Reality's Escape: a collection of short stories

Soul Strings

Reedsy prompt #400

It is the 14,000th epoch since the breaking apart of the lands. My name is Ava. I was born in Calton to a family of coal miners, but I have been sent away to study because of my gift.

There is a string, no thicker than a line of chalk, connecting each person's heart to somewhere high above. One holiday, when the sky was free of sooty clouds, I could have sworn they pointed in the direction of the Imminent One's tower. (The strings were so vertical that the tower must be high indeed!)

When I was younger, I thought everyone could see them. I discovered I was wrong when my grandmother died. My father and I were in the room when she let out her last breath, and I saw the room flash with light. A glowing orb left her chest and traveled up her string, rolling it up like she would the yarn in her knitting basket. I gaped at it until it passed through the ceiling, and then saw the concern on my father's face. That's how I discovered I was some type of wizard. We saved up our extra coin until I was old enough to make the journey to Terramea.

Now I have arrived in this land of knowledge. I was given this notebook, told to write down my journey, and shown a place to sleep for tonight.

— — — — —

Terramea is larger than I thought. Most of the land is uninhabited, but the libraries are large. The building I came to yesterday was the directory. The lady there (I have forgotten her name) said that perhaps what I saw was a reflection of the sun, so she directed me to Solis. It is a whole library dedicated to the studies of light. I could see it from the directory, as it was up on a hill, but I had to walk all day to reach it.

I arrived at Solis just after the sun disappeared, hunted down some food and an empty bed, and here I am. I wonder if the directory lady was right to send me here. I feel like those strings must be something more than chance reflections.

— — — — —

Today was fascinating! I explored nearly all the halls of Solis. The layout was rather confusing; it used to be a much smaller building, but rooms were continually added as more people studied and added their writings to the collection. Some bigger rooms have shelves of books organized by topic—sunlight, moonlight, starlight, candlelight, firelight—but others are small rooms with the writings of just a few people.

Occasionally, an ambitious builder decided it was time to add a study room. They are small, with a table and usually just one chair. These rooms have ceilings completely paned with green obsidian. Often I found someone in these places wrapped in a cloak, bending over a book in the jaded light. I asked them for reading suggestions and wrote down what they said in my notebook.

I pored over the shelves of books and scrolls, selecting the suggested ones and making notes of where I found them so I could return them again. By the time the green light began to fade, I had six books and five scrolls, and my arms were tired.

The bed I had dumped my stuff beside last night was exactly how I'd left it. I placed the books on the floor beside it and scrambled underneath my blanket. Now my eyes hurt from writing in the dark.

— — — — —

There are study areas outside too! This morning, I brought my bundle to an unclaimed table surrounded on three sides by pine trees and backed by the stone wall. It was a quiet spot, and the sun was warm after the chill of the library. I did a lot of reading today, and I shall do even more tomorrow.

— — — — —

Did you know that color is light? I can't wait to explain that to my sister at home. The books were full of things like that. The scrolls, on the other hand, were all the work of one man who had travelled the world to map the angle of the sun's rays. Nothing mentioned strange string-like reflections or glowing orbs. I don't think I'm going to find what I need here. I returned everything before bed.