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Gerontocratic Village: Adera
19th Day of Month 6, Year 1628 DG
The elegance of traditional Doruh attire compels Rafael to flaunt the girth of his forearm fins. At lavish gatherings in SeaBed, eligible men and women seduce partners with this display. He won’t have the pleasure of taking part in these rituals again, but old habits take longer to break than iron.
A servant presented Rafael with a hide travel bag and several kurtas. Shifa offered the worker a hefty sum in exchange for his generosity, as all that remains of Rafael’s personal items are one yellow tunic, his bow, and the collapsible arrows.
And Joaquina’s bracelet.
Moonlight plays on the bracelet’s silver surface, hopping jovially between the twenty links. Mari siblings purchase one for each other, and a single blue gemstone is added to each link on every birthday until their twentieth, when they’ve come of age.
Three of the links sit empty; Joaquina hadn’t reached her eighteenth birthday. Rafael had saved money to purchase the next stone, however, he’d had to spend the money before he could.
On her shroud.
He remembers the last words she ever spoke to him, as she clasped the silver around his wrist.
Keep it safe for me. I’ll take it back when I return. Take care of Mother. She kissed his forehead and said, I love you, Rafa.
He catches a bit of his reflection in the polished bracelet and turns away, looking to the sky. A heavy pit develops in his gut, and his gaze lingers on the glorious starlight above.
I would offer you every gemstone buried under a thousand different oceans, he projects to the heavens, hoping she’ll hear, if it meant I got to see you again.
He descends the staircase to the main foyer to find a large portrait of Shifa and an elderly woman with a cane situated over the fireplace mantel. Someone stands with their back to him, staring up at it. The individual is clad in a colorful, front-wrapped garment with square sleeves and a broad sash, her hair wound in a tight bun atop her head.
Rafael stands awkwardly unnoticed until he clears his throat and the person turns. His breath catches as Kyoko stares at him in a traditional igni outfit. The mari can’t decide whether his shock is born from the unexpected admiration of her garment, or from finding Kyoko in anything that isn’t a tunic.
Either way, his tongue refuses to obey his commands. Its rebellion leaves him standing with his mouth agape.
Kyoko smiles and approaches him, evidently ignorant of his speechlessness. “Finally. I’ve been waiting.”
“Sorry,” his tongue finally obliges. A compliment descends from his thoughts to his lips, but they shut tightly when his gaze falls on her bloody fingers. The vision remains, leaving his mouth void of praise.
Kyoko’s smile dims when she notices his discomfort. “Is everything alright?”
“I’ve never seen you off duty,” Rafael replies, shifting his eyes back to her face and away from her hands.
Her smile returns. “This is a yukata.”
“It’s stunning,” the compliment finally bursts from him.
Kyoko’s cheeks burn pink and she nods gratefully, then leans her face forward and tilts her head to the side. Rafael recognizes her initiation of the traditional mari greeting. He’s tugged between the desire to distance himself from the bloody visions, and the concern that she’ll feel insulted if he doesn’t oblige.
The sound of footsteps draws Kyoko’s attention from the greeting. Shifa appears in the foyer, wearing a pink shalwar-kameez with a white dupatta around her neck and shoulders.
“Dinner is ready,” she announces. “We’ll be dining at the fire pit tonight. Amma—” she pauses “—my grandmother is already out there, waiting. Please, follow me.”
She leads them through the salver’s corridor to a wide gate at the rear of the estate, beyond which spread lush, maintained gardens. They step onto a walkway to a cleared area with stone tiles and a wide flame centered between benches.
The Headwoman sits in the middle of a long bench at the far end, clutching the head of her cane, clad in a magenta sari. She stares into the fire, expressionless. The cool evening air kisses Rafael’s shoulder and brings comfort to his aching wound.
“Please, have a seat,” Shifa invites the Librarians, gesturing to the spaces on the bench on either side of the elderly woman. “The servants will be out with dinner shortly.”
She marches back through the gardens toward the estate, leaving Rafael and Kyoko awkwardly before the fire pit.
She isn’t going to introduce us? he wonders.
As if she’s heard him, Kyoko steps around the pit and gestures for Rafael to follow. When they reach the Headwoman, Kyoko bows respectfully.
“You must be the Librarians causing such a ruckus in my village,” she remarks with narrowing eyes.
Kyoko’s own eyes widen, mirroring Rafael’s surprise.
“I was pickpocketed and—”
“And you began firing arrows in the most crowded parts of the gardens?” The Headwoman raises an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you follow your protocol and come visit me upon arrival?”
“We weren’t expecting to be in the village for long, Amma,” Kyoko explains.
“Hm!” Amma grumbles. “Not an excuse. You should have received better training, Ambassador.”
Kyoko’s cheeks burn red and Rafael watches a bead of sweat form at her hairline. Although the ordeal began with him chasing down the thief, her competence is now under scrutiny.
He steps forward. “It was my doing. Kyoko suggested we visit you, but I insisted we gather supplies and continue on. Kyoko is a skilled Librarian who’s received training from the best.”
Amma leans back and scratches her chin. “The best, huh? And whom would that be?”
“Ambassador Alba,” Kyoko replies.
The Headwoman smiles. “Many, many years ago, there was a summit for all of the Gerontocrats. Alba was sent by the Prime to record and facilitate. If you are her protege, the transgression is forgiven.”
She leans forward, dissolves her smile, and lifts her finger admonishingly. “This time. Don’t ever walk around my village again without notifying me. Understood?”
Kyoko nods. “Of course, Amma.”
Amma’s smile returns. “Excellent. Now, please, join me.”
Rafael and Kyoko take a seat on either side of the woman, and when Rafael catches Kyoko’s gaze, he sees her lips form the words, “Thank you.”
He nods and passes her a reassuring smile.
Servants appear around the pit shortly thereafter and place long wooden tables end-to-end in a gazebo adjacent to the fire pit. The tables are covered with a shimmering white cloth, embellished with golden embroidery, and the servants lay out a feast of rice, aromatic flavors of naan, and an extensive spread of curries and stews.
The feast begins when Shifa rejoins them. Amma is served first, followed by the Librarians and Shifa, and finally the servants, salvers, and groundskeepers. Throughout dinner, conversation is light and pleasant. Rafael finds himself lost in the fascinating details of village governance. Periodically, he catches the light of the flames bouncing off of Kyoko’s exoskeleton and notices how it makes her cheeks shimmer. It’s a delightful observation until his eyes wander to her hands, which remain crimson.
After dinner, a sea of servants clears the table and lays out desserts. Though he’s quite full, Rafael finds it hard to resist the soft, fried balls of milk solids swimming in syrup.
“Gulab jamun,” Shifa names them. “We also have rice pudding.”
“I don’t think I can take another bite,” Rafael claims, patting his stomach. “You’ve filled me up right before bed.” He stands.
Shifa frowns. “Bed? No, no. You haven’t even heard Amma sing yet.”
Kyoko’s expression implies that she was also hoping to retire to the guest room soon, but when she nods, Rafael takes his seat again.
Shifa turns to Amma. “What will you sing for us?”
Amma raises her fingers to her chin again. “Perhaps...Ayuma Liyuna?”
Shifa’s eyes glisten as she gasps with delight. “Yes! A celebratory folk song in honor of our guests.”
Amma clears her throat loudly and releases the tune into the crisp night air. The Headwoman’s expressive voice echoes over the crackling flames, melting into Rafael’s ears and drenching his heart. He’s mystified by the union of raw power and deliberate tenderness in her vocals.
The lyrics of the ballad, all in Nysabaani, add to the sensations. They strike an unpredictable balance between hope and disappointment, lamenting the songwriter’s own worthlessness, while praising those that he loves most.
Amma’s voice cradles Rafael’s eardrums. Kyoko appears transfixed, as well, and Shifa is nearly in tears. After a few moments, Amma stops and Rafael’s heart beats harder, yearning for more.
“Why don’t you show them the dance?” the Headwoman asks Shifa.
Shifa claps her hands quickly, excitedly. “Wonderful idea!”
“There’s a dance?” Kyoko asks.
Shifa nods. “Oh, yes! Let me show you.” She takes to her feet and reaches her hand out to Kyoko. “Will you join me?”
The igni hesitates and turns to Rafael, who nods to encourage her. Slowly, she takes Shifa’s hand and rises. The song resumes and Kyoko follows her host’s lead. Their arms swing horizontally as their hips sway softly. They move to the tips of their toes as they twirl around and find one another’s gaze again. They come close, hands together, and then move apart.
The dance matches the ballad in the balance of both hope and pessimism. At some movements, Shifa frowns, while at others, she beams brighter than the suns.
Rafael tries to follow the lyrics as Amma sings. Part of the Librarians’ academic curriculum is devoted to Nysabaani, but Rafael has not heard all of these words before. He’s able to translate a portion of it as he listens:
A lifetime in a day
In your arms, I stay
But now, I say
I am in the way
New lovers abound
Devotees surround
Deservingly crowned
A role newfound
Adera, bonder of rifts
Heart of gifts
The Queen who uplifts
The Mother of Shifts
Adera. He remembers the name from the conversation at the statues, when they first arrived. The Educator told them it was both the name of the village, and that of the mother of the Twins. The pixie mother.
Rafael’s concentration on the lyrics breaks when Kyoko quickly approaches him, takes his hand, and leads him around the fire to where she and Shifa dance. They form a small circle and Rafael attempts to follow along. He’s never considered himself a skilled dancer, yet the simplicity of the moves helps him keep up. Hips swaying and toes twirling, the Librarians and the bison spin entirely in sync.
He continues to translate in his head, hoping the lyrics will help him remember the sequence of movements. The verses describe the songwriter’s offspring.
I see you in our daughter
In all that you’ve taught her
I see you in our son
In all that he’s done
The lyrics have been dripping with emotion since the start of the song, but Rafael is unprepared for the impact of the incoming verses. They strike his core, and his smile fades. One line at a time, the world around him closes in.
The swaying continues, the twirling remains, but the ballad wraps its cold fingers around his throat and squeezes. Breathing becomes difficult as he translates:
When they speak to one another
When the sister fights for her brother
When he protects her from the other
I see, in them, their mother
Rafael hears these lyrics and drowns in memories of a sister who fought, and a brother who failed to protect. When he translates, I see, in them, their mother, he’s flooded with all that the igni took from him, including the chance to see his mother ever again.
He sways, then moves up onto his toes, and when the twirl completes, Kyoko stands before him again. Blood drips from her eyes, nose, and ears. Her hair and her yukata are drenched in it. The faint red on her hands grows bright and apparent, screaming out to Rafael about his sister’s innards being lost to the battle. Everywhere she steps, she leaves a trail of Joaquina’s blood under her feet.
Rafael stops dancing, and Shifa bumps into him. The dancing stops, and the ballad follows immediately after. Rafael’s heart pounds against his chest as he takes in the sight of the soaked igni before him. Angry, aching guilt forms like a blooming seed in his stomach. These are the monsters that tore Joaquina apart, and now he dances with them.
Kyoko steps forward, reaching for his hand, but he backs away before she can touch him. “What’s wrong, Rafael?”
Rafael opens his mouth, but only silence exists.
“Why are you crying?” Shifa asks, her expression laden with concern.
“I-I,” Rafael stammers, as he continues to back away. “I can’t...”
“You can’t what?” Kyoko approaches again.
“No!” It comes out louder than Rafael intended. Kyoko jumps back, wincing. She seems hurt, but he doesn’t care. They’re responsible. For his mother’s tears, his nation’s losses, and his own exile.
He lifts his arms and quickly wipes the tears from his cheeks. He turns to Amma, whose eyes have narrowed, and bows his head slightly. “Good night, Headwoman.” His voice is feeble. “I have to go to bed.”
He doesn’t wait for a response. With quick steps, he stomps through the gardens and back into the estate, hoping to put as much distance between him and Kyoko as possible.
It is hours of restraining his sobs before Rafael feels calmer. Before he can lay on his cot staring up at the stars and breathe evenly again.
Millions of white eyes stare down from the heavens, beady, bright gems raining down their brilliance, providing the only slivers of illumination on the rooftop. Their starlight feels like a bridge that might carry his words to Joaquina.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, hoping the starlight doesn’t delay in carrying them to her.
The words of the ballad, and all of the memories they brought with them, stung his mind and his heart repeatedly until their power withered and he was finally able to lie down on his back peacefully.
The quiet darkness of nightfall envelops him as he tries, and fails, to sleep. He considers how he might explain his behavior to Kyoko, Shifa, and the Headwoman in the morning. They’ll be wondering, looking for an explanation of some kind. Some words to make his abrupt reaction seem reasonable.
But it wasn’t reasonable. There’s nothing reasonable about the traumas that shatter the world.
Light springs forth from over the side of the rooftop and catches the corner of Rafael’s eye. He sits up and sees orange illumination painting the stone of the estate. Over the rooftop’s edge, he finds the most peculiar sight.
The fire pit is alive again. Amma sits on the bench, dressed in a nightgown. She holds powerful eye contact with the mari, then raises her hand into the air and motions for him to join her. He rubs his eyes to confirm he isn’t dreaming, then hesitantly nods and makes his way down to the foyer, out of the rear gate, and through the gardens to the fire pit.
The Librarian and the Headwoman sit quietly for a few minutes, staring into the flames, until Rafael finally speaks up. “I assume you want an explanation for my behavior.”
“Actually,” she says, “I don’t think I need one.”
Rafael turns to her, surprised, and she continues. “It was Ayuma Liyuna, wasn’t it? You are a Librarian. I know you understand Nysabaani.”
Rafael nods. “We’re all fluent.” He pauses, reconsidering the accuracy of his words. “Relatively.”
“Why did the song affect you so deeply?” She leans in.
Discomfort flows through him. The intimate details of his past are buried, and he isn’t likely to take to the shovel for a stranger. “It’s personal.”
She resumes her upright posture. “Hm. That’s fair. But we can talk about the song, generally. Translate the title.”
Rafael obeys. “Ayuma means ‘mother.’ And Liyuna comes from ‘to change.’ So, ‘the Mother Who Changes’?”
Amma shakes her head. “The Mother of Shifts. It’s a double meaning.”
Rafael nods, recalling the subject of the song. “The song is about Adera. The village is named after her. She’s the Mother of Shifts.”
“Very good, yes. Adera is responsible for the most significant historical event this world has ever known. The title of the song alludes to the truth that this pixie created an entirely new species: the Doruh.”
“Wait,” Rafael responds, confused, “the Doruh were created during the War of New Clans. SunSide’s warriors used the Radiance to attack the teri humans, intending to turn them into animals. The human and animal essences merged, and the shapeshifters were born.”
Amma shakes her head. “Librarians truly believe they know everything, don’t they? If their narcissism were trees in a forest, there’d be enough lumber for a thousand ships.” She laughs. “Your records, your Catacombs, your history, it’s all wrong. SunSide wants you to believe the birth of our people was an act of war, an act of chaos. But it wasn’t. The Doruh were born from an act of pure, unbridled love.”
“The records are wrong?” Rafael juggles the words on his tongue. His mind spins back to Unisa. She was right. His chest aches with guilt, recalling the manner in which he spoke to her when she came to him for help.
“Yes, they are wrong. The truth is that Adera was a pixie who loved a human of the teri clan, and had left SunSide to be with him in MoonSide. Her father, a close friend of the monarchy, told the MegaMother that the humans held his daughter captive, and the War of New Clans began. SunSide invaded MoonSide to bring Adera home and slaughter her human lover.”
“The teri were able to connect to the Radiance,” Rafael notes. “Did they fight back?”
Amma nods. “There was resistance, certainly, but SunSide’s warriors decimated nearly half of the teri population in one night. Men, women, children. They razed entire villages, in a display of savagery no one had ever seen before, and then they reached Adera’s doorway. She and her lover, Anhum, used the Radiance to hold the fighters back as long as they could, but SunSide’s forces quickly began to overwhelm them. In the end, Adera had an idea that would change the world forever.
“She used every ounce of Radiant energy she could access to inject Anhum’s body with the essence of a bird, so that he could take its physical form and fly away undetected. It was an act of desperation, and an act of love, but her connection to the Radiance was beyond even her own control. She successfully merged the essence of the bird with Anhum, but she also unleashed a wave of Radiant energy that expanded out, hitting every human of the teri clan and creating the Doruh.”
“So they were able to escape,” Rafael infers.
“Indeed. Anhum and Adera came here. They founded this village and lived out their lives in service of the new species. This village is where their children were born, the Twins, who are prophesied to one day be resurrected and return to the world to save it in its darkest hour. Not only are they our deities, but they were the first naturally-born Doruh.”
Rafael understands. “The title of the song, the Mother of Shifts. It’s a double meaning because it alludes to Adera being both the creator of the shapeshifters, and the architect of the new era: the shift in history.”
Amma smiles. “Correct. The song is written from Anhum’s perspective. It is both hopeful in the idea that Adera and the Twins have a new role in leading the Doruh, yet it laments the fact that Anhum now feels inadequate.”
“Inadequate? But he had also become Doruh.”
“He had, yes, but he’d lost the ability to access the Radiance, which was all he’d ever known. Shifting was difficult for him to master, and the Mega accessed the Radiance differently than the humans did. Anhum’s feelings of inadequacy evolved from the realization that human Radiance would be lost to history.”
“What was different about the way the Mega accessed the Radiance?” Rafael wonders.
“I’m sure you’ve seen them do it,” Amma responds. “They search for energy in external sources. The leaves, the rivers, their four deities in the sky. The humans would access the Radiance in a manner more natural and organic than that.”
She reaches forward and places her hand on Rafael’s chest, over his heart. “Emotions. The energy within. Adera learned to access the Radiance from the humans. That’s the only reason the Doruh were ever created. Tree energy would never have achieved such a feat. Adera used her desperation, fear, anger, and above all, her love.”
“Accessing the Radiance through emotional energy.” Rafael allows the abstract to seep into his mind. “A human ideal, that’s now been lost for over a thousand years.”
“Nothing is ever truly lost.”
Rafael raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“The things we call ‘lost’ are just waiting to be found again. If human Radiance hasn’t been accessed in a thousand years, perhaps it simply needs someone to try again.” She leans in and smiles mysteriously. “Emotional energy. Someone to try again.”
Rafael chuckles sarcastically. “If any human were to access a form of the Radiance that has been dormant for a thousand years, I can promise you, I’m not the one to do it.”
“Well,” Amma says, widening her eyes in mock surprise, “now it appears we’re talking about personal things. Why do you say that?”
Rafael hesitates.
“Speak up!”
“I’m an exile. Banished from my home. Unable to keep my sister safe. Now I’m on a journey to prove that my second chance shouldn’t be revoked. I’m completely lost.” His eyes move to the floor and he sighs. “Does that sound like someone with the potential to resurrect a long-forgotten resource?”
“More than anyone.”
Rafael looks up quickly, unsure if he heard her properly.
The Headwoman continues. “After all you’ve been through, I can’t imagine anyone with more emotional energy than you. Use your grief. When you feel the Radiance approaching, promise me, you’ll allow it to carry you.”
Rafael finds it hard not to dismiss the Headwoman’s claims. The idea that humans might still be able to access the Radiance, using a method erased from the pages of history, seems bizarre alone. But the insinuation that Rafael, of all people, can be the one to achieve it is a concept he cannot reconcile.
Exiles aren’t meant for greatness. He lost the right to dream so grand a long time ago.
Amma speaks again, bringing Rafael’s focus back to the conversation. “Time is fleeting faster than it ever has before, and the knowledge of human Radiance needs to be passed on. At my age, we learn to impart what we can, to whomever will listen, so that it won’t be”—she turns to Rafael and smiles—“lost.”
“And you thought I would listen?”
Amma chuckles. “I did. But I also don’t have emotional humans sitting in my fire pit every night.” She gestures to the rooftop. “Return to your bed. You’ll need rest to continue your journey in the morning.”
Rafael stands, feeling a sense of warmth and sincerity with the Headwoman. “Thank you.”
Amma nods and the Librarian begins his trek back to the rooftop, but when he reaches the other side of the fire pit, she calls out to him again. “Rafael, tell her the truth.”
“Who?” Rafael asks.
“Your companion. She’ll want an explanation for your outburst, and you’ll be tempted to fabricate an excuse.”
Rafael stands quietly for a moment, considering how best to respond. “I can’t tell her the truth. The truth is that when I look at her, all I see is”—careful, Rafael—“pain and suffering.”
“And then you turn away from it, which only prolongs it. Stop turning away. Face it, address it.”
Rafael shakes his head. “I can’t. The igni—”
“She is not all of the igni, and she is not responsible for her clan’s collective actions. She is an individual with whom you’ll be spending some time, and holding the stone of hatred over her head will only be a punishment to yourself. Apologize and bare your heart. She’ll understand.”
Rafael smiles, realizing that the Headwoman was correct in her judgment. He will listen.