1st day of First Bloom, Season of Glade, Year 120
[indent=20]Sparks from the fire rose to the sky seeking their place among the stars. The pulsating heat from the pyre reached the gathered Jastai who circled it to send off one of their storytellers.
[indent=20]Rook, Arlen thought. His chest was tight. The flames scorched the air, making it hard to breathe. At least, that’s what he told himself.
[indent=20]Rook. A trickle of sweat ran down his back under the coat.
[indent=20]Rook died at the ripe age of eighty-five. He chose the life of a storyteller instead of chasing the glorious death of liberation.
[indent=20]I wonder what his eyes will look like. A random thought welcomed itself into Arlen’s ind. He dropped his gaze to the ground. The flame has already feasted on the clothes, the hair and the skin. It freely continued to devour the flesh.
[indent=20]The whole tribe gathered for the funeral. They all paid their respects. The young who would often listen to Rook’s stories saw the glories recounted in the flames. Their eyes burned with a determination that Arlen knew too well. They thought. No, they were convincing themselves that they would beat the time, break the cycle. They would free themselves so that they wouldn’t have to be reborn like Rook had chosen. Yet, they held immense respect for the path the Rook walked.
[indent=20]Those who were close to Rook would step forward and say a few words. The lovers, men and women, recounting their memories of the storyteller and what he meant to them. He was everything and anything to everyone. His relationship with the tribespeople was as varied as the number of people in the tribe.
[indent=20]Often, silence settled over the crowd, disturbed only by the crackling of wood and sizzling of flesh. Arlen was nigh hypnotized by the sight of his friend and what he looked like underneath his skin. It was rather surreal to see him being roasted to ash. Death by beast was a different calibre. It was expected. But this? This was...uncomfortable.
[indent=20]Arlen shifted from one foot to another. A flicker among giants, he remembered Rook telling him when they were children. A flicker… That was the duration of Jastai’s life on Arlen’s timeline.
[indent=20]He shifted his weight again. Then he took a step forward signalling his wish to speak.
[indent=20]The silence didn’t shift. The fire still roared. The others waited patiently until Arlen was ready to start.
[indent=20]But where could he start?
[indent=20]“There is so much I can tell you about Rook,” he said, taking in a shaking breath. “He meant a lot to the tribe and the tribe meant a lot to him.” A few people nodded. “But he meant something different to me than he did to any of you.” He heard Mor, the lover of both Arlen and Rook, release a quivering breath.
[indent=20]“By now, we all likely know that I am not Jastai. I’m neither a human either. My life is starting to be a testament to that. So to me, in this tribe where being alive is ever-changing, Rook was a constant. So far it seems, I will continue on living until one day, many, many decades from now I may eventually die. Those I shared my childhood with,” he extended his arm towards the pyre, “now they are all gone. And whilst I will remember each and every single one of them, honour them...Rook will remain as the closest to me of them all.” Arlen stopped, feeling how his chest tightened more. It was pushing up emotions he didn’t want to set free yet.
[indent=20]“Rook.” His voice lowered. “He knew the complexity of growing old and the costs. And in so many ways I wondered if he ever regretted it.” He cast his gaze over the crowd. “But then, here he is. Burning on a pyre, because he could have gone a sought a glorious death otherwise. His death isn’t one we envision for ourselves. Yet, like Rook, we are constant in our convictions, constant in our paths.” Arlen’s gaze swept through the crowd again. Some were nodding, others looked at their feet. If there was anything Arlen has learnt throughout his life with Jastai, it was that their determination equalled to none.
[indent=20]“Jastai lives are short. It’s the way we live. We live to die in ways that will free us. Rook’s freedom laid in knowing he could share that with our youth and he was willing to pay the price of another life. He is our reminder that there is value in any death because each comes with consequences.” Arlen pressed his lips together. The tension in his chest seized his throat. He welcomed the silence for a while.
[indent=20]“Rook was my constant and a reminder that whatever my origin, whatever the path I’ll walk as long as I remain determined whatever price I’ll pay for it will be worth it. In his memory, we should continue pursuing our own paths with the same determination. One we can learn from his example.” The crowd hummed in response. Some offered him a smile of appreciation. And so with a final nod, Arlen stepped back, releasing his right to speak and offering it others. His eyes remained fixed on the burning mound. And the crowd stayed silent.
[indent=20]A hand heated with fire within and without wrapped around his elbow. She was burning, struggling to control the element inside her. But he didn’t move away. He welcomed her touch instead.
[indent=20]“You have outlived all your peers, Arlen.” An elder Jastai stepped forward. It was a man of scars gracing his face and grey in his hair. A younger storyteller. Arlen nodded at him.
[indent=20]“You have imparted your stories upon us in ways that we do. You are one of us even if you continue to live after we are all gone.”
[indent=20]The pressure in Arlen’s chest seized his throat again and a shiver ran down his body.
[indent=20]“I think I’ll speak for everyone here when I say this. You hold our history, Arlen. You hold our lives in your words and with them our eternal memory.” The crowd hummed in agreement. “We may not know what you are though we may guess. But you and Rook to me you were almost one and the same.”
[indent=20]A sparkle among giants.
[indent=20]“What I know for sure is this,” the older man continued. “You are our Chronicler. A man who has outlived all and will continue to outlive all. Remember us, Arlen. Remember us and don’t forget so that those who come after us will know who we were, where we came from and where we went.”
[indent=20]“Aye,” a few voices from the crowd resonated. Others hummed their consent. The hand around his elbow squeezed.
[indent=20]Chronicler, Arlen thought, uncertain how he could carry the title, but unable to dispute its grounds.
[indent=20]“As long as I live,” Arlen’s voice broke, causing him to become silent for a moment. “As long as I live,” he tried anew. “I will remember the people of this tribe. I promise you that. Whatever happens. You are my home, my people and my family. I will tell all of this tribe and if no one else, I will always remember you.” Mor’s body pressed into his. Her breath pushed into the crown of his head and a hot tear dropped onto his shoulder.
[indent=20]The older man nodded, others who were looking in Arlen’s direction nodded too. Then everything returned back to the way it was. The silence blanketed the scene, disturbed only by the crackling of fire and sizzling of flesh. And in such a way where ceremonies were not necessary, a title was bestowed upon Arlen that he never imagined he would hold.
[indent=20]“He would have been proud, hearing you speak like this,” Mor whispered down to him. Arlen allowed his fingers to brush against her thigh.
[indent=20]“He would have been proud to hear everyone speak the way they did,” Arlen answered, freeing his hand to wrap it around her back, offering comfort.
[indent=20]“He often asked why you never loved him back the way he loved you.”
[indent=20]It hurt Arlen. It hurt because he knew Rook was plagued with that question. And it hurt him also because it was something Arlen was never able to give Rook back. No answer Arlen offered ever satisfied Rook. And now, Arlen had no more answers to give.
[indent=20]Maybe in the next life, Arlen thought. And the air was getting harder and harder to breathe.
[indent=20]It was then that he couldn’t hold back anymore. He was watching his dearest friend burn on a pyre to ash with so much still left to tell him, so much to do, but not enough time. He couldn’t even give Rook the one, simplest thing he asked for - love. But it had never been simple, had it?
[indent=20]Otherwise, the tears would not be streaming down Arlen’s face.
