The fussy rains gradually abated and the metropolis was fast asleep. At twelve o’clock midnight the bell tower struck, deafening a patter across the tops of the city buildings. It was the rascal, who made her way along a circuitous route. In all black, she mimicked the night. Narrow
channels marked the passage between platforms. They too would be navigated by a body that glided almost perfectly upon them. A glace below confirmed the last nonchalant tourists in their departure from the central park. They didn’t notice the woman, whose wardrobe that day was more risqué than usual. With her right hand she revised an artless scarf that covered her more discernible features. Like stairs she furtively climbed the high rises. Above the thick glassy Atmo, the sparks glowed white in homage to their ancestor. Their presence like uncommon eggshells, caring and fond of all that slept below. Predictable taps from the leftover raindrops fell in disconnected circles around her. They could no longer hold the secrets of the sky. Unoriginal caws came from wet birds huddled on the lonesome brick. A squat ancillary wall. They nuzzled one another with geriatric beaks for comfort. But that was no hindrance to her travels. The rascal made it to the top. A thought of eyes peering out into the dark made her heart skip. But the chill wind gave no answer. It was half past twelve and the guards would be halfway to dreamland.
Tiny threads hung out the sides of her fingerless gloves, tailored hastily. She reached for and uncoiled the rope. Between her legs stood a rectangle easy enough to peer through. Etheria’s mausoleum. Its admirable bowels stocked with the personal trinkets of the patron herself. A slender rope danced a little jig as it dropped to the floor. The rascal relinquished her grip of it and hovered there, gazing passively at the glass case. It was like the chamber of a fertile rose. Those that are enshrouded by winter and made like crystals. Yet this was not that. Legendary rays sprouted from their source. The darkness became a conduit for their essence, a roman aqueduct.
An exemplar between her fingertips. “And what do you think you’re doing?” Etheria politely quipped as she ripped the scarf from its bearer. A rascally smile swept across Snow’s face, “I just think it’s pretty”. Etheria cocked her head ever so slightly, “You want to steal my soul-point power because you think they’re pretty?”. Snow nodded in agreement. In relation to her sister’s eyesight, her butt was slightly higher than her head. The rascal waved her arms like a human powered flying contraption. “I want them. They look like stars”. The big sister crossed her arms,
“Oh yeah, like you’re going to make marshmallow smores and be back in five minutes. You’re not even wearing your nightgown”. The girl timidly mouthed something in reply. At that moment Etheria was finished. Her long black hair grew to prodigious lengths and she grabbed the intruder, throwing her out the window and several miles across the city. Below her chest, the soul-point hummed with ambient energy. The richness of exploration leapt from its surface, filling the room. Etheria stood there, her chest pumping. Her eyes following the path of undeviating light. A sailor surveying the room and its regions.
In the early afternoon of the following day, Etheria and her son Honeycomb Man rode on a mat of burning roses through the sky. The air was kind that day and the clouds were supple.
Etheria pointed below and they picked up Snow for the excursion. Etheria sighed as her sister laughed playfully. The wind granting her hair sentience, its ivory heft subdividing into filaments.
Looking at her sister, she sparkled with the power of the dissolving snowflake. Honeycomb Man scooped a cloud ball and threw it at her for sport. At the end of their journey the mat descended onto a fertile grassland. A depression emerged among the grass as they alighted. The three of them were kindled in rousing emotion for what awaited. It was the very spot where the void eye moon seed planted itself. “This will make her more accountable,” Etheria thought, considering the progress her sister had made. Those refugees she sheltered in her inner realm. The battles with the eclipse beings. Dissolving Dazin’s army. It had all made her stronger. The man went on ahead, forging a path through ankle-deep verdancy. Ferns drifted from mountains over the hills in captivity to the air. The fun-loving sun had warmed the earth, and made the countryside all aflush with herbal fragrances. Inflorescence sheltered a hill from the simmering heat. Hope
seemed to guide the wind as lines made cursive through the grass. They stretched into the distance, to the bounds of land. A flock of doves tore apart and messily ate a rindless honeydew.
The light made their feathers vaguely green. Among the wild horses, a stallion got to its knees to bathe in a pile of lunar dust, throwing its head to and fro. Its neck was ideally muscular.
Honeycomb Man admired this sight. His back was ahead and clear to his mother. It was implausibly orange. The sister relished a joke from her whispering nephew. Etheria sighed as her chest became flighty. It must have been the sultry waves. They made her sweat. Beads that would share the glamor of the afternoon. Still the multiplicity of grass fanned out. Its purpose unaccounted for. Its reaches unclear. A wealth of many quivering things. In her heart, nothing could postpone a beat. “Let’s stop right here. Take a look. It’s the Jellyfish Flower” Honeycomb Man exclaimed, throwing his arms out as bars against their progress. Etheria stood with coherent understanding. It was his job as the protector to keep them at bay. Higher than them, the translucent petals drooped. Organs jostled inside, and its blossom was like an apparition. Quickly Snow fell on her butt. Her son smiled, knowing they had all failed to witness the jellyfish bees.
Like the flower, they were see-through. Jaws chittered as they saw the uninvited guests. Some had bioluminescence like the relatives of the deep. “Don’t go near either of them,” Honeycomb Man warned. “And why are we here exactly? I thought you said you were going to give me your power” Snow whined. Matryoshka inner realms vibrated with annoyance. The elder paced around the stubborn mademoiselle, “You might think that our empire is strong, but its power is only as good as its people. Rather, it is more like this delicate flower. It gives the bees sustenance. For what it lacks, it relies on defenders. It needs them”. “And what do you mean?”
Snow insisted. Her face was now cool to the touch. The elder stared down and waited calmly,
“Right now, Snow. I need you to swear to uphold your part of that exchange. Use your abilities to protect the realm. It will be the fight of a lifetime. You will have to face enemies. Grapple against darkness. It will be restless and unkind”. For what her sister lacked in authority, she made up for in energy. Scrunched up in that tight little package. Layers of rippling atmosphere.
The soft veneer covering fathomless halls of power. A vital frame blinking with light. And above all, Echo’s eyes. A hint of velvet. More piercing than the iris that they trod upon. “I will protect it,” Snow answered. Hearing it, the elder reunited with motion. She looked to Honeycomb Man and gave a knowing nod. The latter did his thing, causing the jellyfish bee to buzz down and sting the fertile earth. For miles the hilly grassland gave way to honeysuckle. Snow got to her knees and whirled around for the thrill of it all. Picking them up with a wicker basket made of ice. It would last until sunset. Etheria stood there in plain shadow, her arms by her side. A memory unfolding. Smoke and flame. The untamed void eye and its vines. Cities demolished by the crackle of velvet lightning. Those ropes tearing through structures. It was better to be subjugated than wild. It braced her for a second, then faded away.