.
Sitting at the edge of the road, the night settled peacefully around us. Our fire continued its slow, crackling task of turning the neatly stacked pile of sticks, twigs, and assorted brush into glowing embers that sparked and gently wafted upwards, into the vast of darkness above. A stream of mountain-cooled air slid down from the peaks behind us, gently guiding the rising cinders away along a flickering path towards Radika, whose outlying buildings laid barely visible in the darkness, just a few minutes walk from where we sat.
“Imagine” I began, slowly stretching my legs out towards the warm edge of the fire. “Everyone and everything in our world is connected. Animal or man, dull pebble or great mountain. Each grain of desert sand, each blade of wild grass, all are simple droplets of water in the great pond that is our universe.” I paused as the flames found a pocket of fresh wood to spout a great crackle of cinders into the still night air. “And in this great pond there are currents and tides which pull us along, guiding us in their wake.”
My young friend leaned forward, the smooth gentle slope of her forehead illuminated by the fire. Whether she was listening more intently to my tale or simply trying to scare away the growing chill of the cooling night, I could not say for certain.
Far above, in the pitch of the night sky beyond where the clouds make their home and the birds touch the stars, something caught my eye. For a fleeting moment I swore I saw the briefest of flashes - a flicker of green and blue hues that deepened into the most elegant purple. They stretched out across the sky as if the edge of our world were reflecting a distant rainbow into the darkness below. But when I turned my gaze upward to look closer I found nothing but the familiar eternity of a starless night spilling out to infinity.
“Tell me..." she trailed off, as if she was not sure yet which question she wanted an answer for most. "...Tell me more about the currents” she said, a cautious urgency hidden inside her voice. She sounded both demanding and yet imploring all at once.
“Certainly,” I replied, turning my gaze back towards the fire while shifting my weight backwards, to assure her no offence had been taken from her unintended tone of voice. “Some people, those who are aware of these currents, have given them a name. They’ve taken to calling them ‘Fate’, which is a fine enough name for them I suppose, under the circumstances that they ebb and flow and guide the course of events in our world. There is, however, a misconception that fate is inevitable. That it cannot be altered or changed. That it cannot be…denied.” I shifted forward ever so slightly while my new friend remained quite still. “I have learned over time during my long travels that sometimes… fate’s will can be refused. For some - truly, a rare, remarkable few - are able to see the currents for what they really are.”
She leaned in, gazing intently at me, her eyes pulsating in the flickering firelight. “What…what are they? What are the currents…really?”
“The currents?” I took a moment to gaze back up at the heavens, searching for the colours I thought I saw before. “The currents are a timeless expression of the will of our universe. Ages ago, before the time of the first tribes, something powerful beyond imagination took place upon this land. Something that changed the very nature of this world.”
I could feel my young friend’s eyes locked onto me now, enthralled with my tale. There was something palpable in the warm campfire air between us. Something tangible. It wasn’t quite tension, but it was tenuous. I felt no malice stirring between us, but I could sense her body tighten, her muscles flexing in…anticipation? Or was it in fright, ready to strike out like a coiled serpent? I could not say for certain.
The silence stretched between us. The snapping, crackling twigs of the fire were the only sounds to be heard. And then, finally…she settled back and relaxed. Her frame slumped ever so slightly and she took a shallow, settling breath.
“The people...,” she began, letting each word hang heavily in the years and distance between us, “...the people who can see the currents for what they are” - her eyes flashed at me, imploring me to answer the question racing through her mind that she seemed unable to push past her lips.
“What of them, child?” I asked, curious which facet of the tale her mind had grasped so tightly onto from the ether. I met her eyes and realized I knew the answer already before the last of my words finished fading into the night.
Green.
Blue.
Purple.
I saw them all flash again in the periphery of my vision for just the briefest moment. But this time I caught two more shades as they shot across the sky.
Yellow.
A strong, vibrant yellow.
Golden and ethereal.
Red.
The deepest, most vivid shade of red.
A greater crimson than the purest of blood.
These two new colours did not fade. They did not falter and flicker from view like the others. In fact, they grew stronger and more intense with each pulse. They slowly grew brighter, stronger with each swell. Almost as if they were in tune with a racing heartbeat. What really caught my attention though, was the fact that these two new colours were no longer reflecting down from the clear night sky above us. What caused me to pause for a moment and reconsider my surroundings was the fact that these two new colours were now in fact pulsing from somewhere deep behind the now wide open eyes of my mysterious, yet very curious, young nomadic friend.