Chapter Text
Fog flowed down the mountains, blanketing emerald green canopies that scattered the horizon. The vast land lay cradled within a crescent of towering peaks, their reach stretching until the ocean. Grey mist which enveloped the land curled around cliffs that jutted out of the sea. Clouds looming heavy above, and the torrential downpour of rain drummed against the leaves — its endless assault against the forest floor somewhat softened by the shield of greenery above.
Though the sun slowly crept up between mountain peaks, its rays could not pierce the dreary sky, only giving a moody-grey glow to the clouds above. Many days and nights had passed similarly to this, with small periods of grace between the heavy rainfall. And even though the land was filled with vibrant greens and flowing rivers, during such periods of weather, life stilled.
The skittering of animals would cease, birdsong would vanish, and all that seemed to move were the breathing trees and flowing bodies of water. When viewed from above, the dense canopies could sparsely be seen mixed in with the fog spilling through the forest. The land was alive, but quiet.
However, rising high above the murky haze, a great tree, much taller than any other in the rainforest, stood against the haze and downpour. And nestled atop this tree, where its branches began to splay outwards, was a whirling sphere of light — its faint, sea-green glow comparable to the waning crescent.
Here stood the Spirit Kauri, and here it stood watch over all of Nitral. No matter the season, this towering steward was a beacon for all, its soft luminance said to be visible even in the darkest of nights. Across all lands, it was the same: a tree for the light, and a light for the tree.
This land, however, harboured something else. Amidst the tropics lay a scar — an ancient and deep chasm which cleaved the land in two, its abyss untouched by the light. The great line stretched continuously from the seafront to the foothills of the mountains, and its gap, while not impossibly wide, spanned roughly three trees across — enough to halt the crossing of any creature that walked. Rivers suddenly dropped, their rushing roars lost to the void, and the pitter-patter of rain appeared to hesitate before resuming on the other side of the rift. None who walked the land knew how the wound appeared, yet they all harboured a fearful respect for the chasm.
Such was Nitral: A land filled with life, but harbouring ever-present dangers. Despite that, after countless seasons of peace, the nurtured reputation of the Kauri’s endurance instilled a belief into the inhabitants: No matter the era or the season, the Kauri would be there, watching over them and the generations to come.
But in recent times, that belief was being tested. Though it still shone, the tree’s light was behaving strangely. A flicker here, a quiver there — subtle, but unnerving. And while barely noticeable at first, the swirling sphere, which once shone with the brilliance of the full moon, had gradually dimmed over many seasons, its shine now a ghostly glow of its former self. A subtle heaviness could be felt in the air across Nitral. Yes, the land was alive and quiet, but it was also uneased. A quiet sense of dread weighed on the minds of all who lived there. Something was wrong with the Spirit Kauri, and with it, all of Nitral.
Among the critters who felt this disturbance was one who stood at the base of a cliff — a young spirit, whose body emanated a faint, sea green glow, illuminating the rocky cliff next to them.
With shaky breaths, he pressed his hands against the slick stone, and cloven hooves imprinted into the wet sand as he jumped — his best attempt at climbing the rocky face. Pulling up strainingly and throwing an arm higher than the other, one leg pushed against a jagged crack in the rough wall to raise him higher, just barely making his way up — and then he slipped, the rain washing off what little grip he had.
The sounds of hooves scraping against stone were accompanied by a thud as his rear hit the ground, knocking the air out of him. The spirit winced with eyes shut as a short yelp escaped his mouth, before whining defeatedly as he looked up to the cliff looming over him.
Sitting still, his faint light kept on glowing, now pulsating with each breath. The spirit's short frame trembled, and the short coat of fur that covered his long tail and the rest of his body was slick from the rain.
Wind blowing against him, two sets of ears twitched in response to the harsh breeze: One outer pair, both soft and wide, adorned each side of his head, while a thinner, more delicate inner pair sat on top of his head, the ends of which appeared as if they were split.
The jagged wall in front of the spirit stood tall above the ocean, its reach extending to the left and right, forming a narrow cove. Green moss lay scattered on the cliff in sporadic bunches, and above where the spirit now sat, the mouth of a cave could be seen, it's entrance situated high above him. Aside from him and the moss, all else that accompanied them in the cove were few boulders of varying sizes, and even fewer patches of trees which dotted the sand.
He was trapped in this place, the hole in the escarpment above being the only feasible escape he could think of. To the right, the cove ended with waves that crashed violently against the rocky wall, above him branches jutted out over the cliff, almost mockingly waving in the wind, and to the left lay something which frightened the spirit — the end of that scar which split the land in half, where roaring seawater met the seemingly endless void.
Though he tried to forget, the thundering rush of ocean which fell into the split constantly reminded him of its presence. Eyes darting away, he instinctively avoided the sight, not even daring to look at the pitch-black darkness which threatened to swallow him whole.
But even though it terrified the young spirit, something about the split led him to fight off that instinct for just a second, and he glanced over curiously.
Though the chasm swallowed seawater mercilessly, the sand on either side of it did not fall in. And any stray stream of water which jumped off the oceanic waterfall seemed to hover in the air where edges of sand and scar met.
The unexplained sight puzzled the spirit, momentarily breaking the haze of fear. For a split second, he thought to walk closer and reach out, before his body froze and quivered, fear taking over again. Turning away, he somberly gazed back up to the entrance of the cave but did not dwell on his failed escape for much longer. Something else took root in his mind. A dull, gnawing ache began to form in his stomach, and like clockwork, his attention was driven to one of the clumps of moss clinging to the wall.
Standing up, he walked over to where some of the green sustenance sat and grabbed a bit, its damp form squelching as excess water squeezed out onto his hands. He winced, reeling back a little and looked at his palms where the moss-water liquid had touched him. They were bruised and scraped, a consequence of many failed attempts to climb up the cliff. It had been days, or perhaps longer, that he was trapped down there.
Attention turned back to the wall, he carefully reached out this time, slowly gathering a few clumps with trembling hands. After grabbing two handfuls, he began walking towards one of the few patches of trees that decorated the sand to his right. The rain trickled down wet fur to his elbows, each drop weighing heavier into him than the last, and his small frame shivered as a gust of wind whistled against the walls of the cove.
But despite the heavy rain, the loneliness weighed down even more on the young spirit — a reality that came to him after the first night had passed in the crescent shaped prison. The silence between waves, the cold that lingered in the air — none of it compared to the realization that no one knew he was there. No matter how high he threw a rock to grab someone’s attention, how much he struggled to climb, or how long he cried and shouted until his light felt like it would go out, no one would come. That thought lingered on his mind, the spirit’s downcast chin finding its way closer to his chest.
Eventually, he reached one of the patches of palm trees. They bore no fruit, but their overlapping leaves provided some form of shelter against the downpour. Sitting beneath them, being in the presence of another living thing, no matter what it was, sparked a slight sense of warmth within his chest.
However, as the wind suddenly picked up, those embers inside him went out just as quickly as they were lit, his hand quickly dropping the moss as he worriedly crawled over to one of the palms which shook violently in the wind.
Fingers drifted along the bark as if trying to ease the ache of his shaking friend, and as the wind settled back down again, he gave a relieved but tired expression, scooting closer to its trunk after realizing his wooden companion would continue to stand over him as it had the previous days.
His back resting against the tree, he took some of the moss and brought it closer to his face. Examining the spongy substance, the spirit’s nose wrinkled in disgust as he heard it squelching between his fingers, the squishy stuff regaining its shape as his hand opened again.
With wavering resolve, he reluctantly brought the dripping plant up to his mouth - and took a bite. Then two. Then three.
The taste was bitter, and the texture was coarse like soil. A grimace accompanied each bite, which was followed by a hesitant swallow — the unpleasant aftertaste lingering on his tongue.
Cheeks filled with the moss, he continued to chew until something hit his head, startling the young one. It was a stray drop of rain, no larger than a pebble, but it scared him, nonetheless.
Though he had been soaked by countless other raindrops beforehand, this one, having broken through his shelter, stirred something within him. His eyes and lips quivered, and tears began to form at the corners of his eye, eventually streaming down his face and mixing with the wet fur. Short sniffles gradually became longer. The raindrop wasn’t the cause — it was a reminder.
He was cold. He was scared. He was tired. He wanted the taste of bitter moss gone from the back of his throat. And more than anything, he wanted someone to be there, to hold him — but he was alone. His leafy friends did their best, but even so, they offered little comfort.
Feeling overwhelmed, the spirit dropped his meal, arms wrapping around himself instead. He dropped to his side and began to sob…
Eventually, sobs turned to weeping, and weeping became whimpers. His breathing slowed down, exhaustion finally taking over, and the once frightening sound of the plummeting ocean had begun lulling him to sleep. The rain began to settle down, and the wind weakened its attack on the cove.
Drifting into a slumber, a few last thoughts raced across his mind.
Why was this happening to him? Why was he still stuck down there? Was anyone looking for him? What is happening to the forest?
Curling up closer to the tree, he took one last look out toward whatever part of the ocean wasn’t obscured by the mist, and before sleep overtook him, he hoarsely whispered one last thought.
“...why?”
Sometime after the spirit had closed his eyes, the flowing mists of Nitral shifted. The fog floating between sea and land began to dissipate, allowing the vast ocean to gradually come into view. And in the distance, something interrupted the linear horizon, slowly becoming larger.
A makeshift raft sat on the water, the uneven swaying of the ocean bobbing it slightly up and down as it approached the land. Pieces of tan green fabric laid on its floor, and a ragged sail was tied to a large branch that sat upright in the middle of the raft. A woven satchel sat close to the mast, the contents of which were a few orange fruits.
And the two who ate from that satchel stood atop the raft.
“Mokk. Mokk? Hey Mokk!” one of them said, snapping their fingers on the third iteration.
A set of large ears flicked in response, and, standing proudly, he turned his attention towards his companion, his height no taller than a third of the mast’s. A short coat of fur blanketed his body, its creamy beige portion covering his chest, face, insides of his ears, and the end of his tail. The rest of his body, including circular areas around his eyes, featured a darker brown colour. His tail, thick and fluffy, playfully swayed back and forth, and the tuft of fur at the end of it was just as thick as the tuft on his chest. A paw presented on each appendage, and his large eyes glowed a golden hue, their expression filled with curiosity.
This was a Moki, a creature whose face always seemed to exude a natural innocence.
Boasting an ivory-coloured fang which loosely hung by the twine around his neck, the fang swayed a little as he turned around, his attention now fully directed to his companion’s voice.
“Yeah Meeni?” he responded enthusiastically.
His companion, another Moki of similar height, was now in full view. Like Mokk, a similar coat of fur covered her entire body as well, but the colour inside her ears, at the end of her tail, and on her chest was a dark amber one instead, while a lighter, honeycomb-like colour covered the rest of her body. She also wore a dirty-green shawl which covered the lower half of her face, while a pair of goggles crafted from tree bark were strapped around her eyes. Her ears poked out through two holes of a dark-brown cap which had flaps extending down the sides of it.
In a half chiding, half concerned tone, she continued.
“We’ve been on this raft for days since we left Niwen! And still no sign of Nibel. I thought Gumo told you the trip shouldn’t last longer than a day or two, but it’s almost been three! Are you sure we’re going the right way?”
“Relax Meeni, I was given this helpful map and magnet thingy, and I made sure we’re going the right way, see?”
Looking over his shoulder, Meeni stared at the piece of earthy brown parchment and the device he held underneath it. A needle inside the device constantly pointed in one direction which was marked by a star shaped symbol, while a similar symbol could also be seen on the map. But something else on the map caught her attention.
“Mokk?”
“Yes Meeni?”
“How do you know you’re holding the map the right way?”
“Simple! I make sure to touch the end of the map with the star to the end of the cutlass that also has the star! Lupo told me the way the stars are facing is important, so I’ve been doing that the whole time!”
In a more lecturing tone, she pressed on.
“First of all, it’s called it a compass, not a cutlass. But also, he showed you how to use it, right?”
“Well, no, but that’s because I told him I already know how to look at maps! But I will say, these stars are a bit different to look at.”
“A sta-! Let me look at that!”
Pulling the map out of his hands, she took a better look at it and let out an annoyed “Uuuuuugh!” as she began to chide him.
“Mokk, this is a star map, not a normal map!”
He looked back at her with an expression of someone who didn’t know they'd done something wrong.
“What do you mean a star map? There’s a difference?”
“The star symbol is supposed to face up, not connect to the compass’s symbol. Ugh, I knew something sounded off, I should've made sure before. Who knows how far we are from Nibel, let alone where we could be now!”
Instead of sharing her concern though, he had an amazed look on his face.
Excitedly, he said “Whoa. So, you’re telling me we’re on a mystery adventure?!”
“No! It means we’re going to run out of food soon! And what about getting back home? And I don’t even know if we can get fish out here. An-”
Putting a finger up to her mask, he cut her off.
“It’s alright Meeni, don’t worry. Just think of what they’ll say of us, Mokk and Meeni, adventurers onto new sights! We’ll be th-”
“Mokk!” she exclaimed, pushing his hand away.
He was about to retaliate before he saw her downcast head. Her voice now barely above a whisper with a little worry in it, she continued.
“Please, this is serious. I’m worried. We don’t have anybody we can ask for help, and there’s been so much fog for a while now that I don’t even know which way is which. I know we usually find our way, but we’ve never been this lost before…”
Seeing his worried friend, his tone became a little more serious now. “Yeah. I know, you might be right. But cheer up a little Meeni. Just think about all the unexplored adventure that’s out there. And don’t forget, you have the brave Mokk with you! If I could face the mighty wolf Howl, a little water is nothing!”
“You mean taking credit for facing Howl.” she jeered.
“Hey, I could’ve fought him any day. Every other Moki knows it as well. And obviously I-” But his smug train of thought abruptly stopped as he looked past her, ears twitching. And just as Meeni was about to tell him off, her train of thought was interrupted too as she turned around to see what could have caught his attention.
The faint sound of rushing water could be heard in the distance, and the fog which floated on the ocean’s surface had begun to dissipate, revealing a sandy shoreline. And as it cleared up even more, they both stared in a dazed bewilderment.
Cliffs loomed over the coastline, and to the left a massive ravine appeared to cut through the cliffside, the sound from earlier revealed to be the ocean itself spilling into the chasm. And above the cliffs sat what appeared to be a lush green forest. Finally, peeking further inland, they set their eyes on something which faintly glowed through the remaining sea of haze.
Meeni wanted to say something, but she turned towards Mokk first, sensing the excitement oozing out of him. His tail swayed back and forth rapidly, and with fists clenched, he hopped in place rapidly, the raft jumping up and down with him as well. He turned towards Meeni, eyes devoid of anything but enthusiasm.
“Meeni Meeni Meeni! Look! It’s there, I told you we’d find something! They’re going to be telling tales about us for ages! We found land!”
Though he couldn’t see it, his contagious joy caused a slight smile to also appear underneath her mask. Trying to be the more rational one, she motioned her arms to try and calm him down.
“Okay okay, just settle down though or we’re gonna sink before we get there. But it’s strange, that looks nothing like how they described Nibel.”
“So, you mean we found something NEW? Let’s go faster!”
“Well, I don’t know. We don’t even know what this land is, or if it’s dangerous like how Niwen was before. And even if we want to go there, we need to find another place to dock, that big chasm is way too dangerous!” She wanted to continue, but they both seemed to notice something where the fog had dissipated even further.
In front of them, where cliffs stood to form a sandy cove, a small mote of green sat surrounded by trees, glowing a bit brighter than the light they saw earlier. To most creatures, regardless of which forest they came from, that glow meant one thing: A spirit.
Their conversation came to a halt, and both said nothing. The raft which continued to move closer to the shore signified an unspoken agreement.
Something about the green light enticed both of them, and with curiosity overflowing, they carefully sailed forward. This was something different, something new.
Though the grey clouds persisted, the fog which covered the forest continued to lift. The land of Nitral was once again changing, but for the first time in a long time, something had come to it. The waves carried the wooden vessel closer to the cove, and on that quiet shore, where rain whispered beneath looming cliffs, a new adventure was about to begin.