Moonlight sands

The boy looked up shielding his eyes from the unforgiving sun. It was held between the mountains sinking steadily and he sighed in relief, the night would be here soon and then he could begin. He looked down checking his markers. He stood upon a black square of glass, melted sands of the very desert he was standing in making arcane patterns of colour in the flat surface. Only a few minutes left, the sun less than a thumbs width above the Cradle Mountains and he patted himself down one last time. Katana and wakazashi, there. Throwing daggers and smoke bombs, there. Food pack, water bottle and blanket, there. He settled into place, back straight, knees together, feet under his bottom, palms resting on his knees while the darkness became almost absolute. The stars came out to play, small and large, red, blue, yellow and white all twinkling down at him but he waited; the velvet blue-black of the sky a strange and welcome difference against the dark, unwelcoming sands. He chanted softly, an old miners’ tune, each verse taking two minutes, each full refrain taking twenty his fingers spreading slightly and coming together as he counted down until the moon rose and turned the dark, forbidding plain into a spectacular of colour and light. Six refrains later he stopped and the world exploded.

Colour, sound, light, strange tastes, odd smells, new sensations erupted around him. These were the moonlight sands. Each sensation would be recorded in his memory, each colour had a meaning, each and every taste and feeling was his to understand, to spend his life adding to the celestrium he was a part of. He stood slowly, body moving sluggishly as though through honey. He would spend the majority of his life traveling and studying, trying to make sense of the visions he was granted tonight. Slowly the colours and lights faded, not in the usual sense, they were still bright and there but faded more from his conscious mind as he focused on the vision being granted him.

Hours later the moon set and he settled back into his original position, knees together hands on top, feet underneath him back straight. He reached slowly for the bottled water taking a few sips before putting it back - it would take him nearly a day of walking to get back to the carriage waiting to take him to the celestrium - he would need it tomorrow. The food he ate leaving only enough for a morning snack and lunch, the less he needed to carry the better. He fell into a light trance waiting for the sun to rise, there was no point in traveling now, the moonlight sands would simply twist his feet until he reached the place he was now and would continue to do so until the sun rose.

The suns rising warmed his cold body, the light and warmth letting him know it was time to go. He rose, turning to bow at the sun before setting off. He looked down to see the sheet of glass had acquired a new pattern in the north-eastern edge. A smile lit his feature and he breathed his new name.

Blaise Winterstorm – Cold Fire of Heaven.