The Heart Fountain

Eyes Open
The air rushes by me as I fall.
The 600 feet to the ocean will vanish in seconds.

I love this feeling of falling free.
But then I remember that this child’s body will not survive the fall.

I could hide from it all, and just wait for my end to come.
But instead, I open my energy eyes.

Three of the great singing birds, the Kishla, fly in a circle below me.
The energy within their circle feels strange, and pulls at me.

My fall will take me through the center of that circle.

I hear their song, rising up to greet me.

Balshown says that they communicate through subtle variations within their songs.

Unlike people, the birds can hold several different tones at once.

Each beautiful, intricate song is unique, and more complex than anything that a human voice can make.

I’ve heard their singing before, but there’s something different about this song.

When I reach the circle, I feel like I’ve entered some thick fluid, in which I slowly come to a stop.

Despite my surprise, I keep my eyes closed.
When the shock passes, I focus my energy eyes again, and see that I’m suspended in mid-air, about 50 feet above the waves.

The Kishla’s circle looks to my energy eyes like a strange disk.

Their circle of flight looks like a great shining ring.
The space within the ring seems to be filled with a clear, elastic material that covers the ring like a drum.

The disk seems to rest on, or form a window and gateway into a great well.
The bottom of the well seems infinitely far away.

Still at the bottom of the well, I feel some bright energy calling to me, and calming me.

The well is not within this world.
It cannot be reached without passing through the disc.

I rest comfortably on the surface of the disc at the top of the well.
And I listen to the kishla’s song, forgetting everything else.

How long have I been here?
It’s been minutes, but how many?

But then I begin to move.
I drift downward again, not in space, but within the energy well.

It seems so comforting, but I feel that this is not the right time to go there.

So I sing.

Not with a voice of a child or adult.
This voice is not human.

I can feel more than one sound shine out of me at once.
It is sound, but light and energy come with it.

My voices mix with the song, and subtlely change it.
The well disappears, and I am falling again.

But only for a moment, as hands grab me around the waist.
“Master Yagrin,” says Keela, “why are you falling?”

“Keela, the armband is broken,” I say, as I raise it up to show her.

“Hold on to me, master Yagrain,” she says. “I need my hands to repair it.”

I grab her tightly around the waist, but not using my whole strength.
My body looks like a child’s, but it is much stronger than it seems.

She lets go.
I hear a deep hum, and a few soft tones.

She puts the armband on me, and closes it.
“Try to fly,” she says.

I rise up a few hundred feet in seconds.
Then, I open my eyes.

The Well of Worlds
Keela flies up to join me.
We talk as we fly to the cave of the old ones.

“Master,” she says, “I saw you hovering in place for minutes, before you began to fall.”
“How did you do that without the armband?”

I describe how the birds weaved the disc that caught me, and the well that I saw through the disc.

“Master,” she says, slowly and carefully, “I watched you fall after you destroyed the Krale.”
“And I saw you suddenly stop and hover in the air.”

“I saw no birds.”
“But then, I do not have your energy sight.”

“Let me tell you a story Master Yagrin.”

“There were great wars among Energy masters, a thousand years ago, that nearly destroyed this world.”
“The survivors hid away most of the knowledge.”

“Some of the surviving masters remained as old ones.”
“Others secretly remained as sleepers, as you have seen.”

“And most of the masters left this world, never to return.”

“Some of these travelled among the stars on rivers of energy.”
“But almost all of the ones who left, traveled through a gateway between dimensions.”
“That gateway is called the well of worlds.”

“Legend says that it is guarded by three masters who took the shape of the Kishla, the great birds.”

“What do you think that it means, Keela?” I ask.
She sighs.

“The masters hoped that with time, we would all become wiser in our use of power.”

“Perhaps today’s masters are wiser.”
“I don’t know.”

“Perhaps the old ones have grown wiser too.”

“But there are the sleepers, who rest, unchanged.”

“And the legends speak of masters who will return through the well of worlds.”
“The prophecies tell of new wonders and new wars.

“Some who return will shine pure and bright like the stars.”
“While others will shatter the world with their power.”

“My father sees only the awakening of the sleepers and the new kingdom that will follow.”

Uncertain
She stops and we hover together in the air.

She faces me, almost nose to nose.
I feel her warm breath upon my face.

“My father will be thrilled,” she says, “when I tell him that you have seen and touched the well of worlds.”
“It’s another sign that the future is coming quickly.

“My father aches for the coming glory of war.”

“I fear it.”

“I don’t know you well, but I take comfort in what I have seen of your heart.”

“You will fight, but not for the pleasure of it.”
“I only hope that you will be strong enough to protect us against those who love war.”

I hear her words, and think of my love for the wild side of energy.
Is she right about me?

Who will I become as my power grows?

Will I come to love too much, the taste of my own power?

Will I enjoy crushing those who stand against me?