Into Forbidden Lands

The stone giant regarded them with dispassion, his obsidian pupils reflecting the blazing rainbows of their re-awakened Keys.

Why do you seek the Orb? he repeated.

Azulya nodded at Illiom.

“You should answer. You hold the first Key.”

Illiom faced the Guardian.

She did not fully understand the words that came to her, yet she delivered them with complete confidence for they were not just her own; they had flowered into the awareness of each Chosen simultaneously.

“Only the Orb can awaken the sleepers.”

She had barely finished speaking when the Guardian responded.

Have you the Keys to the Seven Doors?

Illiom nodded.

“We do.”

Then follow me.

The Guardian turned and led the way down the open hallway and was soon sinking back into the floor as though he was walking into a lake.

The Chosen quickly gathered their belongings and followed.

The Guardian began to swim. Yet even though the floor behaved like liquid for him, it retained its unyielding qualities beneath the Chosen’s feet.

Illiom barely noticed.

Her attention was fixed upon the door that was set into the wall at the end of the hallway.

The Giant heaved himself out of the floor and stood to one side, waiting for them to catch up.

The door was circular and a dazzling white. It was made of a different stone than the surrounding wall. As they drew closer, Illiom noticed a small recess within the door; it was the size and shape of her Key.

They came to a stop a short distance away.

Illiom, heart in her throat, stepped forward holding her Key before her, its ruby glow shimmering upon the door’s surface.

The Guardian’s words held her back.

What is faith?

Illiom stopped and turned to look at him, but no answer came to her.

“What is faith?” she repeated, stalling.

That is what I ask.

Illiom blinked.

“Mmm … faith is the first Key.”

The giant waited.

“Faith can take us where the mind cannot.”

Another silence.

“Faith reveals that anything is possible.”

Illiom paused for a moment. With each answer her certainty and confidence grew, yet she knew that she was not done. She brought a hand to rest upon the centre of her chest.

“Faith is the knowing that is birthed in the heart.”

She looked at the Guardian’s impassive face.

What is faith? he asked again.

Illiom stared into those implacable eyes and felt deep within her being. The words arose from the silent depths of her soul.

“I am faith.”

Then place the Key of Faith into the Door of Doubt.

Before she could insert her Key it flew from her hand and slid into its lock. The Key began to spin. The door around it also turned, slowly at first, and then with gathering speed until it blazed with scarlet light.

A nightingale sang.

The Door and Key suddenly vanished.

What remained was a round entrance into the hall beyond.

One by one the Chosen followed Illiom into the Hall of Manifestation.

The hall was vast, stretching into the distance, and as Illiom traversed it she knew with an ineffable clarity that everything that had ever happened to her had been manifested by her.

She did not understand it, nor did she need to.

She knew.

It was Sereth’s turn to approach the Second Door, yet the Chosen spoke even before the Guardian could utter his question.

“I am passion,” he declared emphatically, but the Guardian remained undaunted.

What is passion? he asked.

Apparently imitating the answer that had opened the First Door would not do.

Sereth inhaled deeply, smiled knowingly and closed his eyes.

For long moments nothing happened, then the Chosen spoke in a voice no louder than a whisper.

“Passion is life’s yearning for itself.”

On hearing his words Illiom’s eyes filled with tears.

“Passion is the seedling’s push through snow and ice to gain the light of a distant sun.”

“It is the eagle’s soaring call that greets the dawn.”

“Passion is fearless and irrepressible, and will meet any obstacle that is thrown its way, even you, my stony friend.”

Illiom did not know whether to laugh or cry.

“Passion is the heartbeat of the Earth and the Gods’ need to create. And before you ask me again, I will say it one more time.”

“I am passion!”

Without hesitation the stone giant yielded passage to the Chosen.

A crystalline chime resounded when Sereth placed his Key into the lock of the Door of Apathy. Then – as it had for Illiom - the door began to spin, bathing them all in carnelian light, then vanished.

Following Sereth’s lead, the Chosen stepped into the next hall.

In appearance, the Hall of Creativity was indistinguishable from the previous one, but as Illiom walked its length, every step she took heralded a new awakening in her being.

It was the awe of existence itself, the freedom of the living mystery that pulsed through all things. That mystery that all children see and recognise and respond to, before they are constricted by limitation and reshaped by rules.

For some reason Illiom had believed that each Key would hold gifts only for its bearer. How could she have been so mistaken?

Each Key bore gifts of flowering expansion for all of them.

What is courage?

Illiom’s heart ached for Elan as the giant questioned her.

The priestess had lost far more than any of them on their journey, yet Illiom saw how that very loss had tempered Elan’s will, enabling her to face what was now before her.

“Courage is the sword that cleaves the meek in two,” she answered without hesitation. “It exposes the mettle hidden at the soul’s core.”

Elan looked down at the stone floor. Illiom thought that she was remembering her loss, but when she lifted her gaze a fire burned in the priestess’ green eyes.

“Courage is fearlessness.”

“Courage is the ability to see the truth and act upon it.”

“It is the strength to face whatever is awakened within. It is a weapon that, when used, becomes a shield and its reward is endless peace.”

Elan!

The priestess opened her hands in complete surrender.

“And I am she, I am courage.”

When Elan inserted her Key, the air around them filled with the sound of waves surging and crashing against the shore.

The Door of Fear disappeared and the Chosen entered the Hall of Power that stretched beyond.

A tang of salt and lightning filled the air.

As she walked its length, Illiom saw no difference between what was inside of her and what appeared outside, and no difference between herself and the others. She was Elan, and the priestess was Illiom. The heart of one beat inside the other.

Illiom felt herself expand to encompass vaster possibilities.

The journey was becoming intoxicating.

Malco stepped up to the Fourth Door.

What is forgiveness? the giant questioned.

Malco bowed his head.

Illiom held her breath.

Despite the transformation she had witnessed in the Blade, Illiom found herself wondering what would happen if any of them failed. What would happen to Âtras?

Time passed and still Malco remained silent.

Illiom shook herself and denied the worm of doubt that crept into her mind. How could she be Faith if she had no faith now?

She straightened, her inner fire rekindled, and she gazed at the Blade with all the love and certainty she could muster.

As though in direct response to this, Malco also straightened before the giant Guardian.

“Forgiveness is the only forge that can melt the cold iron sheath that hardens around the betrayed and forlorn heart.”

He spoke in a slow and measured tone.

“Forgiveness is the bridge that spans all rifts. It is the balm that soothes wretchedness and banishes hatred.”

The Blade looked down at his hands before raising his gaze once more.

“The greatest healer is forgiveness, and I am that.”

He paused for a moment.

“I am forgiveness.”

As the Door of Hatred dissolved, the clear note of a lute invited them into the Hall of Love.

Scald strode up to the Door of Falsehood, his cowl pulled down so almost nothing could be seen of his face.

Illiom felt a great love for him as he stood there, clutching his Key of Discernment. She could barely recall the opinionated, antagonistic and angry man who had finally been undone by his Rider’s sacrifice.

She realised that the love she felt was not just for him, but for every one of them, for they had all journeyed together to share this one moment, whatever outcome lay in wait at journey’s end.

“Discernment is the heart that sees truly,” he answered in response to the Guardian’s question, “and is beguiled neither by the lies of the world nor by the voice of reason.”

He nodded, as though he was agreeing with some inner guidance.

“Discernment is greater than the ability to choose right from wrong. It is the knowing and the seeing of the shining truth when all fears have fallen away.”

Scald fell silent.

He pushed his cowl back to expose the scars that disfigured his face.

“I am discernment.”

The Door of Falsehood spun away.

A flute wove a pure melody into the air around them.

The Hall of Truth brimmed with power.

As Illiom traversed it she saw how every single choice, regardless of how difficult or painful, had been instrumental in moulding her into who she now was.

All of her uncertainties and fears had been the result of her beliefs. They were now behind her, fallen like sheaves of wheat before the scythe of harvest. They no longer held sway over her.

The next Door was completely different.

The Door of Illusion was a mirror. It reflected back to them the hall they had just crossed. However, the Chosen could not see themselves in the reflection.

Had they become invisible?

What is clarity? asked the Guardian as Undina approached.

“Without memory and without dreams, to see, that clarity is,” she replied without a moment’s hesitation.

“Without want or without regret, only what is here seeing, in this place and this time, that clarity is.”

“And clarity what I am is.”

Undina approached the Door of Illusion with her Key, but when she touched it, the lock did not reveal itself.

Dumbfounded, the tribal girl stared into the mirror for a time. Then suddenly she smiled her sweet, inimitable smile and closed her eyes. She reached out and felt the surface with her fingers and was soon placing her Key into the lock.

A horn resounded in celebration as Undina stepped into the Hall of Wisdom.

They followed the Pelonui and walked on, bathed in a radiant embrace of pure light.

Illiom felt her whole body tingle.

She was ready to face anything.

The Guardian blocked Azulya’s path to the final door. He did not speak, but just stood there, waiting at the Door of Separation.

Azulya gazed silently into the Guardian’s eyes.

When she finally spoke, her words surprised Illiom.

“There is no I, and there is no You,” she said with quiet certainty.

“There is only One.”

And it was enough.

The Guardian bowed his head and stepped aside.

Azulya stopped within easy reach and brought out the Key of Union.

Its dappled radiance danced across the door’s surface. When she slipped her Key into the lock a great peal of thunder rolled over them.

The stone door changed into a shimmering wall of pure energy.

Nothing could be seen of the hall beyond.

This was the point where the Seventy Third Fragment had come to an end.

Only when they entered would they see what awaited.

Azulya raised her hand and brought it close to the shimmering surface, not quite touching it.

She spoke without turning.

“I do not know what will happen now, but I do know that I love you all.”

Her friend’s words touched Illiom’s heart.

“Wait!” Malco said, stepping forward.

He embraced Azulya.

Unknowing of what the future held for them, the Chosen made their farewells.

“Well,” said Scald, shrugging away from his embrace with Azulya. “What are you waiting for? Lead the way, like you always have.”

But he grinned as he spoke.

Without hesitation Azulya smiled, nodded once and stepped through the shimmering door.

Tears lined Illiom’s face.

One by one they followed Azulya.

Illiom was the last.

Alone in the Sixth Hall of Sudra’s Temple, she turned, looking back the way they had come.

Unexpectedly, Who’s voice spoke in her mind.

Illiom.

Who… she answered, but the owl was gone.

Now she saw a lone man standing on the shore of the Onceland Sea, looking out to where he had not been permitted to follow.

Tears flowed down her cheeks.

“I love you,” she said.

And with that she stepped into the unknown.