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In the Endless Desert, a shining orb, coming from the Light of the Mountain, made its way across de sky and landed on the sand once again.
From the orb began to form a figure. It grew and became more and more defined to form a Rythulian who woke from their rest among the ancestors. At first sight, they didn’t have anything odd; they looked like one more red cloak, like many others in the Path.
But that only lasted until the moment they opened their eyes.
The first thing off about them was the colour: while most Ones-from-now had bright white eyes, Blueglow’s shone a light cobalt; it was similar to that of the Voices of the Mountain, but more living and bright.
Blueglow stood up with the excitement of every new Journey. They might have walked the Path millions of times, but they felt the experience was as unique as the first time. And how could it not? Every Wayfarer was different, and so every Journey was, too. Besides, there were more and more different Wayfarers, and Blueglow couldn’t wait to see who would be their companion this time. They rushed up the dune and, despite their enthusiasm, they couldn’t help but stare at the Mountain, so far away, once again. Every Journey began like this: waking up with great excitement, running up the dune and being awed at the sights of the Mountain that awaited patiently for them
They didn’t take long to continue. They went through the stone slabs with engraved glyphs, which they couldn’t remember what was their meaning exactly, and got to the broken statue that offered the first glyph of the Path. This statue had in fact always got their attention. It seemed out of place, here in the middle of nowhere, broken in half and without any spirit watching over it. For the Voices of the Mountain were six; so, whose statue was this? Why was it broken?
Shaking their head, Blueglow decided not to overthink it. They were surrounded by so many strange things that they had long ago stopped questioning everything: the statue, the engraved stones, their own blue eyes… In the past, they had been very interested in these kind of stuff; they wanted to know everything, they wanted to learn the story of the Ones-from-before, and they did. But, as time passed, the story became more a part of the background, more faded; more irrelevant every time. By now, it had been long forgotten; every time they went by a mural or a tapestry, they waited patiently until their companion was done with it, and once they could both go on, they did without losing another moment.
Before they could notice, they were already almost at the first statue. A quick visit to the first guardian Voice and they could converge with someone else; so exciting! As soon as the circle of Light formed before them, the Wayfarer scooted close, sat like they were meditating and soon saw themselves transported into the bright world of the Voices.
Blueglow opened their eyes in a familiar untouchable realm of glowing white. In the background, the Mountain shone Her Light, solemn as always. And closer, they could see the distant silhouette that belonged to the first of six spirits that spoke for Her.
The First sang their call, weakened by the distance between the two, but enough to show the first tapestry before their eyes: the Ones-from-before, surrounded by nature and birds, discovering and learning to use the power of the glyphs and the Light.
As the tapestry disappeared to give way to reality, however, Blueglow felt something else besides that; it seemed like a whisper, too faint and distant to decipher its meaning; but it did sound safe and comforting in a certain way. It reminded them to the ancestors’ voices, but it was unknown.
Few things were unknown to Blueglow anymore, and the discovery of a new one flooded them in a tsunami of shock, confusion, curiosity and excitement, in that order.
As soon as the physical world came back around them and they could feel sand beneath them, the One-from-now sprung to their feet. It was clear that this Journey would be special! Perhaps their partner would be, too? The Rythulian practically sprinted through the tunnel with impatience, great expectations and an even bigger grin in their eyes. They looked around to find no one at first sight. That was odd. Normally they would find their companion right away.
After a while of searching, they tweeted loudly, an expanding chirp that displayed their glyph inside the sound wave.
Blueglow heard their own call echo in the canyon’s walls and the ruined bridge, through the plains of the Endless Desert surrounding them. The echo brought them a new feeling; it was strange and nostalgic; it reminded them of that first Journey, when they went all the way from the first dune to the first statue without company, which they now knew was normal; it brought back memories of those chirps and calls from other Wayfarers, the excited tweets that often followed, the warmth of intertwined cloaks, but it was all bittersweet; for the first time in a long, long time, Blueglow felt alone.
They weren’t quite sure how they were supposed to react from here. Should they keep looking? Move on? They had never known this solitude; in all the hundreds, thousands or millions of Journeys that they’d done in the past, they had always had company.
Blueglow stopped in their tracks in front of the familiar sandfall. They hadn’t even noticed that they’d been walking, deep in thought as they were. Perhaps they’d find someone in here? They walked inside the small cave that hid behind the sand curtain. There was no one inside, but they did find the back wall to be quite particular. It appeared to be framed, with two stone markers with no glyph at each side: it was a mural. They didn’t remembered there was any in here. They noticed that, to their surprise, they also remembered not the image it held. Now curiously, Blueglow walked up to each one of the markers watching them activate and glow with the touch of their cloak. When all four of them were activated, white particles flew from the stones towards the frame, revealing the image preserved here. A few seconds later, the light dimmed and the imaged became visible: a city engulfed by the sand.
Ah, of course. This had all been a city at some time. Blueglow had gotten so used to the desert, something so obvious appeared quite revealing to them. There were entire buildings down here; judging by its width, this bridge was likely very used in the past. Who knows what else hid beneath the surface?
After a long while of walking around through the canyon, the One-from-now had finally reached the second statue and was going back to that bright, intangible world. The second Voice appeared before their eyes, as always, but looking at them more directly than to other Wayfarers.
Before the Second could reveal the second tapestry, Blueglow broke the silence.
“Why?”
The One-from-before eyed them curiously.
“Why had I never been alone before? And why now?”
“Hmm…” the Voice remained thoughtful for a few moments. Then, they chuckled softly. “At last, there’s that curiosity I missed so much~”
“But answer me!” complained, Blueglow. “Come on, this is serious!”
“I think…” began the Voice, “that the Mountain had always wanted you to have a companion. And, perhaps, it was also Her who ensured you had none this time.”
“But…!” They didn’t finished the sentence. What kind of answer was that? Could the ancestors not explain anything without mysteries and riddles?
“Don’t worry so much, Blueglow.” The Wayfarer then noticed that the Second had been leaning and crouching to talk to them more closely. “I’m certain you will understand everything by the end, yes?”
They nodded, though not without uncertainty.
“Although…” the ancestor started slowly, “Maybe you could use this chance to take a second look at the murals? I have a feeling that you might learn something new…”
An echoing cry later, the second tapestry came to life before the confused red cloak.
This one displayed an era of progress for the Ones-from-before, who built their world with the help of the glowing cloth that gave them energy. At the end, there was some kind of temple or sanctuary where a huge cloth entered, going on through the structure and making it light up with energy.
After Blueglow had already left the space of the ancestors Āstigian still stood for some time, thoughtful. Perhaps they’d told them more than they should? The Mountain wanted them to make this Journey on their own, make their own conclusions; but the Six Voices knew all too well that Blueglow wouldn’t had known what to do without some guidance.
The ancestor turned to the Mountain, bright as always. “Help them,” Āstigian asked to the other Voices. “Guide their way and make sure our story is heard once again.”
Blueglow exited the bridge area, thinking about everything the Second had said. They still didn’t really understand… “But the voices have always been great guides. And they have never been wrong before”, they thought as they swiftly slid through the dunes they already knew by glyph.
Suddenly, however, a strange feeling pulled them towards their right: a call, a murmur, distant and… ancient. They sprinted in that direction, not really knowing where they were really headed. Just… that they had to go there. Shortly after, they got to some strange ruins they didn’t remember, and further… a flower.
They had only seen similar ones in a few murals and the Voices’ tapestries. Supposedly, they went extinct after the Ones-from before used up great part of the natural resources and the land became dead.
Yet here was this one. Living, defying and fresh like had it just gotten watered a few minutes ago.
Blueglow…
The Rythulian startled back, looking around. Hadn’t the Voice said that nobody would accompany them in this Journey?
Blueglow!
It was then they noticed that the voice came from the flower.
Soon it started to talk more and… oh, what she told! Such stories, such wisdom! And all of that had truly happened during the time of the Ones-from-before? Was the Mountain truly so powerful She had kept the flower living and growing by Herself for so long?
Then, the pieces clicked together: this all perfectly fit with the story of the ancestors, and of a few more murals they’d found on the way.
Curiously, the Third confirmed their suspicions. And there, sliding through the ruins of a great city, they understood more: This was the city of that first mural behind the sandfall! This is were all those merchants the flower mentioned came from!
And further down, at the entrance of the underground, they learned why all the machines that sleep here were so dangerous. How could they not be? They’d been fighting until they dropped dead! And yet, two still awoke to relentlessly hunt down the Wayfarers.
After that came a strange tower with huge friendly creatures and a substance that let you fly. But, with their newfound knowledge and a small help from the Fifth, they now knew what it was: a temple, engraved to the ceiling with glyphs that would forever be remembered. Liquid Light that filled you with Light and made you feel connected to the ancestors who rested here.
The Sixth didn’t say much, as always. But the peak of the Mountain talked by itself. Everything they had learned let them see everything in a different light the stone markers they now recognised as ancient graves, a cave that had been a camp, clever structures that helped the pilgrimage in the past and… the Storm.
The Storm is how the Ones-from-now called the end of the Path. It was an unstoppable frigid wind that clung to the cloak and drained the Light from the body. No one was supposed to get past this point, but to get as far as possible, with the aid of a companion who’d share warmth and life for a little longer. Before they joined the Voices and reached the Light.
It was a totally new experience for the veteran red cloak. They’d walked the Path many times, but always accompanied. Always standing it, clinging, always advancing step after step after both fell together. This time however, alone, they couldn’t make more than a couple steps before being called by the Six.
And at last, they understood it all. They felt the Light, so much weaker than it were at the end of that first Journey, all that time ago. They saw the Ones-from-now, how so many of them ignored the story of the ancestors and its importance. And they felt the Voices: Lux, Āstigian, Thársos, Awaseteiru and Bob. They explained why their story was in the Path, why it was so crucial that it were heard and why it must not be repeated.
So, the story I just told you is not just any story, young Wayfarer. This was my story, of how I discovered my true destiny. The Six did all of that because their story was being lost and the Light weakened. That’s why I’m here: now I’m Egia, the Seventh and the First of the Path. I will guide you through this first Journey, and I’ll make sure that their past won’t become the future.