Stirleo burst out laughing.

  “Yes, true, although that is not my priority. I want this place, its secrets, its ideas, its facets. I want its towers and fields and symbols. Because all the ideas in this place are linked to the radiant Light, to the Truth. I want to know what the Truth of being in this Dream is. And staying here is my best bet, I feel. New people with new ideas arrive, like you, like Nobea, Ray, Lance, Rami, and Tcha…” he said, his mind drifting into different times.

  Demoa dug her hands into the grass and played with it.

  “Do you think there even is such a thing as a ‘truth’? And if there is, that it can definitely be found here? What if you are wrong and it takes shape somewhere else, in some settlement far from the Light? Or what if what you recognize as truth is really a lie?” Demoa asked.

  For the first time, Stirleo looked slightly annoyed, although he quickly composed himself again.

  “You are right, Demoa, that might be the case. I suppose I simply have to believe, as is custom in a Monastery, I think. Still, I feel my chances are very good here. After all, all Lucids come here…”

  Demoa smiled. “Maybe that used to be true, yet now that Eri is doing something else? Are the Sages the only ones you can rely on?”

  She did not know why she was reacting so antagonistically. Maybe she was still angry because she was too unable to give Rad what he needed, or at least something that truly connected them. Maybe she felt jealous of the abbot, who had been lingering here for uncountable days, possibly watching her. Or maybe she was simply in a bad mood.

  “Oh, I’m not worried about that. Many Sages have settled everywhere and will carry on his work. Elga would have brought you here on her own as well…” Stirleo said with a smirk.

  Demoa thought for a moment and pushed away the heaviness that always rose in her whenever she thought of Elga, even though it had been so long since they last spoke. “Probably. She would have tried, certainly. Yet in the end, the Light… her Light swallowed her…”

  “Eh,” Stirleo said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I think, in the end, they all find their way here. And if not, I would not learn about it by wandering around. You can never be sure something does not exist, only that something does.”

  He looked up once more at the slopes and gazed at the buildings in reverence. “Up there is everything important I have come across since I arrived. There was a time, long ago and almost forgotten, when I wandered around aimlessly. But eventually everyone reaches a point that offers something new. And then you face a choice: do you risk that new thing, or do you stay with what you know? I had that choice once, Demoa. I chose something new and gained this monastery, all the insights within me, and many connections because of it. Yet if I am truly honest, I would be lying if I claimed I would choose differently next time. Despite my desire for the Truth, I still want to find it here in my own way or not at all. What about you? Are you satisfied with how things are?”

  He looked her straight in the eyes, his grin twisting his face and making it appear eerie, almost predatory. In his eyes shimmered a hunger for knowledge.

  Demoa’s breath caught and she felt exposed and unsettled. She did not know what to say. “I… Abbot, it is… I have so much here that makes me think I should stay as well. I do not want to go on my Pilgrimage. I have already found myself. I could start changing this place now, at least in the way others do before they leave on their journeys. Yet… I like it here. I love coming down here in the mornings and taking care of the animals, dancing through the night. I do not want more. The home in my thoughts, the one I see connected with the Circle of Radiance… it is like that here. Only Rad… he is the only thing that makes me want any other ambitions…”

  She was thinking out loud, speaking more to herself than to Stirleo. His face suddenly grew gentle for the first time.

  “Yes, that sounds good… well, the first part, anyway. Do not lose sight of that, Demoa…” he said softly and gave her a warm smile that made her blush.

  A small light joined the others inside her, and she had to smirk. Then Stirleo took a step toward her and dropped straight into the ground as if plunging into a lake. He saluted her with a grin as he went and vanished into the grass-covered earth. A moment later, it was as if he had never been there at all, yet his words still burned in Demoa’s mind. She stared uneasily at the spot where the abbot had disappeared and thought feverishly.

  What do I really want?

  The question lingered far longer than she liked.

  It hung over her during the days that followed, whether she was performing her dances again or working in the plantations, whether she stood with Ray at the balustrades and stared into the distance. The question clung to her movements like a soft shadow, never loud enough to demand an answer, yet always near enough to unsettle her.

  Stirleo began joining her more often. Sometimes he appeared without a sound among the rows of sunflowers Demoa had sown and grown with her Lucidity, watching her tend to the plants. Other times she found him waiting near the river when she went down to the plainhoppers, leaning on a trunk while she started her dances. He rarely spoke. Demoa somehow knew why: she needed someone to simply be there, and he did his best to fill that role perfectly.

  He did not offer advice or opinions most of the time, nor did he comment on her technique the way Tise occasionally did. If she posed a question to him, he always found one of his half-cryptic answers that somehow rang true within her, yet he no longer asked anything on his own. Instead the abbot listened, truly listened, with a calm, patient attention that no one else seemed capable of giving her. When she danced, he followed her motions slightly, his silhouette swaying as if caught by winds no one else noticed and surrounded by fragrances no one else could smell. When she talked, he stayed relaxed, tilting his head just enough to show he took in every word, even the ones she struggled to form.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Since the abbot came more often, the Monastery itself seemed to shift around her in subtle ways. The air felt warmer, softer, as though the walls absorbed her foolish worries and returned them to her as gentle encouragement. The plantations grew brighter in the mornings, and the evenings wrapped themselves around her like a comforting cloak. Even the plainhoppers were getting more cuddly, which made her heart swell. Everything around her now whispered the same quiet message:

  This is where you belong. Stay.

  She tried to believe it. She tried to settle into the rhythm of the days and accept the serenity the Monastery offered so freely. Yet the more she warmed to this place, and the more she realized that even Abbot Stirleo had begun forming a strange, subtle connection to her, the more insistently the doubt rang in her mind. It returned whenever she felt safest, slipping into her thoughts like a reminder she had not asked for. And only the visits Rad paid her made her feel sad, even though he tried his best to encourage her and always meant well, even if he never found the right words.

  How can I connect with such a strange, ancient person like the abbot but not with Rad? What do I really want?

  And each time, the question felt heavier than before.

  What do I really want?

  Ray definitely did not ask herself that question often. She wanted a safe world for Dio and herself, a world without darkness or malice. Demoa never had to ask her about it. It was written on Ray’s face whenever they met for training and Tise and Novis listened. It was visible in every one of her steps when Ray walked beside her along the river, determined and always focused on learning more in order to fight the Nightmares.

  If only I were like her. Would I then manage to let Rad form a connection with me? It is unfair. She and Dio never had to do anything. They were connected from the very beginning. And me? Why can I not…

  She quickly chased those thoughts away each time they arose. She wanted Ray to have her determination and her connection. After all, everyone owed her the Sun…

  One afternoon, however, as they descended the slopes of the plantations and left behind the scent of fruits and trees, Ray suddenly faltered. Something crossed her face, something that did not belong there: fear.

  “Ray? Ray, what is it?”

  Her friend did not answer, and Demoa rushed to support her and release a little of her Lucidity. The echoes of distant dances mixed with the scent of blooming sunflowers, and gently Demoa wrapped those impressions around Ray like a protective blanket. She was surprised she felt no resistance at all, since she had expected Ray’s stability to cause problems. Thankfully Ray let her through.

  Thank you for trusting me so much, she thought, unable to suppress a small smile despite the shiver running down her back.

  Ray looked at her, her eyes slightly watery.

  “He’s gone somehow,” she whispered and reached for Demoa’s hand with trembling fingers.

  “Who?”

  “Dio. He’s gone. Just like that. His connection to me has flickered once or twice before. Yet now… he is not coming back, he…”

  Demoa hugged her tightly and pressed her close.

  “It will be alright. Calm down, we will figure this out…”

  Inside, her thoughts raced.

  She is not as desperate, not as shattered as she should be, is she? If the connection to Dio snapped because he awakened, should she not be much more…

  Suddenly Ray relaxed in her arms and let out a soft, breathless laugh.

  “He’s back. He’s back…”

  Demoa felt her warmth and held her even tighter.

  “You see? Everything was fine…”

  “No.”

  Ray pulled away gently but firmly and looked into her eyes.

  “He was gone. He was gone and I felt no pain. Only despair. What is happening to him? Is he alright? I am here, training, protecting myself, yet what if I forget him because of that? What if that was it, that I no longer value our connection without realizing it? Should I go back?”

  Demoa could only stare at her.

  “No, I do not think so,” she said quietly. “I think you should continue doing what you have done here for so long, preparing for the fight against the Nightmares. You are our hope. You once told me those were Elga’s last words, that she believed in you. And with how you have worked over these Hundreds, I cannot imagine you would throw that away so easily. Everything is fine again now.”

  A faint nausea rose in Demoa’s throat and she had to swallow. She did not like the words she had spoken as there was a slight hollowness in them she had not intended.

  Do I truly believe that? Or do I simply not want her to be happy if going back to him would give her that, while I am still stuck here?

  “Yet in the end, you must decide that. I may not be the best person to ask. I am still trying to form any connection with Rad at all, and I would probably love to tell you to cherish your own and never leave him alone, no matter what. Still, it was his wish that you follow your path here first and then return. That is what he said back then, was it not? So trust him, the same way I would trust Rad.”

  Slowly, Demoa relaxed. It had taken effort to overcome her senseless jealousy, although she was proud she had managed.

  “You are right, thank you. I am really glad to have you here. I know you could have left already.”

  “I am not staying only because of you. I like it here, the plainhoppers, the atmosphere, even that strange Abbot. Maybe I will simply not go on a pilgrimage at all and instead wait here for you with a good stew when you return one day from your campaigns against the Nightmares. Yarst managed to teach me a few good recipes, even though I have two left hands.”

  “That would be wonderful. This Monastery is our home, after all, is it not? Maybe Eri will come back one day too. I am sure he will. I think he would be very proud of both of us.”

  “Of me perhaps not, since I am considering not going on a pilgrimage. I suppose I should not tell him or Nobea and pretend I am simply not ready yet…”

  As she spoke the words, Demoa realized she liked them very much, and she had to smile.

  “We had better not tell Nobea. She would probably come after you in a rage. She wants to leave so badly. I can almost picture her losing it,” Ray laughed, and Demoa burst out laughing too.

  “Demoa, you cannot stay here though, can you? Rad would not want that…” Ray suddenly added, and her expression darkened.

  Demoa was unsure whether it was because the topic was Rad, since she knew Ray did not like him much. All the more she silently thanked her for supporting her anyway.

  “Maybe I can convince him. To stay here with me. I will certainly not stop trying, even if it takes a thousand days.”

  “We are almost seven Hundreds here, at least that is what Tise said recently. And she would know, right? A long time. I hope I am ready soon to face the Nightmares. And I hope you can convince Rad too, I really wish that for you,” Ray said, and in Demoa’s innermost being her warmth grew even stronger.

  Demoa leaned briefly into the small flame of joy that shone under Ray’s Sun, then wrapped her arms around her friend once more and hugged her tightly, hoping she would be able to turn things around, though even now doubt still nested inside her.