The Cocoon

For a while there was only the sound of their footsteps. Ealdwin’s torch didn’t reach very far, but it did illuminate the cramped walls around them. The stone was odd, not at all cracked, or jagged, or gray. Instead it was so smooth as to look soft to the touch, and when the light splashed it, it glinted with the myriad colors of nacre. Mayfly half expected to hear the echoes of ocean waves.

She did not expect to hear meowing. Nor did she expect to feel something brush against her leg.

With the speed and height to make rabbits blush, Mayfly leapt away and only just managed to smother a shriek behind her palm. Even Ealdwin jolted, though that was likely her doing. They both looked down, where a lone gray kitten sat, entirely unfazed.

“Scared by a cat?” Ealdwin asked. “You have half a dozen of them at home.”

“Wh—yeah, at home, but why is there one here?”

He shrugged. “There are strays all over the Valley. I don’t see why this place should be any different.”

Mayfly breathed deep, bounced on her toes to shake off the panic. The kitten approached her again, and again brushed up against her leg. She crouched down, let it sniff at her knuckles, and ran her hand down its back. It arched happily. “Hey there sweetie,” she cooed. “Aren’t you just the cutest? El, doesn’t he look just like Dumpling?”

“A close relative, perhaps,” Ealdwin said. “Come on, then. Still a ways to go.”

He started off again, and Mayfly hurried after. The kitten—who Mayfly had to restrain herself from naming—trotted along behind them. It dipped in and out of the lantern light without care, yellow eyes gleaming.

Eventually their steps began to echo, and the pearlescent walls expanded beyond the light’s reach. Though she could see nothing, Mayfly could feel by the air on her skin that they had moved into a much larger space. Ealdwin stopped.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

“Oh nothing,” he muttered, fiddling the lantern’s glass door open. “Let’s see if this still works…”

Ealdwin flourished the fingers of his free hand, then flicked his wrist. As if pulled on a string, the lantern’s little flame zipped from its wick and came to hover in his palm. He closed his fist over it, there was a flash and hot light seeped between his fingers. His eyes scanned the black expanse, and then with only the barest hint of effort, he tossed the flame out.

Rather than drop or explode, it flew like a bird into the dark. It went wide first to a distant wall, where it revealed a torch sconce above a stairway made of stone. The little flame lit the torch, and then ascended the stairway, spiraling up, igniting another sconce, and then another, and another. Occasionally it would dart across, lighting chandelier-like fixtures hanging from long chains. As it continued to climb, the cavern before them illumed.

Mayfly gasped.

The whole mountain was hollow. They stood in a massive, cylindrical chamber which grew taller with each revealing moment. The rounded walls were brilliantly nacreous, and the stairway ran flush up against them in a rising spiral. All along the way there were platforms and walkways leading across to dozens and dozens of openings in the walls, too dark to see into.

At the bottom, erected before them, was a tall statue of a woman. She sat comfortably, and wore robes that had been carved with such an expert hand that they appeared softer than Mayfly’s own clothes. Intricate hair tumbled from her hood, and her head was downcast. In her lap she held a mask with no features.

Awestruck, Mayfly walked over wordlessly and looked up into her face. It was gentle, restful, even; her eyes were closed, her smile was small, but satisfied. The stone was warm to the touch.

She heard another meow, and two more cats emerged from behind the statue. They settled in its lap, and watched her curiously. The gray tagalong brushed her leg again, and then hopped up to join them.

“May,” Ealdwin said, his voice echoing. He was already ascending the stairway.

“What is this place?” she called, giving the gray one last scritch under the chin before jogging after him. “How long has it been here?”

“Since the beginning. This is where we woke up when we first came to the Valley.”

“Woke up?”

They passed one of the openings, and Mayfly froze before it. The room was big enough that the light from the central chamber didn’t reach very far in, and it was hard to see much of anything. For the most part it seemed empty, but in the center, just barely breaking from the shadows, something hung from the ceiling. It was huge and bulbous, like an egg, only its surface was withered and frayed. Rather than a crack, there was a great split in its mass, revealing the interior to be empty. Mostly. She saw pairs of yellow eyes blinking at her from within.

“What—” she started, only to realize Ealdwin hadn’t waited. She hurried after him, and each room she passed housed the same, lonesome object. “What are these? Cocoons?”

“Literally? Yes. This one here was mine,” he said as they passed another room. The cocoon within didn’t look any different from the others. He pointed across the way to more. “Miss Gertrude’s was there…Aetheldan was…ah, I think we passed him. Do you know Bren? The fencer from last year’s Wearytide? Well his father was right here.”

More and more cocoons, all withered and busted open and home now to the colony of mountain strays. As they went higher, a few began to follow behind them.

“What about mama’s?”

“Oh, Margie was the first of us. She woke up in the west somewhere, before the process was really hammered down. Had to walk all the way here on her own—still tease her about that sometimes. You know…” he said, and stopped, turning to her. “I haven’t asked if you told her you were doing this. And I won’t. But since she’s not here to speak her piece, I’ll say this: it won’t be simple. It won’t be quick. You could be gone days, or weeks, maybe even months, and that’s if you come back at all. Gen’s no place for a child—and no, winning the Chicken Chase four years in a row does not make you more than a child. Even if I could go back, I wouldn’t. Not a one of us would.”

Mayfly was shocked. She’d never seen Ealdwin so grave before, never heard him so serious. When she’d come to him for help finding a moonbloom, all he’d asked was if she was sure. She was, then. Now she wondered.

“Is it really so bad?”

His brow heavied, his face sagged wistfully. “Dark, and terrible,” he said. “All that we have here—the light, the love, the comfort—it’s all missing there. My home, Margie’s home, it’s a ruin, May. It’s a stain. The people are vicious, ravenous. The land is hard and dead and salted with blood. If there was one thing we wanted for you all who came after, it was that you’d never know a place like Gen.”

“If…” her voice squeaked, she swallowed. “If it’s so dangerous, why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I suppose I was worried you’d change your mind. Margie would have my head for that—and I’d probably give it to her—but when you told me what happened, and how badly things had gotten, well…she’s my oldest friend. I want to help her, too.”

She didn’t know what to say. Ealdwin was all but admitting she might die in Gen, in a place so cruel that even mama had fled from it. Mayfly had never been in danger before. She’d been scared plenty, and gotten hurt plenty too, but never anything so drastic. Did she want this, really? Was it all worth one flower?

No. But it was worth it for mama.

“I promised,” she said. “When I left. I promised her I’d fix it.”

“Mm,” Ealdwin nodded. “Quite particular about promises, aren’t you? You get that from her. That’s it then, no talking you out of it? No changing your mind?”

Mayfly shook her head. Ealdwin shrugged with his lips, then spun back around and began climbing the stairs once again.

“Well, now no one can say I didn’t try.”

“God, El,” she sighed, following. “If that’s settled, can you tell me a little more now? At least where I ought to be going? Where exactly do the moonblooms grow? And don’t say—”

“In Gen.”

“El.”

“Honestly? I’m afraid you’ve found a gap in my knowledge. There was a time when they were common enough, though they seemed to grow randomly, even in places they shouldn’t. No seeds, no preferred season. Over time they started popping up less and less. By the time we left, the only one I ever saw was Margie’s, and that was a gift.”

“From who?”

Ealdwin hissed. “Shouldn’t have said that. Ah, damn.”

“Who did she get the flower from, El?”

He didn’t stop, but she could tell he was debating with himself. Part of her wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him until his eyes crossed, but they were getting very high up by now, and she decided to wait it out. Eventually he relented.

“She got it from a man named Eisop,” he said. “It was sort of a…parting gift.”

“So they were friends? Why didn’t he come to the Valley.”

“That’s not my place to say. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be so coy, but there are quite a few answers I can't give you on account of my own promises. I hope you’ll understand that.”

She did. It was frustrating, but she was the last person after mama to fault someone for keeping their word. “Alright,” she said, trying to keep the disappointment out of it. “But what can you tell me?”

“I can tell you that you should stay as far away from him as possible. Shouldn’t be too difficult, but nonetheless. He won’t give you anything for free, and he loves to play games. Nothing he sells is worth the price, and nothing he wants to play is worth losing. If you can find a moonbloom anywhere else, anyway else, do it.”

Ealdwin sounded outright bitter, which was just as new and surprising to Mayfly as his prior gravity. It was likely best to take both seriously.

“Okay, Eisop is a jerk. Avoid Eisop. Got it. Is there anyone else?”

“Nope.”

“Is there anyone else you would tell me about but can’t?”

He chuckled. “Yep.”

“Great,” she groaned. “So I’m completely on my own out there?”

“That’s for the best. Charity is scarce, and considering you won’t have much in the way of resources, you’ll need to be careful not to get taken advantage of. People in Gen are out for themselves, and those who aren’t probably wish they were. Better you travel alone when you can.”

Mayfly enjoyed meeting people. Everyone in the Valley was so nice, and even the folks who were a little rough eventually came around in one way or another. The idea of spending weeks or months alone in such a dangerous place was more than a little disheartening. She hoped Ealdwin was wrong, but he rarely was.

As they continued on, Mayfly noticed they’d gathered a small herd. Tens of cats and kits marched along behind them. Below, the base of the chamber was dizzyingly far away. Above, the stairway vanished into an opening in the flat ceiling leaking more torchlight. Together they ascended into the hollow summit.

The room was only a bit bigger than the ones below, but unlike them it was far from empty. Intricate light fixtures hung from the ceiling, which itself was carved with reliefs of vines and flowers, many of a kind Mayfly had never seen before. At the center were four statues arranged in a half-circle. Like the woman far below, they all wore robes of soft stone with hoods pulled over their heads. They also wore their masks upon their faces, making it impossible to tell much about any of them.

Together they cradled a cocoon on the ground, but this one was much larger than the others, and not the least bit withered. Its exterior was brilliant ivory silk, and a closer look revealed gold marbling embedded so cleanly it might have been spun as thread. The split in its surface was perfect, like it had been severed with a knife, and revealed the interior to be entirely empty, even of strays.

The cats that had followed them scattered about the room, curling in pools of torchlight or nestling in the folds of the statues.

“Here we are,” Ealdwin said. “Your ferry.”

Mayfly shook her head. “I still don’t get it. How does this thing get me to Gen?”

“That is an excellent question.”

“…That you aren’t going to answer.”

“That you get to answer for yourself! Isn’t that fun?” He made his way over the cocoon, gesturing eagerly for her to follow, which she did. He patted the thing excitedly. “Look, look, feel it! No softer beds in the Valley, you’ll be asleep in no time.”

She laid her hand on its surface. Smooth, silky, and yes, incredibly soft, but it still didn’t make any sense. “I get to Gen by…sleeping?”

“You do. See, the differences between Gen and the Valley run much deeper than personal taste. It’s a blessing you were born here, but suffice it to say, that means you don’t have a place there. The cocoon ought to fix that.”

“How?”

“By making one for you,” he said, grinning. “But enough questions. Come on, in you go.”

Reluctantly, Mayfly climbed in, wincing at bit once she was settled inside. It was certainly comfortable, and warm like a blanket, but though she’d never been claustrophobic, the walls of the cocoon did inspire a peculiar anxiety. She looked down at the moonbloom in her hand, and it steadied her somewhat.

“When you wake up, things will be quite a bit different,” Ealdwin said, peering in. “You, in particular, will be very different—but you will still be you. Try to think of it as…wearing armor. I’ve been told it’s like that.”

“I’ve never worn armor.”

“Well then if you ever do, you’ll have a very good reference.”

“Ealdwin?” she said. “If I don’t…uh…if I’m gone a while, will you…?”

“I’ll look after Margie while you’re away,” he said, and she knew he meant it. “Just bear in mind she’ll be eating my cooking the whole time, so it’d be best for everyone if you do hurry back.”

She smiled, he smiled back. “Goodnight, May,” he said. “And good luck.”

“Goodnight,” Mayfly said.

And she shut her eyes.