The Sending
Everyone, from the cruelest to the gentlest, shares two common desires: to have a meaningful life and to be remembered. Yet each of these goals requires emotional mastery. No one wants to be forgotten and discarded like smelly fish bones wrapped in old paper.
Dyami, a junior angel, sat on the sparkling white sandy beach, listening to the sound of waves striking the shoreline. Itihasa, the vast ocean of her native planet, was a massive repository of dreams and experiences. Every myth, story, and inspiration in the universe was stored in its shimmering depths. Like everyone her age, Dyami wondered what she would be someday, as every angel had an important responsibility. For her, “someday” was quickly approaching.
She admired the guardian angels, standing strong and confident in their flashy uniforms, brandishing weapons at their sides. Her mother, Lana, often disappeared for weeks at a time on mysterious assignments. Dyami assumed her mother was a secret agent gallivanting across the cosmos.
During her time alone, Dyami immersed herself in stories, as she longed to understand everything. Itihasa was a wondrous library. She loved otherworldly adventures, such as exploring deep oceans or flying with the birds.
The Council of Masters monitored the galactic records and ensured they were properly maintained. They presided as justices, keeping the realm operating efficiently. They also conducted aptitude tests and placed junior angels in suitable careers.
During the athletic tryouts, Dyami had narrowly missed shooting her instructor with a bow and arrow, then tripped on a cloud while doing the obstacle course. Clearly, becoming a fighter was not her destiny.
She had joined the angelic choir because she loved music. But during rehearsals, she daydreamed about dragon stories and then lost her place during intricate melodies. The choir director quietly dismissed her. She had tried being a messenger as well, but she had struggled to memorize long passages and detailed instructions.
She didn’t mind that she had been turned away multiple times. It allowed her more time to sit near Itihasa and explore other worlds while the other junior angels studied their specialties.
The Council had sent her to watcher training, which required her to observe and record activities without interfering. They thought Dyami could handle such a simple but important role.
Watchers ventured into the cosmos, capturing everyone’s experiences in clear gobi crystals. When they returned, those records became the sands of Itihasa.
She was thrilled about learning specialized skills. She quickly mastered creating portals into other times and places, which came to her as easily as breathing. When she became a watcher, she would witness stories firsthand and understand each being’s emotional responses.
She vowed to let her mind rule her heart because she wanted to be as confident and successful as everyone else. She believed that expressing emotions like fear or sadness would make her weak and cause her to lose control, two things she hated.
***
The Sending day arrived. She visited Itihasa one last time while waiting for her summons. Holding a grain of sand in her palm, she drew a portal window to examine the memories stored in the tiny shard. Graceful, iridescent fairies flew around a gigantic tree while a blue creature played a carved wooden flute. She smiled, knowing that soon she would capture such records.
The vision dissolved as someone called her name.
“Dyami!” It was the sweet sound of her mother. “It is time for the Sending.” Her ebony face radiated the glorious light that was common to their kind.
“I’m coming.” Before slipping her feet into her sandals, Dyami brushed the sand from between her toes. Each tiny granule contained unique memories.
Lana handed her a white cloak. “Here. Wear this.”
Dyami pulled the cool, silky cloak over her head. Her heart was pounding. “Have they picked my assignment yet?” she asked as she tucked her many long braids under the hood.
“Yes.” Her mother’s voice was gentle. “The masters have decided.” She walked to the base of the cliff that touched the shoreline. “Come now,” she said, climbing a narrow sloping path toward a cave opening high above their heads. “They’re waiting.”
Dyami’s eyes adjusted as she entered the cavern. Nine robed beings stood in a semicircle, while a tenth stood in the center. Millions of stars and constellations hovered overhead, illuminating the chamber. From that sacred space, watchers were sent and received.
A master’s face radiated a blinding light; his words were calming. “Come here, Dyami. We are ready.”
Confidently, she stepped into the circle.
“Meet Sahéle. For two thousand years, he tracked the Dukán. He’s here to deposit his records.”
He looked only twenty-one because angels did not age unless they wanted. She welcomed the sight of another watcher.
Sahéle winked. He held a huge crystal containing thousands of tiny lines and sparkles.
“Is that a gobi crystal?” she asked as Sahéle passed the crystal to a master. “I have never seen one filled.”
“Yes.” The master held the crystal up in the cave’s light, and hundreds of miniature rainbows flashed across the walls. He placed it into the curved stone bowl. A massive pillar descended and then struck the crystal with a thunderous grinding sound. All that remained in the basin was a pile of sparkling sand.
Another master handed Dyami an empty silk bag. “Please fill this.”
As soon as Dyami touched the granules, she saw flashes of curious beings laughing, singing, or dancing. A woman with delicate light blue skin and green hair sat at a potter’s wheel, crafting an orange bowl between her fingers. A purple man with tiny crystals embedded in his face played a harp and sang to a group of young ones with fair skin who were dancing in the air.
“That’s amazing!”
“I have the best job in the universe,” Sahéle said. “The Dukán are a gentle, gifted people.”
“They look so different. Are they all the same race?”
“Pigment does not define them. They are born pale. As they grow, they choose their looks, which they may keep for life.”
Dyami found the Dukán curious and inventive. She loved their energy, gentle nature, and creativity.
“You will watch two species who have agreed to establish one society,” a master said in a high tenor voice. “The Dukán have advanced powers that allow them to live simple, enchanted lives. The second group are the Naga.” He used tweezers to pick up a single grain of sand from a miniature silver dish and held it out to Dyami. “Here. This is your first introduction to them.”
The instant the shard touched her palm, the entire cave dissolved, and she found herself in a wooded area near dusk. The acrid smell of smoke burned her eyes, and she heard a commotion in the distance. Several beings raced near her in the shadows.
“Where am I?” She was rattled, wondering what happened. A person carrying a small chest of coins plowed right through her.
A master’s soothing voice spoke in her head. Everything is fine. You are votting, viewing outside time. These Naga records are over five hundred years old. You are invisible to them, as you’re not really there; you’re still in the cave.
Screams and wails filled the air. Dyami discovered several small buildings ablaze, as not everyone had survived the operation. A woman with piercing yellow eyes raced past her, carrying an armload of silk fabric. Dyami followed the being.
Why did the Naga attack the village? she asked telepathically.
They are a militant species, desiring wealth and power.
She followed the Naga and saw the last one board a cube-shaped vessel. Seconds later, the door closed, and it rose into the darkened sky.
Did the Naga master interstellar travel? The Dukán had no such technology.
They lacked the creativity to build their own vessels. They stole all their technology.
Are they space pirates? She had never encountered that in her reading.
They were long past, as the Naga live over twenty thousand years. A hundred years ago, they were shipwrecked on the planet Assiya and lived on their vessel deep under the Bahari Ocean. Only recently, they went ashore to create a new village for themselves and the Dukán.
The scene faded, replaced by the cave. Her mind raced, knowing the record provided vital information. “Why do you need a watcher for just one village?” Dyami wished she’d receive a larger assignment.
“Considering how much the groups differ, this situation is unusual. The Dukán delight in serving others; the Naga wish to be served. For that reason alone, this warrants a dedicated watcher.”
What if the Naga overpower the Dukán, being a warrior race? Dyami wondered. What happens if someone gets hurt? She quickly blocked anyone from reading her mind. She needed to remain calm and not show any hesitation, so she stood like a warrior prepping for battle. “How many inhabitants are there?”
“Two hundred Dukán join thirty-three Naga.” He pointed to Sahéle, who had remained quiet throughout the conversation. “Sahéle will introduce you to them. Now, we must attend to a matter of business.” He handed her a rolled parchment and a pen.
Dyami opened it and read the first paragraph:
"I, Dyami, am commissioned to serve as a watcher over a community of Naga and Dukán, on the planet Assiya. To the best of my ability, I shall record their experiences and dreams onto the issued gobi crystal. I may use freely any watcher skills needed to perform my duties. At a predetermined date, I shall return the filled device to the Council of Masters for processing."
Dyami thought that was straightforward. She could officially practice her recently acquired skills. She looked forward to traveling through portals without adult supervision.
The second paragraph was more ominous.
"I shall never violate the oath of non-interference. I shall never move objects from one time or location to another. Violating either may produce catastrophic outcomes, including death. If the Council learns of such actions, I shall be extracted, tried, and face consequences proportional to my infractions."
She quickly signed the contract and returned it to the master. She intended to follow her responsibilities perfectly, just like Sahéle.
The master handed each a package draped in silk. “Here is your gobi crystal. Take heed, and use it well.”
She unveiled the heavy object in her hands. It was the size of a large potato, wrapped with golden wire and hung from a long leather strap. It was luculent, with no markings, ready for service. “When do I start?” she asked.
“As soon as you want.”
Her eyes met her mother’s. She broke from the circle and hugged her mother one last time. “I’ll miss you,” she said with a lump in her throat, fighting back tears. I must stay strong, and mustn’t show any weakness.
Lana gave her a loving, maternal look. She heard Dyami’s thoughts but didn’t comment. “I’ll miss you, too. Before you know it, you’ll be here in this cavern, requesting your next Sending.”
After she stood surrounded by masters, they touched her head. Her body tingled as golden energy coursed through her. Her clothes transformed into a simple white tunic with the crystal attached to her waist. She examined her hands and was surprised they no longer glowed. She forgot she would lose her luminance when shifting to a heavier, slower density.
The masters disappeared, replaced by thin wafts of smoke. “Where is everyone?” she asked in a concerned voice.
We are still here. Your senses are adapting to the heavier density. It’s necessary to walk among people.
Dyami scanned the empty cave. “Where’s Sahéle?”
A moment later, he appeared at her side. He, too, was minus his angelic glow, and wore clothing like hers, plus a pair of bright red socks.
An unseen master waved his hand, and a rectangular shape grew to become a doorway. Beyond the opening was a small stone cottage next to a quiet river with a set of wind chimes above the door playing gentle tones. Birds sang in trees while chipmunks scurried near the river’s edge. Sahéle’s home was moments away.
She stepped into the portal. In that instant, colors and nondescript shapes shifted around her, exploding like silent fireworks. Moving her arms in the viscous liquid, she realized she was submerged deep within Itihasa. Is this a mistake? She wondered. Am I going to drown? For a minute she swam frantically, not knowing which direction led to the surface. She wondered if her assignment was ending before it began.
Feeling her insides burning for air, she had no choice and inhaled. Light and energy flowed into her. Exhausted from moving, she floated, suspended in the liquid. A massive shape brushed past her, tumbling her in its wake. It was transparent, filled with thousands of tiny sparks. She heard it say, “Hello,” before it disappeared.
Dyami glimpsed a light, dim and distant. She was pulled toward it, like a moth to a flame. In moments, she was standing mere feet from Sahéle’s rustic entrance as the evening sun set behind her, casting everything in a warm, inviting glow.
Sahéle emerged from the portal moments later. He studied her, assessing her reactions.
She felt an eerie silence inside and realized her connection to the angelic realm was severed. Experiencing loss for the first time, she bit her lip to keep her from grieving the separation. The pain in her mouth overshadowed that in her heart. I must be strong.
Another sensation welled within her, which was difficult to put into words. Before, she had been as large as the moon. Now she felt she had been stuffed into a thimble. No one told her how constricting it would be to be in physical form. She felt disconnected, tiny, and weak, which brought her to her knees.
Sahéle anticipated her response and helped her to her feet. “You need to rest. The experience is exhausting the first time.”
Dyami struggled to stay upright. “Why didn’t anyone warn me about that?”
Sahéle balanced her weight as they walked. “We must discover it on our own. It’s difficult to prepare someone for the transition.” His voice brightened. “How was it for you, passing through Itihasa?”
“That was my favorite part. I learned I could breathe while submerged.” She paused. “Something else happened when I was there.”
Sahéle raised an eyebrow. “What was that?”
“Something brushed past me.”
“What did you see?” he asked, surprised.
“It’s hard to explain. There was no form. It was just millions of tiny swirling sparks.”
Sahéle nodded. “Congratulations. You have met Theli. He rarely presents himself.”
“Theli? Who’s he?” Dyami yawned, straining to stay awake.
“An etheric dragon. He visits Itihasa, scoops up life seeds, and then deposits them to form new worlds. You couldn’t see him just as you couldn’t see the masters.”
“How do you know Theli? No one told me about him.”
“We met some time ago.” He was intentionally vague.
Dyami frowned in curiosity. “When did you meet him?”
“I encountered him the same way you did, in Itihasa.” He helped her enter the cottage.
She had many questions, but her immediate thought was her physical condition. “Why aren’t you exhausted?”
He shrugged. “I let the current carry me to the other end.”
“What was it like passing through her?” Her legs felt wobbly.
Sahéle gave her a sideways glance. “The first time I went through Itihasa, I held my breath and passed out. When I woke up, I discovered I was lying in a manure pile. It was not a pleasant experience.” He noticed how weak she was and led her to a small bedroom.
She grinned, learning that she had fared better than Sahéle. Plus, she had encountered a dragon. Both were signs of things to come. Before she drifted off to sleep, she recorded her first memories onto her gobi crystal.
