3. The Alchemist
Isolated on an empty star, the first lived centuries of discovery and wonder. Unable to understand the language of the star, she learned to communicate through taste and smell, senses deemed secondary and inferior on the diamond. She mastered the language of aerial beings and studied the dance of water until she could hear its song. For twelve hundred years she lived in this way, connecting to the blue hued star in the way of her diamond ancestors. But she soon grew weary as the days and nights became one, an endless lyric of incoherent words and holes. The first tired of the lonely song, longing for something more. Each night, she placed her hand on the dust beneath her, sending her longing deep into the roots until the moment her hand burned hot.
It first started as a whisper. A gentle wind blew across the blackened skies, descending just enough to barely touch the dust before rising again. The wind repeated this motion across the mountains until it arrived at the feet of the first. The wind quietly blew across her neck, speaking her name until the first awakened. The wind hovered patiently in the shape of a grey cloud until the first rose to receive the message.
The wind spoke of ancestors, purpose, and the message of the universe. It spoke of lands unknown in the west, colors, senses unknown, and a mysterious being in the west.
"Look towards the diamond seas. You'll find what you seek in the land of emerald leaves."
The wind picked up speed, gathering water and wind until it formed a swirling cloud of red and purple. It was through this portal that the first embarked on a westward journey to towards understanding.
The first traveled thirty-two years. Met with harsh temperatures, strange constellations, and harmonious discord, she also saw brilliant seas, shimmering fields, and graceful bounding creatures along her path. Traveling without compass, the first saw the way through intuition, a sparkling stream of sand particles swirling ahead like an airborne stream. Each night sky grew darker, each morning sun shined brighter, and each day, the creatures sang louder until the stream faded gently into the wind. This was the day she arrived at the shining emerald tree.
All went silent as the nearby stream slowed to a steady rhythm, hinting of abundance. The sun settled into the dip between the mountains, but not before setting the tree ablaze into a dazzling display of blinding green jewels before fading into a blend of honey and cinnamon-toned arms and legs. The first approached with reverence, running her fingers along the smooth cracks and crevices, tracing the map of the history of the tree until she found the hand. Gnarled and long with age and memory, she followed the hand with her eyes, realizing it was a compass. As the ground quivered in a low rumble, the first peered into the distance, waiting patiently until the hand delivered its message and revealed the answer. Black particles of obsidian swept across the earth and skies from all directions, as a dark cloud began to materialize in the distance. Morphing the cloud into a hill, hill into a mountain, the obsidian took shape as a glassy, temple-like palace- mountainous, powerful, and dark as the night. As the dust settled, a smooth path of glass formed a walkway stretching from the curved palace door to the feet of the first.
Here lies the home of the Alchemist.