Breath and Time

The Stillness

The spiraling bridge was made from the strongest vines of the forest, holding each wooden plank secure in its place for over half a century. Every Harmonian dwelling resided amongst the trees, with places of recreation and meeting amongst the soil. On the length of the vines, the white flora- still in a stage of nyctinasty- would soon come alive. The sunrise beckoning their petals to reveal the unique strands of color from within.

Following the plank's path, Henāka ascended the steps, certain Renāna would be in her Still Room. As devoted as the Light-Expanse Harmony was to her people, a greater love was written on her heart for SHEEMATAH.

Having turned a corner that reached the level of Renāna's lodgings, Henāka raised the wool blinds, revealing an empty sleeping mat and unoccupied dinette.

Smirking, Henāka pressed on, taking the narrow bridge where Renāna's Still Room was nestled in the tree behind her lodgings. The height of her lodgings was well beneath the trees' canopy of leaves, branches tightly snug against her Still Room.

Ribbons of merigold and glass had twisted their way beyond the opening of Renāna's Still Room, the colors pulsating and reflecting the sheer magnitude of the efforts the Light-Expanse Harmony was clearly attempting.

It was discourteous to intrude when a Harmonian was deep in the Stillness; a silent and deep inner reflection to draw near to their SHEEMATAH. Harmonians could invoke greater strength drawing near to the Source of all Sources, SHEEMATAH. It was a time to discover whatever truths, visions, and the paths a Harmonian should take. Where one would pull further toward The Veil- the realm where every Source of The Lands of the Covenant had originated- and farther away from their own reality, but Henāka had never invoked The Veil like Renāna could, no matter how many ribbons of blue formed around her. She couldn't resist taking a peek inside the room. An indescribable crack in the atmosphere was just before Renāna. Reflecting every color of the Sources, and spreading like shattering glass. The Light-Expanse's powers touched the now visible Veil, where strange images began to be revealed, though none were clear enough to make out.

Henāka's jaw dropped. She'd witnessed The Veil in her own time of Stillness on occasion but never been granted Visions. Twisting away, she couldn't dishonor one of her dearest friends any further.

SHEEMATAH.. In all my days. She thought, her hand over her heart.

Henāka watched Renāna's visually infuriated yet silent scream, followed by a thrash of color that pass beyond the Still Room; the yellow, forcing the pedals of every sleeping flower awake, while the sheer, momentarily split a small path to the ground like a sudden unlocked doorway.

Renāna's breath was harsh, her lips in a firm line, arms crossed over her chest petulantly. Another unsuccessful attempt, she harrumphed. No matter how much she pushed against the barrier, The Veil would not reveal anything more than blurred visions. There were few Harmonians left alive with a stronger desire to preserve their people. To become strong enough to invoke The Veil to disclose just a little bit more. To provide clear visions to their people's future or to at least discover more of their stolen history, and in spite of Renāna's certainty that she was ready to travel to the past, The Veil's responses were as vague as they'd been for many Suns. It was like pushing against a mountain, having been told it could be moved if one were strong enough, then discovering the power within, yet it still refused to budge.

Renāna's childlike tantrum halted when her gaze met Henāka's. Henāka. she symboled, remaining composed despite her friend's sudden disturbance; aware Henāka had likely witnessed Renāna's moment of frustration. How can I help? Her fixed gaze held a countenance that encapsulated her innate desire to serve everyone else, setting aside her own feelings in order to do so.