☼ ISHAK ☼اسحاق
"Well time has a way of throwing it all in your face / The past, she is haunted, the future is laced"
"Well time has a way of throwing it all in your face / The past, she is haunted, the future is laced"
Ruth sweeps in close against you, and you are the slightest bit surprised. For all you invade her space regularly, she is not precisely prone to initiating contact. She stays at your flank even as you step forward, even as you say, “Shall we?”
(Is this good enough for you? she asked and you’re almost tempted to ask what’s gotten into you?)
”If you insist,” she says.
You don’t bother to affirm, already stepping towards the bloodied passage. For every step you take, Ruth takes more. Your hooves only clatter only on crystal, syncopated with the rhythm of Ruth’s gait.
You are not sure how long it will take to wind your way out of this maze, how many more times it might shift around you, how many more reflections will watch you. It doesn’t matter. Every step towards Solterra is surer than the last.
(There is still blood under, inside, the crystal. The strike of your hooves may ring clear against it but it is still there. If you were to tell the story of this island, you’d drip honeyed words over it until it was gone. You won’t.)
Eventually, the crystal underhoof thins and shatters. Then, it is gone altogether. You stand on the shore. You breathe deeply, long and slow. You breathe deeply, because you want to gulp in air. You want a wind to hit your face that tastes of sand. Just a little longer, a little further. You don’t have the travel time memorized, but you turn your head towards home. It’s too bright for stars, no sign of The Scorpion’s Throat or any of the Leaves of the Oasis Tree. It’s too bright, but you know where to look anyway.
(Behind you, in the last and closest crystal, your reflection watches you leave.)
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