Ray - Monastery (1)

It didn’t take much longer before they left the gigantic blossom-forests behind and finally entered a landscape Ray could almost call it mountainous. Their muldis carried them bravely, even though they hadn’t rested in a long while, since Eri was certain they were close to reaching the Radiant Monastery.

“What do you think it’ll be like there?” Ray asked Demoa, who rode a little way beside her with Rad.

Demoa brushed a strand of hair from her face, the wind immediately sweeping it back, and thought for a moment.

“Lessons? Training? Other Lucids?” she guessed, gnawing nervously at her nails.

“Indeed. That and more,” Eri said as he caught up with them.

He ran a hand through his black beard, seemed to search for words, then turned to Ray and fixed her with a piercing look.

“Sparky, there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about: I strongly advise you not to reveal that you brought the Sun.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t doubt the Sages who cultivate and study there, nor the other Lucids, will be exploring their gifts alongside you. What happened near Glune… that change was enormous. Sooner or later there will be people who blame you again for something you couldn’t control — or worse, for something you very much could.”

Ray looked at him and shifted in her muldi’s saddle as a chill ran down her spine, fear pressing close again. She focused on the light and pushed it back.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, Sparky, a transformation of the world always brings unforeseen consequences, and not all of them may be good for us. Through your power you’ll make many more decisions in the future, decisions some will likely resent; people who, because of the clarity you created, are torn out of their everyday lives and forced to see things they may not want to see, simply because you made it possible…”

Ray stared ahead.

“I don’t know, Eri. Maybe. I trust your judgment. I have no ambition to be some great prophet or hero. I know what I want to do, and that will guide my future actions — not what’s up there.” She pointed toward the horizon, where the Sun was rising.

“Maybe,” Eri said, “but it’s never unwise to be cautious. Great Lucidity can change this Dream again. And change, as I said, can bring disastrous consequences too.” His tone sounded more as if he were reminding himself.

“Yes, you’re probably right. I don’t care about fame. In fact, I prefer it your way. I’ve seen what my Lucidity can do. Elga felt it, and so did those two men I awakened, and…” She broke off, glancing toward Demoa, who had been listening silently but intently.

“I agree with Eri, Ray. It’s definitely safer. If nothing happens, then it won’t matter. If something goes wrong somewhere because of the Sun, though, then it will have been a wise choice.”

Ray nodded.

“That puts me at ease, Sparky. I’m convinced you’ll do great things; your light will illuminate us all. I just don’t want to see you in another situation like Glune, or worse. The rest of you, please don’t mention it either. It’s something only we shall know.”

Rad furrowed his brow and ran a hand over his angular chin. His piercing eyes studied Ray, and she felt a wave of unease.

“I agree we shouldn’t spread it around, though the people in Glune know. So do the people from my settlement,” he pointed out.

Eri nodded, and Demoa looked at him with admiration.

“Yes, that’s true — very true,” she agreed.

“We just have to hope they don’t spread it further. Ray, try to keep a low profile. Don’t show too much. And if someone tries to pin the Sun on you, deny it,” Eri said; worry flickered in his eyes.

Ray swallowed hard. She had been looking forward to finally talking with someone about those moments that kept bringing back her fear and guilt, yet at least she still had Demoa. The young woman’s warmth lingered pleasantly at the edges of her thoughts; Ray knew she could count on her. Even if she kept it from the Sages and Students at the monastery, it wouldn’t change her training or the guidance that would lead her toward her true self, right? Even if she was more lucid than most, the same basic rules still applied and the same methods would work.

At least I hope so.

When she shared this worry with Eri, he nodded and tried to force a reassuring smile onto his grim mouth.

“It won’t make any difference on your path to yourself, no,” he said soothingly.

An idea struck Ray, and before she could think it through she had already spoken it aloud.

“We could say it was Elga,” she blurted, then immediately bit her tongue.

Was that right, to tie Elga’s name to it? If something terrible really did happen, for whatever reason, was it fair to drag her name through the mud instead of Ray’s? On the other hand…

Maybe it would give me an even stronger reason to spread the nature of the Light and shape the good future I want. To honor her name, Ray thought.

At first she thought Eri would refuse, but then a spark lit in his eyes.

“That is actually not a bad idea.”

“You’d do that? Honor Elga like that?” Sars asked in disbelief over his shoulder.

“She was a Sage. It’s much more likely she had a breakthrough than me, isn’t it? What if it just took her longer? Who would even know?” Ray said.

“That’s not really possible, Sparky. After the Pilgrimage we’ve already found ourselves. There’s no breakthrough after that; it always happens just before the end, not later,” Eri objected.

“Excuse me, but what if we say she was inspired by Ray’s vision? The one of the radiant circle? Everyone saw her draw it in the sky back then, saw how excited she was about it. At least we’d have witnesses who could confirm it. Even if the people from Glune, or Rad’s people from Geed, claimed otherwise…” Demoa suggested.

She spoke quietly, as if afraid Eri would snap at her. He nodded again.

“Yes. That way we could soften the problem a little. Rumors are best fought with counter-rumors, even when they’re true.”

“And Elga wouldn’t be forgotten,” Olver added softly.

Uncertain, she still remembered Elga’s final moments — the trust placed in her.

I won’t disappoint you. I’ll do great things in your name. Not merely find the place you wished for; I’ll make you the heroine who helped me find the Light, she swore to herself.

“In memory of Elga… the Bringer of the Heavens,” Ray said firmly.

“In memory of Elga!” the others echoed.

“May she be welcomed upon her return with ballads and legends,” Eri said with a smile.

Ray felt a little better. Somehow relieved, as if that burden might finally be lifted from her — at least in part.

They didn’t travel much farther; Ray knew the Monastery was near even before they crossed the last ridge and broke through the final thicket. The plants grew lusher; the air around them was alive with the calls of unfamiliar birds and other creatures moving through the undergrowth nearby. The air itself carried a fragrance that felt almost magical, proclaiming the presence of something higher — a place where the Light itself bloomed.

At last they broke through the final branches. Their muldis were excited and eager. Olver and Sars craned forward, straining to catch the first glimpse, while Eri, for once, looked at ease; a glimmer of joy sparkled in his eyes. Demoa sighed happily, and Rad furrowed his brow in tense anticipation. Ray turned away from them, eager to catch her own first sight.

The hillside sloped gently down into a wide valley where a crystal-clear river flowed lazily along. The water wound through the land before ending in a vast, shimmering pool whose calm surface was dotted with dancing points of light. The pool was ringed by lush emerald meadows so vivid and alive that Ray could hardly believe they hadn’t been shaped by lucidity.

On one side of the valley stretched a massive plantation of towering trees, their crowns domed like great halls and glowing in the golden morning light. Between the rows of trunks Ray could make out tiny shadowy figures darting back and forth, carrying glowing orbs through the groves.

Beyond the plantation, along the riverbank, lay countless buildings that seemed to house deep spiritual powers, connected by intricate, winding bridges that arched high above the river, forming exalted pathways between the structures. Some walkways were so gracefully crafted they appeared borne up by an invisible force. The buildings themselves were richly adorned; in places their facades were supported by delicate columns. Large windows of glowing, warm colors caught the Sun and bathed the surroundings in a soft, radiant glow.

Towers with filigreed battlements and elaborate reliefs rose skyward, while gleaming white domes crowned many edifices. Some structures bore sweeping gables and delicate pagodas; others were adorned with lofty balconies from which one could overlook the entire valley.

Some of the buildings looked as though they had grown straight from the earth, shaped by unknown powers. Others seemed carved with precision by human hands from a stone Ray recognized as marble. The lower floors of most structures were plain, yet they gleamed in a pure white that radiated calm majesty. The higher the temples and houses rose, the more intricate the ornamentation became; their facades were covered with carvings and reliefs until their colorful, splendid roofs seemed to reach toward the heavens.

Many structures bore symbolic motifs, repeated as if to impress them into memory: arches interlocked across lintels, latticework glimmered with shards of colored glass, and spirals coiled along marble columns. Bronze gates carried crosses, windows flared with sunbursts, stair rails curled like flames. On some walls, lines and swirls wove so delicately they seemed almost like letters.

Elsewhere, broad surfaces of pure color had been laid into facades — shimmering patches of red, gold, and deep blue that looked less like decoration and more like fragments of light made solid. A few towers even bore crescent-like crowns of stone, or overlapping triangles cut into their parapets. None of these shapes stirred anything familiar in Ray’s heart; yet together they conveyed a sense of belonging to something older than memory — unique to this place, strange and oddly familiar, as though they had always been waiting in silence to be rediscovered.

All across the slopes, platforms had been built large enough for gatherings or communal ceremonies. In certain places, small domed buildings jutted outward.

Pavilions, Ray realized — probably places to rest, meditate, or cultivate.

Steps and paths wound upward through the hillsides, often lined with golden trees whose fruits shimmered with a mysterious light. It felt as though every tree, every path, was a symbol of ways to inner illumination and of the journeys ahead to reach it.

Here, at last, I can find myself.