N'aarat and the Tree of Life

Chapter 7: Temple of the Goddess

I woke up at the roots of the white tree, on a terrace filled with women who were sitting leisurely on the grass, allowing me to take my time to fully come to my senses. I saw Önaha, a gold collar around her neck, her eyes smiling. Close to me there were three women: one resembled my mother—however, it was not her; the other one was the woman on whose lap I had rested, her caress still imprinted on my skin; and to her left was Liona. I tried to stand up, which was a bit uncomfortable to do, since my body felt rather sore. At that time, none of it made any sense to me. Without speaking, Liona signalled that I should stay there, for there was no rush. Then she lifted her index to her ear, as if trying to tell me to listen to something.

It was strange at first, since I could hear nothing. Stranger yet, I couldn't even hear them, though it was obvious they were not silent. I turned on my back, looking straight up to the sky, which I could barely see through the mountainous branches, those beautiful white branches, heavy with blossoming flowers hanging freely and loosely. Their smell intoxicated my lungs and I would fill my nostrils with it and release the air through my mouth; gently, for there was no need to rush.

I knew they were all observing me and I suddenly felt the need to spread my arms around my body. I noticed I had folded them onto my chest when I had turned to face the majestic tree.

'She's ready,' said someone, or perhaps it was only in my imagination.

A crystalline laughter came, as if from an outburst of delight, and the Tree began to speak. My eyes widened and my heartbeat echoed those words, unheard before and yet somehow familiar, as if I had in fact known them all along and now the veil of forgetfulness was being chased off by unprecedented clarity. Gently, for there is no need to rush.

So sacred they were that my heart bears not reproduce them, since only the Mother Goddess is worthy of such sacredness. Time will come for all in Neen Th'al to hear them and now time has come to me.

Time has come to me... How could time itself come to someone? How vast could one become in order to host time as it wanders through Neen Th'al, from door to door, from sheep to lion, from priest to priestess, from mage to shaman, from kin to kin, above all and through all simultaneously?

Words poured from the Tree on this seventh day from my escape. The Tree was breathing and its branches, rich in white blossoms, were moving in the summer breeze, when the mighty Eöri stood up and circled me. Only the three women next to me were still sitting at my side. Liona was absent in her eyes, wandering deep inside or far above. The woman from my room was holding my hand; her eyes were closed and her face seemed peaceful. The other one, who resembled my mother, had turned her back to me, arms arched towards the sky, still sitting while humming a hymn so ancient that the whole world moved at its sound and my eyes were in tears because they reminded me of something arcane.

The Tree spoke and threads of light descended from the top, all the way to the roots, into the soil beneath me, from where they sprang and coiled around my entire being. The light had been blessed by the Goddess and the vivid flame was not burning me.

The hymn lifted as all the Eöri began to sing it and I myself began to sing, lips half open, as I was hardly now able to hear my voice. Though soft and barely audible, it did not flinch. We carried the song into the valley, deeper and deeper, and from there we dashed towards the stars. Pereö itself moved out of our way and I drenched my soul into Saurus N'hal, while a stampede drummed and paved the way. We took a large sphere from Saurus N'hal, heavy and moist, resembling black clay, which we spread with our voices, pulling its margins as we were marching towards the Goddess, who was waiting for our arrival. At last, the sphere had become an oval, thin layer of matter, onto which She poured stars beyond count. We rose above it, as white as the moon on a clear night. Later we returned before the Temple, the hymn embedded in our hearts, sounding fierce and tumultuous, then gradually softer and softer, until all that was left of it was a peaceful prayer and a blessing for all Creation.

'Welcome, N'aarat.'

Thousand voices, together with the Tree, of perhaps it was the Tree speaking in thousand voices, blessed my arrival in Kythlion. I cried, overwhelmed, and I laughed with the deepest of joys, receiving their embraces. My body had been shaken so deeply that my soul had emerged to its surface, covering it, for miles and miles, golden and white and rose as the Temple, from which there came silence intertwined with blessings, and I could hear animals speaking and the water as well, singing odes so long and ephemeral that I blessed the day I was born, for it has given me the chance to be here on this day.

The gift of clarity had been bestowed upon me, as promised, granting me permission to see and hear as far into Neen Th'al as my heart desired.