"Illuminate my path, Pillar of Stoicism & Light: Orb of Brilliance," the man calmly recites—a ball of white light forming in his palm and illuminating the forest, sending something wild scurrying through the woods.
The ember hues of the setting sun flicker between the dense leaves of the quaint forest. The man, Stowe Light, continues down the winding forest path—his movements deliberate yet calm. He takes a deep breath, letting the cool air of the coming night fill his lungs. The lingering warmth of the day, even in Jannery, is a stark contrast to the brisk winds of Mount Light.
Stowe sweeps a strand of his white hair away from his face, tucking it behind his ear and under his pointed hat. He's feeling unusually jubilant. He attributes the warm sensation in his chest as an effect of his increased proximity to The Pillar of Joy & Light. Stowe steels himself, remembering his stoic training, swallowing a tinge of anxiousness. It's been a long few days, and his nerves are frayed, but intact. He glances down at his garments, which had been a pristine white just a few days ago, but are now muddied by the trials of his travel—the trials of his mission. It's a simple mission, but an important one. With a steady enough pace, Stowe believes he can reach the outskirts of the Land of Joy and set up camp away from wandering spirits. He can finish the rest of the journey in the morning.
Stowe takes a deep, controlled breath, closing his eyes momentarily, thinking of the bathhouses in The Land of Joy. They're supposed to be the best, but every nation claims to have the best bathhouses. It's the kind of thing people get into shouting matches about in the tavern. Stowe couldn't care less if it was The City of Rage's hot springs, or Green City's luxury bathhouses. He'd been to every nation several times over. Anyone who has traveled as much as Stowe knows the best bathhouse is whichever bathhouse is nearest.
Stowe snaps his eyes towards a particular line of trees and brush, holding the light orb to the growing shadows of the forest. There's nothing there. Not this time. The Land of Joy is the safest nation in Emotica, but this isn't Joy—not yet, and Stowe can't shake the feeling that something is about to happen.
Stowe freezes in the middle of the path, cautious and ready. A few meters ahead there appears to be a distortion in the air. Before Stowe can even think of what to do next, the distortion becomes a tear—a literal rip in space. As the rift opens with a brilliant light and thunderous echo, the shockwave kicks up forest debris—assaulting the branches and leaves of the forest as Stowe shields his eyes with one hand and maintains the sphere of light in his other hand. When the dust finally settles, he sees her.
Belle blinks rapidly, reminding herself to close her eyes the next time she opens a rift. She feels the dirt on her bare feet and the cool air of the approaching night. Belle flutters her wings, as if to make sure they're still okay—something other fairies might laugh at her for if they were still around. Belle blinks hard, one last time, letting her vision return from the blinding trip through the portal. She looks up at the towering giant in white, almost finding herself surprised, until she sees the calm and familiar face.
"Snowman!" Belle shouts as she flutters her wings and takes flight, darting inches in front of the stoic's face, looking him in his white-grey eyes. "I've been looking for you. I did a lot of sneaking around at the temple until someone finally spilled the beans. Humans still spill beans, right? How long has it been?"
Stowe smiles almost imperceptibly as he observes the fluttering fairy—relaxing his posture for the first time all day. "Belle. It's a pleasure to see you again." He bows slightly, more out of habit than cultural conformity. "It's been a few years. Today is Jannery the first, as a matter of fact. Happy Year Eleven, Belle. Don't worry. You haven't aged a day."
It's true—the fairy doesn't seem to have aged a single day since their last meeting. Her wavy blonde hair is tied into a ponytail with a blade of grass. Her green eyes and wings stand out, seemingly glowing in defiance of the darkening forest, causing her lithe frame to almost vanish in contrast. Stowe brings his orb of light closer to his face, revealing Belle adorned in a makeshift brassiere and skirt made of leaves, a tuft of thick blonde hair escaping naturally at her waist.
"Years?" Belle pouts in thought, mulling over the information. "I'm never going to get used to human time. It's only been a few days for me. Also, I'm pretty sure it's 'January', not 'Jannery', but you humans have always been awful at reading—and most things, to be honest."
"Well, that explains why you haven't responded to my letters. I thought it was my penmanship, but it must have been my spelling."
"Letters? You've been sending me letters? But, how—" Belle pauses, recognizing Stowe's dry humor. "Oh. Haha. Funny human."
"I see you finally embraced those 'restrictive body prisons' you despise so much," Stowe says, gesturing to Belle's leafy ensemble.
"If you must know, I'm only wearing this stupid thing so I wouldn't have to hear your annoying comments!" Belle's face tightens, rolling her eyes as she brushes off the comment. "Anyway, what are you up to, Snowball? The stoics were saying you're on a mission?"
"Right. I'm to travel the lands and seek empaths of great potential for possible recruitment. What about you? Did you miss your favorite companion?"
"Of course I missed you!" Belle beams. "You're the only human I like. Heck, if you were a fairy..." Belle blushes, before tightening her brow in her best performance of dismissive anger, clearing her throat in an effort to reclaim herself. "I was mapping emotote currents in Dancentiem, seeing how they correlate to Emotica's emotional weather patterns, regular fairy stuff—I think—and to make a long story short—there's some strange energy coming from The Forbidden Ends."
"Hm? The Forbidden Ends?" Stowe asks, but it's not a real question. It doesn't need much clarification at all. Nothing really lives in The Forbidden Ends. Things exist, sure, but nothing that doesn't spell outright trouble. "We should—I mean—I should inform the stoics of this development."
"It's not that simple." Belle crosses her arms, wrinkling the leaves on her chest. "Even if The Forbidden Ends wasn't the most hostile area in this entire realm—even if you mortals could survive it—there wouldn't be anything to do. Not now. It's not like the next Ofler Hatestorm is just sitting out there messing with stuff, and even if there was some loser out there, we'd be better off dealing with it outside The Ends."
"Right. What is it that you needed me for exactly then?"
"Huh?" Belle raises an eyebrow, and then flutters up to Stowe's forehead, delivering a kick. "Don't be stupid! Any day now some psycho could come out of The Ends and try to wreck the world again! And you're the strongest empath I know, so..."
"The only empath you know." Stowe rubs his forehead and takes a step back. "If someone were to weaponize The Pillar of Hatred & Darkness again, it'd take far more than the two of us to stop them. Besides, when you say any day—the way you experience time—I could be long dead by the time that particular crisis arises," Stowe states. "You're more than welcome to accompany me on my travels, but maybe a more long-term plan would be something worth considering. When I return to Mount Light, I can seek counsel with the conclave."
"I guess you're right..." Belle frowns at her friend's fleeting lifespan. "You said you were looking for empaths, right? Maybe that's as good a plan as any—making sure the next generation is ready for whatever comes their way. I guess I can come along for a while, but only to keep an eye on you." Belle throws her hands on her hip, pointing her head to the sky with a pout—eyes closed.
Stowe chuckles. "Right. To keep an eye on me." Stowe looks up at the sky through the leaves—the darkness revealing a blanket of shimmering stars. "Let's get a move on then. It would be wise to leave these woods before spirits or bandits sense our presence." Stowe begins walking down the path, increasing the intensity of the light in his palm.
"Don't worry." Belle chimes as she flutters onto Stowe's shoulder, clutching onto the fabric of his white robe. "I'll protect you, my little empath."
"I thought I told you—I'm twenty-seven now. I'm not a brat anymore." Stowe glances down at the fairy on his shoulder. "Can't say the same for you though. You're still too lazy to fly."
"How many times do I have to tell you? Flying is tiring, and I'm totally drained after opening up that rift last night." Belle leans against Stowe's neck, feeling his warmth for a moment before perking back up. "And I'm no brat, brat! I'm almost twelve thousand years old. You're always going to be a baby to me. Aren't you the one always saying, 'measure the mind, not the hour'? If you had any brains at all, it'd mean I fell asleep in that stupid point hat of yours."
"Oh? Belle, the Last Fairy of Dancentime, remembering stoic teachings? I never thought I'd live to see the day." Stowe doesn't push the topic. "You'll have to explain to me the concept of time dilation in relation to inter-dimensional travel one day, because I'm pretty sure I'm old enough to be your father."
"It's Dancentiem." Belle rolls her eyes as she corrects the human's crude pronunciation. "Remind me to give you another reading lesson. Those stoic friends of yours are doing an awful job of teaching you true culture. Once you learn to read, maybe you can understand the advanced arithmetic and physics of time travel." Maybe she'll understand by then too.
The duo continues down the path, the orange-inked full moon rising to illuminate the forest. Stowe keeps the light alive in his palm—peering into the thick of the trees. It isn't meant to see in the dark, but to keep at bay whatever calls the shadows home.
[Prelude to The Isle of Tears Arc: Part 1]
Next Time: The Land of Joy
Note From The Author:
Thank you for reading Emotica: First Feeling. First Feeling is a draft for Emotica, an original story and world I created. As it's unlikely to be officially published in the near future, I wanted to share my labor of love. Please like, share, and follow on social media for bonus content.
—D.J Lions