Thank the gods, it does exist!
Morga's feet were blistered, and her knees were sore. The holes in her shoes made them look like no more than sandals. Yet she made it. The legendary Temple of Thoughts stood across the chasm.
The blossoms of the black-wooded trees flickered with white, energy that cooled her sweaty skin. Ahead birds with burning, violet eyes flew. and three-headed snakes as black and shiny as onyxes slithered by. A humming of bugs sounded like the gentle rushing of water.
Morga never would have seen such creatures and beautiful sights had she not said the right enchanting words in front of the Great Stone of Memoria.
Back in the natural realm, Morga Featherstone's memory was robbed from her when she was eight. Her memory only went as far back as the day Bernard and Mira, an old couple that lived near the sea, found her sleeping alone on a beach.
She lived a mundane, normal life until she reached the age of thirteen. She found she could move things without touching them. They were only small things, though; spoons and forks, fruit, and feathers. She could heal the injuries of man, beast, and even the plants the sprang from the earth.
She stroked the stem of a wilted flower and color rushed back into its petals, and it bloomed happily, attracting nearby busy honeybees. When Mira cut her finger chopping vegetables in the kitchen when she kissed the little wound, it sealed up within seconds.
"I knew there was something special about you, my dear," Mira had told her.
A fisherman who lived near Bernard and Mira talked about the Great Stone of Memoria. Legends have been told of its healing powers, even to those who were old and possessed wandering, failing minds. She set out to see the artifact.
When she found it, which sat in a grove outside of a nearby city, she praised it for its beauty. The stone was ten feet tall, painted ocean-blue. Countless runes were carved into its surface. Many have passed by it over the years, a local told her. The natives worshipped it as some sort of gateway to the paradise where all kinds of spirits frolicked and played. Noblemen and women have had weddings in front of it, and children used it as an advantage for a game of hide-and-seek.
But Morga knew the secret. She could hear its subtle echo. Perhaps it was due to her powers maturing that she felt such a sensation. One night, at around midnight, Morga could not sleep, so she returned to the rock. An old woman of the native blood happened to be sitting by it. She seemed to sense that Morga was special and had a rare understanding of the stone.
"You hear the Temple of Thoughts," the old woman said with a sad smile, "don't you, sweetling?" She gestured her to come over.
"Temple of Thoughts?" Morga asked as she sat beside her.
"This beautiful stone," the old woman said as she ran her bony fingers through the grooves of one of the runes carved into it, "is the Great Stone of Memoria. My people, the Shamans of Roh'ar, believed it was a portal to the heavens, but it is not. It is a place of memory and power. Blessed are you that you can hear it as well!" She kissed and caressed her hand. "Do you seek lost memories?"
Morga was taken aback by this.
"How do you know?" she inquired.
"The stone shows me," the old woman answered, "you are a frequent visitor. I apologize if this startles you, but it is my job. I am its guard."
"Am I," Morga began, "permitted to enter? The Temple that is."
A place of memory and power, could this place restore my memories?
At the corner of her eye, she thought she saw something. When she snapped her head to its direction, there was no one. Ever since the stone spoke to her, she felt she wasn't the only one watching the stone. She thought it may have been this old woman who finally decided to reveal herself, yet ...
"Yes," the old woman nodded, "of course, it calls you, after all. To enter all you must do is this," she made a shape in the air: a spiral and, after drawing the center of it, she drew up to it's beginning, swiped left and diagonally to the bottom right. "Then you say the words: O Memoria, ghis va'ha trys de mia."
O Memoria, ghis va'ha trys de mia, Morga said in her head.
She did as the old woman told her. She stood a foot away from the stone and did the mark in the air. However, when she performed it, white light spilled from her fingertips, leaving a trace of the shape. Startled, she almost misdrew the shape, but she succeeded. Then she said the words loudly:
"O Memoria, ghis va'ha trys de mia!"
The runes of the stone glowed with angelic light, then cracks rippled through its stony surface. At first, Morga thought it would burst and cause her harm, the light becoming blinding, but instead, it slowly floated apart. The cracks multiplied quickly, chunks of stone becoming pebbles and pebbles becoming fine sand until it became a cyclone of dust and light.
But as the dirt swirled the foundation of a structure within began to form. All the dust settled into a great archway, and within a building, Morga guessed was the Temple of Thoughts. Structures with white walls and gold-brimmed rooves sat on the side of a cliff, swathed with green treetops.
She walked passed the threshold and the image before here became more than just something sweet to the eyes.
After a few miles of walking to the temple, she heard the sound of footsteps behind her. She looked behind her but saw that there was nobody there.
"Argh!" a voice from behind a tree grunted, "Get off me! Damn bird!"
It appears someone was following her. Some buffoon was fighting off a magnificent bird, it's lurid cerulean and magenta wings buffeting the odd fellow below it.
Morga, when she was done laughing, attempted to help him. Once she healed a fawn with a broken leg and for some strange reason, the doe approached her without fear. Perhaps she could soothe animals and now was a good time to test this theory.
She whispered and raised her hand slowly to the big bird, and it flew to her and rested upon a branch above her.
"How'd you do that?" the buffoon, a swarthy man wearing a dirty leather jerkin and a long scarf that wrapped around his neck, asked. He appeared to be eighteen years old, about her own age.
"Why are you following me?" she answered with a question.
"Oh, well ... I mean, we both have our reasons."
"That's not an answer."
"Reasons for being here I mean."
"Oh, I'm sorry. Are you looking for your memories as well?" Morga took on a more sympathetic tone.
"Yes," he conceded, "When I was little, I was with my father when our wagon slid off the side of a hill one rainy night. I was the only survivor. The only thing I lost was my memory."
"Oh my," Morga said.
"It is hard for my mother and siblings, loving me but me, unable to love strangers like them. I hear my father was a great man. I just want to remember. It is all I want."
"I understand," Morga placed a hand on his shoulder, "it seems the stone calls us both!"
"I suppose it does," said the man.
"I'm Morga Featherstone," Morga introduced.
"Byzun Iravani," responded the man.
Morga saw that in one hand, he held a crossbow, bolt ready to fire.
"May I ask what that is for?" Morga said, pointing to the weapon.
"Honestly," Byzun said awkwardly, scratching the nape of his neck, "I thought you were some kind of witch, doing all those strange things with the lights and such. I didn't want to get turned into a toad or anything." He laughed weakly, hoping he didn't insult her too much.
"Maybe I am," she said with a smile.
"Heh, well, you would have the advantage either way. Since I am being honest, I've never fired one of these things bef—"
Byzun accidentally gripped the trigger and loosed the bolt. The bolt struck a tree, of which the force disturbed something behind it. Something large and fierce.
"Oh gods," Byzun said to Morga, his face turning beet-red, "you must think me an utter fool."
The shape emerged from the thick weeds and bushes and stepped into the light.
"Its a bear!" shouted Byzun.
"Its a lizard!" screamed Morga.
Neither of them was necessarily wrong: the creature looked to be the offspring of both creatures, though more massive and overfed then even a bear.
"Morga," entreated Byzun, "quick, do that thing, again!"
Morga was ahead of him, yet this beast would not be placated. Its nature was not that of any animal she had come across. This one burned with pain, anger, and hatred. It did not bare its fangs out of hunger, fear, or Byzun's disturbance, but out of malice for the creatures before it.
"Run," said Morga quietly.
"What did you say?" asked Byzun as he fumbled with a bolt.
"Run, Byzun, run!" she screamed.
Byzun dropped his bolt when Morga grabbed his wrist suddenly and started running with him. Running through the brushes and wildflowers, the beast followed close behind, teeth snapping and growling. They did not get too far. A great fallen tree had blocked their path.
"What now?" asked Byzun frantically.
"I'll try to reach it again," said Morga.
"Yes! buy me some time," said Byzun as he pulled out another bolt to load into his crossbow.
I can't do it, thought Morga. Though, as she tried to soothe the monster, she found herself succumbing to its tragedy. This was not just some evil spirit. So much pain ... what are you ... who were you?
She felt faint and fell to her knees.
"Morga!" Byzun shouted from behind.
She lifted her head to see the dark fiend standing over her. It raised a gnarled paw to swipe at her, but it hesitated. A glimmer of humanity lingered in its glowing red eyes.
Please, don't ... You know you don't want to.
The white, hot bolt that struck its chest sent it crashing to the ground, its fur burning. It reminded Morga of a dead pine tree that was struck by lightning.
"Stay back, young ones!" shouted a man's voice from above the fallen tree's trunk, "my bolt may not have been enough."
Above, their savior, a gaunt old man with a long grey beard and hooded white and gray robe clambered down the deadwood.
"Please be gentle with him," pleaded Morga, "he has suffered enough."
"I know, dear," said the old man kindly and solemnly, "I know."
He approached the beast. He clasped his hands together, bowed, said something that set his hands ablaze with bluish-white fire. He raised his palms over the dying creature and the flames leaped from his palms in tendrils and pierced through the wild fur and flesh.
The beast ceased its writhing and somehow looked to be in peace as dissolved into mist.
"You've saved us," said Morga, "thank you. Might I ask who you are?"
"My name is La Ha Xi," the old man said as he slid the hood of his scalp, revealing long, peppered hair. His eyes were dark and almond-shaped, and rings of gold pierced his ear lobes. "You may call me 'Old Man Xi' if you wish," He said smiling warmly, "it is what my grandchildren's friends call me."
"You like being called 'Old' all the time?" Byzun said blatantly.
Morga gave him a baleful glance and Byzun shrugged.
"Ah, it is never what becomes of this body that frightens me, young one," Xi looked to the sky, "but it is what becomes of the mind of the ones you love."
Xi seemed to know what Morga may have asked him, and he responded accordingly.
"Yes, I too seek memories, though not for my sake. My wife remembers not my face or her children. When the affliction began, I retold the stories of our love and the children that sprouted from it, every week or so, but as time marched on, she could not even remember what I told her the day before." He watched the mist float into the sky. "All the memories of men and women in history rest here. We are all connected in this way, to be sure. Perhaps it is where we all come from but abandoned long, long ago."
"You know a lot, Old Man Xi," said Byzun dispassionately, "you probably know where the Temple of Thoughts is, yes?"
"Byzun," criticized Morga.
"Oh! I ramble," Xi said giggling, "my apologies. Yes, follow me. Allow me to help you further."547Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡd1l7JVMcgu
They followed La Ha Xi through the woods, the sunset-like sky giving the forest a warm tinge of orange and violet.
When they reached the steps to the entrance of the temple, Morga asked him a question.
"How did you know how to get here," asked Morga politely, "and your powers to free that beast, are you a Shaman of Ro'har?"
"You could say so," said Xi, "to the people of my homeland, I am what is called a Xan-Xan, but we both seem to hear the call of the same gods, though they go by different names. The people of this land call it Memoria, correct? Well, The Xan-Xan on the Isles of Kathi, call this place Zhi Feng Zi Ba, or the Womb of Zhi, a place of memory and power."
"I see," said Morga. Do all creeds and cultures truly look to the same gods and heavens?
"Yes, and it is we, the Xan-Xan who guide humans who have returned to be blessed by this vary temple's healing powers."
"So you've made this journey before?" asked Byzun.
The old man nodded. 547Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJzuzJZ8Se2
"Yes," said Xi "but this is the first time I seek its help myself!"547Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMAvQtAEnrn
Byzun looked impressed by this.547Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvBwQRBDNdc
They made their way up and up. The stairs were covered with rich scarlet fabrics. On the walls ran bars of gold, so pure and shiny, it was as if though no man's hand touched it to craft it.
They came upon the chamber of what La Ha Xi called, translated to the common tongue, Cradle of the Soul. Within was a great tree growing indoors: white as doves the branches, leaves, and fruit were. 547Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWruPGVR7vj
There were countless fruits among its smooth branches, and they all had different shapes. Some were the shape of pears. Others were small and round like a grape. There was even one shaped like a pyramid.
"So," asked Byzun, "do we just pick one, bite into it regain our memories? I'm making a guess."
"You are not wrong," Xi allowed, "but all you must do is choose the one that calls out to you."
"Calls out, you say? What—"
Morga suddenly gasped and approached the tree.
"I hear it," she said, "like when I first heard it when I walked past the stone before!"
It was different, yet in a better way, as if though, before, it was like a muffled song, but now it was clear enough to make out the words. The fruit that summoned her was in the shape of an apple, hanging from the lowest branch. It responded to her attention by turning a fiery red, making it look like a stain on the colorless tree.
"Oh my," said Xi falling to his knees, "Oh my, oh my ... gods ... young lady." Xi was so overcome by emotion that she strangely could not tell if he was afraid or in bliss. "Young lady, you are to be the Anima?"
"What do you mean, Xi?" She felt uncomfortable. Surely she felt special as Mira told her, but to see Xi quiver before her, she did not know what this meant for her. And that is what frightened her.
"Go on," Xi said, still on his knees, "you must. You will understand once you take your lost memories. Memories as old as time itself!"
The sound of string straining to her right caught her attention.
Byzun had his crossbow aimed at her heart.
"Don't move," Byzun commanded
"Byzun," Morga said softly, "What are you doing?"
"I need that fruit. We need that fruit."
When Morga made a step towards him to calm him, he back-stepped.
"I mean it, Morga," he said coldly, "I don't want to kill you but I will."
"Why are you doing this? Surely your memory is here too? Do you not feel it summoning you?"
"I'm not special, like you," muttered Byzun.547Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSwTz5y7Qd6
"A Locust of Dashil," explained the ever-wise La Ha Xi, "so it has come to this ..."547Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXfAj30gugR
"So I need not explain myself? To you at least?"
"Please," Xi begged, "do not do this, this power is sacred. It mustn't be used for destruction and evil!"
"Shut your rotten mouth!" snapped Byzun. "Evil? It is justice. The Vilitansi sent their Iron Vandyls to my village. All we did was raise sheep, but nevertheless they treated us like their most hated enemies."
He turned to Morga.
"My father wasn't killed falling from his wagon. Do you want to know what really happened, and what they did to him? They Vandyls tortured him with flame and needle. As for my mother ... my sister ... they ... I can still hear those Vandyls laughing!" A tear ran down an eye. He wiped it off his cheek, uttering a curse at his weakness. He forced a smile. "Imagine what weapons we could invent with all this knowledge. The Vilitansi will pay for what it did. All of them. Every man and woman that cheered on those marching Vandyls. They are all diseased, they must be. Every one of them infected by their corrupt king to tolerate such vileness."
"Byzun ..." said Morga.
"I'm sorry I lied to you. I snuck in behind you after I saw you walk through the portal," said Byzun sincerely. "I need to do this."
Byzun walked to the red apple. Morga tried to use her powers to pull him, but a man was far to heavy for her abilities.
"Don't strain yourself, Morga," Said Old Man Xi, "without the fruit, you can't stop him with the essence you currently have."
"Interesting," said Byzun, eavesdropping, "and you cannot strike me down either?"
"My studies have been for healing and cleansing the dark beasts, never for compulsion against humans," responded Xi.
"Ridiculous," said Byzun with more anger than criticism in his voice, "if we are to discover the secrets of your sacred art as well, I cannot promise you we will avoid the latter."
When Byzun took the apple into his hand, he dropped his crossbow, mesmerized by its power.
"Perhaps it does summon me," Byzun said bringing the fruit close to his face. He held his head as if in pain, but then he made a mischievous grin. "What is this you are showing me?" he said to the apple. "These sights ... Vilitans in flames ... their people in chains ... how exciting!"
Old Man Xi took her by the wrist.
"We must go, young Morga," whispered the old man, "he intends to bite it. And he, a man with so much hate and pain in his heart ..."547Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡD1IBJBb2Fk
Byzun began to laugh like a madman.547Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJjBEGTCQoF
"Could these be my dreams made real, sweet fruit? No ... memories of a future yet to come." Byzun brought the sacred fruit to his lips.
"Byzun!" Morga's screams did not stop him from biting. 547Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTZ6zkTKlhY
The apple turned black and so did the tree as it withered away. Cankers bulged from the trunk and wraiths like midnight smoke rushed out of them, singing songs of fear, sadness, terror, cruel humor, and hatred.
"Your fate as the Anima has altered, it seems," Xi said more to himself in deep thought than to Morga herself, "To alter fate? How is this even possible?"
The Temple of Thoughts shook, the quake making the white walls crack and the lights within die out. 547Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRVN130tE75
"Hold onto me, Morga," urged Xi.
Xi made a glowing shape in the air and said his enchanting words. A halo of light appeared above them and floated down to their feet. It shot its essence upwards, engulfing them. Morga shut her eyes hard to keep from being blinded, and when she opened them she was back in the realm of man. 547Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMXHExbm3cr
The great archway still stood where it was, but there was no portal within.
"What happened to Memoria?" Morga asked Old Man Xi frantically.
The old man did not answer, stuck in an astonishing gaze. Morga followed his eyes and she understood his stupor.
Massive growths of black stone and earth now stood where, before, stood nothing but ocean. The new island bled lava into the ocean, which made clouds of steam on the water's surface. On the highest parts of the towering rock was a structure that looked just like the Temple of Thoughts, yet in a way it was different. The white walls were now black as coal, and the rooves were thorny and gleamed red like battle-stained spearheads. The treetops were now red as wine. Whisps of dark orbs circled around the towers, a new addition, that looked like giant nails hammered into the corrupted stone.547Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqdH6otAOWb
"Is this," Morga whispered, lost in disbelief, "Memoria?"
"Yes and no, young lady," said Old Man Xi.
"I don't understand."
"The place we call Memoria is but one facet of a coin. You have seen it, a place of wonders and peace. The other side is what we see before us, a place of agony and terror. That beast that attacked you and Byzun ... It came from there originally."547Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuuHvaZkoKL
"Does this realm have a name, Xi?"
"Yes," said Xi, "Diabolica."547Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtqoUml3rZt
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