The cold rips through me, clawing at my naked body and numbing my mind. I force myself to rise up, and walk on through the burning ice on my freezing feet, each step stinging. I still have all the Stones in my hands, and they dig into my exposed skin as I hold them as tight as I can, my fist raised to my chest. I walk a few steps. And then I take a few more steps. I force myself forwards. And forwards. And forwards still. I ignore the pain as I trudge through the snowy lands, hoping to make it to a settlement of some sort. I don’t know how long I walk for but I keep going on and on though my protesting body wants to curl up in on itself.
I’m in Savela, so I concentrate on the Stones in my hand, and I ask them to transform me. I focus on channeling my power through the Stones, on connecting to the power that they have, to the power that we all have. And I focus all my energy towards my plea of transformation. I learned illusion magic from Arji. Many magic spells are still alive and well, kept in secret. I have to hide from the Empire. I have to make them think me dead. And it’s working. It’s all working. I feel my body changing, shifting, transforming into something new. I look down, and see blue skin instead of my original purple. I smile.
All at once the world around me spins, and the next thing I know everything goes dark.
I wake up and I’m still cold but I’m less cold than before. I’m in some sort of dark room. There is warmth near my feet. I push myself up off the ground and see that there is a small fire there, in the middle of the little room I’ve found myself in, and I’m dressed in a light jacket and fur pants, with a worn-down quilt on top of me. The room smells faintly of smoke and I can hear the wind howling outside.
A little child with skin the colour of shadows on snow opens the rickety door, and the room floods with light. She’s wearing a light jacket and her cheeks are dark blue with cold. She has a baby in her arms, maybe nine months old, who is wrapped in a ratty blanket. She comes in and closes the door behind her.
“Hi,” she whispers to me, smiling.
“Hi,” I say back to her.
“We found you naked and you were fainted. But you’re awake now. That’s good. You didn’t die.”
“So I didn’t. What’s your name, young one?”
“Kailee. And this is baby Abilee. What’s your’s?”
“My name is Ikkia. It’s an honour to meet you both.”
“Thanks. It’s an honour too.”
“Thank you.” I smile at them, and baby Abilee coos at me, reaching a hand out.
“Where are you from?” Kailee asks.
“Originally I’m from Anookia but I lived most of my life in the Home Planet.”
Her eyes go wide at hearing this.
“I’m … what’s it like on there?”
“I don’t know what it’s like for the others, but for me it was very lonely. It’s a very big place with a lot of nice things, but you can’t enjoy any of it because you’re always thinking about what the Imperials want from you.”
“I’m sorry. That sucks. But you can live with us now. We’ll take care of you.” Her eyes are hopeful. The baby is crawling around on the floor.
“Thank you so much for the offer, Kailee, but I’m afraid that I’ll have to go eventually. I have a mission to do.”
“Ooh, what kind of mission?”
“Do you promise not to tell anyone?”
“Why?”
“You’ll find out. But do you promise not to tell?”
“I promise.”
“I stole the World Stones, and now I’m going to return them to their rightful homes.”
Her eyes go wide as as flying saucers and she doesn’t say anything for a long time.
“You okay?” I ask her gently.
“Are those what you had inside of your hands when the grown-ups found you?”
“Yes. Do you know where they are?” The baby crawls to me and I pick her up.
“Sure. They’re right over here!” She hands me the Stones from a corner of the room.
“Thanks, Kailee. Do you want to hold them?”
“Oh of course!” I pass the stones to her. She looks at them in wonder.
“They’re so normal,” she states.”
“They sure are. That’s good though. It will make them easier to hide.”
“I guess.”
“So what is the date today?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you know what year it is at least?”
“6284.”
“Oh thanks. That means I’ve been away in the wastelands for less than a year.” I have to lie. To keep us all safe.
“You were in the wastelands?”
“I sure was. That’s how I got here.”
“Can I go into the wastelands too?”
“Maybe one day. But right now it’s too dangerous.”
“I’ll go get my friends.”
“You do that. I can’t wait to meet them.”
She brings in a small group of children dressed in clothes that are somewhat warm even though they’re worn out. They’re all so tiny. So young. So sweet. So heartbreaking. They have nothing to look forwards to in their lives except years and years of pain. But hopefully we can change that together. I answer all of their infinite questions and I try to give them the love that had always been denied to me. They seem enraptured in my story. In their eyes I can see the dawning of hope. That’s beautiful. Beyond beautiful. They deserve to have all the hope in the world. And they deserve to have futures filled with true justice.
———
I am sitting in a small room crowded with ten other people, including two babies being passed around from person to person. I have Savela’s Stone in my hand. I am handing it to the person beside me so that they can hold it and get a good look at it, and pass it to someone else.
“Hide this. Pass it on to all your people. Don’t let the Empire know what it is.” I keep my voice soft so that it won’t be heard beyond the confines of the room.
“Thank you for doing this,” a darker blue teenaged girl by the name of Addalfi tells me. “I can’t … I can’t describe how much this means to me. How much hope you’ve given me.” Her voice is bright and jubilant. But there is a hint of secretive darkness inside of it as well. A hint of glory-darkness.
“Yes,” and older man, Falay speaks out, “it’s glorious, what happened. I can’t believe it.” He is worn out from a long life of work, of pain, of too much work and of too much pain. But there is something youthful in his voice and his face and his eyes. Something that feels like a bird taking its first tentative, faltering flight.
“I can’t believe it either,” a man in his twenties, named Anaray, speaks. “I still don’t believe it. I don’t believe it will be enough to stop them.” Melancholy. What I feel emanating from him is melancholy. His eyes are haunted. His tone is haunted. I can tell that he has lived through something that has taken his fighting spirit.
“What do you mean?” a young child named Laia asks. “Why won’t it be enough?” Their words are tentative. Hope and fear mixed into them in equal parts. They are asking because they are terrified. And because they have faith.
“Because,” Anaray starts, “the Empire is so powerful. We might have the World Stones, we might be able to channel our magic, but the Empire still has so much energy, they have so much technology, they have so many soldiers and weapons and wealth. How will we be able to go against them?”
The room is quiet while everyone takes in his words, letting them soak through their minds. I can see that the light in peoples’ eyes is fading. Ever so slightly, but still fading. It hurts my heart to see this. My people deserve hope. They deserve hope. And after all I’ve done and all I’ve risked to give them hope, I won’t let it be taken away. Not so easily. Not by their own doubts and fears.
“The Empire is strong, I definitely agree with that,” I begin, “but we are stronger. We have more power than them. They may have so much power. They may be able to keep us down. Temporarily. For now. But we have more power than them and we can defeat them.” My voice rings confident and clear out throughout the room, and some of the children smile.
“How do we have more power than them?” a young boy named Coltay asks. I can tell by the way he speaks these words that he believes me. That’s good. I need as many people on my side as I can get.
“Because, we have a burning, raging power inside of us. All of us, we have this power. A power that is forged in pain and love and love and pain. We have something inside of us, something inside all of us, which is much bigger than anything that the Empire has. It’s stronger than anything the Empire can do. It’s stronger than all the stars in the galaxy put together and it is all the stars in the galaxy put together.”
“How do you know this?” the man asks, longing laced into his words. Everyone looks at me expectantly but their eyes seem as if they understand.
“Because, when I was in the void I experienced it all. I was put face to face with it all and I learned about the power that we have. It’s a secret, mystical power but it’s inside all of us. It has always been inside all of us. I’m sure you all have felt it before. I’m sure you know of it too, even if you don’t know that you know of it.”
“I know, I feel it,” a little girl named Marilee pipes in, “I feel it all the time.”
“I feel it too,” an woman in her thirties named Hailee agrees, “it’s beautiful, it’s magnificent, and it’s ours. We have a power inside of ourselves that it stronger than all their force. It’s beyond magic. It’s beyond reason. Beyond everything.”
“Exactly,” I say, “you feel it. I’m sure you all feel it. What does it feel like?”
We all talk about that for a long time. We talk about the people’s experiences, and the secret power that underlies theses experiences. We talk about the emotions that we have all felt, and the tangible sources of these emotions as well as the mystical sources of them. We discuss the small ways we have been able to help each other and resist the power of the Empire, and the ways that these are a prelude to larger, more victorious forms of resistance. We talk about how everything we are is a form of resistance, and how we know, we just know that we were meant to resist and we were meant to one day win.
Everyone has a chance to speak and everyone does speak, even the babies who cry and giggle and coo. Everyone has their thoughts voiced, their opinions voiced, their experiences and emotions voiced. Everyone listens to each other, learns from each other, grows from each other. Everyone has their doubts and fears addressed and soothed. Everyone kindles each other’s hope into burning flames of revolution. Flames that are borne of love.
It’s the most glorious conversation that I have ever been a part of.
———
I am in a different neighbourhood now, in a hut that’s nestled beside a different power plant. My skin is still blue. I think I’ll keep it this way for all my travels. I’ll let people believe I’m a different person than I am, so that even if I do get caught, the Empire will have no reason to believe that I’m the same person that fell into the void with the World Stones. They’ll have no reason to believe that the World Stones survived the void.
I am in another hut. All the huts on this planet are roughly the same, made of sheet metal stapled together, with thin strips of insulation between the inner and outer walls to keep out the cold. The insulation never does a very good job at keeping out the cold but it does do something and for that we are all grateful. All the huts are small, and, when the long work days are over, they are packed with people who try to soothe each other’s souls.
Right now I am one of many people, young and less young, packed into the small space, a fire lit in the middle. We are passing around Savela’s World Stone. We are trying to channel our magic into it.
The older people remember the chant, passed down from their elders, who passed it down from their elders, who passed it down from their elders who passed it down from their elders. The chant helps us to channel our magic. We whisper it quietly, secretly, so that there is no chance of the guards hearing us. And we pass around the Stone from person to person, so that everyone has an equal chance to hold it.
“Universe, universe, take us please, Universe,” we chant, over and over again.
I can feel the magic thrumming through me. I can feel it thrumming through all of us. This magic, it’s full of this energy the likes of which I’ve never felt before. The likes of which was always inside of me. And now, in the company of all the people here. I feel myself more strengthened than ever before. This channeling of magic is nothing like the harvesting of magic that the machines do. Instead of leaving you hurt and drained, it makes you feel empowered and whole. It gives you a sense of completeness, a sense of connection, and a sense of joy. Bright joy that is almost, almost too sweet to handle.
It grows inside of me, grows inside all of us, and I can feel it strengthening, feel it strengthening all of us, feel it becoming insurmountable. The energy flows throughout my entire body, throughout my entire soul. Something builds up inside me, and I don’t know what, but it is at the same time so intimate that I know I have never been without it.
All at once, my senses are flooded. In front of me is a flowing tundra, with a thousand miles of sky each and every way I turn. There are vast swathes of snow and ice blowing in the wind. Above me the sun blazes hot and around me the snow blazes bright, burning in the sunlight. It’s cold. It’s cold. But not a piercing sort of cold. This cold flows with energy, flows with freshness, and brings my whole body to life. A snow-white fox scurries.
And the sun sets, and the sky is ablaze with all the colours of a wildfire. There is that deep electric blue of twilight. The blue that is not blue. The blue that is a promise of new beginnings, a promise secrets, a promise of forever birthed by pain. The twilight sets in and above me ravens fly, dark agaainst the darkness, full of an energy that is subtle and secret and sure. The shadows grow longer and longer, as the world becomes as darkened as a secret.
The night sky stretches above me. The moons glow softly in the night. And the stars. Oh the stars. There are billions upon billions of them, all shining in the night. They overcome me. And in them I can see the stories of the people, the stories that have been passed down generation after generation after generation after generation. I can see the wildness that shines forth through us all. And I can see the glory of the gods.
There is a river of light above me, dancing and moving in the nighttime, glowing green, shining blue, hints of yellow woven in to the ever-shifting fabric. The aurora, something I have only heard about in books but never experienced, is both subtle and brilliant at the same time.
The dawn sets in and everything turns white again. The hills in the distance flow white, and there is so much life in the lands all around me, the spirit of life distilled into its most pure form.
I drift out of the trance, and see the amazement of the people all around me. The Stone now is coated in ice, cold to the touch, like a geode encased in rock.
“These were the lands, before the Empire came to them,” a woman whispers, “and these will be the lands of our planet again.”
———
I stand outside the void. The part of the void that stretches through the frozen planet, that connects it with all the other planets that the void stretches through. I take a deep breath. And I swallow down the twinges of fear that I feel. I long to be in the void again. I long to have it plunge into me as I plunge into it. I long to thrum with it, as it vibrates, not vibrates, but that’s the closest thing, as it vibrates through every part of me.
I take a deep breath. And I step in.
Immediately I am overcome by the dark nothingness, by the vast everythingness. But I do not get lost in it. Now I know how to find the threads that make it what it is. Now I know what the void is made of and I know how to pull myself through it. So pull myself through it I do. And I flow through the past, through the present, through the future of countless, infinite lives. And I find my way to a new planet.
——-
I am in the hot, hot lands of Darai now. Still in my Savelian form, for this is what is safest for everyone. If the Empire catches me, they will be content to catch only me, and will leave the colonized planets alone.
The air around me in this darkened metal hut is burning with heat. I have a slight headache because of it. But at least I am not aching and wearied out from a long day at the power plants. I wish I could go with the people. I wish I could hurt and burn alongside them. But it’s too dangerous. I’m not accounted for in the census. The Imperials will open an investigation into me. And we all know that we can’t have that. So I take care of the children while everyone is gone,
I take some sick, twisted solace in the fact that I have my own demons to fight anyways. My past haunts me fiercely.
Right now though, I am surrounded by loved ones. Loved ones I have not known for long, but loved ones anyways. Three-year-old Morell and baby Araldo and young Zara. Youths Aricio, Drayo, and Griali. Armie and the elder Zaberi. We are discussing the World Stones, we are discussing how important it is to keep them secret, we are discussing how much of a game changer they are and how we can hopefully one day win, if we organize ourselves in secret, if we all help each other through the everlasting war.
“I don’t see how it’s worth it though,” Aricio starts. “We should just give back the Stones. It’s the best way to keep us all safe.”
“Give back the stones?” My voice is startled. “But we can keep them safe. We can keep them secret. The Empire doesn’t know about them.”
“But still,” he says, “what if they find out? They’ll destroy us. It’s too much of a risk.”
“They won’t find out,” Zara tells him, “they have no reason to even suspect that there is any chance the Stones are in our hands. And there’s no way anyone would give them a reason to suspect it. We’re not stupid.”
“But what if on the off chance they do find out?” Aricio demands, “What then? We’d all be dead.”
“But is this a life worth living?” Armie asks. “Sure, we’re alive. Our kids are alive. But the Empire, they keep taking everything from us. They keep taking the very essence of who we are. Is that worth it? Living like that?”
“Exactly,” Drayo adds, “what do we have to hope for? Years upon years of the Empire’s exploitation? An early death so that we may finally find peace? Grief that never ends? What do our children have to hope for? The same lives that we have had to live? We have no hope. We don’t even have life. We barely have survival.”
“Exactly,” Zara agrees. “We have nothing. Without hope we have nothing. Isn’t hope worth taking risks for? Isn’t hope worth risking everything for? Because even if we die, we die on our feet. And that’s better than living on our knees.”
“I get it. I get that even death is better than living like this. But I can’t put the children at risk.”
“The children are already at risk,” Zaberi tells him, “they’re already at risk and the only way we can give them anything worth fighting for is to give them hope.”
“The rock is nice,” Morell exclaims, “it’s nice and happy. And it can make us happy and fun!”
“You’re sure right, little one,” I tell them, smiling.
“I agree with you guys, I really do,” Aricio explains, “but I’m afraid.”
“Then let us see the power of our magic. Let us see it for ourselves. And then you will see that there is no reason to fear. You will see we can be quiet under the noses of the Empire until it’s time to destroy them once and for all.”
“Alright. Prove my fear wrong. Please.” There is a pleading sort of desperation in his voice. I can tell that he wants to believe. I can tell that he really, truly wants to believe.
So we all hold hands. We create an unbroken line twisting and snaking its way through the room. The people on each end of the line put one hand on the hot metal walls around us. We are unified. We are united. We are one. And not only are we one with each other, but we are one with everyone outside the hut, everyone outside the neighbourhood, everyone everywhere on the planet and everyone beyond. I can feel our line reaching out, reaching out, lacing in all the people who are under the boot of the Empire, all the people everywhere. I can feel us all coming together and joining hands within the silence of our hearts. And it’s magnificent.
We hum softly, melodically, quiet in the sweltering heat all around us. Slowly, one by one, we start chanting. The chant of Darai, the chant passed down from generation to generation, the chant that was not forgotten even though the World Stone had been lost, had been captured, had been enslaved for hundreds of long, devastating years. The people still remember the chant, and the generations before them still made sure to pass down the chant, because they clung to hope. They clung to hope and hope is something worth clinging to and now their hope is on the verge of coming to fruition.
“The galaxy, the galaxy, it lives in me it lives in me. The galaxy, the galaxy, it lives in all of us,” we speak, over and over again.
I feel the power blooming to life within me. It is such an utterly glorious sensation. I am at peace. I am at home. The entire galaxy is my home. All the huts of all the slaves are my home. And we are all at home together. We are all at home within each other. And we are, all of us, one big unending family reaching out throughout all the eight planets and forwards and backwards in time for eons. The World Stone binds us together. It binds us together, and it shows each and every one of us how we are bound together, in love and in pain and in joy and in fear. In hope and in promise and in longing.
With all of us bonded together, we can rely upon each other for strength and support and power. We all have an infinite source of power within ourselves. And we are, all of us, all the time, loving each and every one of the slaves scattered throughout the galaxy. And that love multiplies our power infinitely. It multiplies our power exponentially. And here, holding hands with my comrades, I can see it. I can see it. We can all see it. And hopefully it’s enough to uproot the most stubborn of our fears.
I allow myself to fall into the visions that the World Stone is granting me. The visions of Darai, the desert planet, as it used to be before the Empire came, before the Empire took over, before the Empire destroyed. For, as we all are coming to see, the wildness and the freedom of Darai, of all the planets, still exists under the surface. It still exists under the surface of industrialization and domination and desecration. And it is just waiting to be unleashed into the world.
In front of me a desert stretches. Vast and bright and glaring. Hot. But not in a painful way. Not in a discomforting way. Hot in a way that is overwhelming, pressing, holding. In a way that is almost too much and not nearly enough both at the same time. The sky is bright blue. It is eternal. It goes on and on infinitely in each and every direction. The ground is bright brown, a lightened colour made from eons of the suns glaring down. And the suns themselves, they are glorious burning fires above everything.
A desert falcon soars above me, regal and untamed and magnificent.
The suns set, coating the sky and the earth in fire. They coat the world in colours. And the shadows become longer and longer, darker and darker, deeper and deeper, as the sunset goes on. The cacti stand strong and tall and unbowed, full of thorns to protect themselves from the bite of any predator. They hold the water and give it to the people. The sand glows orange. And then, when twilight graces the sky with its deep electric blue, it seems as if the world is coated in fire smoke.
The stars reach on for miles and miles every which way above me, as far as the eye can see. I see the trail of lightness in the sky, the subtle, ever-so-slight lightness that each planet calls a different name. And I see millions of tiny beacons of hope, beacons that still exist in the darkness to this day, no matter how much the city lights have caused them to fade from our view. I see what our ancestors, the ancestors of Darai, the ancestors of all the slaves here, saw. And I see what the descendants of these people will see.
The sun comes up again, once again coating the sky in light and colours, and I am one with the way that time turns as the planets themselves turn.
“Do you have faith now?” I ask our nonbeliever once the trance is over.
“I do,” he answers, eyes and voice full of awe and wonder.
“We will make it all nice again!” Morell chimes.
The Stone is on fire in front of us. It is on fire but it is not consumed.
———
I am in the dark planet now. Velasi. The planet on the edges of its solar system, far from its sun and bathed in shadows. It’s beautiful here, though. Even though it’s dark, it’s beautiful here. Even though it’s desecrated with power plant after power plant after power plant, landing pad after landing pad, military base after military base. It’s still beautiful here. Because the people gather together whenever they can, in tiny huts and narrow streets, and they give each other hope.
Which is exactly what we’re doing right now, in a crowded room of ten people, three children and two babies amongst us.
“Here, take the child.” Siell, a young mother, hands her infant to me. I make sure to hold him strongly and gently. I make sure to keep him as safe as I possibly can. She has entrusted me with a secret. A secret who looks out into the room with large, dark, eyes with golden glowing irises. A secret who is so incredibly beautiful, and who deserves every freedom in the world. Who deserves every good thing. Who will hopefully live a better life than his parents live. A life free of the constant pressure and poverty and inequality.
“What are we going to be able to do with this Stone?” young Liselm asks, holding the dull little rock in their hand.
“We’ll be able to channel our magic through it,” I answer. “We’ll be able to use our magic and do all kinds of things. We’ll be able to fight good and strong when our time comes to fight, and we’ll be able to weaken the Empire and its enforcers.”
“That’s really cool!” little Olemm pipes, “it can help us win!”
“It can,” I agree, “and it will.”
“So we use our magic to power the Stone?” a man named Fliemm asks.
“Yes, we power the Stone and the Stone powers our magic. It makes miracles happen.”
“But how will we have enough magic to do anything substantial?” A young woman, Maell, asks, her voice full of concentration and deep thought.
“We have enough magic to do great, great things,” I answer her. “Our magic is inexhaustible.”
“Is it really?” she asks me, eyes darkened in concern. Her dark blue face is etched with worry, but there is also hope there, and that is promising, is glorious, is beautiful.
“It is,” I answer her, “Why do you think it is not?”
“Because they take everything from us,” she replies, “you know that as well as I do. They take our magic and use it to power all their exotic technology. They take so much from us. So much. How would we have anything left over after that?”
“I understand where you’re coming from. I really do. But our supply of magic is so much greater, so much deeper, than the Empire has ever known. It’s inexhaustible. They might take from us and take from us but they’ll never be able to take it all. Don’t you feel it thrumming to life inside of you?”
“It’s easy for you to say that. You’ve never had to give as much magic as the rest of us have.”
“Now, Maell,” the teenaged boy Sarvemm starts, “that’s not nice. You know that’s not nice.”
“I’m not accusing her,” she responds, “it’s just true.”
“Well,” an older person named Avelilm begins, “even if they take magic from us, we still have so much magic left inside of us, and more being generated all the time. I feel it thrumming and growing inside of me. I’m sure you all feel it too.”
“Exactly,” I agree, “Let’s feel it all together.”
We hold hands again. This ritual always requires the holding of hands. No matter what Stone we’re using. No matter what planet we’re on. Because holding hands gives us a sense of connection. And it represents for us the connection that we all have with each other. It’s a small symbol. A subtle symbol. And like all good symbols it is not very fine or intricate. Unlike the grand displays of wealth the Empire calls symbolic. But it’s a symbol that takes all of our being anyways, a symbol that is laced in so much meaning that it turns us all into meaning ourselves.
We chant, and once again it’s a chant that is as old as memory itself. “May the power heal our souls, may we make the galaxy whole.”
The magic thrums and glows and dances and grows inside of me. This time the energy feels like healing. It feels like solace. It feels like eternity. The magic feels the same and it feels different each and every time that it gets called upon. It has so many infinitely different elements to it, and each element contains all the other elements within it. Each time the magic is called upon, each time it is used, it highlights a different one of its substituents, though all exist equally strongly within it.
It hides and brings to light both at the same time. It teaches and baffles simultaneously. It veils and it makes clear. And it defies all logic, all meaning, all reason. And yet it makes perfect sense in my heart, in all of our hearts. It’s obvious and glorious and completely ours. No-one who is not one of us, who is not a slave, will ever be able to understand even a fraction of this magic that is flowing through us. No-one will understand its power. They won’t believe it. They will underestimate it. And that is one of the very many reasons that it makes us powerful.
The nighttime world of an undesecrated Velsasi stretches out all around me. I am standing under the twilight sky. The deep, reaching, ever widening blue above me. There are a few stars that I can make out in the blue. And they are beautiful. Beautiful. Ever so beautiful. All around me the plants of Velasi stretch out. They are slightly taller than me, but not by much, and they all have wide leaves that stretch out in all directions, capturing as much light as they can. They are black against the blue of the sky.
The sun looks more like a moon. It looks like a bright, full moon, such as the moon the day of the harvest festival in the Home Planet. I still avoid looking at it, because that’s still a bad idea. But there is something deeply serene about the sun. Something deeply peaceful. Something deeply calming. Like a parent singing to their baby.
There is a lake stretching out in front of me. Its dark blue waters reflect the sky. The sun’s glow reflects on the rippling waves, shimmering as the wind blows. It is like an entirely different world, and there is something mesmerizing about the waves. There is softly glowing algae on the waters, forming networks of bright blue-green and green-blue. I wonder what sorts of strange life forms are under there.
The sky darkens the sun dips down below the horizon. Everything around me is pitch dark. It is darker than night on any of the planets I have been to. It is almost as dark as the void. Almost. But not quite. It’s a natural sort of darkness, a welcoming sort of darkness, a soothing sort of darkness. I feel as if the world around me and the world inside of me are becoming one.
And the stars. Dear universe, the stars. There are perhaps threefold the stars in this sky than the stars I have ever seen before. Of course, the stars everywhere are absolutely unique and absolutely breathtaking. That doesn’t stop me from being entranced by the stars here. Some stars shine and twinkle brightly, brighter than any star I have seen before. Some stars are tiny, fading little dots up in the sky. The streak of light through the sky is brighter than it has ever been before, darkening as it grows out towards its edges.
The Imerials have said before that Valesi is the worst planet in the galaxy. That everything here is dark and terrifying. But I do not feel terrified. I feel the darkness all around me. The darkness and the light. And I feel perfectly calm, perfectly at peace, perfectly one with this world, with this beautiful planet and all its specialness. Dark and light are both needed, are both parts of the galaxy. So are cold and hot, and everything that is made by the forces of nature.
“Do you believe now?” Sarvemm asks Maell once we are all back in the room, looking at each other astonished.
“Yes.” Her voice holds wonder.
The Stone casts shadow all around itself, and is hidden and revealed in the blackness.
———
I am in a land where the wind blows strong. It howls around the sheet metal of the walls of the hut. It is fierce and strong and fiercely protective. I cannot help but feel great courage as well as great fear upon hearing it.
“What can these Stones be used for?” A youth named Jasey asks me.
“Very many things,” I respond to her, “as many as your hearts can imagine. It can tell us the plans and the tactics of the Empire. It can hide us from their wrath. It can give power to our soldiers and our spies. It can heal our sick and nourish our hungry.”
“That’s really great,” a woman in her thirties, Jamali, responds, “can we use them now to overthrow the Empire?”
“Not yet,” I reply. “First, we need to learn how to channel our magic through them. We need to know how to wield our magic and how to be precise and deadly. That will take time. For now, I think we should practice channeling our magic through the Stone.”
“So how long will it take for us to master these powers?” A young teenager named Jailen asks.
“A while. I would say at most, ten years.”
“How are we supposed to hide the Stones until then?” An older person named Jakeley asks.
“We’ll have to just be quiet, and not let them know,” a little girl named Javali answers.
“But how do we make sure everyone keeps quiet?” they ask again.
“The Imperials don’t know that we have the Stones,” I tell them, tell them all. “They have no reason to suspect that we have them. They have no reason even to suspect that the Stones still exist. They will never ask us about them and as long as they don’t ask us, which they won’t, then none of us will have a reason to tell them anything.”
“Exactly,” a preteen boy named Jakilen agrees, “they have no reason to ask us about them. They have no reason to try to torture the information out of us. So why would they ever know?”
“Because,” Jakely responds, “there are so very many of us. How are we going to be sure that none of us will give us away? How can we be sure that none of us will tell the authorities?”
“We all love each other,” a woman named Julili tells them, “we’re all loyal to each other. You know that we’re all loyal to each other. There is no reason for any of us to put the others at risk and betray this new hope that we have.”
“How can you be sure that all of us are on board with this plan, though? There are so many of us spread across the entire galaxy.”
“And yet we’re all connected,” I speak. “Can’t you feel that we are all connected? Everyone feels this connection in their hearts and, whether they know it or not, and whether they know that they know it or not, everyone lets that connection within themselves guide them. I have travelled all across the galaxy and it’s the same everywhere. People want to have hope. People want their people to have hope. And people are doing anything they can to hold on to that hope.”
“And if anyone thinks that it’s a safer option for everyone to turn us in?” Jakely asks. “I know that people want what is best for our people. I know they don’t want to harm us. But what if someone thinks that it’s safer to give the Imperials what they want?”
“Then we’ll make them see that it’s better to hide,” Javali retorts, “we’ll make them see.”
“There have been many people who thought that it’s a better idea to give the World Stones up,” I add, “but we have always been able to convince them that the World Stones are the best hope we have. We have always convinced them to join our side and keep the Stones a secret. And we can convince everyone.”
“We can convince everyone,” and little boy named Jimen agrees, “people remember the World Stones. People remember the power of the World Stones. They will realize that we need them.”
“Besides,” Jailen adds, “we’re all a community. A community spanning the whole galaxy. And this galactic community is made up of so many smaller, interwoven communities. And we can, as a community, convince everyone in the community to fight with us. To hide with us.”
“We’ll keep working until all the community is convinced,” Jamali vows, “and no-one will turn us in even if they’re not convinced. No-one will want to put the rest of us in danger.”
“The Stones are hope just as much as they are danger,” Jillia tells us, voice dark, with vast undertones.
———-
II am in Helvitica. The windy planet. The planet that once was a vast prairie before the Empire came. The wind still howls outside our meagre shelter. I am teaching the people how to connect to their World Stone. I am teaching them and they are teaching me. We are all teaching each other. And it’s beautiful. I find it really beautiful. I find the land really beautiful. And I find the people who live in the land really beautiful. Just as all people in all lands are. Well, perhaps with the exception of the Imperials.
It’s amazing, how much I am being able to learn from the people all over the galaxy, scattered across different neighbourhoods around different power plants. Horrible, looming power plants. It’s amazing how much I am able to learn from them. It’s amazing how much they are able to learn from me. And it’s amazing how much we are all able to learn together, from the Stones and from the silences of our own hearts, hearts that are infinitely powerful though they are powerless. The realizations that we are coming to, they are just as precious as the World Stones themselves. They are just as magical.
Right now all of us in the hut, all the golden-skinned people with pure blue eyes, and me with my secret-concealing body of blue, all holding hands tightly, confidently, desperately, forming one long unbroken chain. All the rituals are so similar. And yet all the rituals are uniques in their own way. Each planet is tied to all the other planets, each place to all the other places. That’s part of what makes us powerful. That we are all each other’s.
“May the power flow from us. May the power heal in us.” The low, melodic chant reverberates through the room. And it heals our spirits, soothes our souls. Not all the way. Not nearly even close to all the way. But I am beyond glad for what it is able to do for us anyways. I am beyond glad for what we are able to do for each other. For it is all about having each other. All these chants and rituals are all about having each other, about the connection, the community that we share. They are not about the specific rules and orders of the rituals but rather they are about the ways in which we are brought together, the ways in which we all feel each other.
The trance comes over me, the trance overcomes me, and once again, like innumerable times before, I am transported. I am transported to a land that is wild and free. I am transported to a land that is healthy and strong. A land that can feed the people, can shelter the people, can provide for the people. A land that existed long before the Imperials came with their technology and their structures. A land that will revive, rejuvenate, and exist long after they are gone.
There is a vast prairie before me. A beautiful prairie. A bountiful prairie. A prairie that fills my spirit and brings peace to my soul. But it also fills me with a sense of deep, aching sadness, as there is so much loss there. There is so much longing. For all of this was lost. All of this was lost and now it is lying in waiting to be gained again, free and alive as the people will be free and alive.
There are wild grasses of green and gold, reaching up tall into the air. They blow and away in the wind that is all around, like the waves of a vast ocean. There are shrubs with leaves shining in the sun, burning almost with light, dotted across the landscape. Green leaves and brown bark in the dry air. There are wildflowers growing in patches throughout the landscape, bright yellow and burning white and flushed pink and cornflower blue. And every once in a while there is a tree.
And the sky. Oh, the sky. It stretches above me and around me, going forever and ever in every direction. It is a bright, reaching, aching blue. It is lighter at the horizon and supersaturated above me in the air. In the sky the sun burns hot, creating the dry air and raging winds all around me. And the clouds, big, while, billowing clouds, white and shaded with grey, they seem to burn as well. The whole sky seems to burn, just as the land does, and there is so much energy here.
Above me I can see an owl soaring. And in front of me, off in the distance, there is a herd of buffalo grazing on the grasses. They are beautiful, majestic creatures. Broad and sturdy and strong in their vast herd. Strong enough to take on any predator. Strong enough to keep their young safe. There is a prairie chicken picking its way through the grasses, feathers mottled to blend in to the landscape. And little burrows can be found here and there.
The sunset is a burning orange, and it paints the whole sky, paints all the grasses, paints the whole landscape with its bright colours. All around me everywhere that I can see is touched by the sunset. All around me everywhere that I can see is touched by the wheel of time creating the world anew. And then the stars come, and as always, they have infinite stories hidden inside them. The world keeps turning.
I breathe as I come out of the trance. We all breathe. We all look at each other. And we all feel the wind flowing through the room, coalescing around the World Stone, encasing them in currents.
———
Another day another round of explaining to people what’s going on. I’ve been doing this for years now. Going to wherever the Stones are now, telling my story, giving people hope. The World Stones let me find them wherever they are. And under the cover of night I can traverse whole planets. I meet with new people every day. And it’s so strange. And after all this time, it doesn’t get any less strange. It doesn’t get any less sweet. It doesn’t get any less surreptitious. All that has happened is that I expect these feelings now. And I expect the strangeness that comes with them.
Right now I am in Felikum. It is full of mountains, reaching up tall. Everything is built on these mountains. The ground I am sitting on is slanted hard. I am thankfully on the bottom of the slant, and am able to lean on the walls. We all lean on each other, forming a sort of structure with all of our bodies that gives us strength and support. Which is really poetic, I suppose. It’s amazing how one can find such profound poetry in the most mundane, everyday of experiences.
“So what are the ways to channel our magic through the stones?” A young woman named Avaldi asks. She is breastfeeding an infant that isn’t actually her’s, while her permanent infant is asleep in his father’s arms.
“You basically have to really feel your magic,” I answer, “really know your magic. And you have to know how your magic connects with the Stone. You have to feel how your magic connects to it.”
“How do we know?” A little boy named Dalliv asks.
“Good question,” I answer him, “people used to know. All people across the galaxies used to know. But that knowledge has been lost in time, in all the many centuries that we’ve been here, under the boot of the Empire.”
“That doesn’t answer the question, though,” a young man named Caliv responds.
“You’re right, so it doesn’t,” I agree. “What we have to do now is we have to really feel our connection with the Stone. We have to understand our connection to it. And we can then use that connection to win.”
“So should we practice magic?” An older woman named Karlvi asks.
“I think we should,” a youth named Afalv answers, “but we should only use it in secret, subtle ways. Ways that the Empire would never find out about.”
“It’s important that the Empire never knows,” A woman, Salavi, echoes.
“There are small things we can do, subtle things that the Empire will never notice. Things that can help us.” Parvali smiles as they say this, all adolescent hope.
“Like increasing our food stores,” an older man named Dallen says, “that would help a lot.”
“Exactly,” I answer, “and our magic can help us do that. It works mysteriously. It definitely works mysteriously. But it can help us.”
“And when we’re strong enough, when the whole galaxy is strong enough, will we fight?” Dalliv asks.
“We sure will,” Salavi assures.
“But how will we make sure the time is right?” Calve, a person in his thirties, asks.
“I’m not quite sure yet,” I answer honestly.
“I’m sure the Stones will let us know,” Karlvi answers.
“Yeah,” Afalv agrees, “we’ll know when the Stones know, we’ll know through our connection with the Stones.”
“And if that fails,” Dallen begins, “I’m sure we’ll be able to find a way to plan and communicate with the others.”
“Yes we will,” Caliv agrees, “we might be able to send someone through the void to communicate with the other planets. We’ll say that they committed suicide. It will definitely be strange that they would choose such a disturbing method to commit suicide but it can be explained.”
“Exactly,” I agree. “We can figure things out.”
One of the two babies, Baivee, is passed to me. And she coos in my arms, reaching her tiny hand up to grasp my nose. She is so sweet. So sweet. I hope we can grow a new world for her, after burning this world down. I hope that she can grow up to inherit the new world. I hope that all the children can. Because they deserve better. They deserve so much better. They deserve to not ever know the bonds that bind us all, the pressure that we struggle to breathe under.
———
I am hidden away in a hut on the steep mountain sides of Felikum. I am helping the people to feel their power, to channel their power. Hopefully I’m helping the people learn that they have power. Because it’s important for them to know. It’s important for them to know since it gives them hope, it gives them confidence, it gives them courage. It gives them the confidence to do what they need to do in order to become free and it gives them the courage to challenge the status quo.
There is humming all around me. There is low chanting all around me. I can feel the power pulsating in us, through all our veins. I can feel the power flowing between us, flowing from person to person to person until it flows out into the world. It grows stronger and stronger as it flows between us, flows through us, flows out of us. And with it my energy grows stronger. It grows forever. It grows in ways that I am not able to explain.
I remember when I used to believe that I had no power. The memory haunts me. It destroys me. It strengthens me. I still often find myself falling into the old pattern. The old pattern of believing that I have nothing, that I am nothing. But I know, deep down, no matter how many ghosts haunt me, I know deep down that I have power. That I am power incarnate. That I am so much more than power incarnate. We all are.
And I have Arji to thank for me knowing that. Arji and so, so many other people.
The magic inside of me, inside of all of us, it’s only getting stronger and stronger. And I feel bewildered, ecstatic, untethered. It grows and blooms inside my soul. And then suddenly I’m not here anymore. I am here, absolutely here, tethered to this place and these people, but I’m not here anymore.
I am standing on a steep mountainside, bathed by lush forests. The forest rises in the gray air as the clouds above us billow. The mountains are rugged and haunting and altogether glorious, tall and jagged and flaming over with emotion. The forest stands tall and green around me, rugged conifers poking out towards the sky. Around me there are shrubs taller than I am, glittering green in the soft light. The ground under me is soft and tangled in roots, dusted over by pine needles, the darkest brown I have witnessed.
This land is free. This land is sacred. This land is exalted. This land is filled with glory and power and ferocity, simmering with a fierce protective rage against anyone that would strip it bare and leave it for the vultures, with a fierce protective rage against anyone that wouldn’t give it the veneration that it deserves. The rage is for the people, just as much as it is for itself. For the land knows, the land knows that the people need the land. All the trees know. The soft earth knows. The full shrubs know. The pine needles that dot the floor know. The mosses know. The jagged rocks know. The stretching mountains know.
And I know too. As I stand here, I know beyond doubt that these lands are sacred. I know beyond doubt that these lands are necessary. I know that the lands all around us need the people. And I know that the people need the lands. I know that the people need the lands the way that they need air, the way that they need water, the way that they need each other. I know that they need the lands the way that birds need to sing and the way that trees need to grow.
And I am home here. I am safe here. I am wanted here. I belong here. Sure, it might not be my original home, the place where I was born. But this place loves me and welcomes me and wants me to be free, to be in love, to be in love with all of the people in all of the galaxy, minus the Imperials of course. This land welcomes me and I belong here, just as I belong on all the colonized planets the whole galaxy over. Just as I belong with all the colonized people the whole galaxy over.
I feel safe here. I always feel safe when the World Stones transport me to the lands the way they were before, the way they will be after. I still feel the danger in the back of my mind, the danger I have had to live with for all my life, the danger that I will likely have to live with forever. But I know that I am in a place of no danger. I am in a place where I am cared for. I am in a place where I can be, where I can be me, where I can be with everyone.
The day turns to night and all the conifers are shimmering with stars. It is beyond words. Beyond any type of expression. The mountains are silhouetted dark black against the deep blue of the sky. Somewhere far off in the distance, wolves howl, and it is a haunting melody, reverberating with unity and power. The night is both dark and light as all the thousands of tiny dots of stars glimmer all around us. Each planet has different stars. Which is part of why I love each planet with all of their uniqueness and all of their oneness.
The night turns back to day and I am sad to leave this world but I understand that much needs to be done in my own world. Much needs to be done in order to create this world. I look at my people, the people all around me, and they are amazed, and they are smiling. We are back in the small room. And we have each other. We have each other. And we have all of the people the whole planet over, all of the people the whole galaxy over.
The World Stone is covered in jagged rocks. A tiny thing. A dull thing. An unassuming thing. Yet despite that, an unimaginably powerful thing nonetheless. Or perhaps precisely because of that.
———
I am in Omilia. The water planet. And the rain pours down in great sheets on the roof and walls of the metal hut, sending a calming metallic beat all around. The people around me are the light grey of monsoon clouds. And their deep brown eyes hold secrets beyond the comprehension of the Imperials. I am amazed by them. I am amazed by each and every enslaved person I meet. I am amazed by everything I have seen in my journey throughout these lands.
In my arms, there is a baby, named Lacita. In the arms of the person across from me is another baby named Callevi. The babies are squirming and giggling, and it fills my heart with a deep contentment that they are here, they are with us, and, most importantly, they have some measure of joy. They still have desecration. They still are hurt in ways that no baby should ever be hurt. They are away from their guardians for most of the day. They are sick and sickly. But still. Still. They can be in our arms nonetheless. They can laugh nonetheless. And that means everything.
Also around me are people who are brimming with excitement, brimming with surreptitious hope, brimming with secrets. There is Angali, who is a teenage boy with long brown hair and long eyelashes. There is Fayla, his girlfriend, who has a clever grin and sharp eyes. There is Glaya, a girl in her twenties, with eyes much darker and more full of shadows than any twenty-year-old’s eyes should be. And Ginico, who is a person in their thirties with a softness behind their eyes, behind their entire face, that anyone could find comfort in. There is an older man, Clafi, who is soft and kind and worn down, incredibly worn down.
And of course there is six-year-old Galina and seven-year-old Clalico, who are excitedly conversing with each other, and conversing with whichever one of us joins their adorable little games. They are full of energy, despite being tired. Despite being hungry. They are full of energy because, no matter how undernourished they are, they are still children, and children need to be able to have fun whenever they can, however they can.
It’s something that was always denied to me as a child.
“I’m so angry.” Ginico’s voice is smouldering. Their eyes are dark. I understand them. I understand the anger they feel.
“We’ll get our reckoning,” Fayla asserts, “the time will come for them to be afraid instead.”
“And we’re working towards that reckoning right now,” Clafi adds, “we’re working towards the day when they can feel fear.”
“Yes,” I echo, “we are working towards that. And our power will only grow with time. It will only grow as we continue building it. As we continue building our resistance. As we continue building each other.”
“Will our power grow?” Glaya asks, voice solemn, “or will we be defeated again, just as we were defeated before?”
“No!” Galina states, “we won’t be defeated. Not this time. I promise that we will not be. You will see.”
“But how?” Fayla asks, “the Imperials are so powerful. They defeated us once before, they could easily do it again.”
“Our power will grow,” Angali tells her, “it will grow far beyond their power. We will make it grow far beyond their power. We will work hard and we will work together and we will be ready to fight one day.”
“Yeah!” Clalico pipes in, “we’re all going to try our best! And we’re all going to help each other try our best. Trying our best is what matters and trying our best is what can help us win.”
“We’ll be more organized than before,” Clafi adds in, “all the galaxy will be fighting as one this time. All the galaxy will be fighting together. We were conquered before because we were not all united as one, all of the planets. We were fighting our own fights. But this time we’ve had a lot of time to realize that we are one. This time we will all be fighting as one.”
“If our power is so strong,” Fayla begins, “if our power is so powerful, then how come we have not been able to win up until now? How come we are suffering, and we are suffering, and we are suffering so much? If we are so great, if we are so indomitable, then how come we are suffering so much?” And she has a point. She really does. Her ideas are really well-thought out. This is exactly what I used to think when I was much younger. But still. Still. Just because she has a point doesn’t mean that she’s right.
“Listen,” I start, “I know how you feel. Believe me, I do. It’s exactly the way that I used to feel before. But let me tell you something. The power that the Empire has is built on force. It’s built on superiority. Built on elitism. Built on prejudice and lust and most importantly, greed. All of these things are not sustainable. Their power is not sustainable. It starts out strong. And it stays strong for a long, long time. But it doesn’t last. It eventually crumbles into nothing.”
“Our power isn’t like that,” Glaya adds in, “our power is made of community. It’s made of unity. It’s made of loving each other. It’s made of helping each other. And that is more strong in the long run. That type of power is more strong in the long run. It’s more sustainable. Because that type of power lives and breathes and grows. It grows and it grows and time can only make it stronger, time can only make it bolder. It does not crumble eventually with the years. It sustains itself and builds itself and it rises. And we will sustain ourselves and we will build ourselves and we will rise.
There is a chorus of agreement all around us as everyone quietly cheers at her words. We continue talking. About the nature of power, the nature of love, the nature of prejudice and the nature of suffering. Everyone gets an equal chance to speak. Everyone does speak, and everyone gets their voice heard. It is beautiful. I am at home.
Eventually it is time for us to channel our magic through the World Stone. We all hold hands. Those of us who are holding babies have their hands overlayed with the hands of others. We all hold hands and the people at each end of the line put one of their hands on the wall, against the cool rain that is pouring down outside. We hum, and it’s a beautiful humming. And we begin to chant.
“May our planet be unbowed. May the galaxy be the same. May our people be unbowed. As we were when life first came.” We chant this over and over and over again, becoming increasingly frenzied, though we make sure to stay quiet, though we make sure to stay careful. We always have to make sure to stay careful. No matter what. No matter what or how many emotions overcome us. But it’s okay. We can do that very well. We have a lot of practice.
Just as before, just as many, many, innumerable times before, I feel my energy build up within me. I feel it build up within all of us. Our magic reverberates through us. And it grows stronger and stronger. It’s strange, I think. The ritual of channeling magic to the Stone mirrors the way that our collective power behaves. The magic of the Stones, channeling through the Stones, builds up and builds up and builds up as we all come together and as we all help each other to get stronger. And eventually the magic becomes undeniable. Just as our own power will build up and build up and build up with time. Just as our own power will become undeniable.
I am transported to a beautiful place. A lush, sparsely-wooded forest. In the forest there is a large river, blue and rushing and overflowing with a calming energy, overflowing with a strengthening energy, overflowing with a friendliness and a peace that presses deep into my heart. The sun shines on the river and the river shines back, flowing, glimmering. It is wide and broad and amazing.
From the river there breaks off many little streams and brooks that all make their way through the forest. They are small and bright and fierce, full of a sparkling energy of their own. They radiate coolness, radiate calmness, radiate brightness. They are the teeth that bites the hand that beats and the sparks that turn into fires of all kinds. They remind me somewhat of children, and the power that is within them.
Across the way, the river, the streams, they all connect to a lake. It is a grand lake, shining in the sun just as the river is. It is bright and wide and I cannot see the end of it. It radiates coolness, calmness, and yet it also radiates a pressing sort of urgency. It is lush and full of life and I can see the life, I can feel the life, that comes forth with it, that comes forth from it. Deer come to drink by the long grasses that surround the lake’s edges. And there are rocks nestled into the clay.
The sky darkens, and everything around me seems more fierce, more feral, more fearless. Soon enough there is torrential rain coming down, bathing me in the storm. The lake starts to overflow, the rivers start to overflow, water pours over the ground. I am drenched wet and soaked in spiritual power. It seems as if the whole world is transformed. The rain is cleansing. The rain is life-bringing. The rain brings life to my weary, wounded soul. It cleanses away my bleeding, it pounds at my ghosts, loosening them.
The rain eventually stops and the sun shines again. The whole world is so fresh. It smells like freshness. It smells like softness. It smells like unbowed power, like life. But actually, no. Smells is not the right word. It conveys all these things to me in something that is not smell, something that is far beyond smell, far more alive and far-reaching and glorious, beautiful.
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. Everything is so beautiful. Not the body of everything. But the spark of life that is within everything. The spark of soul that is within everything, the spark of glory that is within everything. Because, you see, all people have a soul. Except of course the Imperials that lost theirs. All trees have souls. All grasses have souls. All herbs and shrubs have souls. All mosses and lichen and algae. All the dirt has souls. All the rocks have souls. Every lake, every river, every pond, every brook, every stream, it all has souls. Every drop of rain and trickle of water has a soul. The clouds in the sky all have souls, and the sky itself, and the suns and the moons and all the stars. Each breeze or blowing gust of air has a soul. Each mushroom has a soul. Each animal has a soul. All the beings all around within the nature of the planets, all those beings have souls.
And they teach us. They teach us that we, too have souls. And we are a part of everything, we are a part of the life that everything is.
As I drift out of my trance, I notice that the World Stone is wet.
———
I’m home. I’m home. I’m home on Jolria and I have been home for months. To the dark soil of the planet I have never known, the planet that started me, the planet that started my journey with the resistance, my journey of rebellion, my journey of taking a stand against the Empire however I could. I am home. And I am learning about what my home is like. I am learning about what people live here and what they do with their lives.
Of course, I have a home on every other planet that has been colonized by the Empire. I have a home on every planet. I am welcome on every planet. I belong on every planet, but still. Still. This is the place my parents grew up in, parents who I have never known, parents who are almost definitely dead by now, parents who absolutely spent their lives missing me and missing me and mourning for me and worrying for me and praying for me. This is where my parents lived their lives and this is where my adopted mother Arji lives her life.
I’ve been to see Arji when I first arrived on this planet. We hugged. We cried. We kissed each other’s cheeks and foreheads and hands. We cried some more. It was so glorious to finally be able to touch her. It was so heartbreaking to have to say goodbye again, as I continued my journey throughout the planet. But still, I kept in contact with her through the communication disk, that very first communication disk I’d been given years ago, and I came back to visit her more times. We lay with my head in her lap and she stroked my hair.
And now I am in a room full of new people, full of my planet’s people, and we are talking about resistance. With me there is Jamali, there is Raileth, there is Karti and Clarav and Arilet. There is little Parali and her baby brother Marilet, and there’s little Farlet and his baby brother Brith. They don’t know my name. Not my real name. Not the name that my parents gave me. And that’s a tragedy, really. But I cannot tell them my birth name, because that is far too dangerous.
“So we’ll all work together this time, right?” Arilet asks. His youthful eyes are shining with a sharp gleam. A sharp gleam that I love so much.
“Yes, of course,” I answer him, “we’ll all coordinate together. And we’ll all make sure everyone’s on the same page.”
“How will we do that?” Raileth asks. He’s tired. Far too tired for a thirty-year-old. It breaks my heart to see him so tired. But it mends my heart to see him fighting, to see that he is still holding on to a piece of himself.
“We’ll, that shouldn’t be too hard,” Jamali answers, “we can and do already communicate to each other throughout the planet, and the void should help us travel beyond planets. We can just say someone fell in.” She’s smart. So smart. And honestly, that is the plan that people all over all the planets have been having. Though not all of them know that I’ve travelled through the void. They mostly don’t know where I’m from. That’s good. That’s safe. That will keep us all safe.
“That will take a long, long time,” Parali tells us.
“It will,” I agree, “but it will be worth it. Coordinate it well, though, the Empire will find it suspicious if too many people go into the void at the same time.”
“We should use the communication disks to communicate first, just to decide together which planet should send someone into the void,” Karti suggests. And honestly, it’s such a good idea. I tell her that.
“So what should we do about the slaves in the Empire’s ‘Home Planet’” Clarav asks, “shouldn’t we communicate with them too? Don’t they deserve to be part of it?”
I start crying. I know I shouldn’t cry. I know I shouldn’t. But I can’t help myself. It’s too dangerous to try to communicate with the slaves on the Home Planet. But I know what it feels like to be them. I know what it feels like to be them far too well. I know what it feels like to be ripped away from your family, from your friends, from your neighbours. I know what it feels like to be ripped away from your homeland and your heritage. I know what it feels like to live on a planet that actively hates you for who you are while simultaneously wanting you for everything that you can give them.
“Why are you crying?” Marilet let asks.
“I’m sorry, baby. I’m just, I feel sad about my little child who got taken away.” It’s a lie. But there is an element of truth to it. I’m speaking in the voice of my birth parents.
———
I love channeling all of our magic through Jolria’s World Stone. Of course, I love doing this with all the World Stones, but Jolria’s one makes me feel as if I am coming back home, as if I am coming back to a home that I have never known, that even none of my parents have ever known, that only my ancestors knew. The Empire tried to take me away from this place and tried to take this place away from me, away from everyone actually, but here I am, coming back. They couldn’t control me. No matter what they do to me, I came back home.
I am home as I sit in a roomful of people, all chanting the chants that have been passed down through the generations of our planet for centuries, the chants that precede a magical meditation that has long been forgotten, that is just now being revived. I am home as I feel the magic flowing through me, as I feel it flowing through all the people here, all the people out there, all the people everywhere. I am home as I feel it flowing through me as I feel it flowing through all my people, and perfect clarity and complete insanity overtake me at the same time.
And so here I’m standing. Under a thick, dense canopy of leaves. The trees tower above me, and their thick roots spread out in all directions all around me. The air is damp and heavy with moisture. It calms me down and fills me up just breathing it in. The rainforest smells like life, and there is a hint of sea air in the background. All around me, there are herbs with green stems and brown stems and thick leaves. There are so many different shades of green all around me.
The ground under me is soft and dark and it is covered with roots and leaf litter. There are large logs decomposing here and there, covered in moss and fungi. There are big patches of darkness all over the ground offset by bright lines of sunlight that comes in through the cracks of the canopy. The earth smells warm, smells rich, smells like the progenitor of all life. Of all that is sacred to us all. The earth holds everything that grows.
There are birds flying in the air or sitting on branches. I hear them twittering and singing. There are monkeys in the trees, climbing around and scampering about. They seem joyful, carefree, happy. They seem like the destruction, the death, the struggle brought about by the Empire is far too far away to affect them. If I am truly in the past, as I think I probably am, then the Empire is indeed far too far away from these animals.
I think I see a tiger dappled in the lights of the forest. It is majestic. It is magnificent. It is beautiful. It is full of power and strength and ferocity. It can and will bring death to anyone who ever tries to hurt it. But more than that, more than the ferocity, this tiger is full of protectiveness. Like a mother with her children. This tiger will do whatever is necessary to keep her home safe. And that resonates with me. That resonates with me so much.
There is a river out in the distance. And this river doesn’t shine. It glows, meandering through the lands with its strong currents. I feel a sense of peace being near the river. I feel as if, as if I can right everything that is wrong with the world, I can take care of all my people, I can be their parent, and I can create everything that I am meant to create. This sort of confidence will strengthen me for any fight that could possibly come up in my future.
And we all know that so many fights will come up in my future. So many fights will come up in all of our futures.
I cry as I am standing here. I am home. I am home. I am home. I cannot describe what it feels to be at home. I cannot describe what it feels to be in the lands where your blood arose from, the lands where your ancestors lived, the lands that love you and protect you and want to keep you whole. Though all the nature of all the planets love me, love us all, and protect us all and want to keep all of us whole.
I cherish these memories. Because I know that my path is a hard one. I know that my path is full of pain and misery and death. I don’t know if I’ll be able to die in my home planet but by the universe, I sure did get a chance to live here. I sure did get a chance to live here. I sure did get a chance to live here. I sure did get a chance to experience all of its glory. I got a chance to experience all of its glory, I got a chance to experience all of its glory and nothing can take that away from me,
I come out of the trance with tears in my eyes and see that the stone is covered in green moss. 83Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8luHUd04ob
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If you like this piece check out my Mastodon my account is FSairuv@mas.to and I post about human rights, social justice, and the environment.
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