A New Night

Romalla’s Return

Over the false sea, I flew without feeling or thought. Night was upon me, giving me energy and stealth, but this was a small consolation after everything that had happened. All I could think about were the cold truths that had nearly drowned me in the cruel home of the so-called gods. Everything now felt fake—everything felt like a lie. Bassello’s words echoed in my head—that the Sky City, as he called it, was not the Spirit Realm. However, I had just … known that he was wrong. He was just self-critical, as all gods must be to attain perfection.

My faith had been affirmed when we climbed the frozen vine up to the city, and I began to hear the voices of Spirit Realm again. They were the same voices I had always heard on the Island—music, muffled tones, and rhythmed words without song. And the closer I had climbed to the City of the Gods, the louder the voices had become; so that I knew I had found the Spirit Realm.

Then … I’d seen someone green flying through the sky. I wasn’t sure, but Camolla had always told me that my green fur had been passed down from him. So I’d flown toward the shape and called for it—hoping to at least find some Night Person departed. But the shape had not answered.

In my distress, I did not understand what it meant when I heard the music of the gods playing on the sands of the beach. The voices were different now. Before, I had listened to the music through my inner spirit. Now, I heard it with my ears—plain as someone speaking directly to me. And much of the music I had heard in the Sky City was the same as what had played in my heart.

However, it had all been a lie. The shape had not been a Night Person of any kind—just a smooth stone like the body of Bassello. Likewise, the music was being played on small boxes that the people of the Sky City just passively seemed to hear and mumble along with while they went about their day. There was no reverence to it, nothing profound in the voices that my entire life had been built around. The priests … we were just people who could hear the entertainment of the gods.

Not even realizing it, I was now on the edge of the Sky City—on their miniature replica of the Gods’ Wall … or perhaps just a large wall that the people of this place had forgotten. Tears burning in my eyes, I climbed down the warm and rocky underside of the city. I tried to put my feelings out of mind; I had to plan out how I would get back home.

I was confident that I could fly over the Gods’ Wall. Then I would fly down to the beach and journey from tribe to tribe of Night People. Eventually, I would return home. When I did, I would tell Camolla that I was no longer a prophet, that my faith was gone. I would tell her … that we would never see my father and Krogallo again. But then, she had probably known all this time. I had always thought her to be faithless. Now, I realized that she had seen the world for what it was; I was the fool.

Bassello had known as well … and yet he’d been so sure that the gods would have answers. For him, maybe they did. They had nothing for me or anyone they had left in the terrible hell below! Why should they care about fruit bats kidnapped by Golems or Hunter children starving in the jungle? Yet Bassello had made me think that they would have the answers to our problems if only we could accomplish the all-but-impossible task of reaching them.

No … that wasn’t entirely fair. I had to admit that the deception had not been entirely his fault. In all the times we had spoken about his Sky City, his face had made the distinct shapes of his sadness. Every time I had mentioned my hopes about the Spirit Realm, his face had shown a downward, blue crescent moon. He’d even tried to explain that the Night People were just slightly smarter versions of fruit bats … or vampire bats. No, none of it had been a trick on his part. Bassello had tried to save me from making a fool of myself when I arrived in the City of the Gods.

However, this knowledge didn’t make me feel better. On the contrary, it made me feel more like the delusion was my fault. I was the stupid one. This thought hurt my chest even more than the idea that he’d tricked me.

As I hung upside-down, tears leaked from my eyes, dripped down to my forehead, and were swiftly carried by the wind. In a last desperate prayer, I whispered, “Krogallo?” There was no reply other than the continued music in my soul—messages from gods who didn’t even know I could hear them. Now, I realized the curse that I could never stop my ears from listening.

I felt relieved when I heard a distant sound of wet sand crunching beneath feet. But, wait … no … the crunch was crisper. It was ice and that wet white stuff like frozen rain from the mountaintop. The sound was the same as when Dro and Scraa had walked upon it. I looked in the direction of the sounds—at the wire that Bassello had used to carry us here from the mountain.

I spotted several shadows slowly climbing along the top of the icy vine. I thought this impossible but then focused on the frozen vine. The top was shaved off from how Bassello had climbed it with his stone arms—leaving almost a flat surface.

The Queen was the first to touch the stone base of the Sky City with her hand. Then, she began to climb, using the handholds that Bassello had created with his claws. It wasn’t long until the other Hunters were also climbing, having not yet spotted me.

The Queen and her servants were going to reach the Sky City! If she could read the minds and influence the fears of the gods, like she could Bassello, there was no telling what secrets she would learn! Perhaps even enough to climb the Gods’ Wall.

I had to warn Bassello. Of all the gods, he was the only one who had encountered the demons and who would know what they were capable of. Then again … I didn’t know if even he could stand up to them now, as they preyed upon the pain in one’s heart. Bassello’s spirit was now in as many shredded pieces as mine, which meant he would be defenseless!

There was no choice; I had to save him! I quickly crawled back up the stone base of the city, until I was standing on the wall that overlooked the small ocean. I briefly looked around for the demons and saw them circumventing the water via the wall.

I opened my wings and took flight, flapping as fast as I could over the water that reflected the moonlight. In a few moments, I landed on the silvery sands of the beach where I had left Bassello. I looked around but couldn’t see him anywhere. I shrieked and clicked repeatedly, hoping the sounds would hit his rigid and hollow form and return to me.

There was no sort of response. He was gone, and only a few festive gods were still around, making merriment around a fire in the sand and playing their deceitful music.

I hissed at them and then took off into the air again, trying to think of where Bassello would have gone. The best answer, I decided, would be up in the tallest tower of their city—from which a tremendous watery surface rose into the heavens.

I soared towards it, frequently looking down to see if I could spot the blue glow of Bassello’s face or the yellow flashing lights of the flying gods that had chased us before. I saw neither but continued to look and click at the dark.

My clicks made me aware of plump bugs that flew below me. It was like this city was a miniature replica of the world below. If the gods cared enough to replicate the world below, why didn’t they care about the fate of its peoples? Not the subjection of the Servants, not the cruelty of the Golems, not the souls of the faithful Night People, and not the starving Hunters. I had to imprison my anger at these thoughts in my belly, where they caused me only physical pain so that my mind could be as clear as possible.

I made it over the trees and approached the largest dwelling of the gods. I landed high on the wall, covered in various holes that led inside. Most of these holes were covered in a transparent surface that I detected by my clicks. Through them, however, I could see where gods, lights, and other things moved inside. The images and the colors were overwhelming, but I kept at it for a long while in search of any sign of Bassello.

As I neared exhaustion, I found one room so bright, with strange lights and square moving images, that I felt compelled to stop and look. I pressed my face against the transparent surface. Inside, there were many flat surfaces that looked sort of like Bassello’s face. However, these surfaces showed different moving pictures of the city. In one, I saw the same gods I had just seen on the beach, still dancing and talking.

I was taken aback. This was clearly an oracle—a magical device I’d heard about in song by which the gods could see all things. There were many more of the oracles as well. Through them, I could see countless places—even ones that did not seem to be in the city. Some looked like Hunter villages, others like Servant colonies, a few were the islands of the Night People. There were dozens more with creatures and places that I could not begin to recognize. So the gods had been watching all this time?

However, I could not afford to be distracted any longer. I looked for any sign of Bassello, but there was no picture of him. There were only the gods—in their various shapes, sizes, and colors. I did not see any blue, glowing faces. However, I did see two black shadows followed by black tails. One was big, and the other was small.

“Scraa and Dro,” I whispered and noted that they seemed to be outside a brightly colored building from which much smaller gods entered and exited. These smaller gods were much more comical looking. They moved with more energy as well, like the children of my people. So what were those two imbecile Hunters doing there? It didn’t matter; I had to find them. Perhaps with their demon powers, they could find Bassello.

My stomach groaned, and I realized that I had to at least get a quick snack. Chasing the bugs would take time. And there were no animals to be easily found and bled.

Surely, I could not desecrate the body of a god by drinking from them. Another rumble in my stomach disagreed. Oh well, these so-called gods deserved none of my reverence.

I flew away from that window and looked to see if there were any sleeping gods that were not protected by their transparent barriers. There were no such exposed sleepers in the windows, so I flew to the top of the tower. At the top, one god was asleep while swaying in a pouch strung between two trees.

I flew close and landed on the pouch, close to the god’s foot. I approached its flesh and used one of my teeth to make a small cut on its biggest toe. Blood poured from the wound, and I lapped it up quickly. There was nothing special about the blood. It tasted somewhat similar to that of the bloodbags on the beach, except not nearly as good.

When I’d had my fill, I pressed the two split pieces of flesh together for several seconds with my tongue. I kept it that way until the toe was no longer bleeding. The Night People usually did this to improve the health of the blood bags and the flavor of the blood. I did so now to lessen my chances of being found out.

Then again, I thought … maybe I should leave the wound open to spite them. I decided against it but still hissed at the god. Then, I took flight to look for the colorful building of small gods.