The Shadow struck again, just as Toruk reached beyond 100 yards from the Meadow of Memory as he headed towards the Chena River. The creature whispered to the trees in front and around Toruk ordering them to bend their trunks, effectively blocking Toruk from moving forward. The trees, corrupted by the Shadow’s power, had no choice but to disobey their instincts to stand straight and tall. They immediately began bending and twisting their trunks into crooked positions.
At first Toruk did not realize what was happening. He ran ahead only to crash into a nest of thick wintered tree branches, seemingly horizontal, awkwardly interlocked within each other, creating a wall that no human could break through. Feeling them with his hands, Toruk was confused at the awkward bend in the trunks and branches.
“What’s going on?” he mumbled, trying to lift some of the branches out of his way, but they would not budge.
The Shadow had ordered them to remain put, to freeze in their unnatural positions so as to prevent Toruk from leaving. Tried that he might, the branches simply would not move. Everywhere Toruk turned, the trees immediately bent their trunks in his way. He attempted to push through the blockade, but the branches were stiff as steel.
His path to the River now blocked, Toruk was forced to turn east, deeper into Satqin. As he ran, he felt confused, shocked by the blockade of trees. He had never experienced that before, especially when he had hiked the Forest with his father. Indeed, Tofer had warned him of the Satqin’s duplicity but was silent about such phenomena as bent trees and blocked paths. Even Uncle Quinn, the most knowledgeable of the Lijian legends, spoke of no such thing.
“Beware of the heart of Satqin,” was all Uncle Quinn had said about the dangers of the Forest. “My boy, the heart of Satqin is the Shadow’s very own lair. Legend has it that the heart of Satqin is where his poison is most concentrated. Avoid it at all costs, Toruk!”
The heart of Satqin Forest centered around the People’s Pond. Hundreds of thousands of years ago, the Voice Upon the Mountain had marked the Pond with his finger, carving out 15 pristine acres across and around then deepening it to 15 feet below the soft damp earth. He filled its perfect basin with a thin stream of pure water from the Chena River by creating a hidden runoff lurking underground just beneath Satqin’s surface. Any excess water naturally evaporated, never overfilling the Pond’s basin nor mucking up the ground with mud. In all seasons the Pond was breathtakingly beautiful with its perfect green water in the summer, its colorful lily pads drifting atop in spring, its patterned ripples beneath falling colorful leaves in autumn, its near frozen surface in winter.
The Voice had ordered the Pond to serve as a meeting point for both animals and humans alike. For humans, it was to provide a pure, clean space for truthful conversation, powerful reconciliation, and the sharing of happy sentiments. For Satqin animals, the Pond was to forever quench their thirst, filling their bodies with pure innocence, renewing their strength, sharpening their instincts.
The People’s Pond had bowed to the Voice’s command, not only promising to keep its basin filled with the pure, clean water of the Chena but vowing to maintain its sacred spot in the heart of Satqin as a perennial embrace of all things unified, joyful, and peaceful. It swore to prevent anyone or anything from darkening its waters. The Pond promised that all souls venturing deep into Satqin would be able to enjoy the liquid fruit of its basin and all the magic that the Voice had imbued within. Pleased, the Voice had sat by the Pond’s edge and dangled his feet into its pure water, amused and satisfied with the wonderful contentment he sensed hovering within the Pond’s immediate atmosphere.
As Satqin developed and people began exploring the Forest, the Pond soon became the center for celebrations and heartfelt gatherings, just as the Voice had devised it. Initially, genuine fellowship strengthened at the People’s Pond to the Voice’s delight. Strangers swiftly and easily became friends, singing along to chummy ballads strung on acoustic guitars while gathered around the Pond. Truths were shared among happy souls, whether Ulan, Cetan, or Lijian, effectively fortifying human bonds.
At the Pond, people were of one mind and heart, viewing life in the same way as a journey filled with love and fidelity. Disputes were settled. Associations, groups, even businesses were formed. Untold marital engagements occurred. Even those sole individuals who sought quiet mediation and contemplation immediately found it at the Pond, leaving renewed and full of spiritual vigor and self-love.
The Pond’s power was in its water. Since the Voice had fueled the Pond with water from the Chena River, the water retained its fantastic, miraculous attributes. It spoke a language only the Voice Upon the River knew, a language of togetherness, of hope, of genuine true love. Though the Pond’s words were inaudible and silent to the human ear, they were certainly heard by the human heart. Once in the Pond’s realm, human souls could not help but to feel overwhelming compassion for one another or even for themselves. Their hearts inadvertently opened, blooming like a rose in spring, filling their minds with benevolent, non-judgmental thoughts.
“Oh, how I love you!” was often exclaimed by lovers gathered around the Pond.
“Let’s end this argument and just move forward,” was a common accord struck by enemies meeting at the Pond.
“Life is love and love is life!” was loudly and happily sung by many contented souls dancing around the Pond.
“I’m going to be alright,” was commonly whispered by a lone once-troubled individual after gazing at the Pond in the thick of a summer afternoon.
Cetans, Ulans, Lijians and all other ethnicities and races of people soon found refuge and mutual dependence upon each other after visiting the Pond. It became a veritable revolution of sorts, greatly influencing society and human behavior all around the world, for many heard of the rumors of the People’s Pond’s power, how it softened people’s hearts, how it brought unlikely foes together, how it became a place of learning and understanding despite differences in cultures and ideas.
The People’s Pond effectively demolished societal walls, spurring politicians and the like to open further their borders to neighboring countries, to revel in the trading of goods and ideas, to welcome immigrants as they began traveling freely across distant lands. Cities filled with untold intelligent design and dazzling beauty began springing up in many lands, including Ceto, Ulo, and Liji. Educational institutions embraced new ideas and offered spirited debates among its diverse students. Businesses developed with the intention of serving both in and outside their borders, creating innovative products or providing clever services for a variety of domestic and international clientèle. For all intents and purposes, the Pond had kept to its promise with the Voice, serving as a catalyst for societal unity.
It was not only for the people did the Voice Upon the Mountain create the Pond but also for Satqin’s inhabitants. Animals both great and small often ventured to the Pond to steal a drink, bathe their bodies, or gather as animals do around a communal waterhole. Unifying sentiments likewise found their way into the hearts of Satqin animals in that time.
Predators humbly sat next to fearless prey as they both sipped from the Pond, pausing to look at each other in mutual understanding and respect, temporarily denying their instincts to chase or flee. Wolves ignored wild deer and rabbit gathered at the Pond in winter, choosing instead to drink deep of the water, allowing the liquid’s purity to fill their stomachs with brief satiety and calmness of mind. Bear cubs splashed in the Pond in spring, frolicking like little children, their mother unmoved by the nearby pack of coyotes drinking and bathing in the water. Birds dipped into the fresh, cool water in summer, boldly cleaning their wings as wild cats napped near the water’s edge, apparently oblivious to the many winged creatures visiting the People’s Pond.
Late at night, the Pond often came alive with teams of animals gathering in groups by a variety of type and species, frogs and toads, squirrels and hedgehogs, coyotes and raccoons, bears and deer, all sitting side by side while facing the silvery sparkling water, hooting, howling, or cackling in sloppy unison for they were overcome with happiness while enjoying each other’s company, apparently proud to be a Satqin animal, grateful to share their home with each other.
Yet, like the rest of Satqin, the People’s Pond did not keep its promise to the Voice Upon the Mountain. Once the Shadow found the Pond, he eventually made it his home. Instead of asking the Voice for help, the People’s Pond learned the Shadow’s language and then made a deal with him, offering him its purity and its power to unite souls in exchange for the Shadow’s promise to never drink or bathe in its water.
But the Pond was ill prepared to negotiate with such a nefarious creature, for just moments after the Shadow purportedly agreed, with his monstrous hands, he dug deep into the earth near the bank of the Pond. His hands immediately corrupted the soil with his fingers, causing the soil to harden and effectively block the steady stream of water coming from the Chena River.
The Pond’s water soon became stagnated, stiff, dead, turning from green to a muddy black. Any creatures that lived in it perished. The animals who did survive, who had learned Olc from the Shadow, who had suffered corruption by the Shadow’s poisonous commands to follow his malicious designs, readily gathered around the Pond to affirm their new allegiance to the Shadow. Even the trees surrounding the Pond became filled with the nests of Rame and the hawks. On any given night, strange rituals were performed around the Pond with the Shadow in the center, receiving untold adulation from the corrupted Forest animals, hooting, howling, and cackling.
To the Voice’s dismay, the Shadow claimed the Pond and its immediate surroundings as his kitchen, his bedroom, and his bathroom, the dark place where he retreated to devise his maniacal schemes. He bathed in its now dark, dead water. He even drank its water as if it were the most delicious drink. He often defecated his disgusting waste in it, filling the Pond with the world’s worst bacteria and scum. He frequently sat by the Pond’s edge not to contemplate goodness as many had done before, but to count his conquers, to tabulate in his demented mind how many souls, whether beast or human, he had destroyed.
And no longer could the Pond transmit spiritual words of love and fraternity to gathered souls, for the Shadow’s presence prevented it. Instead, the Pond served to express the spirit of the Shadow himself, maliciously influencing the hearts of all who came near. The People’s Pond had sadly transformed into the exact opposite of what the Voice of the Mountain had intended, a catalyst for great division and distrust among people, a place where human arguments intensified, a spot where the worst plans for human oppression and destruction were hatched.
Those unwitting souls who visited the now poisoned Pond immediately began to feel hate and annoyance with others. Their hearts became overwhelmed with dark sentiments, with blame, with disgruntled thoughts about everything from the seemingly overburdening need to breathe every day to the aggravating presence of family members in their lives. Instead of gathering at the People’s Pond to celebrate unity, people began gathering around the Pond to share their hate. Instead of finding solace in the serenity of the Pond, individuals found their thoughts muddled with grievances and grumbling. Instead of loving relationships forming at the Pond, deep divisions were born, often based on frivolous reasons, the length of one’s hair, the street one lived on, one’s name, even one’s gender or ethnicity.
And this resulted in yet another revolution of sorts, one that encouraged society to divide itself, to close its borders, to treat as foolish all foreign ideas. Trade eventually slowed. Immigration dwindled to a trickle. Businesses pulled back their diverse products and services, citing the opportunity to travel abroad as unnecessary. New cultures were sadly treated as not only foreign, but suspicious.
In fact, such sentiment spurred the commencement of a spontaneous strange fear and loathing of Lijians. It had happened during a night of a hate-filled gathering of some local Cetans at the People’s Pond. They were ignorant of the Shadow’s nearby presence, silently directing the Pond to whisper his wickedness into the hearts of those gathered. There the Cetans had sat around the Pond, their feet dangling in the mucked water, their hearts feeding from the silent words tumbling from the Shadow’s mouth to the Pond, causing their hearts to instantly harden with hatred the more they aired their grievances about their life, their personal failures, their lack of material wealth.
“If only I had more money,” grumbled one Cetan as he put his hand into his empty pockets.
“If only I was prettier,” complained another as she raked her hands into her wiry hair.
“If only I was famous and had more friends,” wished another as he stared at the Pond, hoping to see his reflection in its dark waters.
Throughout the night this had continued until those Cetans’ minds were steadfastly bent on division and destruction. At some point, one of them stood up rather abruptly, his index finger in the air as if a profound thought was forthcoming, then concluded with great emphasis that it was the Lijians who were the root of their problems. Though a ridiculous thought, those Cetans readily agreed that indeed the Lijians were the culprit behind their misery.
“If only the Lijians returned to their sad country,” said one in response.
“If only Ceto would close its doors to those filthy Lijians,” echoed another.
“If only those Lijians would stop taking over our land,” said yet another.
Little did they know that such was the Shadow’s plan, for among its many mysterious powers, the creature was able to see far into the future. He knew that his poison would one day spread to Ceto and all its human inhabitants. He knew that the humans would spring to action, desperately seeking a cure to the ailments his poison would cause. And he knew that one of the Ceto residents, a Lijian cognizant of the legend of the Sacred Waterstone, would one day find it and spread its healing powers not only throughout Ceto but in Satqin as well, effectively negating the Shadow’s power forever.
Thus, the Shadow had devised an intricate strategy, one that began with those local Cetans gathered at the Pond. On that night, the creature had been hiding in his lair just steps away hidden by the darkness with his monstrous mouth open, speaking inaudible, silent words to the Pond, ordering the dead water to repeat them into the hearts and minds of those gathered.
“Hate the Lijians,” the Shadow had whispered in perfect Cetan. “They must be stopped. They must be removed from Ceto forever!”
Those Cetans eventually spread that hateful message to others in Ceto, spurring a strange, unspoken oppression of the Lijian people. Toruk’s own father had suffered it, though he did so quietly and with perfect dignity. Lijians were soon relegated to a section of Ceto to live, behind the railroad tracks near Ceto’s sole subway station. They were hired for jobs only after obtaining a favorable reference from a Cetan. They were allowed to go to school with Cetans but were graded at a lower standard, for the ridiculous belief that Lijians were dumber than all had sadly permeated the academic curricula. Lijians could not hold public office. They could own property comprised of their own dwelling and nothing more. And if a Lijian dared to open a business, it was swiftly shut down by the Cetan mayor, citing ordinances underlying the ineligibility of unintelligent persons to become proprietors.
“Don’t worry about it, son,” Tofer had told Toruk time and time again. “We Lijians are strong people, smart, and capable. Don’t worry about what others think of us. They do it to the Ulans, too. But the rumors are lies, all of it. Besides, not every Cetan hates foreigners. Focus on love, son, and everything else will fall into place.”
Toruk had readily believed his father, for he had found wonderful Cetan friends at school and in the neighborhood, including Rona whom he had known since childhood. Rarely had Toruk seen a Lijian suffer at the hands of a Cetan or endure disparagement in some way. And he certainly had not experienced it himself, at least not on a grand scale. Toruk had learned to ignore the “you’re different for a Lijian” remarks or the “you’re smart for a Lijian” phrases. He had figured the world would come to its senses one day, that Lijians, Cetans, Ulans and any other person living in Ceto would all be counted as equals again.
But Toruk had never been to the Pond before and thus, did not know its remarkable power to sow division. He was unprepared for what lurked there.
Once Toruk crossed into the realm of the Pond and thus the Shadow’s lair, he gasped and immediately covered his nose, for the smell of the frozen murky water was horrid, impossible to endure. Unlike other parts of Satqin, Toruk heard nothing, no scurrying of animal feet or paws, no swaying of wintered trees in the icy breezes, no chirping of regular Forest birds. The stillness was stiff, thick, unmistakable. He felt as if he had wandered into a putrid-smelling tomb arrested by an overpowering darkness, for the closer Toruk came to the banks of the Pond, the darker his thoughts became.
“This must be the People’s Pond,” he whispered to himself as he took sensory note of his surroundings.
Toruk initially ignored the strange dark thoughts striking his mind and imagined the Forest’s map instead, figuring he could rush up and around the Pond, head back to the entrance of the Forest near the city, and despite the late hour, repeat his westward trek once again toward Matla.