Paper Lanterns, Drifting in the Ether

The wind whistles past, dancing through Isha’s brown hair and the silk scarves that wrap around her face. It’s particularly windy in this part of the Ether. The sun shines differently than it did years ago, it washes everything in hazy hues of gold and orange and pink. The sky stretches ever on, stars dotting the Midnight higher up.

Grape Hyacinth rolls over the fields, dressing them in blue splendor.

Weeping Willows are planted firmly on cut off chunks of the earth, they sway gently, their branches kissing the ground below. Murmuring streams flow through the land, crystal clear and shimmering in the sun’s light.

Isha breathes in the earthy-sweet scents surrounding her. This is home, she knows nothing before nor after. She treks through tall, lush grass, finding her way back to her home of cool white stone. A wicker basket presses between her inner elbow and hip, it’s filled to the brim with Iris leaves. She approaches the humble home. Sheer, pink fabric lines the square window, flitting in the breeze. Virginia Creeper lines the outer walls, wildflowers surround the building—the door is walnut and has a handle of long lived gold.

Inside, there is not much. A mat of woven bamboo lies in one corner, covered in a simple, plush blanket. The opposite side holds a stone stove, and in the remaining open space, there lies a wooden table. It's pressed against a wall, and only a few feet tall. Bamboo shelves are on either side, packed with jars of flowers and leaves. There are books from the old world and boxes filled with already pressed paper. She washes her feet in the brook outside, then sits herself at that table. Her legs are crossed beneath and she ties her silky hair with a lavender strap.

A silent sort of magic settles over the room as she begins her craft.

She pulls out thin sticks of bamboo, papers and glue. Paper lanterns. She’s made them for years. She sends a few off into the sky on occasion, hoping there’s someone else out there. Maybe they’ll find her creations of light and nature, and maybe…just maybe, they’ll find her. It was just a fleeting thought, really.

***

The sun fades away and Isha lights a candle. Its warm light flickers across her focused features. She’s finally finished another lantern. A fish. This one is made with papers of deep green and orange and a soft violet. She lights it and smiles at her work.

***

Many voices drift through the wind. Children, shop owners, loners and lovers—It’s simply beautiful.

A little girl runs through the village, reaching for her father’s hand. Her brown curls bounce with her joyful movements, her eyes of different colors sparkle in the sun.

She’d spend her days strawberry picking and playing with the village children. Everyone knew everyone, and in great harmony they all seemed to live. Who’d have thought a harmless adventure would obliterate it all. From one dawn to the next. Gone.

Curiosity doomed all of humanity when a little boy by the name of Yael discovered caverns deep in the forests. Clear gems dwelled within, dull in the day and glowing at night. He hoped to bring one to his friend, for she had shown him a great gentleness. He took a gem and shoved it into his pocket. A smile danced across his grimy and freckled face the whole week. “I’ve got the perfect gift,” he thought. And that was perhaps the last thought he’d ever have. He didn’t hear the heavy boots or muffled whispers.

A group of men from a neighboring village discovered the caves after trailing Yael. Overcome with greed, they took what they could and set the place ablaze.

A high ringing sound erupts, deafening the world as the earth cries and shatters. Little white explosions happen all over, slowly swallowing everything until it becomes almost nothing. The ground splits apart, rumbling and shaking everything.

The world is left scattered and broken. Fragments float in the sky, separated forever.

A father kisses his little girl for the last time, reciting a small prayer in hopes she and others would survive, for he was sure he would not. So, he left her, bundled beneath the burrowing roots of a great tree. She cried for him, her voice desperate and broken.

It would seem that most of humanity simply vanished with the light of the stones. Leaving this new world silent and hollow.

***

Nineteen years old now—two hundred twenty-eight moons—and Isha can only cling to specks of memory. She is now the warmth of this lonely place, a softness in brokenness.

***

Night stretches on, cooling the air and heightening one’s senses. A boy with raven hair and cloaked in black halts his steps when he sees a faint glow in the distance. It’s orange and floating in the air. He pulls his hood and scarves away from his head, revealing warm skin that has seemingly paled in the silver moonlight. Cold wind whispers through his hair, blowing wavy strands out of his face.

What is that?

He pulls a dagger from the side of his hip and twirls it between his fingers. The light moves closer, and he stalks forward, silent in the night. The lantern lowers in front of him, and that’s when he sees it—

“A fish?”

It hovers in front of him and he lifts his hand to catch it. Its flickering light dances over his features—emerald green eyes, freckles like stars speckled over his nose—and a massive scar on his right cheek. The contrast of shadow and light tickles the jagged edges of that scar, a mark of earth blown into sharp pieces.

He heaves a sigh and lets the wind take the light into its soft hands. He watches with guarded amusement as it floats back the way it came.

Curiosity never proved to end well in his lifetime of two hundred eighty-four moons—23 years—but alas, this was a simple lantern. He slips his dagger back into the strap on his hip and begins to move. It’s drifted a ways, the wind quite insistent.

Oh, what am I doing?

All hesitation vanishes and he breaks out into a swift sprint. Tall grass nips at his arms and stars wink at him in the night. His legs are pumping him forward as he reaches for the lantern—

He halts at an edge, or the edge. After stumbling to regain his balance, he tips his head back to follow the path of the little light. He ties the hair at his neck with a leather strap and pulls his scarves around his face once more. He inhales. . .and exhales.

One,

Two,

Three!

He leaps into the open air of the Ether, stretching out his feet until he lands with an echoing thud on a chunk of floating earth. A small laugh escapes him, he hasn’t leapt across the grounds like this in ages. His shaky breaths create foggy clouds in the cold air. He looks down, seeing nothing but an all consuming void. His smile fades and bright images flash in his mind. . .loud ringing, white explosions, the cries of a little girl whose face he cannot remember. He blinks, suddenly hyperaware of how tightly this sky truly holds his life. He clutches his chest, a physical way to will his racing heart to calm. He shakes out his hands and estimates his next jump.

He adjusts his stance.

Sucks in a breath.

Then he’s in the air again.

He goes on this way, preparing and leaping—preparing again. The lantern floats farther and farther away, he looks up and his brows furrow. He drags a hand down his face and lets out a frustrated noise.

This is the darkest part of the In Between. He can just barely make out the edges that outline this new island.

He does it, he jumps.

He’s almost celebrating when his foot slips off the edge and he’s being pulled down. His jaw connects with the jagged stone—skin dragging across unforgiving earth and a cry of pain echoing into the Ether—and he’s falling, falling. . .falling.

Air is knocked from his lungs when his hand catches on the edge, fingers cutting into stone for dear life.

***

The hazy sun hangs low, leaving most of the sky covered in the deep ink of night. Isha blinks awake and sits up. She always has these strange dreams when she sleeps. A faceless man who sings to her and speaks of ancient caves, children laughing and fragments of words from books. This usually ends with the view of tangled roots, lights falling from the sky and laughter fading to crying and screaming. It always leaves her with this hollow feeling, like there was another life she lived. Or maybe she just lived it through someone else’s eyes. Either way, it was like her heart yearned for something she wasn’t even sure existed. She truly can’t remember much of her little years. She remembers a home and a light and desperation. Then she simply woke up one day. She could recall things she’d learned from books and managed to salvage pieces of the old world to put a home together.

She lived in utter silence and by strict routine. It was the way of the world. Her world.

***

Isha braids her hair and dresses in a simple cotton blouse; it’s white and airy. Her pants are leather and brown—she never wore shoes, as they felt restricting.

The cool wind kisses her face as she steps outside, playing with her hair and making her giggle. She grabs a woven basket and heads out into the fields. The Grape Hyacinth is her project today, it will make for a lovely tea. She runs through soft grass and—

She notices her lantern. The same one she’d released a day ago.

How’d it get back here? None of my lanterns return when I send them out.

She looks to her right, feeling bad for even thinking about delaying her activities. Nevertheless, she makes her way to the floating fish. She walks and walks, her feet getting progressively dirtier. She tips her nose to the sky, the lantern floats to the left of the In Between. She’s ready to take another step when she hears a crack. Then a cry of pain. Her eyes widen and her heart thuds loudly. She shakes her head and turns to the direction of the voice. There, at the edge, she sees a boy struggling to push himself up. She drops her basket and runs.

She reaches him and pulls at his arms, using all her might to haul him over the edge. She stumbles back, falling on her bottom while he falls forward, bracing himself on his hands and knees. He’s panting and blinking, sweat dripping down his face. He looks up at her, and she scrambles to her feet. He pushes himself up and wipes the blood dripping from his jaw. They eye each other for a long moment, curious and cautious.

Isha opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out. She blinks and looks down.

The boy keeps his distance and a hand braced near his dagger.

“Who are you?” He questions with a furrow of his brows.

Her eyes flutter and she huffs, seemingly taken aback. She clasps her hands together, fidgeting with her fingers as she focuses on the ground.

“Me,” She starts. Her voice cracks, but there’s something soft about it. Her voice is like the whisper of the wind, and the drifting scent of the earth.

“I. . .I am Isha.”

The boy blinks and finds it hard to hold her gaze when her eyes meet his.

Her voice is. . .sweet?

“You? Who are you?” Isha repeats.

His features become distant, who he is, he doesn’t know. Or maybe he does, and that’s what scares him. He stares for a moment and interlocks his fingers behind his head.

“I am Yael,” he says calmly. He waits intently for a reaction. Isha only nods fervently. She points to him, “Yael.” She points to herself, “Isha.”

He watches this, his lips almost twitching with the attempt at a smile.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “You got it.”

Isha presses her lips into a thin line, trying to form a soft grin. An unfamiliar chuckle escapes him and he sighs.

There’s a beat of silence, two lost souls finding one another in this sky of broken earth.

Isha looks over his face—and the smeared scarlet catches her attention. Her eyes widen and she steps forward, lifting her hands to hover below his jaw. Her face is all twisted with concern.

Yael, however, tenses and holds his breath. His hand hovering over that cursed dagger again. Isha takes a deep breath and grabs his wrist—no words, just insistent pulling. She leads him back to her stone home, her grip terrifyingly strong. She looks over her shoulder now and then, ensuring he’s alright. The rising sun shines into her eyes, making them sparkle. Her left eye is an olive green, and the right is brown. Yael is fascinated by this, his eyes meeting hers each time she turns. He drags behind her, and a familiar face flashes in his mind.

A small girl with a smile like the sun and eyes the colors of the earth.

It couldn’t be her could it?

His heart pounds and mind races, but he’s quickly pulled from his thoughts when she has him sit on a slab of cool stone outside her home. She heads inside without a word and returns quickly, a soft cloth in hand and a salve seemingly made of various saps and herbs. She wets the cloth in the nearby stream and returns to him. He watches intently, baffled by her eager gentleness. She kneels before him and dabs at the wound. When he winces, she bows her head in apology. The sap she applies smells of bitter earth and its feel is cool and sticky. Yael’s gaze is fixed solely on this golden girl. Silenced from isolation, and her somehow still soft heart twists something inside him.

***

The sun plays across their features, washing them in a warm glow. Here they stand, shoulder to shoulder at the edge. Yael brushes Isha’s hand, just barely. He then slips something between her fingers—it’s cool and smooth. Her eyes widen slightly and she brushes warm fingertips over this item, feeling it before seeing it. She then lifts the object to examine it. She knew by the feel of it that it was a sort of stone. Her gaze lifts to Yael’s and he looks away, his eyes focused on the In Between before them.

“It’s a gift,” he says hesitantly.

Isha clutches it to her heart and tears prick her eyes. This stone resembles the drawings and notes her father left behind. Pocket sized notebooks; scribbled with bits of information and history. Her heart beats quickly and she gazes at the sky. “Yael,” she starts, her voice trembling and hushed. “It’s you, I know you.”

Yael’s hands are tucked in his pockets now, and his gaze trails back to her through the corner of his eye. Things start to connect for the both of them, pieces of the past and the present forming together in a woven thread of fate. Words are not needed. Not at all. And Yael finds it simpler that way.

“There are others,” Yael’s voice comes out rough and tired. He turns to her now, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Across the In Between and far into the island, others live on. There’s a whole village—salvaged from ruins, but it’s a home and a community.”

Isha’s eyes flutter, tears sparkling and clinging to her eyelashes like morning dew. She opens her mouth to speak, but words fail her.

“Do you recall the name Tuuli?” Yael asks slowly. Isha bites the inside of her cheek, willing to unlock the memories her brain so brutally buried. She recalls a man with short and messy brown hair, a small braid reaching down his neck. He always had an iridescent, green ribbon in his braid, and he’d braid Isha’s hair with ribbons all the same. He had eyes like the ground and forests—eyes like hers.

“I do,” she nods, searching Yael’s gaze.

“Good, he’ll wish to see you.” His eyes sparkle with a sort of hope, something that makes Isha’s heart stutter. He offers a small smile and takes her hands softly.

“I found you, Isha. Or. . .you found me,” he shakes his head and glances at the hand made lantern, now hanging by the door of her home. Isha’s gaze is filled with a sort of familiarity. It’s gentle and warm in a way Yael can’t comprehend. His face rushes with color and he glances away—then back to her. She gives his hands a light shake, then lifts them. Yael’s heart beats so loudly he wonders if the world is going to rumble and break again—Isha’s lips brush his knuckles and she smiles sweetly.

“We must go!” Her voice, soft and unfamiliar still, rings out clearer and more sure.

***

Isha looks behind only once, smiling at the place she’s known to be home for all of her life. She bows her head, offering her thanks and a goodbye. Yael looks back, but his eyes are on her, his hard features softening in her light. The wind blows gently, ruffling their hair playfully as if wishing them good luck and sending them off. The field before them is absolutely drenched in dusty gold light, beckoning them to walk on. Yael takes Isha’s hand and they begin their journey.

And that’s the end of it, isn’t it?

Not at all. My love, this is only the beginning.

Let’s meet again sometime?