Chapter Text
All things have an end, and all things have a beginning. Even Light itself. There was a time long, long ago, before Nibel was called Nibel, before the Spirit Tree first took root. I shall always remember the two brave spirits who set off into the unknown as the light they knew faded to nothing.
Eki winced as he unwrapped the makeshift bandages from his hooves. They came away bloody. He could run faster than any other spirit in the forest, but his hooves were meant for the forest: for the soft, springy earth, for scrambling up tree trunks and over fallen logs and smooth, ancient boulders covered in moss and lichen. The nails were cracked, and the pads blistered and torn and cut, from sharp, jagged rocks and blistering hot sand. His sister, Sol, had found a few herbs that at least numbed the burning, but they didn’t help for long, not when he had to keep walking, keep running, keep climbing. The comforting embrace of his parent’s light was far, far behind him, and the healing plants he was familiar with back home didn’t grow out here. Maybe they would someday, from the little pouch of seeds he carried with him, but now all he could do was hope his body wouldn’t give out.
Sol gave him a sympathetic look. She sighed, and rested her head against the rock wall behind her. It lolled to one side, and she blinked slowly. She wasn’t in any better shape than him. Maybe her hooves were, because she wasn’t the one climbing up treacherous outcrops or running ahead to scout out the unfamiliar land, but the journey had taken its toll on her too. Her power was better suited to fighting off monsters, and they’d had to do a lot of that the past few days. No, it was longer than that wasn’t it, almost a full cycle of the moon? Back in the old forest the creatures of decay had been slowly taking over for a long time. Those were bad enough. But out here there were creatures that hunted spirits, that were drawn to their light.
It was better now than in the desert, where there was no cover for miles around. They couldn’t avoid the hoof-blistering heat of the day, because traveling by night was too dangerous. Now there wasn’t much heat to avoid, and it was impossible to see far. The night was pitch black outside the small alcove in the rocks where they were sheltering. The only light was the soft glow of their bodies, and of the small orb of light that traveled with them. It was enough to make out a small tree a couple Dash ranges away, but beyond that it was swallowed up by the driving rain.
Eki would almost have taken the desert over this. There was no real shelter from the swirling winds that tore along this maze of narrow gorges. Even with the cliff face overhanging them, a gust going a different direction periodically sprayed them with freezing cold rain. The two young spirits were both soaked to the skin and shivering violently. A pathetic stack of damp branches sat between them. It was too wet to start a fire, even with Sol’s Light Burst .
He just wanted to go home. But he couldn’t go back. If there was even still a forest left to go home to, if there was even a Spirit Tree, there wouldn’t be for long. Before long his parent, and the Light of the old forest, and all the other spirits, would be gone. Some of them already were. Too many of them. The decay had won. All he and Sol had left was each other, the burden of a faint hope for the future, and the Light of a forest that didn’t exist yet. If it ever would.
“Sein?” Eki asked, just loud enough to be heard over the wind and rain. “How much farther do you think it’ll be?”
The tiny ball of light flickered. “I wish I knew, little one, I really do.”
“Is there a place out there?” Sol said with a hint of bitterness. “Or are you crazy too and you’re going to lead us off the edge of the world?”
“I think we went off the edge a long time ago,” said Sein. Eki attempted to flick water out of his ears. If by some miracle they survived and lived a thousand years, he’d still never get used to the idea of her having a sense of humor. “This storm is a good sign.”
“Easy for you to say. You don’t have a body.” Eki tried to keep his teeth from chattering.
“The rains must stop at these mountains and never reach the desert,” Sein continued. “The lands beyond might well be lush and green -”
“And rainy,” complained Sol. “I’m sorry we ever came this way. We should’ve stayed at the place in the desert with water.”
“It was too small.” Eki was too tired to get into an argument with her. He knew she was just tired and hungry and lost too, and just wanted something to be right about. But that place was just a little pond, enough water to support grasses and bushes and a few small fruit trees. It wasn’t enough.
“Whatever,” huffed Sol. Then she snorted, smiled, and shook her head. “I bet Gin would love it here.” She closed her eyes with a pained expression. “Would’ve loved it here.”
“Yeah...” Eki flinched as another gust showered him with icy water. “And we’d probably want to kill him for it.”
“Don’t joke about that.” Sol’s voice was like the weather. Dark, cold, biting. “Ever.”
“Sorry.” Eki stared out into the rain, imagining the missing member of the group of three spirits who should have set out on this journey laughing and skipping around in the freezing rain. “I miss him too. I just...” Just even though really it was so cold and windy that even Gin would’ve been miserable, he’d have tried to lighten the mood, and driven Eki and Sol crazy because they just wanted to sleep and hope they weren’t frozen solid by morning. “Never mind.”
He swept the attempt at a fire away with this tail and crawled closer to his sister. She reached out and hugged Sein against her chest, and rested her head against Eki’s shoulder.
“We should’ve left sooner,” she mumbled. “If we’d gone when we had the chance -”
“You shouldn’t have had to make this journey so young at all,” said Sein. “None of this should have happened this way. But please don’t blame yourselves. None of this is your fault.”
“I know. I just… I want our brother back...”
“I know,” Sein said softly. “What Gin did was very brave, but he should never have been allowed to do it. No one should.” She paused for a while. Eki embraced his sister, and together they started to give into exhaustion, their breathing slowing. He could feel Sein’s light, the same nurturing light he’d known all his life, but it was so faint, like the sun through thick clouds.
She spoke again. “Try to get some sleep. I’ll keep watch for danger. Hopefully the storm breaks by morning, and we can leave this place of sorrow behind us.”