1st Day of Spring, 511 A.V. It was all so strange. So many days had passed. Had she dreamt it all? Had she really found the Ethaefal on the shore that day? She had awoken mid-slumber to a stranger, one who whispered her name and she had fled into the night. Eventually his footsteps had dimmed. When she returned in the early light, he was gone and so was Aon—there was no sign that he had even been there. Her mother had told her that all things had their time, and as a result, Liel buried herself in study. And when she said buried, she meant it. There were notebooks with pages copied from the Medical Library stacked high to the ceiling. She devoured all the theories, ate and chewed every word she could. She must not remember the Ethaefal—she was helpless now. There was nothing she could do and she refused to waste time. Her mother was worried for her, tried to comfort her—but Liel insisted nothing was wrong. “What a stubborn little Konti I have,” her mother would say, kindly, sadly. Liel would turn away. Had it been him? She had barely known him. What, then? She had felt him, for a day she had felt him and he represented to her a world unknown, a world full of mystery. She grew discontent. All she had ever known was not enough, dwindled, grew quiet. So she broke the quiet with knowledge. And as Spring came around, she began. Day One: Ashwadha She made a charming little sight, all white and surrounded by green. She was determined. This would be her little makeshift laboratory, with the sun as her ceiling and the grass as her floor. Eyes of bright violet scanned the book she held in her right hand. In her left was a white marble pestle, and right below it was the mortar. Several leaves and a few seeds lay within. “Grind into a powder… one teaspoon to every eight ounces of beverage…” Pink lips murmured the words, and in a cloud of white hair, she set the book down and went grinding away at the leaves and seeds. She had with her a stone jar of Saskatan tea. The powder was made, and most of it was sealed away into a little container, save one teaspoon. Measured eight ounces, poured, set her book fifteen feet away— Then she drank. It was chalky, strange. She knew she had to wait for it to kick in, so she set to work making more powder, keeping them secure in tiny, dark containers. Hours passed and finally, she turned to look at her book. “…Overexposure over a long… time can lead to heart problems… extreme cases heart attack…” Shocked and delighted, Liel couldn’t help but break out into a big smile, her delicate webbed fingers covering her eyes—then uncovering—and covering again. She could read most of the small text from fifteen feet away! Her first experiment had been a success. It was almost enough to distract her from thoughts of unknown worlds and that night, she went to sleep with neat little containers upon her shelf. |