Sands of Existance
#3 of Siblings and Friends
The Third Installment, 3 of three
The Crystal Lakes were a rare sight to anyone but those who lived in the isolated peaks of Cout, the last true refuge of the Miserser. From those high cliff tops amongst the crater lakes was where they watched the edge of the Wildlands for more of the human poachers that dared venture into the strange forests that protected the mountains there. Juts getting to the small villages there was near a month's travel from the boarder with the humans to the east.
Daybreak was always the crowning gem of the cliff cities, where the crystalline spire jutted from the center of a permanent ice field within the largest of the lakes. It was here where the strongest and the most determined of the Misersers would prove their worth to both their customs and their peers by venturing a days journey into the center of the lake and bringing back the endless, little shards of ice that would remain forever cold from touching the spire. It was the beginning of the summer, the icy boarders of the lake had all but faded away, leaving only the glacier in it's center for the trials to come that morning for the firs of the spring rituals, where the young would prove their brass.
This dawn would be the first that meant more than hunting with the elders in the forests below for SandWhelp, a startlingly built boy by both the standards of the Misersers and the humans. The first true dawn of spring would bring about all those who could hear the calls of the wolves to the edge of the lake, preparing the hardiest of the lycanthropic kind for the long swim to the center. For a moment he could almost be heard to curse slightly at the avian whom flocked and nested upon the protected ice field, wishing for their wings to lighten his load but such was only the whim of his youth. This was to be his trial, that of him and his brethren and no one else.
Gathered upon the rocky beaches between two towers of stone set there before the first ritual of passing had ever occurred lined up those who would participate in today's ritual, those who did not make it this year would be forced to wait again until the next season came for it was forbidden to let death take anyone in the sacred waters. The most fit of the warrior class would be watching the trial from small boats on each side of the pillars, marking both the path there and the true way back.
Waiting there SandWhelp watched for the marker, the tip of the crystal pillar flaming with the first light of the sun. Just before he could draw the last breath for the swim before him he saw the glare, like watching a phoenix hatch upon the highest peak of the Crystal Lakes. With that he flung himself into the icy waters, letting his body's complaints fall to the burning desires of his ambition. He took not heed to the others sloshing in the waters beside him, to SandWhelp there was only himself and that spire beckoning to him, nothing more.
Hours had passed and still most of his companions were right alongside of him, each as madly driven to their goal as he was. His body ached in places where it seemed imposable for pain to exist, his chest heaved from exertion but he knew that he could never give up, not until the sun set and he could rest and dry upon the frozen waters by the spire. They all knew the laws regarding the spire when they arrived at the island of ice, "None shall touch." It was driven so heavily into each mind that there was a bit of wonder lust for the boldest of the youth and at least one would tempt the fates and disappear for eternity like all those who had touched it before.
The elders knew what happened to those who made that mistake, they had always said as much but would never tell anyone save the new elders when one took their leave of the mortal plain. What had happened to those in trials past were of little significance to SandWhelp, all his focus was now upon the approaching ice ridge, his body ached from the cold and exertion while the sun begun it's decent over the eastern ledge of the crater, giving the lucky few who reached the floating island a moment to dry before the nights still frigid air would force them all together for a night.
One hand splashed against the snowy land crust, fur and pads instantly sealing onto the ice below, giving SandWhisp's arms a moment of relaxation before he pulled himself out of the waters. Standing upright after forcing the weariness from his bones to shake his fur partially dry and to absorb the last of the days heat he stood there, for one moment looking back to the thin line of rocky land that he'd begun his journey upon. For a city Cout was impossibly small from here, nothing more than a smear of peppered sand against the granite walls. Dissatisfied with this visage of his accomplishment he looked towards the pillar in the center of the island.
Thicker than any tree trunk in the forests below, more vexing and frightening than any story from the elders stood the crystal spire, from whence all the lakes surrounding it took their names. It was as if a story out of a dream had suddenly come to life and willed itself never to return to dreams again. The sun's last flickers of light danced along each of its facets, creating an incendiary dance within whatever material it was truly made of. To SandWhelp, this was his accomplishment, it was not the swim nor the years that came before it, it was standing before the icon of the deities.
He stood there fixated upon the phoenix's dance waltzing through into the ice for what seemed a small eternity before going about his appointed task, helping all those who had made it this far onto the ice before the bitter night to follow. Now satisfied with what he had done SandWhelp curled up upon the outer-edge of the still damp fur coated bodies before him, along with the others who had made it there soon enough to be mostly dry for they all knew that tomorrow they would have to swim back, trailing thin streams of ice from the pockets of the tightly woven boxers that adorned their fairly nude forms.
The night was brilliant for the moon shone full in the sky during its majority, showing favor to those who heard the wolf's cry most clearly. The stars themselves flared into existence one by one, each as brilliant as the last until a thick band glowed across the sky, lost stars filling the gaps to each side of it but no less marvelous to the few who stayed awake long enough to watch the spectacle. The sun took it's time to come about the next morning, letting some of the stars far from the band fall from the sky back to their ancestors only to be replaced by another the next night.
Brilliant and full the sun struck the crystal, flooding the entire glacier with imagined warmth, giving the call to the pack upon the ice to finish their deeds there. One by one they made their way to the base of the crystal, grabbing a single piece of the endless ice and taking back off into the water to return triumphantly home. Some turned back to watch the little trail of ice following behind the tail sloshing through the water but most were content with achieving their own goal, taking back a piece as proof.
None of the group intentionally touched the spire but a pup with poor balance on land slid upon a patch of bare ice and tried to brace herself upon the spire. In a flash of the darkest reds of the fire she disappeared, leaving nothing more than her footprints in the ice. Not a single sole took any more than a somber look at where she had been before they too returned to the waters, knowing that when the season changed again another set of youths would come out to prove their valor.
Tired and exhausted they each made their way back to shore to be congratulated by their families and friends, save one sad couple on the beach who only acknowledged their daughters disappearance for the elders had said at the very least that those who touched the spire were not brought to deaths door. It was a marker of change for all who had achieved it this season.
The night of the second day was filled with the fires of celebration, blazing into the night sky as exuberant family members and their children danced about the towering flames, letting their howls, yips, growls flood the night air. The celebrations never change but each year they were unique, the souls that presided at the feasts that followed, everything was a constant yet nothing was ever the same, such is the way that things worked here.
With daylight the fires fell dim, burning out into the final ashes of morning, the lights of the spire were the only things moving. The entire city had exhausted itself, now nothing more than a dead zone save for six small figures walking through the lifting mists. Each one of them was dead silent, only their visage spoke of their slow passage through the buildings of the city. Like a thing possessed, destination already determined they made there way straight to the door of the Lupine Sanctuary, where the newly tested slept after the celebrations.
Up the ramp of steps they went, only the fluttering of their robes giving away any noise as they opened the bronze gates to the sanctuary, working their way silently about the scattered sleeping bodies of the youths. Gentile breathing and the occasional sound of claw tips scraping against the warm tile floor spoke of the exhaustion of the newly tested but only one of them concerned the elders. Step by step the six looked critically at each of the sleeping whelps, passing over most of them, pausing by a few, eventually coming to SandWhelp, the ever-frost ice shard held steadily in his hand.
With an ethereal grace, the smallest of the elders leaned down and removed the shard from the whelps paw, taking with it his restful slumber. SandWhelp awoke to the six hooded figures standing over him and forced down a heavy swallow, it was unlike the elders to take any actions without first telling the rest of the cities. For a moment he just stared blankly at the figures, trying to clear the sands of sleep from his eyes, only managing to get a few grains out here and there. In a rasp, overworked voice he managed to get out "Why are you here?"
Moving with a lithe grace that surprised SandWhelp greatly, the shortest of the eldest leaned down to his ear, picking it up fast enough to make him yelp suddenly before the voice of sandpaper begun to speak into his ears "Boy, we are sending you on a quest, and you will go."
With a slight gulp SandWhelp allowed the elders to heave him up onto his feet, the claw tips upon his bare feet tapping against the stone floor with a lethargic pace. It only took SandWhelp a few moments to realize where he was heading, back to the crystal spire. In an odd sort of confusion he tried to fight them but in the end it proved to no avail as he was pressed against the spire and in a blinding furry of light his world shattered around him, engulfed in that otherworldly fire that the spire fed across the crater-lake each dawn.