Rite of Vision

Act I

“as we look not at what can be seen but at what cannot be seen. For what can be seen is temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal.”

2 Corinthians 4:18 TLV

Act I

Chapter 1

Avana’ah

“What is Avana’ah, Apah?”

R’akif watched the morning sun dance prismatically in his son’s emerald eyes. He saw the innocence of the newborn he had held those sixteen short years ago set in the maturing face of this ruddy boy before him. Soon, Shai would embark on his Orim, the Tash’u people’s rite of passage. What would he see on his journey? Where would the Or take him?  What would it cost?

“Avana’ah,” R’akif closed his eyes, seeing with a sight beyond sight. Traveling back decades to his Orim. His right thumb and forefinger ran over the markings on the golden disk that hung on a silver chain around his neck, his Or, resting always  over his heart. He reached up with his left hand and rubbed gnarled skin where three other fingers and half his right hand had been. He winced at the painful memory.  He had tried to reach beyond his capacity, and it had cost him dearly. 

“Avana’ah,” he breathed, looking again at Shai. 

How could he explain this fundamental concept, the crux of the Tash’u faith and civilization?

The sun glinted off of the timepiece that ticked quietly on his wrist and flashed in his eyes. 

“Come,” he spoke to Shai resolutely, “I’ll show you Avana’ah.”  

He unbuckled the timepiece’s strap and held it out to his son. 

“Look into this oton. You see how the dials move through and around each other?  What does the oton show you?”

Shai watched the magic of mechanical harmony spin time and space into measurable moments and distances. 

“Time and space,” he said, watching in fascination. “It tells where and when this moment is.”

“Yes,” R’akif smiled, “Time and space. Now, what would happen if just one wheel, dial, or cog did not function properly?”

Shai thought, “We would not know. We would not find our moment in reality, our Kairos.”

“Exactly!” R’akif began to beam with excitement. “The oton is a shadow, a picture of the cosmos. Look out on the horizon. The sun rises. Our little moon, Sheefa, begins to set as the great void. Polton, sets behind her. The skies tell us the seasons. Polton holds the planets in place. Without them?” R’akif pressed further, “would starships find their course? The growers, how could they plant?”

“Everything would,” Shai searched for words, “unravel. Spacetime would spin into chaos.”

“Yes, right again. Each piece must function in the way it was designed, in harmony with all other pieces so that we can know. So that we can see. From the oton to the cosmos, everything has its place. Its note in the song of the universe. 

That is Avana’ah. The proper function. Finding your purpose, why you are here, your place in the cosmic story.”

Father and son watched the cosmic dance in awe. Shai thought of his Avana’ah. Would he find it on his journey. Would the Orim open communion with Origin? Would he see with True Sight?

Sensing his son’s doubt, feeling the tumult of questions in his spirit, R’akif wrapped a strong arm around the boy’s shoulders. 

“You will find it, Shai Li’ev. The Or will guide you if you open your spirit to follow.”

Chapter 2

Dark Enlightenment 

“Preet!” To’ona’s voice rang out in pain and frustration. 

“To’on!” Her mother’s voice sternly answered from the kitchen. 

“Sorry,” the young girl mumbled, rubbing her sore knee. That was going to leave a bruise. “Ten years old! I should have this by now!”The thought smarted worse than the corner that had caught her by surprise. 

“Use your MySight.”  Me’epa lightly scolded as she played with a doll on the carpeted den floor. 

“MySight is for babies!” To’ona retorted, pulling down the blindfold. 

“MySight is for anyone who is still learning,” La’ma gently reminded, setting a bowl of tullberries on the table. “Here Me’epa. Uh- uh-uh… one at a time. And take a napkin. You’ll turn the whole den purple”

Me’epa shoved two large berries in her mouth, dribbling deep purple juice on her chin. 

“I’m not ‘still learning’ my own house! Somebody moved this table!” To’ona pointed blindly to the empty space just left of the offending corner. “My Enlightenment will be here before you know it! I’ve already started using sight at school.  In gym!”

“Six years is a long time,” her mother tried to reason, to little avail. 

La’ma was a tall beautiful woman. Her loosely braided auburn hair stood out stark against milky skin. Blue eyes shone with practical wisdom, love, and a modicum of patience. 

Me’epa’s dark curls were equal in beauty framing her round young face. 

To’ona was…ten. And precocious. The dread and love of many boys in her grade. Many admired; few wanted to be on the receiving end of her dodgeball. 

“Ima,” Me’epa ran to her mother with purple figures, leaving tracks on her La’ma’s white tunic. “Can I wear my pink dress tomorrow? I want to look like a flower when Shai sees me for the last time.”

“It won’t be ‘the last time’”, La’ma reassured her, gently lifting offending fingers. “Just the last time for a while”

“Unless he ends up like one of the Dark Ones,” To’ona warned, navigating the edges of the table, one eye peeking under the blindfold. “Then he won’t ever see anything again. He’ll be stuck in the Outworld.”

“That’s not happening,” La’ma wiped more tullberry juice from Me’epa’s stained lips. “Your brother already has great sight.  He hasn’t used his MySight in a long time. Nearly two years now. He can get from here to school, the Temple, several places with sight. He’ll be fine.”

“Fine?!” Me’epa started, frightened. “He’ll be alone! What if his Or doesn’t guide him. What if he gets hurt like Apah?” Me’epa began to cry. “What if we never see Shai’li again?” 

La’ma picked up the little girl and held her close, patting her back gently. What if… what if? Sometimes they didn’t come back. Sometimes they didn’t see, could never see. She began to feel an uneasiness in her stomach. How could she let him just go? Her boy. Her firstborn. 

No. He was good. Sensitive, but strong. Yes, she would weep at Enlightenment Day. All mothers wept. Many fathers. But, he would find his Avana’ah. The Or would lead him. And now, the girls needed to see her firm belief. This was the will of Origin. And her son was strong. 

“Shai is going to be fine,” she said, resolutely. “He will be fine. Origin will watch over him and Shai is strong. Strong, smart, and gifted in sight. He’ll be back and fulfilled before we have time to miss him.”

“I’m not gonna miss him,” To’ona, blindfolded again, bumped into the other end of the table. “Preet!”

“To’ona!” La’ma scolded. 

———————————————-

Me’epa shrieked in delight! “Look Shai! A blue one!”

She pointed excitedly at the night sky, alive with colors that danced and exploded into brilliance, illuminating the river below. 

Shai smiled, “Your favorite!”but his eyes never lifted. His gaze was focused on the grassy riverbank where he sat. Each blade of grass held new meaning as he contemplated perhaps never seeing them again. The Enlightenment was tomorrow. Hence tonight’s dazzling display. On the eve of the initiate losing his or her sight, the entire community gathered for a celebration. A type of good luck wish for the initiate. A celebration of sight. Colors brightened not only the night sky, but clothing, bodies, homes.  Even the festive food was bright fruits and candies, cakes, and dairy desserts. It was to leave an indelible impression on the mind so that color would not be forgotten in the dark season ahead. 

But to Shai, the celebration was a bit of a distraction from the things he’d miss the most. His mother’s face, Me’epa and To’on, his father’s smile and understanding eyes. And, come to think of it, Re’ena and her chestnut ponytail in Logics. Re’ena. He hadn’t thought of that the last time he sat behind her in class. What ribbon had she worn that day? He should have paid attention. He might never…

“Shai’lae,” his mother called out her pet name for him as she sat down beside him. “You ok? The flares are up there, not down in the grass. You’re missing quite a show!”

Shai lay his head on her shoulder. “Sorry Ima. Guess I’m just thinking of other things.”

La’ma pulled her son in close. “Well… there’s a lot to think about. Tomorrow…”

“Tomorrow everything changes,” he continued her thought, pulling back from the embrace. “Ima…I… what if I’m not ready?  I like seeing. I don’t want to miss… miss… you, Apah. I…”

Tears welled up in eyes that would miss so much. And the gamble was that, if his spirit was not ready, they might never see again.

“I don’t want to be lost in the dark. A Dark One… I, I…”

He began to cry. 

“Shh… shh…,” she tried to comfort him as tears began to stream down her own face. “Shai, look at me.” She lifted his face until he gazed up into strong compassionate eyes. “You are ready. Yes, there are some who are lost in the dark. It does happen. But that will not be you. Not only are you  well on your way in sight, but your spirit is strong and open to the move of Origin. You know the scriptures well and you believe. You believe so strongly. Your spirit is so open to receive your Avana’ah, and Origin never denies His children.”

“But how will I know? Many face trials along the way, some that cost so much, like Apah. What if I listen to the wrong spirit? What if I cannot sense my Or? What if I miss its guiding?”

La’ma sank into Shai’s eyes. With True Sight, she could see the power and the fear that warred in his spirit. She remembered the tumult that she had carried all those years ago. 

“On my Orim,” she remembered, “when I felt confused or lost, I stopped, and listened. The Scriptures say, ‘Be still and know,’. You will not know in the midst of frantic confusion, anger, or doubt. You can only know by being still. And you,” she laid a hand over his heart, “you know stillness. It is your nature, my Shai Li’ev, Gift of my Heart. You will know”

He rested again into her soothing embrace. 

“Purple, Shai! Purple!” Me’epa shrieked again. 

To’ona climbed up the steep riverbank, hands and face a colorful array of taffy smears. 

“Shai, race me down the riverbank! C’mon! You won’t be able to beat me when you’re blind as a bat!” She took off down the embankment, laughing”

Shai wiped away his tears and leapt to his feet. “A blind bat, huh?!  I’ll see the finish line before you do!” And ran to chase his little nemesis, whom he loved more than he dared show. 

Ra’kif came and sat beside his bride. “Not into the celebration tonight is he.”  

La’ma lay against him, “He’s no shallow flare gazer, our boy. My Shai’lae. I’m going to miss him,” she began to cry again. 

“So will I,” Ra’kif agreed. “So will I.”

Another flare lit the sky and glinted off the tearstained cheeks of both parents

“So Darkness gave way to Light. Night birthed eternal day. And the voice of Origin stepped into Spacetime at the first Kairos, and the path of Avana’ah was revealed.”

The voice of the Shepherd Or’u echoed off the circular walls of the Temple. Candlelight flickered against the walls, but the central light came, not from within the sanctuary, but from the stained glass skylight at the center of a conical ceiling. On a clear day, brilliant color danced on the walls and bathed the congregants. 

Today was such a day. As Shai Li’ev Polchak walked solemnly into the assembly, he glanced at the prismatic skylight, the Eternal Flame, only to be overcome with radiant luminescence. With an involuntary shake of his head, he blinked, and tried to focus on the shepherd on the raised dais in the center of the room. Echoes of light spotted his vision. 

“Today, we bring Shai Li’ev Polchak, son of R’akif Li’ev and La’ma We before the assembly to initiate Dark Enlightenment,” the Shepherd Or’u continued. 

Shai, accompanied by R’akif and La’ma, stepped onto a smaller platform at the center of the assembly. His heart seemed calm, more calm than he had expected. But sweat beaded onto his forehead, and he realized his breaths were more shallow; his mouth a desert. 

“Brothers and sisters, do you affirm that this initiate has thus far completed the rites and responsibilities of the Tash’u, in Origin, and prepared to begin his Orim?”

“We do!” The voices of the more than two hundred in attendance, man, woman, and child, filled the sanctuary with resounding affirmation. Shai was the loved and respected son of a loved and respected family in the Tash’u community. But, this testimony of the people was full of aplomb not only for the Polchak family, but specifically for this young initiate. No, no one thought he was perfect. He was not particularly noted among his peers above others. But his reputation was that of a good and righteous child of both Origin and the Tash’u community. You would have been hard-pressed to find someone among the assembly with any hesitancy in this affirmation. 

He met La’ma’s proud gaze as her eyes shone with a smile her lips could not contain. 

The Book of Wisdom and Song was laid before Shai on the ambo. He opened the ancient pages and found the psalm he had chosen for his proclamation. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and began to sing the sacred chant. 

The melody, unlike any of modern times, rose and fell with a somber, almost melancholy melody. A tremble or voice crack was expected, and usually disrupted the cadence of the chant. But Shai sang out as if this portion was meant for him. The words, while formal and ancient, came, not from the page, but from his soul. He had chosen this portion because it resonated deeply with both his convictions and his hope. 

In the tongue of the Tash’u, he sang. 

“O lord, open my mouth to sing of your wonders

Open my sight to see your greatness and grace

Open my heart to receive your path

The Avana’ah of your delight

The completion of my creation

May the darkness be light 

May it show me your design

May I follow 

And stand with sight

In the assembly

The Or will guide 

As my spirit follows

Your ways 

My hands, your laws. 

I commit myself to You at the Kairos 

Of your choosing

In Your light, I will see my path.”

As he sang, R’akif stepped onto the rostrum holding a box made of Esel Wood, and carved with Scripture. He opened the box to show a golden disk on a silver chain, etched in the ancient symbols of the Tash’u. 

The strong man’s fingers trembled as he lifted the chain and placed it around Shai’s neck. 

The Sighted could see the light emanating from the symbols and hear the quiet hum, the root of the Song of Origin. 

R’akif hugged his son as Shai’s song ended and the assembly sang out the customary agreement. 

Then, stepping back R’akif took his son’s face into the palms of his hands and locked eyes with his firstborn. 

With both a tremble and strength in his voice, as tears drew rivulets down his face, R’akif said, “Go. Go, son. Go and live. Go and see.”  

Silence in the assembly. Spacetime froze as father and son locked understanding eyes for, perhaps, the last time. 

R’akif stepped down to the edge of the rostrum where La’ma and the girls joined him, holding hands in a circle around Shai. Behind them, the Tash’u priests and priestesses joined hands in the Circle of the Orim, followed by the throng of the congregation. With one voice they began the ritual of Dark Descension that, by Origin’s will, would take away the physical sight of the initiate, and enact the Enlightenment. 

The song began with the Polchak’s. Deep and resounding from the throat of R’akif, resonating from his robust chest. Lilting from La’ma and To’ona in quiet whisper, and finally pure and innocent came the small but confident voice of little Me’epa. 

The Circle of the Orim added exponential volume, and as it did so, the first wave ran through Shai, light and energy. The infinite shot through and washed over like a strong ocean breaker. Shai’s head tilted back and the full light of the Eternal Flame washed over him, color, vibrant, dancing through his vision. 

Then an ebb in the energy as his eyes, glowing now, scanned the sanctuary in a blur of real and surreal. Candlelight no longer flickered, it pulsated and danced. The song itself emanated in ripples from the congregation. 

Shai, terrified and bewildered sought the visual cacophony for familiar faces. 

“Ima?!” He stammered. “Apah?”  

His eyes found La’ma’s eyes, wet with tears, pleading for comfort for her son. Holding on to hope. 

His father was entranced, uttering the song, eyes closed, furrowed brow. 

Another surge as all vision seemed both magnified and blurred. He scanned the crowd looking for someone or something familiar he could cling to. 

“Apah!”

Then, as natural sight pulsated and began to ebb, his eyes fell on beauty. Re’ena stood within the throng looking at Shai, her lips barely moving, here eyes locked onto his. For a moment, there was a quietness above the din, time seemed to stand still. Breath slowed. He noticed. Her chestnut hair was tied in a pink ribbon. And then, all was black. 

Shai slumped onto the ambo and exhaled sharply. 

A darkness that he had never known, even in the black of night. 

Instantly the singing ceased. The congregation grew silent. 

Shai struggled to stand, not seeing, unsure whether he was awake or asleep. He heard quiet exhales and Me’epa’s small trembling voice. 

“Is it over, Ima?”

Shai could not see his mother lift the child to her side. He heard only the rustle of fabric and shifting of feet. 

The Shepherd Or’u spoke from above and behind Shai. His voice louder than before. 

“Shai Li’ev Polchak, darkness has descended. But light lies ahead. Hold on to hope. Think on the Scriptures in your heart. Follow your Or, and return with True Sight.”

He heard hundreds of footsteps fall back. But one set of footsteps ascended the dais and a familiar hand took his. 

“Shai’lae,” his mother’s quiet voice was more beautiful than any sound he’d ever heard. “It is time. You know the way to the gate. I’ll be close at hand.”

Shai had practiced this path countless times in preparation for this day. But as he stepped off the dais, it felt wholly unfamiliar. Before, though blinded by his blindfold, completely blocking out all light, the option to see had always been there. Now, there was no choosing, no escape. His sight was gone. He stumbled and fell to his knees.terror taking hold, blood rushing from his extremities. The reality seemed to crush him from the inside out. And at the feet of the dais amidst the whole congregation, Shai wept. 

“Shai!” It was To’ona. Her voice shrill with fear that she had not known was building within her. She rushed to her brother’s side, but a strong arm gently caught her. 

“No,” her father whispered. “He must walk his own path.”  

Shai calmed. Staggered breaths heaved in his chest. He wiped his tears from unseeing eyes and slowly rose. He stood, head toward the Eternal Flame, blinded eyes closed, breath calm. 

This was the first step of his Orim. His father had warned that this step would determine his trajectory. “If you give in to the fear, the darkness already has you,” he had warned, “Each step is a step toward the communion and your Avana’ah. Keep moving forward.”  

Shai opened his eyes to allow the darkness to show its inevitability. To defy his own fear. 

He slid his foot forward. Then the next. By the third step, his foot lifted off the floor and determination gave way to quiet confidence.

“The Or will guide; my spirit follows,” he repeated the psalm. 

The path to the city gate seemed almost too short as determination quickened his steps. Before he had time to think about what lie ahead and what was about to be left behind, Shai heard the rattle and whine of the wind mill just ahead of the city’s surrounding wall. 

The crowd that had been his silent escort ceased shuffling their feet and stood silent on all sides. A baby cried somewhere amidst the hushed crowd. 

Footsteps  and the rustle of clothes came close in the lightly howling wind. 

His father spoke the sacred blessing as his mother handed him a pack, a canteen, and his grandfathers walking staff. 

“The gates close at your back as you embark on your Orim. But the door of home is open always, waiting for the time when you see its lights with True Sight. 

Follow your Or and no other call. 

Find your Avana’ah and return.” R’akif embraced his son and choked out his own blessing. “We love you my son. Come home soon. Come home whole.”

La’ma held her son tight and kissed his cheek. 

One step. Two. 

At the twelfth step, a loud aching creak and the most painful sound he had ever heard. The closing of the gates. 

Wind whistled around him as he set his face forward. His entire life had led to this moment.  Behind lay everything he had ever known. Ahead lay only a promise. Was it night? Day? How long had the ceremony taken?  

Closing his eyes, he felt sunlight warm his face. The sun was lower in the sky. But the sounds of evening had not yet begun. Where his Or would guide him, he did not know. Would his path stay on Tash, or would his communion be on a distant planet or among the void of space? How long would his Orim take? Days? Years?  He only knew one thing. The path was forward. 

He gripped the staff, situated the load on his shoulders and put one foot forward. His Avana’ah waited. And he would find it. No matter the cost.  

Chapter 3

First Steps

Shai stirred in his sleep. Why was the bed so hard and…lumpy?  He reached for a blanket that he must have kicked off in the night. But his fingers felt bristles or… what was that? Blades of grass where the sheets should have been? Why was it pitch black?

He blinked and sat up, smacking his head on something hard and unforgiving!  He began to panic-  he couldn’t see anything!

“Apah!” he yelled in terror. 

On his knees now, he sought with blind fingers for some sense of meaning. 

“Ima?!” 

And then he felt the cool breeze, the dew on his fingers, and heard the sounds of morning in the open air. 

He was outside, and alone. Vision wasn’t coming back. Not yet, anyway.  His Orim had begun. Yesterday, darkness had descended, taking away natural sight. This was his new reality. He began to cry, alone and afraid. But, slowly, he steadied himself, calmed his breathing. This was his new reality, and no amount of tears would wash away the depth of that reality. This was his Orim. There were two choices: walk into the path of the Or’s guiding, or become lost in the dark. 

He knelt for a moment, letting the fear pass and his breathing deepen. Pushing himself to a seated position, he felt around for the base of the Roota tree, whose low hanging limbs had been the rude awakening ‘thwack’ on his disoriented head. He leaned back against the strong trunk of the tree and instinctively closed blinded eyes. 

The first step to True Sight was to let go of the visual anchors that held his perception of the world around him. Visualizing one’s surroundings was key, but should be a mental culmination of all the other senses working in harmony. Which was why the second step was to listen. To tune the sense of hearing keenly to the sounds that made up the physical world and to how those sounds interacted with the framework of one’s surrounding. To visualize the wind, the land, and the tree and to see the interplay of sounds between them. 

These skills had been sharpened since before he could remember. Beyond his earliest memories, the use of second sight had been there. 

Like all Tash’u children he had been trained to use second sight in small ways before he could walk. For short periods, and at different times of day, a blindfold shut off the noise of natural sight, expanding the senses. As a toddler he had learned to navigate his own room and other most often used parts of his home environment easily, or with minimal use of MySight, a halo-shaped apparatus worn on the crown of the head that maps the surroundings, sending a shadow image to the Occipital lobe, mirroring sight. While MySight vision does show the parameters of the wearers environment, the sight is minimal and blueprint like, free of sensory input like color and texture. 

Shai had graduated quickly from MySight in the most familiar of places and could often be seen traveling common routes with his blindfold, shutting out all visual distractions. 

He enjoyed the quiet of using Sight. He loved the focus it gave to sound, smell, and touch. A moment in the visual quiet of Sight was calming and even refreshing in familiar places. 

This… was no familiar place. The bruise on his head was an unkind reminder, this was not home or the streets of Tash. This was something new. Something frightening. Something dangerous. And something he must learn to navigate.  

The key to using Sight began with finding self in local space. 

Listening began internally. Finding the rhythms of heartbeat and breath in space and time. 

Shai sat cross-legged calming his spirit and shutting out all distractions. Without moving a muscle, completely relaxed, he began to feel his pulse, first in the arteries in his neck, then to the subtle thump of his own chest. He sat for a moment feeling the blood flow through him. Thrum…Thrump…Thrum…Thrump. He became the heartbeat. Thrum… thrump. Thrum…Thrump

This went on until time began to float by. Seconds ticked slower. The heart became like the time axis of the oton, ticking in the center of his being, interwoven with space. 

From the heart, he listened for the next layer of being, breath. He felt the rise and fall of his chest and inhaled deeply through his nose, held, and exhaled through his mouth, receiving life from the universe, and releasing excess, stress, and worry. 

Another breath. 

In. 

Hold. 

Exhale

In. Thrum…Thrump. Thrum…Thrump. Thrum…Thrump. 

Hold. Thrum..Thrump. 

Out. Thrum… Thrump. Thrum… Thrump. Thrum…Thrump. 

His breaths deepened and slowed. Chest and abdomen expanding, filling with life. Communing with the Or’u of every part of creation. Releasing all doubt. All fear. Anything out of alignment with the symmetry and order of Origin. 

The Or’u. 

The blood and breath that flowed through all time and space. The inhalation and exhalation of all existence. 

All existence. 

There was breath and blood, ebb and flow in all dimensional reality. In all matter. 

His Or’u sat now on rippled earth. Against the gnarled form of a tree. Interwoven in the tapestry of air and the passing of time. 

His body related to these realities. His Or’u a single point of light in a universe of light as his body was an atom in the body of the universe. 

He felt, at once, his smallness and the weight of his reality. 

“Wisdom is knowing your scale within the cosmos,” one mentor had said. “True sight begins with seeing self in the tapestry of spacetime.”

Where was he in the tapestry of spacetime?

When was he?

A vision began to form in inner sight. In True Sight. His being showed in contoured lines, meeting the lines of tree and earth. He saw shapes, grass, pebbles, a fallen twig. Roots reaching through the earth, released by Tash itself and becoming the singular trunk of the Roota tree. 

A tree. 

He was reminded of a psalm. 

“Of Akku. To the tune of ‘On the Dawn’.

Like a tree planted by life giving waters 

Is the Or’u rooted in Your song of truth. 

Its branches reach through time and space

Out Into the air 

Down into earth 

Lapping up the milk of the universe

The one whose soul thirsts for You

Who longs for Your communion, oh Origin

Is a tree firmly planted

Through the cycles of the seasons 

It spreads its canopy over the weary 

It’s fruit nourishes the hungry 

May my soul be with you my Lord. 

Or’u to Or’u

Breath to breath

In tune with Your will

Aligned with Your loving truth.”

Song 87, The Book of Wisdom and Song

Shai ran over this song mentally, repeating the final stanza as breath and blood flowed amidst the ebb and flow of time and space. 

He lost track of minutes, but was completely in the “now”. Seeing the landscape before him, he gripped the staff and rose, avoiding the branches that he knew were there. 

He knew. 

How did he know?

He saw them there. But not with eyes. He saw the contour of the tree. The land. 

He took a step. Another. 

Soon he walked with ease into unknown reality. The staff resonated with the contours of the earth, mindful of the debris of a weathered landscape. 

Shai listened to the breath of wind as he walked. The rustle of other trees. The movement of wind through grassy plain. 

His stride picked up and his pace quickened. 

As he walked through “now”, his mind heard echoes and saw shadows of past and future. 

He saw the tall, lithe, beautiful form of Ima. The strong seasoned hands of Apah, tinkering with some greasy gadget. 

Me’epa ran up to Shai, arms outstretched. Coming in with the energy of a comet for a hug. 

To’ona sat at the table in the den, scribbling some unrefined sketch on paper. He saw her there bathed by a ray of sunshine streaming from a nearby window. She concentrated on the fury of her pencil. Tongue sticking out on one side as she drew. Suddenly she started, turned and looked at Shai, surprised. 

“…Shai?” she questioned, looking into his  eyes. Then vanished. 

Shai blinked instinctively and shook his head. 

“Whoa!” He thought, “that was weird. So real.” He stopped for a moment, caught his bearings, and strode on. 

Back in the Polchak den, To’ona squinted with confusion into empty space, brow furled, lip curled slightly. 

What was that?!

Whatever. 

And continued drawing. 

Act II

“Make me hear Your lovingkindness in the morning, for in You I trust. Show me the way I should go, for to You I lift up my soul. Deliver me from my enemies,

Psalms 143:8-9TLV

Chapter 4

The Dark Ones

“But, beyond the gate, along with opportunity and on the way to Communion, dangers lie in wait. They cannot see, nor have they found their Avana’ah. But they feel your presence. They are the Adversary. The Dark Ones. And because they have lost all hope, because the dark has consumed them, they can only think of robbing others of their Avana’ah. Of snatching you, or worse, enticing you from the path of your Orim.”

Ra’kif had spoken these words to Shai in the days leading up to his Enlightenment. 

“They are workers of darkness and seek to extinguish the light.”

In the first several days of his journey, Shai had wrestled with little. He still had no concept of where he was going or what he was looking for. But his teachers and parents had, by and large, held to the same philosophy: “Until you feel the pull of your Or, rest, meditate, and walk. Nothing can be gained by doing nothing.”

And, with careful rationing and the survivalist skills he had learned, food would last a few more days. He had even found a clean water source. He had not yet had to contend with rain, and he knew that travel by night was cooler than travel by day and would conserve energy, and therefore, resources. Sight, not being an issue, allowed the flexibility for such nocturnal travel. 

Nightlife had been howls in the distance or scurries small enough to be of no concern. 

And so, he traveled on. He really had no concept of where he was or where he had been. But he tried to keep a straight course with the warmth of the sun setting to his back and rising ahead. 

The ground was largely level. There had been no steep climb or descent except on the banks of the stream he had found. This did take a keen ear, as the babble of the brook had been simply “ahead” at first. He had intentionally, but carefully strayed off course to follow the quiet sounds of trickling water. 

He had known he was heading toward the source as sounds and textures that accompany water dotted the landscape. 

A swallow could be heard darting overhead to and fro toward the babble and back again. The croaking of frogs grew louder until one ended in a watery plop. And the staff and footsteps trodded through more dense ground cover until the earth began to lean toward the sound, rushing now and slapping against rock and earth. 

Shai used his staff to find the water’s edge and knelt onto the banks of a small creek. The scent was clean and crisp and the feel of water running through his fingers was free of obvious impurities. He cupped a hand and let a handful of cool liquid run over his tongue and bathe his parched throat. Another refreshing handful, and then, the canteen was lower into the stream refreshing the supply that would ideally take him through two good days of travel. 

After a long drink and some splashing of the face and hands, Shai stretched out on the bank in the full tufts of grass and undergrowth and looked with unseeing eyes to the moon above. Soon, he drifted off into a refreshed sleep. 

Blind awareness dissolved into blurred colors, sounds, and incoherent visions. 

The babble of the nearby brook became waves, gently rolling. 

Shai was afloat in the depths of some vessel. But the vessel was not the wooden ships of Ondura, nor were the depths of the ship pitch and dank like a seafaring vessel. No, Shai was seated comfortably in some sort of contoured chair with high back and raised arms dotted with levers and knobs. A clear pulsating tone rang out at regular intervals. Then, as if through the blueprint visions of MySight, a complex starship cabin began to to take shape, line by line. As the cabin’s shape took form, radiating from the captain’s chair, where Shai sat, the contours of the cabin met at a large viewport. Suddenly, the bobbing and weaving, the feeling of floating among rolling waves made sense as he watched the viewport dip and dive through an asteroid field. An alarm blared as he brushed the close proximity of one asteroid, ducking under its cratered surface and almost head-on to a larger asteroid. The ship twisted and turned dodging this celestial mountain, that interstellar boulder , and being abraded by the flurry of space gravel. 

Finally, he slipped past the final asteroid and out into open space, vast and dotted with countless stars. 

He let out a deep sigh he hadn’t realized he was holding and settled into the captain’s chair. 

Shai’s fingers explored controls on the arms of the chair, and, looking down he noticed a series of raised lines and dots on each control. “Tubesh!” Shai exclaimed. “The controls are marked with Tubesh code!”

He closed his eyes and let his fingers run over the markings, slower now, reading the markings. 

Thrust Vector Control

CG Thrusters

Main Throttle

Nav Audiator

Comms

Oton Audiator

He tapped the oton Audiator. 

A cool, calm voice responded. 

“Silverhawk is at .0298 time position outside the Lettuv asteroid belt. Bearing 828.5.

Estimated arrival at Alpea Toff station on Kydu- 08:24:16, Tyton Sol Cycle.”

“Kydu,” he quickly recalled the star maps he’d learned in Astronomy. “That’s far beyond the core worlds.”

“Nav,” he spoke now to the ship’s computer, “how many sol jumps am I from Tash?”

“You are 242 sols from Terra Occula, known locally as Tash,” came the sterile voice. 

A cold feeling came over Shai as he began to feel the vast expanse between this tiny ship and the safety of home. 

Before he had time to be terrified, alarms blared, the cabin awash with red light. Suddenly, the textures and colors of the cabin and viewport was distilled into contour lines and geometric patterns. Then, in the center of the trapezoidal space where the viewport had been, a diamond-shaped greenish-white glow started small and then expanded, digital lightning flashing at its edges. 

More alarms as the viewport shone now with greenish-white light, electric tendrils pulsating throughout the bridges contoured lines. 

Somewhere between thunder and a whisper, a voice radiated all around Shai. 

“In the wreckage of great hubris, your Avana’ah awaits. Hold back your hand from overreach and save those who cannot hear.”

A roaring whoosh, lines of space and time rushing backward. Electricity. The Vacuum of space. 

Then stillness. 

He heard the pollu-bugs chirping in the tall grasses at the water’s edge. The trickle of the stream. He felt the soft earth and the cool breeze of night. 

Blackness. 

He was back. Awake. 

Dream? Or vision?

His hand took handfuls of earth and grass around where he lay, as if trying to hold onto the planet itself and breathed heavy exhalations of relief. 

He reached for his staff. Nothing. Fingers groped the surrounding area. 

Grass. Earth. 

“Wait! What the…”

On his hands and knees now. 

Frantic. 

Staff?

Gone. 

Pack?  Where was the pack?

His foot splashed at the edge of water. 

“No…”

No pack. No canteen. 

“No!”

Blackness.  

A rustle in the grass. Hurried footsteps. 

“No! Wait!”

His heart began to pound. The rustling grew faint. 

He collapsed on his knees. Began to sob. 

“No! No… no…. Oh God…”

He sat and wept with no one to hear. 

The pack was gone. Food. Water. The staff that could mean life or death in this unrelenting blackness. Gone. 

He wept alone in the black of night. Chirps. Croaks. The babble of the brook all continuing their Avana’ah. Unbothered by the terror he couldn’t contain. 

Shai sat weeping as the oton ticked on. How could he do this? Terror began to grip his heart. Blood began to retreat from his extremities as the chill of a nightmarish thought crept into his mind. 

“Is this it? Am I ‘dead’?  Is this how the fall begins into becoming a Dark One? Will I never reach Communion? Never find my Avana’ah?

A rustle in the grass. 

Again. 

“Stay away!” Shai rose to face this evil. He would not go down without a fight!

Another rustle. 

Shai brace himself, fists raised. 

“Prroww”

A little voice. 

“Meeurr”

Suddenly something small leaned up against his leg, about to mid-calf and rubbed past. 

“Meeoo”

Shai, confused, looked in the direction of this small companion. Pass after pass, mew after mew, it leaned against him and the terror, the fear faded.  Blood warmed him and he let out a sigh of relief. 

Shai stopped down hand outstretched, slowly, calmly, and let his finger brush the contour of this visitors back. 

Soft fur ran from head to long tail. 

“Hello there”

Stay Tuned for more “Rite of Vision”