Many ages have passed since last I was truly surprised but I will admit – even if only to myself in my quietest moments of introspection – I never expected to see such raw power coursing through the body of someone so  young. And most certainly not in someone who has yet to become fully aware of the celestial game being played with our world. A game that she may not have a part in now, but a game that she will clearly play a key part in the future.

Fortunately, I have the luxury to choose just how much and how little of fate’s interwoven designs I will reveal to her this night. And, with a little luck, I may be able to answer the question she asks without revealing the terrible truth of the question she has left unasked. Now, let me see how much I can leave unsaid on this fateful night beneath the cloud-topped mountains…

“The people,” she asked again, letting each word hang heavily in the air  between us before continuing, “the people who can see the currents. The real currents. Do they understand what they see? Do they know it to be real, and is it truly real? Or are they simply…insane?”

Her eyes locked onto mine, and behind the fading shades of yellow and red I could see all of the fears, the traumas, and all of the confusion that this young girl had been carrying with her throughout the few years of her life already. Never before had I met someone who had been chosen to be a celestial Champion in their youth such as her. At such a tender age there is simply no way to prepare her for the enormity of what will be thrust upon her someday. And certainly no way to know how she might react if she were to suddenly learn of it all - the secrets of her past, the circumstances of her present and the destiny of her future - here in the middle of the night by the side of this dusty mountain pass, in the glow of the flames of a slowly dying fire.  No, it would be a great disservice to her, as she is not ready for that yet.   No… it is better to give her just a morsel and leave her hungry for more, than to risk her choking on the truth while trying to devour the entire feast that fate has prepared for her.

I leaned forward and tended to the fire between us for a few moments.   Thick pieces of wood shifted in the flames, and a mixture of sparks and embers quickly surged up into the air above us, illuminating the wispy column of smoke that trailed towards the night sky. When the air between us cleared my young acquaintances’ eyes had returned to their normal colour. Good, good. Best not to take the chance that far away ears might hear these secrets being discussed.

“There is an enormous canvas that adorns a wall in a dark, secret room,” I began. “This dark, secret room is hidden deep inside the most elaborate library ever built. Only a select few are privileged enough to be chosen to spend their lives exploring this library, searching all of its endless hallways for tomes and scrolls, gathering and sharing knowledge from the times before and distant realms with the people of our world.”

“What does a painting hanging in some dark room have to do with what I asked?” My young acquaintance questioned, a noticeable amount of irritation creeping into her voice. “Give me a moment, and you shall see,” I replied firmly, while being careful not to allow my own irritation to creep into my voice as I spoke.  

Today’s youth are impatient, too flighty. They seek to know a tale’s end without hearing the whole story. The subtlety of the players, the actions they chose and the reasons why, are all lost on a generation that knows not where they came from themselves, nor why they are here. And worse, don’t care to know those things. Perhaps I am being overly harsh with my assessment. Truly, I cannot recall if I were also so impatient as a youth in my time. But of course, that was many, many ages ago.

I allowed myself a moment of pause before continuing. “What you first need to understand is that this is no ordinary library. The library I speak of was one of the first buildings to ever be erected in our world. In fact, it is so old that no one who lives now knows who built it. It is a strange and wondrous place whose exterior never shows signs of its age, and whose interior winds and stretches beyond imagination’s reach. None who have entered this library can explain it, but the hallways within the library seem to reach far beyond the confines of the building itself. In days gone by it was not uncommon for visitors to become so enamoured with the knowledge they were discovering that they would venture too far into the never-ending halls of manuscripts and tomes and become lost forever. There have been many tales of good-hearted librarians who upon hearing the voices of lost souls calling out for help, ended up finding themselves having ventured too far into the stacks as they attempted to help the lost souls find their way back to the familiar safety of the entrance. As such, it was decreed that all who enter must keep a librarian in their sight at all times, and that no one may venture off to follow the voices of those who had gone before, lest they end up joining them in being forever lost to their searches for knowledge.” 

My young friend sat motionless across the fire from me, the irritation on her face clearly visible in the flickering fire light cast upon her fair face.  It was clear that she had little interest in stories about libraries, even if they were ancient, magical libraries. However this was a tale that needed to be told, and so I persevered.     

“But endless hallways and lost souls are not relevant to your question tonight.” I waved at the air, shooing away the story so far. “No, tonight we shall talk of the secret room and the great tapestry on the wall!”   I intoned with a little more than just a hint of dramatic flair in my voice.  I would allow myself to enjoy this conversation tonight.   “If one such as yourself were to ever find this library and somehow be granted the privilege to enter it, you would likely fare better than the typical librarian or brave scholar, for you see,” I took a moment to cast a quick glance about me, ensuring that I spied no unwanted eyes reflecting back at me from the darkness. Then, ever so slightly, I leaned in towards my young friend beyond the campfire and continued, “there are hidden markings all about the library. Etched signposts to guide seekers on their way through the meandering passages of the structure. A select, lucky few can see these hidden markings. On the ceilings of every room and the walls of every hall these carvings reveal two very important things to those who can see them: the path that will lead you to the entrance of the secret room, and the path that will return you back to the library’s entrance.”

My companion’s eyes bulged. She sat in stunned silence as she processed my words. Then, with a voice that likely carried for miles on the cool mountain breeze above us, she spoke in a quick endless stream, as if using her voice for the first time in decades. 

“What do you mean, I would likely fare better? Are you saying I could see the markings? How do you know what I can see? We’ve only just met. You don’t even know me! Or do you know me? Who are you really? What do you know about me?”    Her voice cycled between confusion and excitement, frustration and trepidation, fluctuating across the full spectrum of emotions as she spoke, questioning me, questioning herself.

The time had come. It was time to give my young acquaintance an answer,  her first real answer.  She would settle for no less, and in truth,  I was interested to see where it might lead our conversation. So be it.

“Isn’t it clear, child?” I asked. My intention wasn’t to scold, but the slight wince in her expression told me she misunderstood my tone. However, I suspected she already knew the answer and was merely looking to me for confirmation. For validation. I continued, doubling my efforts to mask my annoyance. “It is because the hidden markings on the ceiling of the ancient library are not markings at all. At least, not markings that the eyes of any normal man or beast can see. They are an embodiment of the currents that fate weaves to guide the waters in which our world exists. And given the questions that you have asked of me this eve, I think we both know that you are indeed one of the truly rare folk who walk this realm to have been blessed with the gift to see these currents for what they are.”

“Gift?” she nearly cried out in disbelief. Her mouth agape, she grasped for the words again. “Gift?!?” Her ire rose significantly. “What good is this gift that feels like a curse?” I thought to say something to soothe her but swiftly reconsidered. Perhaps allowing her to expel these raw thoughts and feelings would help to alleviate some of the anger that was consuming her. She took in a sharp, deep breath and continued in a harsh, hushed tone through gritted teeth. “I have heard whispers in my sleep for as long as I can remember. I have ventured to places that I know I have never been. I have memories that are not mine. Memories of buildings and landscapes beyond anything I have born witness to myself. I know things that I cannot know, and remember things that have never happened.” She paused, her eyes flickering in the licks of flame between us. “And the worst –” Her voice nearly broke, “the worst betrayal of all is that my own past has now begun to unravel. People I’ve met cease to exist. Kind friends now treat me as a stranger.  What kind of gift is that, when your past forgets who you are?” 

How strange that I should be graced by not one but two surprises this eve. If she is describing what I believe her to be then I will need to make preparations. But I need to be certain. A falsity at this point could be disastrous. It would appear it is my turn to ask questions in this quest for knowledge across the embers of our campfire tonight.. 

“Your past has forgotten you, you say?” I asked as off-handedly, feigning nonchalance at her terrifying confession. “That’s a…strange turn of phrase I haven’t heard before.”

“It’s not just a phrase that I’m saying!” my young companion snapped back at me, her nose wrinkling up in a snarl in the sharp contrast of the firelight. “People I’ve known for years, friends I’ve learned I could depend on, people I’d consider…family…act as though we’ve never met. I am a stranger to them!” Her shoulders dropped slightly as she continued. “When you have known as few friends as I, losing them is…significant.”   

“Interesting…” I replied, chewing on my lip in distracted contemplation, being careful to hide the true depths of my curiosity. “And did you also mention that you remember things that did not happen? What do you mean by that, dear child? .”

My young friend slid down the rock on which she was seated, slumping to the ground. Her head sagged, and her face went sallow. An air of defeat crossed her brow. Or was it…sadness? No matter, it was clear we had reached a point in the conversation that she was not pleased to have to endure. I shifted my gaze towards the flickering flames of our shared campfire. As my vision unfocused I picked up one of the smouldering sticks I had used to stoke the fire, releasing a plume of sparks that rose and twisted in the heavy air that now hung between us. As the air cleared between us I remained vigilant, my gaze unwavering from the fire. She would speak when she was ready, of that I had no doubt, and I would not be the one to rush her. Not with the valuable revelations she had already shared so willingly between us. 

As I gently placed some fresh twigs onto the burning pile between us, their dry husks gently crackling as they lit, she spoke.

“I…remember running,” she began, her eyes locked to the fire between us as well, “it was dark, and my Mother had come into the room we shared to wake me. I was still young,” a small smirk broke the corner of her mouth, “but even then you can tell when your parents are…scared.” Her eyes darted to me momentarily and I nodded my ascension, comforting her with my agreement. She gazed down towards the ground between her feet and continued. “I…could hear people yelling. I…I could hear some people…screaming. There were some houses on fire. The smoke was…it hurt to breathe. And people were running everywhere. All over the place. It was…chaos.”

The fire crackled between us as a cool chill of mountain air raced down from the spires above. She took no notice. Her mind was very much in another place and time now. When she spoke again she sounded more distant. More alone. As if she were talking to no one at all.

“Luckily our house was near the edge of the village by the forest. Whatever was going on had started at the other side, by the river.” She took in a wavering breath. “We ran to the forest, and then kept running, into the forest and beyond. Mother pulled my arm so hard as we ran that it hurt. We ran and ran, as fast as we could, and I tried, I really tried to keep up. But my legs just stopped working and I fell. But my mother’s grip was so tight, her fingers digging into my wrist so deeply,” as she spoke she unconsciously ran her fingers over her right wrist, her body trembling slightly. “She must have dragged me a thousand steps. Rocks and roots and branches and dirt scraped and poked me, cut and bruised me. And I was scared. I remember being so very, very scared. I didn’t think she would ever stop. I thought she’d drag me until there was nothing left of me. But she did stop. She finally stopped, and I could hear myself crying. I was so beaten and worn, that crying was the only thing I could do. And that’s when things stopped making sense.” 

I waited patiently, but she was frozen. Her eyes locked on a flickering patch of dirt between her feet where long shadows stretched and danced behind every pebble. “Whatever do you mean, child?” I asked, prodding gently, genuinely curious.   

“I remember when we ran from our house Rocky followed us. He was my pet Bai Hu. He was my best friend, and had been my whole life.” I couldn’t tell if I saw tears well up in her eyes or if it was merely a trick of the flickering light. “When my Mother saw how hurt I was she knelt down and held my face close to hers. She told me Rocky needed someone to look after him until it was time to go back home. She told me that she needed me to be brave so that Rocky wouldn’t be scared. She had me crawl into the hollow of a fallen tree trunk that lay near where we had stopped. It was so dark in the rotted trunk I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. Then she had Rocky climb into the log with me. He was so big that he filled the entire space between me and my mom. I couldn’t see past him to the end of the log once he settled down beside me. Mother told me to stay there and keep Rocky quiet all night and she would be back in the morning to bring us home where everything would be fine. I tried to ask her what was happening but she hushed me and said to wait for her until the morning. I couldn’t see anything, but I heard some yelling. And then more yelling. I could hear a lot of different voices, and they all sounded so angry. I was so scared. Eventually, the noise around us began to quiet. It became so very quiet that all I could hear was my breathing and Rocky’s panting. Then I thought I heard my mother’s voice, but it was so far away, and not towards our village.  But it wasn’t my mother talking, or even calling for me from a distance.   It sounded like she was screaming.   And when it stopped, there was nothing left but a heavy silence.   All I could do was hold on to Rocky as tightly as I could for a long, long time.”

I could tell the morning did not unfold in the way her Mother had promised, and I would not have chosen this young child to have to relive it again now, but I needed her to finish her tale. I needed to know for certain.

“And were you able to stay hidden until the morning?” I asked.

“Yes.” She replied, without looking up. “The silence lasted for hours, and whoever it was that we were running from must have moved on.  Eventually tiny shafts of light began to shine through some of the tiny chips and cracks that ran along the outside of our hiding place, and so I waited for mother to return. Rocky and I waited inside that hallow log for a long time. I waited until I couldn’t wait any more, and I started nudging Rocky to move him backwards, towards the end of the log. When we reached the end and stepped out, the forest was brightly lit.   The sun had likely already been in the sky for several hours, but the strangest thing is that there were no sounds. No birds, no bugs, no animal noises of any kind, except for Rocky and his deep panting beside me.  I had never known the forest to be silent, and suddenly I was scared again.”

She moved her feet back and forth in front of her, digging channels into the dirt as she dragged her heels. Her discomfort was palpable, but my suspicions were getting ever closer to being confirmed and so there was no turning back now.

“Did your Mother come back?” I asked, knowing full well the precarious edge I was balancing on.

“No.” She said, without looking up at me. Something broke the corner of her eye and I was certain a single tear began to run down her cheek. She brushed it away as suddenly as I saw it and continued.

“She never came back.” She looked up and locked eyes with me. “Rocky and I waited there for hours but we never heard anything. Not a single sound came from anywhere in the whole forest. And as the sun climbed higher into the sky, the growl of our stomachs finally forced us to make a decision.” 

She shook her head and smirked at that, almost letting a chuckle escape as she latched onto a brief moment of joy in the middle of her nightmare.

“Eventually I told Rocky it was time to go home, and luckily for me that adorable Bai Hu knew exactly which way we had to go. As we got closer to the village, I could start to smell the remnants of smouldering ruins. The stench got stronger and stronger the closer we got to home. By the time we reached what was left of our village I had my shirt over my mouth and nose and my eyes were watering. But it wasn’t the smoke that really got me. It was something…else. Something that shouldn’t have been there. Something rotten. Something foul. Something…just terrible. I’ve never smelled that smell before, and I’ve only ever smelled it one more time since that day.”

“Oh?” I was intrigued. What peculiar scent could it have been, and only to be smelled twice? “Where did you find that odour again?”

“Outside of a worship hall in a small village near Glasshall Castle. A man was painting the outside of the building. He was mixing a bunch of different buckets of paint. I asked him why it smelled like that and he said it was used to get the pigments of the paint to stay just right. I couldn’t understand why he’d use something so foul, so…evil smelling, to paint such a beautiful place of worship. But he said the smell would go away soon, and it would help the paint last for years to come.”

A thought sparked through my mind. It flashed faster than a lightning bolt crossing the clouds in the sky. I knew what her answer would be, but it was my turn to ask questions in our little discussion, and so I continued to play my part.

“What evil substance was this holy man using to preserve his worship hall?” I asked, leaning forward, anticipation on the edge of my lips.

She looked at me with a deep curiosity across the smouldering embers of the campfire as if she was recognizing my presence for the first time all over again. I knew I would need to choose my words wisely for the rest of this eve, lest the conversation find itself at a place it cannot return from. But the question had been asked, and she would give me the answer that I expected.

“Sulphur.” She said plainly. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she said it, and I could feel her gaze burning a little too deeply into me. I may have toed the edge a little too closely, my curiosity getting the better of me.   So I poked at the fire again with my nearby stick to raise another flurry of sparks into the air between us, a momentary distraction to break the tension.

Sulphur.  It could mean only one thing.  This youngling’s home was not destroyed by raiders or rivals, nor any natural storms or angry beasts. No, this village had been razed to the ground…by Demons. And it surely is no coincidence that the youngest celestial Champion I have ever encountered just happened to be living in this village, the first village I have heard of demons razing to the ground since the ancient time of Celestials.   That must mean……. Ah, but I am getting ahead of myself. For now I must guide the conversation back to where it needs to be, and I know what bait will suffice to lure her to that end..

“How ironic that both of our tales this evening should involve pigments and paints” I mused, with just the smallest hint of playfulness in my voice. I rose from my seat near the fire and stretched my arms upward. “This night is turning more chill, I shall make us some tea to keep us warm as our tales continue to weave.” And with that I quickly bent down beside the fire, scooping up our two metal bowls from dinner into my hand, and turned to walk across the road towards the lapping sounds of the mountain stream that ran alongside the path. I was lost in the shadows of the roadway before my young friend could even think to protest, and returned nearly as quickly with two bowls of fresh, cool glacier water from the mountains. Returning to my place across from the girl I nestled the two bowls into the hot embers at the base of the fire. Reaching into my pouch under my robes I took some tea leaves and herbs and carefully added them to the warming water. As the leaves swirled about the cups I pondered how much more I should reveal to my young acquaintance.

In truth, this young one has done me a great service this evening without realising it, and so even though it goes somewhat against my nature I shall have to balance the scales between us before I carry on with my travels tonight. Another tasty morsel from fate’s table for her to savour it is.  

The breeze of cool mountain air had begun to strengthen, and I could feel a chill begin to creep across my back. I leaned slightly closer to the fire, enraptured in the warmth it provided. My dinner guest seemed to be feeling the increasing chill of the night as well as she accepted my offer of warm tea gratefully when I proffered it to her. We both sipped gently and I decided it was time to repay my debt to her with the gift of knowledge that she so desperately was craving, although she didn’t know it.

“You know,” I began, between long slow sips of my evening tea, “you are not the first I have met who can see the true currents. And this blessing will not always feel like the curse it seems to be now. It has always been that those who can see the currents do so in adulthood, after they have already become the person they will be until their end of days. But for you, my dear girl, for you, for some unknown reason, you seem to have begun developing well before nature would have intended. You are still young and the person you will become has not taken shape yet. Why you are different from all the others before you, I cannot say for sure.”

The metal bowl slipped from my young acquaintance’s hand and tumbled down, rolling to a stop against the rocks guarding the edge of the campfire with a gentle chime. She was having trouble keeping her head up, and so I rose and walked around the campfire to help her ease her down to the ground, close to the warmth of the fire.

“I see the tea has performed its duty.” I smiled and knelt down closer to her so that she may hear my parting words before sleep took her.

“Here is my final gift to you this night, my dear child. A moment of clarity. What you are experiencing no one else has ever endured, neither child nor adult, and truly I am sorry. For you see, because your abilities have awakened prematurely, in a mind and body so young and inexperienced, you may possibly be the only one alive who is aware of the Metamorphosis.”   

She stirred slightly and managed to tilt her face towards mine. Her eyes were struggling to stay open, the herbs I had added to her tea enacting their effect in full on her now. Nothing to harm her of course, she will awaken when the sun rises and feel as if she had experienced a most restful sleep. But she will also remember every detail of this evening. The strange conversation with a mysterious traveller by the side of a campfire on this lonely mountain pass. And so, in the few moments before sleep takes her it is time to bring this conversation to its conclusion and repay the debt I owe her for enlightening me on things that I had missed.

“What is…the… Meta…meta…” She struggled to finish her question, her eyes rolling back in her head. But she needn't have worried, as this was the one answer I was going to share with her. It would be the payment of my debt in full.

“The Metamorphosis is our world – our entire universe – trying to return to the way it had intended itself to be. It would appear that a new hand has begun adding strokes to the canvas in the secret room, which is a matter I will need to attend to in the future. But to say that you have memories of things that did not happen would be a falsehood. Truly, those memories are real. Or, they were real. Now they have gone, like a child’s writing in the sand when the tide rises to wipe the beach clean. The universe is trying to correct itself, you see, and many things will be changing.

As you continue to age young Champion, you will begin to understand what is a memory from this world, and what is a memory from the other. What is part of your previous life, and what is from your new life, where we shall all live out the rest of our days.”

“Ch…Champ…?” Sleep was reaching up through her mind, ready to take hold of her completely in its temporary death.

“Yes, dear Erika. Champion. You will learn more of what that title means another time. But for tonight, allow me to thank you for the most illuminating conversation this old man has had in a long, long time. And allow me to be the first to give you my condolences for your beloved Rocky.”

She could not muster a sound, but her eyelids did manage to flicker open one more time, a herb-subdued look of shock at the mention of her name. And a second flicker of consciousness as the name of her beloved pet reached her nearly beyond the veil of sleep.

“Yes my dear, I speak of your beloved pet, Rocky. I am truly sorry for you. Have you not realised it yet?”

Her eyes closed for the last time this eve, and sleep began to take her away.

“You see Erika, Bai Hu don’t exist in this world anymore. In fact, they never have.”

And with that, our most unexpected encounter on a mountain path near the city of Radika concluded. I picked up my bowls , packed my belongings and - giving Erika one last glance - set off on my way. There was so much to do, and so little time to do it.

Sometimes eternity just feels so…limited.

-end of prelude