful look on his face.

“Ah, an uunmak cake. My grandmother used to make this when I was a child during this time of the year. Shame that they are not as popular now.”

He looks at me. “Hey kid, do you know the legend behind this pastry? Why its name is what it is?”

“Hmm, I am not sure I do actually.”

“You know the story of how the Goddess of Death met her end?

“Yeah, how could I not,” I snort. “They used to tell that story every year when I was still in school. It is the one where she sacrificed herself and became a star or something right?”

“That’s almost correct. Only she did not just simply became a star. She actually became the embodiment of the entire night sky itself.”

“I know you are dying to tell the story grandpa, ” I laugh. “So just go for it.”

He dramatically clears his throat before he begins.

“So this story takes place in a time where the Gods still roamed the planet and walked freely among men. It was a period of immense peace and prosperity, that is until they were brutally betrayed by one of their own. This became the catalyst for what is known as The Great War today. During the battles that took place in this period millions of lives were lost. Thankfully, the Gods were able to defeat the one who was responsible for this most disastrous event. However, they came to stand for a dilemma because of their immortal nature they could not kill manage to kill them. Eventually they decided that the best option they had, was to lock this betrayer away. So as a punishment they chained them to Tualis, the most northern star in our sky.”

He takes a little pause before he continues.

“However, the story is not over yet for the legends say, that if this chain would ever break, chaos and darkness would flood into the world, causing the stars to be devoured and the world as we know it to end.”

“This is when the Goddess of Death comes in right?”

“Bingo!” says my grandfather as he snaps his fingers. “In the end, she chose to sacrifice herself by turning into a star so she could make sure that this would never happen. But by weaving herself into the fabric of the heavens, she actually became the embodiment of the entire night sky itself.

From that moment on our night-veiled sky was adorned by not one, but two northern pole stars. The names of those twin northern pole stars, as you probably know, are Tualis and Tuala, meaning Accurser and Accursed respectively.

The fate of the goddess and the betrayer were intertwined, forevermore. For all the stars belong to the night sky, even the Tualis that became a prison for this betrayer, which meant that a part of her essence, part of her very soul now also holds the same chaos and darkness that resides within them. She essentially condemned herself to eternal damnation.”

“That’s very noble and all grandpa, but what does this all have to do with the pastry again?

He silences me with a look. “Hush child. I am getting there,” he says playfully.

“Yeah, well hurry up,” I laugh. “Otherwise our tea will turn cold.”

“So with this imprisonment this terrible time officially came to a close. However, after the end of this Great War the Gods suddenly retreated from man’s sight and to this day no one has ever seen them again. There are many speculations about why exactly they disappeared. Some say that they lost faith in humanity and decided to forsake them, after having been betrayed by some of them in the War. Others believe that the Gods were exhausted from all of the fighting and simply fell into a long slumber, and that they will return someday. But the people of our tribe tell a different story.”

He nods to the pastry in my hand. “Take a bite of it and tell me what you see.”

I look down at the food I am holding. The pastry is cream colored, round-shaped and about the size of the palm of my hand. When I lift it up to my mouth some of the white powder that is dusted on top falls off.

The first thing I notice is that a thick, blood red sauce with a custard-like consistency starts oozing out as soon as I have taken a bite out of it. The flavor of it is neither salty or sour, and little bit sharp. The contrast between the vivid, crimson red of the inside and the clean white outside makes for a kind of eerily combination.

As the contents of the inside starts to ooze out even more it slowly starts to stain parts of the outside as well. It kind of reminds me of…blood stained snow.

“It has a very bittersweet taste to it, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, it really does now that you mention it. But there is something about it that I can’t place. The aftertaste is tinged with this almost sweet, floral like flavor or something.” I lift my head to look at my grandfather. “What exactly is this red sauce made of?”

“Ah, you are right on track with that! The filling is made from the petals of the uummak flower.”

He points to an area on the world map that is hanging on the wall behind us. “Right there, deep in the snowy mountains of our lands, deep in the Nunaat region, is the only place in the world where you can find these flowers. The most interesting part however, is that they only bloom around once a month under the light of a full moon.”

He turns back around.

“To get back to the story behind this pastry… the people of our tribe believe that the Gods disappeared from here, simply because they could not bear to be in a world without their sister. But they were plagued with the same dilemma as their fallen comrade for their immortal nature made it impossible for them to die and for their spirit to travel to Nulangia, the promised home of departed souls.

So what they decided to do was to go to the place in this world which was closest to their sister, who now was a star in the sky. There, beneath a full moon, they each drove a sword into their hearts and, like a star collapsing on itself, their bodies turned cold and eventually winked out of sight.”

“Wait, where did they disappear to then according to this legend?”

“People say that the force of their pain was so great that it caused a rip in the fabric of reality to appear. This is where they went through, going to a place that exists beyond time. There, with the swords still lodged in their hearts, they fell into a deep sleep. It is said that they reside there still, waiting for their long lost sister, who is the only one who can pull the swords from their hearts and relieve them from their slumber.

It is there, in the place where the Gods struck those swords in their hearts, that the first ever uummak flower sprung. Its name roughly translates to ‘heart that bleeds for eternity’ or in the common tongue ‘I have loved and I have lost’. This is why our people believe that, if you meet a person you’ll will never see again, these flowers will bloom along the path.”

He holds up his pastry in the light of the lantern and slowly turns it around. “The white, round outer appearance is made to resemble the full moon and the purity and wholeness that people feel when they are together with their loved ones not having experienced the bitter taste of seperation yet.”

Then, with his hands, he unceremoniously tears the uunmak cake in half promptly causing the red filling to start spilling out. “Only after having tasted the bitter flavor of the inside is one able to truly appreciate the sweet flavor of the outside. It is only through seperation that one can truly know the meaning of union, of oneness.”

He takes a quick bite out of one of the two pieces of cake he is now holding in his hand and leanes back in his chair. Then, so quickly I almost miss it, a pained expression crosses his face. But before I even know it the familiar, carefree almost childlike twinkle already has returned to its rightful place inside my grandfather’s eyes.

“Sorry kid, your grandfather got a bit carried away there. All in all the uummak cake serves as a reminder to appreciate your loved ones while they are still here, because you can never, ever fully know what the winds of tomorrow may bring.”

After his words we sit in silence for awhile drinking our tea and finishing the rest of our food.

With my grandfather’s words still fresh in my mind and the bittersweet taste of the uummak cake on my tongue my thoughts begin to wander through the wild and desolate gardens of my past.

Loss.

Longing.

Despair.

Abandonment.

Is grandfather thinking about her as well in this very moment?

I don’t have many memories of my mother.

I suspect it is probably because she passed away when I was only four years old. Frankly, when it comes down to it, there is not a lot to reminisce about. At best, maybe three, or four memories are vivid enough to occasionally revisit if I feel like it.

The reality is that her existence only takes up a very small part within the fabric of mine.

But for grandpa…

I glance over at him over the edge of my mug. He seems lost in thought, his gaze resting on some point in the distance, as he is absentmindedly sipping on his tea of which, by the way, I am sure of has gone cold by now.

For him there must not be a garden big enough in this world to hold all his memories.

To hold all his grief.

A parent having to bury their own child is as close as one can get to a disruption of the natural order of life itself. I would not wish such a fate upon even my worst enemy.

However, in this moment it also becomes painstakingly clear to me that death is not the only thing that can separate humans from one another. Because, right now, as I am eating the same food, as I am breathing the same air, and as I am sharing the same blood as my grandfather, still he is so very far away from me as he is strolling through the gardens of his own past.

I guess there are more places I can’t reach and more paths I can’t follow than I thought.

But I made a promise to myself. Tonight those sad truths will have to stay buried for a little while longer.

We sip on our lukewarm teas for another few more moments until, out of the corner of my eye, I spot something glistening in a place where that should not be case.

I put my mug down on the desk behind me and stand up to take a closer look.

My grandfather kind of has a obsession with collecting all sorts of ancient astronomical devices. Scattered throughout the room, they cover almost every surface. His collection ranges from small astrolabes, horologiums and astronomical compendia to enormous orreries and armillary spheres.

His absolute pride and joy however, is a dark walnut longcase clock that stands in the corner of the room, positioned between the bookcase and the wall. It is before this instrument that I currently find myself crouching down.

The strange shimmer that caught my eye just seconds ago lies underneath the clock next to one of its feet, just barely hidden out of sight. I reach out, grab it and hold it in front of my face.

It is a smooth, oval gemstone about the size of a large acorn and, as I turn it in the light, a dazzling kaleidoscope of rainbow colors flash across its transparent body.

“Hey, grandpa,” I call out. “I think I have found that gemstone you dropped earlier.”

I get up and resume my seat besides him. “I don’t recognise it,” I say as I hand the stone over. “Where does it come from?”

“Ah, thank you kiddo,” he exclaims loudly. He also gives a little tug on one of my braids as well.

I scowl at him as I push his hand away “Grandpa! I am not a little kid anymore. How long are you gonna keep doing that?”

“As long as I live kid. Or as long as you have hair on your head. So, forever I guess?” he grins at me.

I roll my eyes at him, hiding my own one behind my hand. “Yeah, yeah grandpa. Sure you do. Now back to this stone.”

“So this little gem here was actually sent to me by a friend of mine who lives in the Xiora Island Region. Don’t know how he manages to live there in all that blasted heat. It’s hotter than the Fire Gods asshole if you ask me.”

I am sure that if I still was eating one of those uummak cakes I would choked by now for sure.

“He mentioned something about studying the wild cave systems there and, that during one of his explorations, he stumbled upon our little friend here. He never had seen one like this before so he asked me if I could take a look at it.”

“And what’s the verdict? Did you discover anything?”

“Well, when I first had taken a look at it, it seemed like just a regular stone. Except for its beautiful colorful appearance, there was nothing really extraordinarily about it. However, it wasn’t until last night, when I tried using it to do some magic, that I discovered something rather…unusual.”

“You mean like the spell backfired? Or, wait, don’t tell me that it is actually some freaky powerful conduit stone or something?”

“I have to say no to both of these. The thing is, is that I was not able to perform any spell at all with it. The stone was not able to shape or direct any of my magic.”

“But that’s simply not possible. Even when someone is using a gemstone which is not compatible with his or hers magic it still should be able to be used as a conduit. I mean, yes you can’t exactly use powerful spells and the ones you do can use will be a lot weaker, but by no means should it result in a complete unability to use any magic. Are you sure you have tried every type of magic spell?”

“I had the same doubts you have kid, so I contacted my friend and he said he experienced the same exact thing and that this is the reason why he send it to me. He actually wants me to make a Graphein with it.”

“He wants you to make a Graphein, which basically is a tool that enables a mage to enhance their abilities to shape and direct the powers of their magic, and use this gemstone as the conduit for it? When it apparently is unable to do the one thing that a Graphein is supposed to do?”

“I think he wants to test out some theory of his, but he has not yet told me what it is about exactly. So for now I am just focusing on making a Graphein with this stone. Besides, my own curiosity has been piqued as well.”

I have to admit I am getting kind of intrigued too. I mean, is this stone truly incapable of directing any magic?

“How far along are you with the creation process?”

“Not that far. When you walked in I was just about to begin with the sculpting of the gemstone.”

Suddenly the twinkle in his eye starts to burn even brighter.

“Hey kid, what do you say… do you want to lend your old man a hand? It will be a good opportunity as well to see if your crafting skills have improved since the last time I saw you work.”

I can feel the corners of my mouth curl up to form my first genuine smile of today.

“Always,” I beam at him.

Ever since the invention of the so called Magical Technology most Grapheins are mass produced in huge factories owned by various corporations. However, my grandfather still makes them by hand which is a very intricate and time consuming process. I naturally developed an interest in this as well whilst watching him work as I was growing up.

When he gifted me with my first crafting tools on my tenth birthday I was over the moon with excitement. And I have to say that since then I have gotten pretty skilled at it. I mean, I am not near as good as him, but still better than most people I know.

But that, to be honest, doesn’t say much.

I mean, how many people nowadays even have time to spend on stuff like this when they are busy enough with other things like school, work, and having a social life.

But in my life that is all I have. Nothing but time, and time, and even more time.

However, even if people do have the time not many are interested in dedicating it to the making of items by hand anyways, because these days you can just buy everything you want for cheap in any regular shop down the street.

My grandmother often expresses that she has no clue why my grandfather decided to dedicate his life to something that has no future, that soon probably will fade away from this world.

He always gives her the same answer.

“Because it’s fun.”

This never fails to infuriate her even more. “That can’t be it!” she would reply. “That is far too simple. It just doesn’t make any sense.”

I don’t know what he exactly means either with ‘fun’, but I do know that in those moments, whenever I am creating something with my own hands, life seems to hurt just a little bit less.

I wonder, if I continue like this… will there come a day where I do will understand the meaning of my grandfather’s words?

Will I see what he sees?

I don’t know.

For now I will have to make do with moments like this, where my grandfather lets me borrow his eyes and, for a bit, I get to belong to his world.

For the next couple of hours, underneath the watchful eye of an astronomical clock, we keep working on the Graphein together, with still nothing but the candlelight of those two overhanging pendant lamps to guide us through the rest of the evening.

And with every tick of the clock I keep telling myself the same thing over and over again.

I am okay as long as those flames are burning.

I am okay.

I am okay.

I am

It is almost midnight when I finally make my way to my room. Grandpa decided to stay behind in the workshop so he can work some more on the Graphein. Man, I don’t know where he gets the energy from to focus like that for such a long time. I only worked on it for a couple of hours and I am already beat. Maybe the happenings of today are finally catching up to me. I still can’t believe it all worked out in the end. For one second there I thought I would be stuck in that place and stuck with those people forever.

The thing about the Mage Disease though…

I always knew that there must be something wrong with me, but to have this be it…?

Does anything even matter now?

No. Let’s not think about that. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I will be a responsible adult and deal with that matter.

Just for one more night I want to remain oblivious for a little while longer.

Besides that, what difference will one night truly make?

It isn’t like me accepting that reality right now is gonna do anything, because if it is true… then there is literally nothing that can be done anyway.

Sighing, I walk up the stairs that lead to the hallway where my bedroom lies.

Because our house is located at the very top of the hills in this region I have a pretty good view of the city and the mountains and fjords surrounding it. And usually, if the air is not obscured by a thick layer of smog, I can even see all the way over to the Arctic Ocean.

During this time of the year most of it is covered by a thin layer of sea ice.

Isn’t it amazing how this frozen water spends its entire life in the ocean?

It is born in the ocean, it grows in the ocean, and once its time has come it melts back into it again completing its cycle.

It always knows where it has come from, where it will go, and where it will return to.

A simple, but clear existence.

In contrast, the life of humans is nothing but uncertainty and vagueness.

Take our origins for example.

Where does it lie? Is the sea? The stars?

We still don’t know.

Will we ever know?

I am not sure.

Normally I am quite happy with the view I have, but on days like this it isn’t the case at all. For even here, it is almost impossible to escape the reminder of its nature. So the first thing I do when I open the door to my room is to walk over to my window to close it.

I am not even halfway across it when the sounds of children laughing and playing, people drinking, dancing and celebrating with their family and friends, already reaches my ears.

As I am closing my blinds, I spot my neighbors walking down the street, holding hands together with their three year old daughter. They must be heading down the steps just like everyone else, considering its almost time for the Frost Flowers to bloom and the fireworks to begin.

If there is one thing I have learned after the incident is that things always look better from afar.

Take this city for example. From far above it looks absolutely ethereal covered with this eternal white quilt of snow. But the closer you get the more it becomes clear that the snow actually never is a true shade of white.

Sometimes it’s better to love something, to admire something from a distance. At least then you can keep the illusion of its beauty alive.

So when I look at the sight of my neighbors and their daughter I choose to ignore the shadows that they are casting onto the street.

I quietly finish closing my blinds, and turn around to take a look at my room.

My bed is in the same unmade state as I left it in this morning, and scattered around lie a bunch of dirty clothes. I grab some clothes that are closest to me and walk over to my bathroom.

Without flicking the lights on I quickly change into them. Then I cover the mirror that is hanging over the sink with the clothes I wore today.

After brushing my teeth I walk back into my room where I climb into my bed, pull the covers over my head and curl up unto my side.

After a few minutes of unsuccessfully trying to fall asleep I sit back up.

What should I do… maybe work on some designs?

I look over to my right, where piles and piles of unfinished sketches lie spread across my desk, and quickly decide not to.

I lie back down again and stare at the ceiling. I really am not into the mood to read or anything like that…

Wait…maybe they are still broadcasting the final of the Gravball World Cup Tournament game.

I throw my covers off and walk over to get my Magitek Device from my backpack that I left on the chair in front of my desk earlier.

Once back in bed I unlock it and go over to the home screen where I click on the icon that says ‘Gravball Live TV’.

A screen pops up in front of me.

Do you want to enable holographic mode?

Yes / No

Okay, it seems that the game is not over yet, since the live stream is still going on. Wow, that means that they have been playing for over six hours already.

I know from experience that the Holographic Mode is not free for huge events like this and I am not really in the mood to pay for something that I am not sure I will be able to even enjoy anyways.

I click on ‘No’ and sit back against my pillows as the live feed fills my screen.

“-still recovering from that absolutely beautiful goal from the captain of the Repun Sea Cats, number 77 Arum Lily Lee!

But no matter how dazzling that goal was I am afraid it simply won’t be enough. With only two minutes left on the clock and a score of 11-8 in favor of the Nadraki Desert Lions it seems that this match is..”

I used to love watching Gravball. Matter of fact the Repun Sea Cats was my favorite team.

I don’t think that there is a child in the world today that has not once dreamed of becoming a Gravball player. Myself included.

Gravball is a sport played within an enclosed football field-sized stadium and the entire arena has its gravity reduced to almost zero so that the players can fly through the air to hit the ball. It is played by two teams with a maximum of five active players for each side allowed in the field at once. But the most fascinating aspect of it is that the players wear a special magitek suit that converts their life force into pure, unfiltered raw magical energy.

This makes Gravball the only place in the world where you are not limited to your magic class. Inside the dome everyone is equal so status does not matter. This is what makes the sport so very popular and a lot of people from all kinds of classes in society dream of making it into this sport and reaching the ultimate top.

The Gravball World Cup takes place every three years and this year it is held in the Republic of Atlantia. The final game always coincides with the last day of what is universally known as the Week of Remembrance.

In this week each day is dedicated to one of the Gods. Their names are Eostre Goddess of the Earth and Creation, Aodh God of Fire and War, Temu God of Water and Ruler of the Seas, Cebrail God of the Wind and Messenger of Spring, Leto Goddess of Death and Darkness, and Khrysos God of Light and the King of the Gods.

Each of the four minor Gods rules over one of the Cardinal points, so in the northern regions of the world, which is where I live, the god Temu is worshipped.

But the two gods of darkness and light don’t have a general place assigned to them and are universally worshipped, especially the King of the Gods, Khrysos, and in the case of the Goddess of Death Leto, universally feared.

After honoring each god individually on each day of this week, the last day is where the people pay tribute and commemorate what is considered to be the most important event in history.

The day all of humanity was gifted with magic.

Something peculiar happened in the years after the War. Slowly people started showing magical capabilities which was very unusual, considering that before the War the only humans who were capable of any magic at all where the direct descendants from the Gods. This caused many to believe that the Gods did not abandon humans at all, but instead decided to bestow upon them something very special. That is, somehow without being biologically related to them, they managed to gift humanity with magic. Many believe this is the reason why they disappeared and this is what people celebrate today all around the world of Eorbe.

The Great Sacrifice of the Gods.

Our people call it Hyggsdag.

For me it’s just another day to get through.

Through the cracks between the blinds of my window the light of the exploding fireworks still manages to find their way into my world where it periodically illuminates the entire room in a myriad of colours.

Almost as if someone, in slow motion, is flicking the light switch of the world on and off.

I put my Magitek Device down and lay it next to me. Then I pull the covers over my head and curl up unto my side facing the wall.

The last couple of years of my life I have no consciousness memory of. Everything is just.. immersed in this sea of grey meaningless particles. In the past I often wondered if the reason for this state was that maybe I was keeping myself trapped with those unrealistic desires of mine. So I tried to get rid of them and live life just like anybody else. For awhile it seemed to go well. I even went to a public school and made friends for the first time, but then… everything crashed down.

Have you ever seen a dead tree?

On the outside it just looks just like any other normal tree, but on the inside it is already rotting, slowly decaying and being eaten away. There’s nothing left to support it so one firm shove can send it completely crashing down.

I feel like that is exactly what happened to me.

In the blink of an eye my entire life had collapsed like a house of cards.

I am no stranger to this.

I have experienced it before with the death of my mother.

When grandpa suddenly fell ill.

But this time it was different.

This time I couldn’t get up.

The thing is I think I have already died. I am already dead.

I am just slowly rotting away, like that dead tree… just waiting for this all to be over.

However, I don’t even know when that will happen for I have no capability to make myself disappear.

So here I am, doomed to endure this excruciating way of existing.

Before I at least used to feel someway towards this state, but these days I don’t feel anything towards anything anymore. If it is me that is broken or if the world that is broken, or if this is the way humans are supposed to be I just can’t seem to care anymore. I can’t even care about the fact that I don’t care.

Right now I am just mindlessly going through the motions of daily life… just trapped in this seemingly endless moment of pure nothingness where I am unable to look forward or backward.

The truth is that I have absolutely nothing to live for.

Nothing to wake up for.

“I can’t believe this, this is- folks we are witnessing history here tonight. History I tell you! Number 23 of the..”

Outside, as the whole world starts to explode into thousand fold celebration, I close my eyes and let myself sink down into the depths of the vast and dark ocean that draws its breath within the walls of my being.

Its pull is getting stronger and stronger with each passing day.

I used to be afraid of it.

Now I am more afraid about the fact that its vast embrace is starting to feel more like home than my actual home ever did.

That I feel more like drowning when I am wide awake and breathing.

I wonder if this is the same pull that those ancient gods felt so long ago.

What kind of creature can keep a god awake at night?

Or more importantly…

What could make a god decide to never want to wake up again?

I think I know. For it is the same one that has been visiting me. Calling me.

Maybe they did not disappear from the world because they forsakened humanity, or because they missed their lost sister.

Maybe they simple chose to finally answer that call from the depths of their own inner seas.

Maybe that’s why they sank into a deep slumber, an eternal sleep.

Not because they got tired from all the fighting.

No.

Because they got tired from all the living.

“it’s decided people! It’s officially over! I can’t believe I am about to say this but –“

I wonder what it would be like….to fall into an eternal slumber.

After all…life isn’t all that great when you have nothing to life for.

“…THE WINNER OF THE 36TH GRAVBALL WORLD CUP…”

Ah, I really hope that this time I will dream a dream…

…that will last..

” …ARE THE RAPUN SEA CATS!!”

…forever.