CHAPTER TWO—
The wind howled as they trudged along the empty outer banks. It crept up on them as a fog fiend would descend upon innocent birds of prey. It whipped at their backs, and they still pressed on. The verdant fields long gone now, and the harsh landscape broke in from all sides as if crumbling before them in the form of an avalanche. Nothing fell. Yet. Everything held in its tenuous, rock-solid place. Talia snickered to herself, a nervous laugh. Her levity was a way of dealing with the vast and unfamiliar surroundings and how small she stood before them.
Now the craggy peaks rose before them tall as towers to the netherworld. Still off in the distance but drawing nearer with each step. Gone were the amber waves of wheat and the bustling bloom of azaleas. They left behind the sagebrush and the other prickly fronds as the loam vanished and the stone rose. Talia craned her neck, hoping for a few fresh petals to break up the monotony of the gloom. In her mind, she loped through those bucolic fields again and took in the sweet scent of cherry blossom. She crossed great meadows dotted with wildflowers and Lilypad-slathered ponds. Some of the places they passed were stunning, bristling with exquisite beauty, while others rolled out in barren stretches that gave her the chills.
Perlania sounded like a paradise, yet, the more she tried to picture it, the more it evaded her imagination as if something strove to block her fancy. Talia suspected her teacher was the culprit, but she did not accuse her. Instead, she constantly asked for a glimpse of the mysterious land even when she knew Scya would never reveal it.
This did not dissuade the tyro, for she was hungry for adventure. Ever since she left her uncle’s inn, she had wanted to explore the strange lands beyond her home. This desire filled her young heart with rippling joy. But not the frivolous kind. She was not hungry for gallivanting the way those ridiculous knights barreled through pebble-speck villages. Talia longed for a chance to prove herself. She wanted her purpose to become clear.
“Stop daydreaming,” Scya warned.
Snapped from the warm layer of her private thoughts, the tyro hardened again. Plucked from her cocoon, she girded herself for a challenge. In fact, she had come to welcome these interludes because they made her stronger. Although, sometimes caught unaware, she lashed out at Third Sister, a mistake she had to learn the hard way. She was still young, though not callow.
Slowly, she was getting used to the game. It seemed Scya offered more leeway now, letting the tyro go for longer stretches each time only to rent the calm shell of rumination with a sharp thrust. This kept the tyro on her toes.
Talia was still amazed to be given this incredible chance. The Lef Sagori had an infamous reputation. Few ever spoke fondly of them. Most feared their mystique. Talia did not. She craved the power Scya held, the power she seldom used, and she would do almost anything to have it.
When she quelled her mind to a blank slate, as she had been trained, Talia could feel Scya reaching out to her. She could not read Third Sister’s thoughts, but could anticipate the directives and queries.
She pulled up alongside her mentor, ready to learn.
“You know why we eschew material goods and the sheltered life.”
The tyro nodded. Drilled into her throughout their long, arduous trek, she wasn’t sure why Scya was bringing it up again. She must have had a reason, and Talia made no reply because she knew there was more to follow. She loped on, cloaking her curiosity.
“The more you carry, the more of a physical burden. That’s obvious, but if something is worth carrying, it is worth bringing along. We leave behind everything, only taking what is most essential because it allows us to carve out a better path. Poverty leads to purity. We do not consider ourselves better because of it. It makes things easier.”
Talia nodded again, and Scya arched a brow. “You don’t believe so. Or are not convinced.”
“No, I do believe you, but we are going to the homeland. I’m sure there are some material goods there.”
“There are.”
“So, doesn’t that make you a possessor of material goods?”
“You don’t see them on my person, do you?”
“No, not here. But when you return home.”
Scya offered a rare smile. “You are still trying to force me into giving a glimpse of the homeland.”
“No, of course not,” Talia lied.
“So, you are not curious about it?”
The tyro stalled for a moment. It seemed better to give the question serious consideration even though the answer was obvious.
“Of course, I am, but I know you won’t share it with me.”
“And yet you still try and probe in your most innocent way.”
“You know that I’m curious.”
“Yes.”
“And yet you keep asking me. Why? For confirmation?”
“No,” Scya said, raising a brow. “Because I’m waiting for you to give up some of the things you stow away in the deep cupboards of your mind.”
“You mean memories?”
“You are hoarding them because you believe they offer you comfort, but what you do not realize is that some of those comforting memories can harm you. They reveal your past and can betray your present. Doomed if they fall into the wrong hands.”
Talia flinched when an old memory rushed back. She saw Scya regurgitating chunks of that ghastly creature. She wondered if a bad memory also had the same effect. Could the old enemy return? Then she began trembling in fear because she already believed she had betrayed her mentor.
“You are still not ready for the next stage, not until you can control the flow of your thoughts. Let the mist wash your slate clean.”
“The mist?”
“It’s the only way to clean your slate. You’ve sullied it with all your worries.”
Fright filled the tyro’s eyes. She pulled away, afraid to face her teacher.
“It’s all my fault. Now it’s coming back.”
“No,” Scya said. “But you need to use the mist.”
“But how? I don’t know where to start.”
“From the beginning. Take a respite now. You must start from the beginning.”
