Rough ideas for my work-in-progress novel ‘Wanderer.’
Down she went, further traversing the helix spiral. The echoes of her padded footsteps resonate throughout the seemingly infinite chamber. Being this far below, the light was a soft halo, and the gray marble stone felt cold beneath her feet. Artificial lights illuminate the passageways, but only so faintly did their influence reach.
Stopping at one of the crossroads, Nozomi, on a whim, steps off the spiral and makes her way towards the perimeter. She has never been this deep before, but was sure Sen didn’t mind. In her mother’s absence, she was always restless, and entertained herself by roaming the castle’s solitary grounds.
The musty smell of old books is evident—more distinct than the upper levels of the library. It did not however bother Nozomi. Her fingers brush along the walls of worn books as she wanders around the ring. Nozomi found pleasure in this sensory, but it too eventually grew dull. Stopping upon one of the notches, she closes her fingers and pulls out a book. The parched canvas betrayed its age, and intrigues her to open it. Flipping into the middle, she sits down and begins to read the scribbled text.
Nor was there any reason to. Old tales described the lands yonder as sterile—having withered over the centuries. Shepherds could no longer support their flock, and villages migrated westward. Korian, well aware of the fact, still persisted we pay a visit. I had no reason to dispute.
To the novel eye, the scenery did not appear to be a wasteland. It was as verdant as the Continent. Perhaps even more than some of the settlements we had visited. After a few days of wandering, only did I begin to see past its deceitful fertility and observe its true barrenness.
At one of the peaks, we stopped and scoured the horizon for notable landmarks, and found not a single tree or shrub as far as the eye could see. Standing there, idly gazing, we granted the wind full agency to blow carelessly through our manes.
Nozomi has difficulty comprehending the text, but reads on anyway.
The nights were not unusual in this peculiar land. Just as it was with the Continent, the air grew cool after the sun had fallen. If anything, they perhaps felt colder, as there was nothing to shelter under. Korian would gather bits of dead grass and spark a small fire, but these flames gave out quickly, letting the dark placidity of the night swallow us whole once again. A few times, I used my powers to entice a nearby swath to grow mightier, collecting them in the hopes it may burn longer. But these blades did not dry fast enough, dampening our campfire’s potential. Despite the fact, we drifted still, exposed to the forces of nature. It has yet to rain during this journey, so the breeze of night was all we had to concern about.
Growing tired of standing, Nozomi walks the book to a nearby light in the wall and sits down on the marble floor. She snuggles into the frames between the shelves, and picks up roughly where she had left off.
During the peak of my cycle, we found a steep cliffside, and rested beneath. It was perhaps the best form shelter we had come across thus far. Although I enjoyed the novel experiences living in the dead open, I was grateful to have some refuge during this course.
Korian, being as much of a scholar as we had, tirelessly recorded each scenery we came across. Alast, his ink eventually ran dry, and, in his affinity, did not request to use mine, but instead resorted to the charcoals of our fires.
We traversed through several mountain passes before we chanced upon the first signs of humanity. The first thing we noticed were the sharp angles cut into the sides of a lazy mountain, affording surfaces that previous civilizations could have cultivated. Huts of what was perhaps clay and stone lined the hills, their roofs missing. A few overgrown paths meandered throughout the small village. We later concluded the spot to be a suitable shelter for the night, but in the moment, we were too transfixed to be concerned. It was sublime to imagine our ancestors could’ve once inhabited such a location, only to migrate inward to the Continent after the land became stale.
It was in the abandoned village where we found the first examples of complex life. A pair of goats—perhaps—scaled along the steep side of a mountain across from us. We observed them, and they observed us, without an eye of concern.
There was a sublime beauty in the stillness of the barren mountains. I spent some time meditating in silence as Korian dictated new directions to explore. Eventually, after several days of isolation, we drifted without any care or expectation of running across another wanderer. A few of those days, I did yearn for the company of a party. When I made my feelings clear to Korian, he admitted to being guilty of the same desires, and I felt ever closer.
As our supplies ran low, we began to trace our steps backwards, circling around the mountain we were scaling. It was then when we came across the first tree—and a giant one, for that matter. Korian first observed it once we reached the mountain’s peak. It was off in the distance, perhaps three mountain ranges away. I saw only the top of the tree as its leaves peered out from behind the surrounding summits. We went out of our way to examine this tree, not only because of the novelty of the sight, but because of how odd it was to be here.
The past few days were quite peculiar. Once we crested the summit, we came across the valley with the giant tree. It was then when I could determine how bizarre the terrain was. The mountainside where the tree took root was irregular and jagged. The earth sloped backwards from the ground, almost as if the mountain had been flipped upside down, and greatly overshadowed the land below. Korian made clear his observation of the stone’s color, which had a soft brown hue, contrast to the surrounding gray, and concluded something was amiss. It was then when a voice echoed from behind, proclaiming something was not amiss. Having wandered in solitude for several weeks, we were slow to startle—or at least it felt that way. I did jump in fright once I realized it was neither of us who had spoken. There stood a woman holding a walking stick, dressed in the same manner as I was, laughing at us. She apologized for the scare, and asked whether we were local inhabitants. I was perhaps quick to comply to her questioning and revealed that we were travelers. The stranger acquired an air of interest upon my answer, and further inquired what brought us to this isolated land. Korian and I looked upon each other for a few moments before we silently determined she likely meant no harm. We were here for the sake of travel, was our answer, and the woman smiled with approval. She commended us for our answer, and told us her name was (and this name, Nozomi could not read, for it was missing). She told us she was a traveler as well, and offered us a place to stay. We gratefully accepted her offer, and were surprised when she directed us towards the tree as her place of refuge. But what came next, I daresay neither of us were prepared for. The stranger walked to the cliff’s edge, slapped her hands together onto her staff, and began to glow. The earth trembled and the air felt heavy. I came to realize it was not her who shook the ground, but the yonder mountain with the tree. It began to crumble and split into two, but instead of collapsing into the valley, the mountains slowly rose into the sky. As the debris fell down its sides, I saw what the tree had hidden. A small yurt rested in its shade, and plump garden colored with what was perhaps berries. Korian was quicker to fathom what we were seeing, but I eventually recognized the sight matched the description of the legendary sky castles, the privileged possession of the Continent scholars. It dawned upon me that our new companion was a person of considerable birthright well beyond ourselves. With a flick back at us, all three of us rose from the ground, just as the mountain did. It was disorientating at first, but once we stabilized, our guide pulled us towards the great tree.
…
The rest of the pages were empty.
Confused by this, Nozomi flips back to the cover and finds a name she did not recognize, realising it was not an account written by her mother, but a stranger. She looks up to the ceiling of the chamber, wondering if perhaps the stranger had met her mother in this story.