Dream of Buried Sunlight

The birds didn’t sing anymore. There was nothing left for them to pick at, and if they had stayed, they would’ve joined the graveyard that was the city of Tilla.

The crater in the earth was nothing but ash and ancient sorrow, something deprived of life for decades.

A nameless presence took it in from the mountain outcropping. It was surreal to see a destination you had only ever read about.

The hooded figure descended into the pitiful remnants like it was a long awaited home. He had envisioned this for so long, with a desperation that was close to hunger. Entwined with his life. Inevitable.

Mini quakes replayed under foot—lost in the act of Tilla’s collapse. The hooded man could not contain his relief. The quakes were not something to fear…..more like a pattern to recognize.

The very pattern he had searched for the entirety of a long academic career.

To others it was disruption or possibly trauma that still remained within the earth—the ghost of a tragedy.

The rhythmic bursts exposed under knowing palms revealed otherwise.

A heartbeat to pursue.

Finding footing into the far below ruins had been difficult but not impossible.

The sun was almost at peak capacity—bright and unforgiving overhead. The dark colored hood was calling to its intensity, and sweat dripped down the man’s neck as he worked to create a tunnel into the deepest part of the crater.

He didn’t have long.

There was no trembling except for the invisible rhythm slightly reverberating through the singed ground. Hands of steadiness were needed for this purposeful carving into a long forgotten temple.

It was buried but not unreachable.

A treasure that glimmered enticingly for those that appreciated its reward.

And this reward was something he would go to the ends of the time for.

The two heartbeats—human and unknown—fell into sync.

The shadows in the hollowed out mountain receded, and the man’s breath fell faster at the exertion of digging up the grave of a god.

Sunlight was falling into the crater faster and his time was narrowing.

The temple had to be open and the catacomb exposed in order for this to work.

“Theoretically” he breathed out loud, his thoughts bleeding into the silent city. There was a manner of doubt that came with relying on old tomes, without ever having experienced said lessons in real time.

Awakening a lost sun god was possibly a complete myth.

Luckily—he had past lives to back it up.

It was about as structurally sound as a crooked ladder.

He was aware.

“Damn it!” Blood splattered onto the disturbed rocks. He quickly tore off pieces from his robe to wrap around his dripping hand.

The offending sharp stone he had attempted to move remained solid in its vigil. His steadfast attitude cracked a touch at the inconvenience.

Before his boot could even think about kicking the frustrating inanimate object—said boot fell straight through the earth.

He along with it.

It was a fast collapse into the dark, damp architecture that was once a sacred monument.

The soul of a city reduced to a dilapidated rib cage. A groan escaped him as he sat up. The fall was not gentle—

but he tried not to breathe in the years of dust and decay floating in the air.

His footing was found again on old uneven flooring.

An unmistakable scene caught his eye.

Old sorrow—something that couldn’t possibly come from his short 25 years of life— filled his throat suddenly.

Ten feet away was a covered body

laid across a cold marble dais.

A pale arm that looked carved out of stone itself was limp over the side of the elevated altar.

“Sanna,” the name fell out of his mouth in a choked breath. It echoed lonesomely into the crumpled chamber.

A tendril of sunlight peeked into the desolate space as if looking for its master. He glanced up quickly as it warmed his exposed hair.

It was coming in through the hole he had fell through instead of the tunnel he had been digging.

He had miscalculated her position.

Fear and an unnamed desperation careened through his veins.

No. He couldn’t miss this chance.

His steps were respectful but hastened as he approached something he had only ever known in dreams, as a man who lived far longer ago than he ever could have.

He could see the delicate figure of his lost goddess cutting through the mourning cloth.

She had not been touched by decay, just as he had foolishly held hope for.

His feet trembled, but not by his own will. The quaking he had followed like a beacon emitted strongly from the marble she was laid upon.

She was barely there but it was enough.

Only now…he had to coax her from a very long, regenerative sleep.

As far as reverence went—it had nothing on the way he gently pulled his past from her cold throne into his arms. Unlike what he recalled from fuzzy memory—she was glacial to the touch.

He supposed death would do that.

Carefully, he crossed to the sunlight shining through the old temple roof.

With effort, he pulled over a smooth slab of stone to lay her covered head upon. The thrum was stronger now—every layer that lessened between the sun and the woman made it stronger.

The unstable walls around them shook.

He had to make haste—today was summer solstice.

The sun would be at its strongest.

It was the only day it would be strong enough to call her back.

Light peaked further into the space, seemingly shining brighter as it hit her, despite the cloth still blanketing her body. It glowed and lit up the ruins. The structure itself almost preened—the stone unmistakably happy to feel light after an eternity in the dark.

The first pillar fell with the next beat of her strengthening heart.

He shifted back and went to cover the sleeping deity—

but with every inch of sunlight the rumbling of her life force was becoming stronger.

It was collapsing the space around them.

Not ideal, but he prayed it would hold long enough for her to regain strength.

“Please Sanna. Vrati se moje sunce.”

The sun fell through fully.

All that was left between him and his religion was a thin cloth.

It was removed with shaking fingers.

His own hope this time flooding his body.

Her mother placid face looked leeched of color for two seconds before the sun claimed its lost daughter zealously.

Golden hair fell across the stone like hungry roots and her skin warmed to its bronzed origin.

One hand was clasped over her ribs and the other was lifted gently into the palm of a man who had searched three different lifetimes for this reunion.

Rubble shook from the ceiling—

the last remnants of Tilla fell around still goddess and her anticipatory devotee like a barrier.

Sunlight filled a space in both ruin and heart. The man sat patiently, spark reignited in his being—a hollow space blessedly filled—while hand in hand with his god.

His head dipped low, clutching her still hand to his chest. Though it was warmer now.

“Silas” barely whispered. His head snapped up.

Green eyes met freshly opened golden ones.

The hand he hadn’t been holding was now gently tracing his cheekbone with curious fingertips.

He pressed it fully to his face with disbelief. Then turned to press a worshipful kiss to her palm.

“Izgledaš drugačije,” she grins.

You look a little different.

Her smile burns brightly and cements every memory of her he had only ever been able to recall sparingly.

His hands fall into her hair and carefully pull her to him. He can’t help the disgraceful way his head falls to the crook of her neck and shoulder.

“My love.” Breathing her in seems like a dream still, but her own arms wrap around his neck.

“Silas? Šta se desilo?”

What has happened?

The inquiry is lost on him.

In the middle of ruin his dream has materialized back into his arms.

“Dobrodošli nazad moje sunce.”

Welcome back my sun.

Fin.