The Illusion Queen
Chapter 3
Aleja’s mouth watered at the smoky smell of roasting squid and fish that drifted into the palanquin as it passed through Mir. Aleja envied the people drinking milky rice wine around the small grills that lined the streets, sharing in their meals and their warmth while she sat in stony silence with Kalim.
It was the eve of a Day of Rest, a day when only Caretakers needed wake before first light of dawn. On this night the people of Mir stayed out late to drink and eat, with little concern to how they may curse their pounding heads the next morning.
Brightly burning torches lined the streets. Shadows danced across the palanquin’s curtains in step with the joyous music that filled the air. It reminded Aleja of the shadow plays she enjoyed watching as a child. The ones with the large, wooden puppets who were brought to life by their creators holding them in the dark, while they lived on the stage and danced in the light. In their brief time alive, Aleja couldn't help but feel that the puppets were much nobler than the flesh and blood audience that watched them.
The people of Corazon were plain and kind, but with manners as coarse and dusty as the ground they walked on. But they were grateful for the pleasures their Queen had bestowed upon them. They had food and wine to warm their bellies and companionship to warm their hearts. The dark pleasures of the Drowned World were long forgotten to them, and they desired for nothing more than what they had.
But even if Aleja were not in Kalim’s palanquin now she would not have joined them. It would be unseemly for a Judge to spend time with the people she served. Sometimes she would watch them as she studied alone in her room, and would think about how little she knew about them. She was tempted to close the book and join them, but never gave in to it. The words she memorized as a novice kept her will strong.
My life is not my own. I have no right to bond with the life of another, to offer what I cannot give.
Her only real contact with the Queen's people was with another girl who worked with horses at a small stable near Aleja's home. Although she was once terrified to even touch one, Aleja loved horses. They were almost mythical creatures to her, no different from the spiny, monstrous bears of the Yamanashi Mountains or the winged serpents of the Wastes that Caretakers spoke of to scare unruly children. After seeing Aleja linger by the yards, the girl offered for her to take a closer look at the horses. At first Aleja demurred. Unaware that Aleja could not do any such thing without permission from a Chamberlain, the girl persisted and ultimately Aleja relented.
After that, Aleja would furtively visit whenever she had the chance. She only helped with brushing the horses at first, but eventually Aleja learned to ride. She felt free when she rode. Not just from the domineering Chamberlains who would put a stop to it if they knew, but also from the constant press of her thoughts. When she was riding, the world outside the yard seemed to disappear entirely, and the world inside her mind was quiet.
As the palanquin got closer to the center of the city the dusty, earthy smells of wood and grilled food were replaced by those of perfumes and spices. The sounds outside were lighter, softer, the conversations more refined. This was the part of the city where the high ranking Daughters, Consuls, and Chamberlains lived. Daughters of lower status, like Aleja, rarely ventured into such a place without invitation.
Aleja felt the palanquin rise up as they crossed one of the bridges that led to the High Temple gardens. Once inside the garden the lilting sounds of the inner city were replaced by the chirping of insects and birds.
“This is where I take leave of you, my dear.” Kalim said as the palanquin stopped.
“You won’t come with me into the High Temple?”
“No. As Emissary of Mir I am charged with attending to the grubby matters of this world. The Temple Maidens attend to the dream world.”
“The dream world?”
Kalim smiled.
“Why, the world of the Queen of course.” Kalim tittered. “And remember my little dew petal, whoever you stand before in Judgement, whether it is the High Judge, High Chamberlain or even the Queen herself, do so without fear.”
“Why do you care?”
“Because you don’t just represent yourself, but all Daughters. We are an example to all the people of Corazon.”
“So it has nothing to do with me.”
“Why should it? Such shameful ego you have girl. You are one of many. Never forget that.”
Despite the contempt in her voice Kalim smiled, and then held out her arms for the parting embrace all Daughters gave one another, no matter their position or feelings for one another. Aleja hesitated, glared at Kalim warily, but then relented. After a stiff hug, Aleja took the hand of Kalim’s guard and exited the palanquin.
Aleja stood before one of the four gates of the High Temple. The High Temple was in the center of the city, and was the central hub of a large circular road known as the Wheel. The wheel cut through the city, forming a marker between the inner and the outer sections, an invisible wall between those that served the Queen with their heads, and those that served with their hands.
Towering aqueducts bringing water into the city ran along the roads that were the spokes of the wheel. The aqueducts fed directly into the upper reaches of the High Temple. From high above, the immensity of the High Temple and the aqueducts looked like a giant red spider crawling through the city.
Aleja stared at the figure standing before the gate.
A statue of the Queen, more than twice Aleja’s height, loomed over her. In the light of the torches the black statue seemed to glow with hints of gold.
The statue’s eyes were fiery red rubies, the nostrils enlarged as if drawing in a deep breath, and lips curled in an animalistic snarl. The clothes and armor of the statue were tattered, as if torn in battle, and her chest was exposed through the shredded breastplate.
The left arm was raised high and held on to a blade that was consumed in fire. The heat from it warmed Aleja’s face in the cool night air. The right arm reached out as if it meant to grab Aleja and drag her into the temple.
As a small child, Aleja screamed the first time she saw the statues. Until then she had only known the Queen as the mother to the people of Corazon, who loved them with a depth of feeling none could ever comprehend. But at that moment the Queen was more a monster than a loving mother.
It was Aleja’s first lesson of what it means to love and protect your children. In order to inspire devotion, you must invoke fear.
Beyond the gate was a humble stone walkway overgrown with soft moss and creeping vines. Five women, each holding torches in their hands, stood on the walkway. Aleja knew them to be Temple Maidens from their colorful tattoos of carp swimming up a roiling stream. The fish were a symbol of the gifts of food that supported the Queen and her people on the long sea journey from the Drowned Lands to Corazon.
Unlike Aleja’s short, cropped haircut that drew a sharp line across her forehead, the Temple Maiden’s hair was long, with elaborately threaded headdresses that wove into the lemniscate on their foreheads. The paint around their eyes, and the sheen of their diaphanous peplos, glittered in the torchlight. Each Maiden radiated an intimidating beauty.
Without a word, the Temple Maiden’s beckoned Aleja to follow them. Aleja couldn’t help but imagine the statue’s fiery eyes following her as she walked to the High Temple. She tried to calm herself.
You’re just afraid. Breathe.
After a few breaths she felt her pulse slow. And yet, Aleja did not dare look back as she walked into the darkness of the High Temple halls, for fear she would see the statue following her. The Temple Maidens walked in a tight circle around Aleja as they led her to the center of the temple, a large room known as the Syncronia.
Aleja blinked as her eyes adjusted to the brightness of the Syncronia. Even though the maze of hallways seemed to get darker with every turn the Syncronia was well lit, not just by torches, but also by the light reflected on the mirrors hung on its towering walls.
A glittering mosaic of colorful pieces of tile covered the wall across from Aleja. The Queen’s face dominated the center of the mosaic, her black hair wove through the images of Corazon’s history like seawater through a rocky shore.
Aleja first saw the mosaic during her initiation as a novice. Then the room was full of children. All girls, full of nerves, energy, and excitement and blissfully unaware of the challenges and discipline to come.
Aleja did not realize then that the toys she played with, the tops that spun in such vivid colors, the little metal figures that bent and danced near flames, would be the first objects she would place in her Memory Palace. They would replace, first in her hands and then in her memory, the toys she once played with in her village.
It was the first step in forgetting her previous life.
Like the Priestesses who served in the Temple of the Queen’s Memory, who were the living records of all the Daughter’s experiences, Aleja was gifted with the Painted Eye. She could recall sights so vividly it was as if she were actually seeing them in front of her. But Aleja’s only memories of the time before she became a Daughter were fleeting and quickly forgotten. She remembered the feel of a loving touch, the smell of clay, the sound of an ocean. But her memories were nothing she could see, so Aleja would quickly dismiss them. If she could not see them, then they were not real.
A smooth, glassy image of a ship leaving Corazon for the Stone Islands caught Aleja’s eye as she approached the mosaic.
Aleja did not understand why people chose to leave the Queen’s protection to live on the Stone Islands. On the mosaic large predatory birds, their talons opened wide and stained with blood, threatened to dig into the flesh of the people picking through the Stone Island’s rocky shores for their meager sustenance.
The Yamanashi Mountains were also depicted on the mosaic, but without any representation of the wild and mysterious people who lived there. Aleja wondered why include the mountains if you would not also show the people? And if the mountains were unimportant, why would they be placed so close to the image of the Queen?
Aleja dismissed her questions upon approaching the solitary man who stood at the base of the Queen’s neck.
He had a shaved head and was dressed in the tight, wrapped clothing of a Guardian, yet in a deep green color rather than a light brown. The man faced away from Aleja.
“High Chamberlin Taka,” a Temple Maiden said with a bow, “the Daughter named Aleja is here for your guidance.”
Taka nodded his head, but did not turn to face Aleja. Each of the Temple Maidens left her with a parting embrace.
Aleja knew Taka to be quite old, for he had been High Chamberlain and guided the city of Mir long before Aleja was born, but his posture was that of a young, vigorous man. He stood legs apart, his hands behind his back. The tight wrappings strained against the muscles of his arms and legs.
Taka’s eyes were focused on the mosaic. The red eyes of the ram’s skull tattooed on the back of Taka’s head stared down at Aleja.
The mountain ram was the distinction of the Chamberlains, the ones who selected the young girls of Corazon to be Daughters, chose who would be Corazon’s Guardians, and made sure they all served the Queen. The face of the ram skull covered most of the back of his head. The segmented horns curled around the sides of Taka’s temple before ending in points at the base of his ears.
Aleja had never seen a ram skull where the horns extended so far.
Taka turned to face Aleja. He stared at her with eyes as blue and deep as the ocean that surrounded Corazon. Most of Corazon’s people had brown eyes with skin and hair to match. Blue or green eyes were so rare that Aleja actually thought that they were lost to her people.
“Did you know that long ago,” Taka began, in an voice that was oddly high pitched for someone with such an intimidating presence, “when the stars were too numerous to be counted, when the living outnumbered the dead, that the people of the Drowned World greeted those they did not know by grasping hands?” he said.
“No, High Chamberlain. This Daughter was not aware of such a custom.”
“Of course. Do you wonder why we don’t do so?”
“It would not be proper.”
“And why is that?”
“A person does not want to dirty the hands of another, or does not want to presume that they will become intimate companions. Only those who share a purpose may share an embrace.”
Taka leaned in towards Aleja. There were signs of many seasons on his face, as there were on Kalim’s, but his flesh had none of her softness. The muscles in his face were tight and gave him a slightly skeletal look.
“Would it shock you then to know that our ancestors even once kissed the lips of the dead? That they stayed with the empty body for days in a room with food that would be left to decay like the body of their loved one? I must ask you, what do you think of such customs?”
Aleja’s nose and mouth scrunched involuntarily as Taka spoke. The revulsion she felt at his words built in her throat, and she swallowed hard before she replied.
“Forgive my ignorance, High Chamberlain, but this Daughter does not understand the question.”
“If you were to guide our people as our Queen has…” Taka said, his face drawing ever closer to Aleja’s “…would you permit such customs?”
“This Daughter would not. A body without life serves no purpose above ground, and until taken back to the ground it is a source of corruption. Its proper place is in the urns that let it liquefy and drain into the earth. It is then purified as it feeds the fruits and vegetables that sustain the living. Only when it has given back what it took will our Queen bring that life back into this world.”
“That is correct. Yet, you speak of corruption. Have you ever seen the living being corrupted by the dead?”
“Thanks to the graces of our Queen, this Daughter has not, High Chamberlain.”
“Then how do you know such things are true?”
Aleja struggled to keep a straight face at the question. It would be wholly inappropriate to laugh in the face of High Chamberlain Taka, but Aleja almost did so. Aleja’s exhaustion and hunger had almost consumed her wits. The apprehension she once felt was now replaced with a weary annoyance.
“Because this Daughter is a living witness to the memories of the Queen and her people.”
Aleja held out her hand, palm upward, in the direction of the mosaic. Taka looked with her at the images entangled in the Queen’s hair. Men, women and children in piles, the flesh and blood of each melting into the others. The bodies’ thick, poisoned veins bulged through the pallor of their skin. The mass of dead looked like they were entangled in a large, blood-stained spider web.
Horrible creatures with the heads of animals and skin that shined like the metal mined from the Yamanashi Mountains rode horses over the dead, and strange ships floating in the sky rained fire down upon the living.
Taka looked upon the mosaic and nodded his head.
“It is time for your reflection.” Taka said abruptly, “Go inward to your Memory Palace and recount the Parable of Thirst.”
Aleja closed her eyes and took a long, drawn out breath. In her mind she was no longer in the Syncronia, but rather in a room where all the tables and shelves were covered with objects of every shape, size, and color. On a stand by the window there was a cup made from blue glass. Aleja admired how it sparkled in the orange glow of the setting sun.
Aleja picked up a small figurine of an earless man with a slash of red paint across his face. Upon picking up the figurine the story became clear in her mind. Aleja opened her eyes, and began to tell the tale.
It was the eve of a Day of Rest, a day when only Caretakers needed wake before first light of dawn. On this night the people of Mir stayed out late to drink and eat, with little concern to how they may curse their pounding heads the next morning.
Brightly burning torches lined the streets. Shadows danced across the palanquin’s curtains in step with the joyous music that filled the air. It reminded Aleja of the shadow plays she enjoyed watching as a child. The ones with the large, wooden puppets who were brought to life by their creators holding them in the dark, while they lived on the stage and danced in the light. In their brief time alive, Aleja couldn't help but feel that the puppets were much nobler than the flesh and blood audience that watched them.
The people of Corazon were plain and kind, but with manners as coarse and dusty as the ground they walked on. But they were grateful for the pleasures their Queen had bestowed upon them. They had food and wine to warm their bellies and companionship to warm their hearts. The dark pleasures of the Drowned World were long forgotten to them, and they desired for nothing more than what they had.
But even if Aleja were not in Kalim’s palanquin now she would not have joined them. It would be unseemly for a Judge to spend time with the people she served. Sometimes she would watch them as she studied alone in her room, and would think about how little she knew about them. She was tempted to close the book and join them, but never gave in to it. The words she memorized as a novice kept her will strong.
My life is not my own. I have no right to bond with the life of another, to offer what I cannot give.
Her only real contact with the Queen's people was with another girl who worked with horses at a small stable near Aleja's home. Although she was once terrified to even touch one, Aleja loved horses. They were almost mythical creatures to her, no different from the spiny, monstrous bears of the Yamanashi Mountains or the winged serpents of the Wastes that Caretakers spoke of to scare unruly children. After seeing Aleja linger by the yards, the girl offered for her to take a closer look at the horses. At first Aleja demurred. Unaware that Aleja could not do any such thing without permission from a Chamberlain, the girl persisted and ultimately Aleja relented.
After that, Aleja would furtively visit whenever she had the chance. She only helped with brushing the horses at first, but eventually Aleja learned to ride. She felt free when she rode. Not just from the domineering Chamberlains who would put a stop to it if they knew, but also from the constant press of her thoughts. When she was riding, the world outside the yard seemed to disappear entirely, and the world inside her mind was quiet.
As the palanquin got closer to the center of the city the dusty, earthy smells of wood and grilled food were replaced by those of perfumes and spices. The sounds outside were lighter, softer, the conversations more refined. This was the part of the city where the high ranking Daughters, Consuls, and Chamberlains lived. Daughters of lower status, like Aleja, rarely ventured into such a place without invitation.
Aleja felt the palanquin rise up as they crossed one of the bridges that led to the High Temple gardens. Once inside the garden the lilting sounds of the inner city were replaced by the chirping of insects and birds.
“This is where I take leave of you, my dear.” Kalim said as the palanquin stopped.
“You won’t come with me into the High Temple?”
“No. As Emissary of Mir I am charged with attending to the grubby matters of this world. The Temple Maidens attend to the dream world.”
“The dream world?”
Kalim smiled.
“Why, the world of the Queen of course.” Kalim tittered. “And remember my little dew petal, whoever you stand before in Judgement, whether it is the High Judge, High Chamberlain or even the Queen herself, do so without fear.”
“Why do you care?”
“Because you don’t just represent yourself, but all Daughters. We are an example to all the people of Corazon.”
“So it has nothing to do with me.”
“Why should it? Such shameful ego you have girl. You are one of many. Never forget that.”
Despite the contempt in her voice Kalim smiled, and then held out her arms for the parting embrace all Daughters gave one another, no matter their position or feelings for one another. Aleja hesitated, glared at Kalim warily, but then relented. After a stiff hug, Aleja took the hand of Kalim’s guard and exited the palanquin.
Aleja stood before one of the four gates of the High Temple. The High Temple was in the center of the city, and was the central hub of a large circular road known as the Wheel. The wheel cut through the city, forming a marker between the inner and the outer sections, an invisible wall between those that served the Queen with their heads, and those that served with their hands.
Towering aqueducts bringing water into the city ran along the roads that were the spokes of the wheel. The aqueducts fed directly into the upper reaches of the High Temple. From high above, the immensity of the High Temple and the aqueducts looked like a giant red spider crawling through the city.
Aleja stared at the figure standing before the gate.
A statue of the Queen, more than twice Aleja’s height, loomed over her. In the light of the torches the black statue seemed to glow with hints of gold.
The statue’s eyes were fiery red rubies, the nostrils enlarged as if drawing in a deep breath, and lips curled in an animalistic snarl. The clothes and armor of the statue were tattered, as if torn in battle, and her chest was exposed through the shredded breastplate.
The left arm was raised high and held on to a blade that was consumed in fire. The heat from it warmed Aleja’s face in the cool night air. The right arm reached out as if it meant to grab Aleja and drag her into the temple.
As a small child, Aleja screamed the first time she saw the statues. Until then she had only known the Queen as the mother to the people of Corazon, who loved them with a depth of feeling none could ever comprehend. But at that moment the Queen was more a monster than a loving mother.
It was Aleja’s first lesson of what it means to love and protect your children. In order to inspire devotion, you must invoke fear.
Beyond the gate was a humble stone walkway overgrown with soft moss and creeping vines. Five women, each holding torches in their hands, stood on the walkway. Aleja knew them to be Temple Maidens from their colorful tattoos of carp swimming up a roiling stream. The fish were a symbol of the gifts of food that supported the Queen and her people on the long sea journey from the Drowned Lands to Corazon.
Unlike Aleja’s short, cropped haircut that drew a sharp line across her forehead, the Temple Maiden’s hair was long, with elaborately threaded headdresses that wove into the lemniscate on their foreheads. The paint around their eyes, and the sheen of their diaphanous peplos, glittered in the torchlight. Each Maiden radiated an intimidating beauty.
Without a word, the Temple Maiden’s beckoned Aleja to follow them. Aleja couldn’t help but imagine the statue’s fiery eyes following her as she walked to the High Temple. She tried to calm herself.
You’re just afraid. Breathe.
After a few breaths she felt her pulse slow. And yet, Aleja did not dare look back as she walked into the darkness of the High Temple halls, for fear she would see the statue following her. The Temple Maidens walked in a tight circle around Aleja as they led her to the center of the temple, a large room known as the Syncronia.
Aleja blinked as her eyes adjusted to the brightness of the Syncronia. Even though the maze of hallways seemed to get darker with every turn the Syncronia was well lit, not just by torches, but also by the light reflected on the mirrors hung on its towering walls.
A glittering mosaic of colorful pieces of tile covered the wall across from Aleja. The Queen’s face dominated the center of the mosaic, her black hair wove through the images of Corazon’s history like seawater through a rocky shore.
Aleja first saw the mosaic during her initiation as a novice. Then the room was full of children. All girls, full of nerves, energy, and excitement and blissfully unaware of the challenges and discipline to come.
Aleja did not realize then that the toys she played with, the tops that spun in such vivid colors, the little metal figures that bent and danced near flames, would be the first objects she would place in her Memory Palace. They would replace, first in her hands and then in her memory, the toys she once played with in her village.
It was the first step in forgetting her previous life.
Like the Priestesses who served in the Temple of the Queen’s Memory, who were the living records of all the Daughter’s experiences, Aleja was gifted with the Painted Eye. She could recall sights so vividly it was as if she were actually seeing them in front of her. But Aleja’s only memories of the time before she became a Daughter were fleeting and quickly forgotten. She remembered the feel of a loving touch, the smell of clay, the sound of an ocean. But her memories were nothing she could see, so Aleja would quickly dismiss them. If she could not see them, then they were not real.
A smooth, glassy image of a ship leaving Corazon for the Stone Islands caught Aleja’s eye as she approached the mosaic.
Aleja did not understand why people chose to leave the Queen’s protection to live on the Stone Islands. On the mosaic large predatory birds, their talons opened wide and stained with blood, threatened to dig into the flesh of the people picking through the Stone Island’s rocky shores for their meager sustenance.
The Yamanashi Mountains were also depicted on the mosaic, but without any representation of the wild and mysterious people who lived there. Aleja wondered why include the mountains if you would not also show the people? And if the mountains were unimportant, why would they be placed so close to the image of the Queen?
Aleja dismissed her questions upon approaching the solitary man who stood at the base of the Queen’s neck.
He had a shaved head and was dressed in the tight, wrapped clothing of a Guardian, yet in a deep green color rather than a light brown. The man faced away from Aleja.
“High Chamberlin Taka,” a Temple Maiden said with a bow, “the Daughter named Aleja is here for your guidance.”
Taka nodded his head, but did not turn to face Aleja. Each of the Temple Maidens left her with a parting embrace.
Aleja knew Taka to be quite old, for he had been High Chamberlain and guided the city of Mir long before Aleja was born, but his posture was that of a young, vigorous man. He stood legs apart, his hands behind his back. The tight wrappings strained against the muscles of his arms and legs.
Taka’s eyes were focused on the mosaic. The red eyes of the ram’s skull tattooed on the back of Taka’s head stared down at Aleja.
The mountain ram was the distinction of the Chamberlains, the ones who selected the young girls of Corazon to be Daughters, chose who would be Corazon’s Guardians, and made sure they all served the Queen. The face of the ram skull covered most of the back of his head. The segmented horns curled around the sides of Taka’s temple before ending in points at the base of his ears.
Aleja had never seen a ram skull where the horns extended so far.
Taka turned to face Aleja. He stared at her with eyes as blue and deep as the ocean that surrounded Corazon. Most of Corazon’s people had brown eyes with skin and hair to match. Blue or green eyes were so rare that Aleja actually thought that they were lost to her people.
“Did you know that long ago,” Taka began, in an voice that was oddly high pitched for someone with such an intimidating presence, “when the stars were too numerous to be counted, when the living outnumbered the dead, that the people of the Drowned World greeted those they did not know by grasping hands?” he said.
“No, High Chamberlain. This Daughter was not aware of such a custom.”
“Of course. Do you wonder why we don’t do so?”
“It would not be proper.”
“And why is that?”
“A person does not want to dirty the hands of another, or does not want to presume that they will become intimate companions. Only those who share a purpose may share an embrace.”
Taka leaned in towards Aleja. There were signs of many seasons on his face, as there were on Kalim’s, but his flesh had none of her softness. The muscles in his face were tight and gave him a slightly skeletal look.
“Would it shock you then to know that our ancestors even once kissed the lips of the dead? That they stayed with the empty body for days in a room with food that would be left to decay like the body of their loved one? I must ask you, what do you think of such customs?”
Aleja’s nose and mouth scrunched involuntarily as Taka spoke. The revulsion she felt at his words built in her throat, and she swallowed hard before she replied.
“Forgive my ignorance, High Chamberlain, but this Daughter does not understand the question.”
“If you were to guide our people as our Queen has…” Taka said, his face drawing ever closer to Aleja’s “…would you permit such customs?”
“This Daughter would not. A body without life serves no purpose above ground, and until taken back to the ground it is a source of corruption. Its proper place is in the urns that let it liquefy and drain into the earth. It is then purified as it feeds the fruits and vegetables that sustain the living. Only when it has given back what it took will our Queen bring that life back into this world.”
“That is correct. Yet, you speak of corruption. Have you ever seen the living being corrupted by the dead?”
“Thanks to the graces of our Queen, this Daughter has not, High Chamberlain.”
“Then how do you know such things are true?”
Aleja struggled to keep a straight face at the question. It would be wholly inappropriate to laugh in the face of High Chamberlain Taka, but Aleja almost did so. Aleja’s exhaustion and hunger had almost consumed her wits. The apprehension she once felt was now replaced with a weary annoyance.
“Because this Daughter is a living witness to the memories of the Queen and her people.”
Aleja held out her hand, palm upward, in the direction of the mosaic. Taka looked with her at the images entangled in the Queen’s hair. Men, women and children in piles, the flesh and blood of each melting into the others. The bodies’ thick, poisoned veins bulged through the pallor of their skin. The mass of dead looked like they were entangled in a large, blood-stained spider web.
Horrible creatures with the heads of animals and skin that shined like the metal mined from the Yamanashi Mountains rode horses over the dead, and strange ships floating in the sky rained fire down upon the living.
Taka looked upon the mosaic and nodded his head.
“It is time for your reflection.” Taka said abruptly, “Go inward to your Memory Palace and recount the Parable of Thirst.”
Aleja closed her eyes and took a long, drawn out breath. In her mind she was no longer in the Syncronia, but rather in a room where all the tables and shelves were covered with objects of every shape, size, and color. On a stand by the window there was a cup made from blue glass. Aleja admired how it sparkled in the orange glow of the setting sun.
Aleja picked up a small figurine of an earless man with a slash of red paint across his face. Upon picking up the figurine the story became clear in her mind. Aleja opened her eyes, and began to tell the tale.
