Sands Katsion (~CRK)
The Journey Continues
CHAPTER 4: “THE JOURNEY CONTINUES”
The sky cloaked itself in a vapor as the bleak moonlight shined through. The brightest star, the one emblazoned on I*V’s national flag, screamed its glow into the eerie night. In the Bird household, a single light dimly illuminated the living room, sending a faint glow into the silent night.
Beads of sweat pouring down his red face, Mr. Bird lay crippled with lethargy in his bed. He respired heavily in wheezing breaths. Regretfully, Calla stroked his forehead, pained that the fever was still there. She tried desperately to lock away the tears in her throat and the flashback of the same burning warmth. With a sigh, she pulled herself away. The chair creaked softly as Calla retired, and the hallway bathed her in light.
Downstairs, Ima and 5 lashed out at each other, using words and declarations as their weapons.
“I’m the oldest. It’s time for me to be the Leader next.”
“Dad said it would be Calla next, Ima!”
“She’s too weak to lead a whole world! She couldn’t even take care of us!”
“Don’t say that!”
Their screams resonated through the home’s palatial corridors.
With clouded eyes, Calla rested on the stairs, putting distance between herself and her siblings. Her gaze longingly crept upstairs to her father’s well-being. Cradling her face in her hands, she pretended for a moment that none of this was really happening—but it was no use. She knew this day would come. But she had never prepared for it—only dreaded the sudden moment it would happen. Once all three Angels are gathered, her father had told her, the world will change. A fleuve escaped her placid eyes. And I hope you’re prepared by then.
“It doesn’t matter!” Ima snapped, shocking Calla out of her melancholic stupor.
Fiery tears streaked down Ima’s face, making her frustrated look even more ominous. “It doesn’t matter what Dad said! Because I read the Book of Legends, and it said it would be me!”
Whipping out a potion bottle, she uncorked it and held it discretely behind her back.
Calla stood up, terrified.
5 snapped back, “Ima! Don’t you dare do this again! He told us to trust him. Calm down.”
The conflagrant tears continued, burning Ima’s face bright red. “You know!” she shouted, her voice pained with madness. “You know how it is and how it always will be!”
With a vice grip, she snatched 5’s throat. 5 stood unfazed, but he choked barely audibly on his retorts.
Calla’s nerves froze. Her fear paralyzed even her thoughts.
“Ima? What are you planning?” 5 forced, his eyes cracking like a geode.
Ima bound her brother, constricting him in a kind of forced hug. “I’ll always be evil!!” she screeched, forcing the potion down his throat.
Calla broke down to her knees, sobbing and degrading into her guilt.
The empty potion bottle dangled from Ima’s trembling hand; desperately, it hit the floor, producing a loud, hollow crack.
All that trembled the night air were Calla’s pained sobs.
Suddenly, a light—vibrant as the sun—glowed from upstairs, bathing everything in a subdued red much like neon.
Calla gasped through her tears, yelling out as she stumbled up the stairs. “Father! Father, no!”
The vibrant red consumed the entire bedroom; Calla squinted but forced through the pain to find answers. But by the time her eyes adjusted to the blinding light, it was too late. The chilling night air sent a shiver up her back, and Calla pried her arms around herself in defense. A magnificent bird, scarlet as a field of roses, perched itself upon the windowsill, mournfully gazing into the open night. It was grander than a crow, its folded wings mightier than towering flames. Calla lost her resolve and any emotions, just allowing the bird to keep to itself as though it were like any other. The bird turned its dark eye toward her, and eternity and the void embraced her for far too long. Then, in an instant, the bird fled, trailing a meager down feather and embers in its stead. The window kept swinging open, tapping against the wall like a metronome. Calla remained there, staring—motionless, pained. Hollow.
When she finally found the courage to return downstairs, her brother waited for her with bags—the pale just receding from his face. Calla kept all her words to herself, lowering her head in shame. 5 took her hand.
Ima planted herself in the living room, her back toward her family and her posture strained. She hadn’t moved since. She had tensed her muscles so much that her shoulders caved in and were visibly twitching.
“Now, go. Leave. This…” Ima stopped and gulped as if to push back more strained tears. “This is my home now.”
~*~
Sunlight poured through the windows, flooding me with warmth. My eyes opened, and I returned to my reality. My thoughts fuzzy, I had the feeling I had a vivid dream, but all traces of it retreated as I opened my eyes. Immediately, I processed what had happened the previous day: the journey, the seal, Mr. Bird, his children, and the Newcomer Haters. It all seemed so real, yet fantasized, as though I were thrust into an entirely different life overnight.
Sighing, I rose from the lumpy bed and rubbed my wary eyes. Still drowsy, I was certain I heard someone call my name.
Zeenith…
The voice was familiar, but I had no idea how I knew it so intimately. It was gentle and womanly, almost motherly, with a strict undertone and a scholarly air.
Zeenith, go see Mr. Bird at his house.
Then it hit me—she was the same one that yelled out when I saw the seal’s pattern on the wall at Mr. Bird’s house.
Who are you? How do you know these things? I yelled to her in thought, but my words echoed back as though my mind were totally hollow. I sighed.
Opening the window, I stared vapidly outside. The morning fog was lifting off the ground, and the chill was evident without even touching the glass. It threatened to numb me. Not knowing where to turn, I lingered on the scholarly woman’s advice and sighed. Draping my faithful grey coat over my shoulders, I crept outside and shut away the room.
What has happened to me? I repeated as I moped down the halls. Why do I feel so confused?
I passed a tall mirror and stopped before it, studying my face. It looked so uncharacteristically pained, like a lost stray looking for a home and a purpose. Why am I feeling this way? I sighed, lazily combing my hair. It’s like I don’t even know myself anymore. It was more than mood swings, I figured; it was like I wasn’t even myself. Maybe the seal had something to do with it, I figured. For the first time, when I reflected on myself, I didn’t see a headstrong, confident girl—I saw a lost sheep. A melancholic wanderer who strayed too far from home. The dust on my clothes wasn’t cool and childlike. It was sad. My unkempt hair wasn’t rebellious. It was ugly. I thought I was ugly.
A swift punch to my face knocked the thoughts away. “Get a grip,” I told myself.
Humbly, I wandered to the receptionist’s desk downstairs. The halls were eerily silent, and I assumed I was safe from the vase-throwers for the time being. Besides, I stayed overnight; I wasn’t “new” anymore. Once I reached the main desk, I set my room key atop the smooth marble surface. The metal tag reading “12” glinted off the lamp light dangling above us.
“Good morning,” the receptionist said. “Checking out?”
“Yes, I’m going.”
“OK, then. That will be ten light-colored gems, please.”
Great, I thought. I don’t even I have that much money.
Instinctively, my hand darted for my right pants pocket, and, of course, I had only two gems. “Argh!” I screamed. Upset, I searched my left pocket, though I never kept anything in there. A hard surface met my fingers; in the light, the mysterious gem shimmered a deep blue.
A sapphire gem? I questioned, completely perplexed. Where the heck did this come from? Aren’t these rare?
The entire time I was searching for funds, the receptionist was waiting patiently behind the counter. Once my face lit with hope, her patience waned.
“Will this cover it?” I asked bashfully.
“Yes. And some,” she replied with wide eyes.
The receptionist shined the gem with her shirt, and she held it to the light as she examined it thoroughly—probably to make sure it wasn’t fake or stolen. I looked, too. The light stimulated the gem and brought forth its deep, marine blue; the color reminded me of my eyes and my hair—the color of the ocean. I’ve always loved water. My parents believed I was born a fish or a penguin. But the light also made me feel anxious and melancholic. Like it was the last of someone I’d held close to me.
The receptionist carefully placed the gem in an open slot in the cash register. With struggle, she grabbed a handful of gems and dumped them on the counter, making them clatter and fall all over like a candy mountain.
“Thank you. Come again,” she smiled.
Bashfully, I stuffed the mountain of light green, blue, pink, and purple gems in my pockets before she handed me a bag to stash them in. I slid the gems in the sack and went on my way. Guess it was worth a whole lot, I mused bashfully. Then a speck of pride welled in my chest as I shook the bag. Well, now I don’t have to worry about being poor!
The sun just caressed the horizon as I stepped outside. The morning air was crisp; the puffy, gray clouds patched with blue sky and the grass painted with frost foreshadowed the coming winter. I even saw my breath. Covered with my infamous gray (with blue cuffs on the sleeves) under jacket, I continued my leisurely walk to Mr. Bird’s. The house loomed closer and closer. My mind once again surged with ideas: thoughts of my future and my new “friends” danced in and out of my head until I reached the door, and a new song waltzed through the air.
Birdsong of all kinds—finches, cardinals, blue jays, and nuthatches—filled the air around me. I remembered the trees behind the Leader’s house and deduced that lots of birds must live back there. But I hadn’t noticed so many when I visited yesterday. Why are there so many birds now?
Underneath the wild chattering of birds was a soft humming that I could barely perceive. Though the voice was buried under the birds, it reached out for me and soothed my soul. Curious, I ignored the front door of the house and walked to the backyard, instantly discovering the source of all the birds.
It was Calla. She was sitting on a garden chair that was perched on the lawn in front of the trees. She was completely surrounded by birds, all pecking at the ground and flocking to a hanging feeder staked into the ground beside her. Her hands were cupped on her lap and acting as a makeshift dish for bird seed.
I could hardly believe my eyes—so much so that I yelled out. “Call?!”
My shout was sudden and uninvited. All the birds dispersed in a giant hoard, leaving Call alone with the broken seeds scattered all over the ground. I felt awful, as I really enjoyed watching birds visit feeders, too.
“Oh, ZCN. What brings you here so early?” she questioned casually.
“Same to you…” I was still fazed by the sudden scene change and the moment I had just encountered.
“I love it here. It is so…” she searched for the right word as she stood and brushed off her dress, “enchanting.”
“I see…”
Calla smiled, closing her eyes.
“Sorry about scaring the birds away…” I shuffled my feet.
“Oh, please do not worry. The birds will come back.”
As if on cue, a nuthatch perched on the hanging feeder, nabbed a big peanut, and flew away.
“Yeah,” I laughed. “I like feeding the birds, too.”
Calla smiled in response, sitting back down in the chair and standing as still as possible. A bunch of finches came back to pick at the ground, and even a few mourning doves joined the flock.
“So, Call…” I began, trying to find the right words.
“Yes?”
“I wanted to ask you something.”
“I, too. Would you mind?”
“No. What is it?” I responded, a bit surprised.
“You refer to me as simply ‘Call’?”
“Well…” Her comment caught me off-guard; the worry from earlier resurfaced, and I felt like I had bothered the Leader. “Oh, sorry i-it’s…”
“Is it a nickname?” she questioned, looking at me with curious, innocent eyes.
“Yeah, sure,” I returned, uncertain of what response I may get.
To my luck, she smiled warmly. “I see. That is fine, then.”
I sighed in relief, as it seemed like our little exchange lightened the mood. “So, Call… I’ve been thinking since all the events yesterday, and I was wondering.”
“Yes?”
“Is Mr. Bird here? I have a few more questions.”
Suddenly, her face fell sullen. The birds in the trees began chattering sweetly as if to ask her what’s wrong. It was only then that I noticed red spots on her face and below her eyes, as though she’d been furiously crying.
“Call?” I asked, concerned.
“Well…” She brushed fresh tears from her eyes. “No, and it is rather a long story.”
“I have a feeling I was meant to hear it.”
The birds singing from the trees became quiet. The finches and doves below Call’s feet fluttered away with a squeal as she stood up. Calla came near me, but she didn’t stop by me. She continued walking. I followed.
To my surprise, she didn’t lead me into her house. We continued down the road where I had come from, walking in silence at a morose pace. She desperately looked as though she wanted to tell me what’s going on inside of her, but she clung to her own insecurities as though they were her life vest and only limped along with a pained expression of fear mixed with imminent tears.
“Did Mr. Bird go away?” I asked, hoping it would help her along.
“No,” she muttered softly. “He…”
Don’t tell me he died, I thought, shocked. My stomach turned sick.
“He transformed into a bird.”
What? At this, I tried my best not to laugh, but I couldn’t believe it. He actually was a bird all along! I pushed my hands into my face, desperately trying to hide my fit.
“It may seem rather strange to you, being an outsider, but he told me it was prophecy that he was to change,” she continued, so caught up in herself that she didn’t notice my slip-up.
“What?” I lowered my hands from my face, presently intrigued.
“He said, ‘When the 3 Angels are present, it will be time.’ Time for him to become a Legendary Bird.”
“Legendary Bird?”
“Yes,” she returned, barely processing the word. She lowered her head as though she just took an insult and is recovering from the blow.
“So, wait. There are Legendary Angels and then there are Legendary Birds, too?”
“Yes…”
Great, I thought, More stuff to try to remember. I made a mental note to get a notebook so I could write all this stuff down.
Calla’s tension wavered, and she looked upon me with interest. “It is quite interesting that you are unfamiliar of I*V’s Legends, for they are very well-known and often taught in schools and churches.”
“Oh, well…” I resumed my cool, detached stance to hide my uncertainty. “I sort of ran away from home when I was young and went off on my own.”
She blinked to hide back her surprise. “I see. I am sorry.”
“No, it’s OK.” I sighed away my nervousness. “So, what does that mean exactly?”
At this, she turned her head away again, focusing her empty gaze on the concrete. “I am not so sure myself. It makes sense in theory, in words written in a book, but now that the event has manifested, I feel very much at a loss to its reality.”
“I see,” I mumbled, a little glad I wasn’t the only one that was confused. “So, you can’t go home? It’s too sad?” I relayed, hoping she’d catch the undertone of compassion.
She stood quiet for a moment again. “My Dear Ima—my sister—kicked us out of the house.”
Then it hit me. “What?!” I complained to myself, accidentally yelling it aloud in a rushed, mix-matched sort of way, So Ima’s the bad one, then? Oh, man! I thought for sure we could be a power crime-fighting duo! Fire and water, man!
“My Dear Zeenith…?” Calla tried to get my attention through my random burst of unintelligible words.
“Oh, nothing.” I stopped myself, regaining my composure. “Why’d she do that?” I couldn’t help but sound surprised still.
Calla combed back her hair from her face. “I am not so sure myself.”
Are you sure of anything? I wanted to say teasingly. But I was afraid she’d start crying.
“She is meant to be the new Leader.”
“But… I thought it’d be you,” I said truthfully.
“She is the eldest,” Calla stated frankly, but her comment did nothing to convince herself. I felt like she’d used that excuse before already.
I changed the subject. “So, where’s 5?”
“Ah,” she perked up, remembering something important, “that is the matter to which I was advancing. My Dear Ima made him drink the USG solution, and he is also allergic, you see, so he has been suffering adverse side-effects from it.”
“You are saying that rather calmly,” I returned, a little surprised at her sudden determination.
She held her confident face. “And I believe you will be able to help us.”
“Me?” I pointed to myself, stymied. “How could I be of any help?!”
“You will see,” she returned, a tiny smile surfacing through her pain.
By the time Calla had finished her story, we arrived at the rental home she and 5 were temporarily staying in. The house was one of a plethora of simple white houses meant for people without residence and money to stay in for a limited amount of time. Although, instead of 5 coming out to greet us, a kid with blonde hair speeded from the house Calla gravitated toward.
Blonde hair? I thought as he speeded toward us. Who the heck is this kid?