Roland stayed up late into the night, sitting on his hotel bed where they’d chosen to stay the night in Caladhlen, several books and notebooks open in his lap and around him.
There was a greater mystery than Shureen. For so long it had been a distant, hazy shadow over his journey, something he could ponder, but that he didn’t need to understand, not really, not yet. He’d put it further from his mind in the past six years, in his long absence from Wonderia and the Path of the Eight.
But now that he’d returned — and that he had real hope of bonding with Shureen and forming his third Pact — the old question, the distant mystery, demanded his attention.
Open in the center of all the books and notebooks was the Canticos, the collection of all the Songs inscribed during Elysia’s golden age, the revelations about past, present, and future, about the eternal and the mortal, about human nature, fate, truth. He had it open to the Song of the Promise, its subject matter more relevant than ever.
The Promised King. The Promised Queen.
The Canticos was in Ancient Elysian. Even now, eons after the Fracturing and Elysia’s disappearance, copies of the original text of the Canticos were in ample supply across both realms, despite numerous translations into numerous languages. There was no replacing Elysian, not really. It was a language in song, a language that could only be “true” in its original form, which made it impossible to perfectly translate.
Even so, cross-referencing seven different translations, and doing my own translation from the original…
We will face a frustrating conundrum before this journey’s end. Won’t we?
No matter how much he studied, how much he compared translations and looked to a variety of notes and other texts and interpretations, analyzing the symbolic language used throughout the other Songs…
Elysia was foretold to disappear, to be sealed away, to be “lost” to us. Perhaps not in an event like the Fracturing, but if the Fracturing hadn’t happened, in some way, somehow, it was going to be lost to us. And the Promised King and Promised Queen are so named because of the grand promise that accompanies their roles in the ultimate story — to reclaim Elysia. To bring about a new “golden age” that will last for the rest of the mortal era.
And yet…
Roland sat back, closed his eyes, pressed his knuckles lightly against his forehead.
And yet the Greater Fantasians’ Songs, as well as the Song of the Summoner, clearly say that the Path of the Eight is the path to Elysia. It’s just as Teacher said — if I can be all he hopes, if I can be the true Summoner, then I will “open the door to lost Elysia.”
That is the Path of the Eight’s ultimate outcome.
And yet… none of the Fantasians’ Songs, nor the Song of the Summoner, seem to mention the Promised King and Queen anywhere. But the Song of the Promise makes it almost too plain that the Promised King and Queen are necessary to reach Elysia after it has been lost.
So…
What now?
Four years before the death of Roland’s master, two years before he started on the Path of the Eight, he still remembered vividly learning the news that the Promised King, Artorius, just fifteen years old, had been murdered. It was the kind of moment one never forgot, that grounded Roland in a place and time forever. He could recall perfectly every detail. He and his Teacher had been in Albia, in Ars Moran, picking up some supplies and reference materials to advance Roland’s training. It was a clear summer day, the skies a cloudless blue, the air light with jaunty music from a pub across the street, the smell of fresh bread from the bakery next-door.
And then, all of a sudden, the skies had darkened. Thunder rolled through the clouds, dark, ominous clouds that brought no rain, only flashes of lightning and booming, resonant thunder that rattled windows and made people race to get indoors.
Alystair had turned to Roland, his gaze dark and distant. “Something terrible has happened,” he’d said. “Far from here, but its evil will be felt across every city in both realms.”
The dark clouds had lasted for one hour, and then lightened considerably, before bringing a soft, subdued rain, unstirred in the close, windless air.
Hours later, the news had come to Ars Moran: the Wonderian compound where the Promised King had been secreted away after an attempt on his life five years prior, guarded by one hundred of the very best Knights of the Promise, had been attacked. Everyone had been killed. Including Artorius’ parents.
Including Artorius himself.
Roland and Alystair had been sitting in a library, doing their best to take notes, to research, to study, while sitting with a strain of tension, knowing that some horrible news must arrive soon. And yet when the news actually arrived, neither of them could believe it. All their worst fears were superseded by the impossible.
How could the Promised King die? The Promise itself, the great Promise that gave everyone hopes that the beauty of the past, lost so long ago to the Fracturing, could be reclaimed, could be parts of their lives in this modern age… was a lie? Without both King and Queen, the Promise was… what? Null and void? But that could not be! All the joy that had accompanied the birth of Artorius, the birth of Guinevere, the Promised King and Promised Queen here, finally here, evidence right before us of the Promise soon to be fulfilled…
Was now gone. There could be no joy, not anymore. A single tragedy shook the entire world.
Somehow, faith in the Canticos hasn’t dwindled much since then. But hope has. And faith without hope… what is that, but just feebly grasping at a dream that we don’t truly expect to see fulfilled?
And now… if the Promised King and Queen are truly necessary to enter Elysia…
Towards what end do I now walk? Where does my Path lead?
Roland didn’t realize he was drifting off. How late was it? He was dimly aware of heavy eyes, of intending to check his watch…
And the next thing he knew, it was morning. Pale, oncoming dawn lightened his room enough to see by. He lay in a heap, partially buried by his books and notebooks. His pen, which he’d tucked above his left ear like he often did, left that side of his head aching, since he’d rolled over and slept on that same side.
Groaning, groggy, Roland massaged his head and sat up, mindful of the tomes and papers all around him. Slowly he ordered and stacked them, and finally checked the time. It was early, too early for breakfast, and frankly, by Roland’s estimation, too early to be awake.
But there’s no going back, now. And besides…
He glanced at his books and notes and sighed.
I can’t keep dwelling on this. The truth will come in time. And Teacher… you believed that I would open the door to Elysia, even long after the Promised King was slain. You hadn’t lost hope. Perhaps you saw something I cannot see. But more likely…
You just believed it, and hoped for it. With all your heart.
I should endeavor to do the same.
It being so early did give Roland ample time to get himself in order physically. To stretch, and bathe, and pray, and order his thoughts and belongings in equal measure before it was properly time for breakfast.
Today we cross the sea to Shureen’s Cove. Today, I enter her Canon for the second time.
Today is the day. To move forward, finally, from failure and defeat. To prove to myself that I can live up to all that my Teacher saw in me.
Walking down the stairs, Roland heard a lovely song on the air. Someone was playing an ocarina, with exceptional skill and lively, charming cheer. Roland smiled. He knew who it was from the song alone, and once he came downstairs and looked out onto the hotel’s main veranda, he saw her.
Tsubasa was awake, sitting on the railing, eyes closed, playing a cheerful tune on a glossy orange ocarina. Roland stepped out onto the veranda, taking in the salty sea breeze. Tsubasa’s song was a perfect accompaniment to the way the wind tossed his hair, the way the port city of Caladhlen was coming alive, bustling with early morning energy. Roland reached into his bag and pulled out his own ocarina, emerald green with intricate swirls of ocean blue. A gift from his Teacher, long ago. Listening to Tsubasa’s song for a few more measures, he got a sense of it and, lifting his ocarina to his lips, he joined in with a countermelody.
They played together, Tsubasa not missing a beat, not even opening her eyes to see who was playing with her. It felt just like when they’d sung together to open the Symphonic Vault — they’d blended together instinctively, with a familiarity that normally only belonged to the longest and closest of friends. They were such different people, and still such strangers to each other. And yet with music, those barriers melted away. Tsubasa’s song had been all cheer and charm, bright and lively, and it didn’t change when Roland joined in. It deepened. It wasn’t just what Roland added — his own sense of longing, of hope, of belief in the journey in store, the sense of adventure that always touched him when he was near the sea. It was also what Roland heard for himself, could only properly hear when he was joining her rather than just listening. There was a longing in Tsubasa, too. A hope for the future, a deeper, more mature optimism than her boundless, childlike enthusiasm suggested.
Through music, they saw each other with their hearts, deeper and truer than they could ever see each other otherwise.
Roland knew when the song was ending, could feel it in the song, hear it in the melody, and followed Tsubasa through it to the very last note. They let it hang in the air, resonant and bright, for a long time before finally lowering their instruments and opening their eyes.
“I knew it was you,” Tsubasa said, smiling at him. “Thanks for joining in.”
“Thank you for allowing me to,” Roland said. “And for leading so skillfully. I didn’t realize you played the ocarina.”
“It’s a favorite instrument in my family,” Tsubasa said. She turned her ocarina over and over in her hands with a serene reverence. “We all travel a lot, we spend so much time on the road or out in the field. There aren’t many instruments as travel-friendly as this. And none of the others that are sound half as beautiful.”
“I know a harmonica virtuoso who would take great umbrage with your assessment,” Roland said, but he was smiling.
Tsubasa raised an eyebrow, looking Roland over appraisingly. “Ah, you know from experience,” she said, and laughed. “You share the same opinion.”
“Guilty as charged,” Roland said.
“What a wonderful way to begin a new day!” said Erika, she and Enrique stepping out to join them on the veranda. “That was a lovely duet.”
“Thank you very much,” Tsubasa said, hopping off the railing and bowing with a flourish. Erika giggled, clearly Tsubasa’s intended outcome, and she stood back up with a grin on her face. “Are you two ready for breakfast?”
“Yes, please!” Erika said, earnestly, eyes wide. “I’m hungrier than I thought possible. And we had such a huge dinner last night!”
“This is normal for you in the morning,” Enrique said, a rare teasing look in his eyes.
Erika sighed. “Guilty as charged,” she said.
“Come on, then,” Roland said, smiling. “Let’s find Muirrach and have some breakfast.”
His heart was light, now, but even so, over breakfast Tsubasa noticed something about him. Of course she did. She didn’t seem to miss a thing about anyone. When she asked him what was the matter, after a moment’s hesitation, Roland went ahead and shared his concerns about the Promise and the Path of the Eight.
“Alystair believed you would open the door to lost Elysia,” Muirrach said. “And I believe it, as well. But your concerns are not unfounded. Without both King and Queen, the Promise becomes… murky.”
“Can’t the Promised Queen fulfill the Promise herself?” Erika asked. “I’m sure it would be much more difficult, but it would be so unfair if she was destined to failure by events outside of her control!”
“The Canticos is full of mystery,” Tsubasa said. “Truth and mystery so often go hand-in-hand. There are definitely all sorts of things even the most renowned scholars are missing. But there don’t seem to be any loopholes in the Promise. I can’t imagine what the Promised Queen’s life must have been like for the past ten years…”
“By all accounts, she and the Promised King were the best of friends,” Muirrach said, nodding. “But back to the matter at hand. Roland, continue on the Path. Do not let fears or worries about the future cause you to fall astray. For all we know, there is still so very much we do not know about the Greater Fantasians. The Path of the Eight isn’t just about the destination. Through bonding with each of the Fantasians, you will come to know them better than any other. Greater truths are waiting for you along the road ahead.”
“Yes, of course,” Roland said, his heart lightening. Why hadn’t he thought of it that way? Why had he become so suddenly consumed by doubt and worry, when he was only just starting along this road?
Remember what it was like, bonding with Kirin and Vi. How much the world suddenly opened to you, how so much you’d taken for granted was suddenly upended, transformed, revealing a greater mystery — and greater truth.
Yes, truth and mystery do go hand-in-hand, don’t they? When I finally form a Pact with Shureen, what will I learn then? How will I change?
They discussed the day’s plan, which was rather uncomplicated. The first boats would be crossing to Shureen’s Cove soon, and they intended to be on that first departure, getting to Shureen’s Cove as early as possible. From there, they’d have a chance to sight-see before entering the Canon and completing their objective.
But Enrique had small plans of his own.
“I’d like to see if I can get a few things,” he said, fidgeting somewhat self-consciously. “I… realize I don’t have money of my own to purchase things. But I…”
“You want some of the books from the conductor’s recommendations, right?” Roland asked.
“Yes,” Enrique said. “But not only that. I’m realizing a desire for a notebook or two of my own, to record my own findings, to organize my thoughts. And, well… I would need a bag, or a jacket, or something to hold my belongings.”
“A jacket with pockets!” Tsubasa said. “Pockets are essential.”
“I was thinking much the same,” Erika said. “About pockets, and about belongings. We’d both like to pull our own weight a bit more, to carry our own supplies and belongings, to be more use to all of you.”
“You didn’t have to —” Enrique started, then noticed others listening aside from his sister and shut up, looking embarrassed.
“There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Roland said. “I’m more than happy to buy things for you.”
“So am I!” Tsubasa said. “And I’d love to help you pick out jackets. It’s a really challenging endeavor. Let my expertise be your guide!”
“Is it really so difficult?” Erika asked, cocking her head to the side.
Tsubasa stood up, gesturing at her jacket. “This took me an entire week of visiting every clothing store and tailor in a ten mile radius, taking notes, comparing my options, haggling prices, investigating the possibility of modifications, before I finally found my darling!” She twirled, her jacket billowing around her.
“You call your jacket your ‘darling’?” Enrique asked, raising an eyebrow.
“You have no idea how vital it is to my existence!” Tsubasa said. “I only make it through each day because I have precisely this many pockets of precisely these sizes. Life’s difficult! If you aren’t prepared for it, it’ll blindside you with a sucker punch and leave you sobbing in a ditch on the side of the road, wondering why you didn’t respect the cruelty of life!”
“That’s… a bit dramatic, don’t you think?” Erika asked, giggling.
“If we do intend to go shopping, perhaps we should do so before going to Shureen’s Cove,” Muirrach said. “The shopping centers there can get quite crowded.”
“Because they’re amazing!” Tsubasa said. “We shouldn’t purchase anything unless we can’t find something to their liking in Shureen’s Cove. There are far greater options there. Brave the crowds! That’s just responsible shopping.”
“And if we get on the first boats, we’ll have plenty of time,” Roland said, smiling.
“Shall we get going, then?” Erika asked.
“We shall!” Tsubasa cheered.
They finished breakfast and made their way down the hill, through the bustling morning traffic of Caladhlen, to the harbor below. The sea stretched out before them, glittering perfection in the morning sun. These were the purest waters in all the realms. There were numerous docks, each of them specific to different purposes. Fishing boats were going out, and crews of pleasure yachts and luxury ships were making preparations for a day on the water. Straight ahead, tall and notable on the horizon, was the rocky outline of Shureen’s Cove.
And it was to the dock pointed straight at Shureen’s Cove that Roland and the others went. There were no grand liners here, no large galleons or wide sailboats with their tall sails ready for the sea breeze. There didn’t, at a glance, appear to be any boats down here at the dock so clearly marked for departures and arrivals to and from Shureen’s Cove.
But that was all part of the charm of this voyage. The boats here were round, sat low in the water, and had no sails or tall masts, no high decks for the helmsman to pilot the ship, no. These were really not much more than wooden tubs, at a glance, though wide enough to hold seating around the perimeter for a dozen passengers each. There were no frills, nothing fancy to them other than the crest of Shureen — a set of rising blue lines, like cresting waves — on the side of each tub boat. Standing at the ready on a slightly elevated platform at the back were the pilots, hands on a single oar that dipped into the sea behind them, their uniforms blue and emblazoned with Shureen’s crest, wide hats protecting them from a long day under the sun’s bright glare.
“We’re… riding in these?” Enrique asked, eyeing the tub boats with clear skepticism.
“There’s nothing to worry about,” Roland said, stepping down into the nearest boat. He stood on the seat so that he could offer a hand to the twins. “They’re perfectly safe. Hundreds of people cross to and from the Cove in these boats every single day.”
“And they’re part of the charm!” Tsubasa said.
“Are you ready?” Erika asked, looking at her brother.
“I… suppose,” Enrique said. Erika stepped down into the boat before him, with Roland’s assistance, and Roland helped Enrique down next. Tsubasa and Muirrach boarded the tub boat on their own, and the five of them sat on the wooden seats. Roland leaned back, enjoying the gentle rocking of the boat, the feel of the water so close beneath him.
I always loved the water. It’s what had me so excited for Shureen, more than for any other Fantasian. After all that went wrong… I’ve stayed off the water for a very long time.
I’m glad it didn’t leave me scarred. I’m glad I can still enjoy this.
“Must it sway so easily?” Enrique asked, sitting far forward in his seat, facing the center of the boat, rigid and careful.
“Oh, come on, it’s fun!” Tsubasa said. “And you really want to get close to the edge. You’ve never seen waters like these, I guarantee it.”
“I’m fine like this,” Enrique said, fixing his eyes on the wooden floor of the boat. Erika smiled at him and held his hand.
Their boat set off with just the five of them. It was early, the first departures, so there weren’t many passengers yet. The pilot spurred the tub boat forward with a side-to-side, full body motion, putting arms and legs, hips and shoulders into every movement. The single oar they wielded was both propellor and rudder, handling both speed and steering at the same time, and took years of training to properly master. Roland had, years ago, tried his hand at piloting once — there were day lessons available in Caladhlen and at Shureen’s Cove to give people a taste of it — and it had been a strenuous, full body workout with extreme technical difficulty. Forget steering; it had taken all Roland had to just inch forward across the water. He had great respect for the expert pilots that sped these boats across the water over and over again, day after day.
And he took Tsubasa’s advice, while also encouraging the twins to look out over the edge. The waters here were impossibly clear and pure, offering stunning views all the way to the sea floor and its vibrant coral reef. Fish of all colors, shapes, and sizes swam in, out, and around coral and other undersea plant life of every color, shape, and size, and even though they were hundreds of feet below, Roland could see them perfectly. There were no secrets in this water, no dark dangers lurking in the murky depths — the water was like the cleanest, clearest glass, offering a perfect view of all the life that thrived within.
“Oh, Enrique, it’s beautiful!” Erika cried, gazing wide-eyed over the boat’s side. “You’ve never seen anything like it in all the realms!”
“I will take your word for it,” Enrique said in a soft voice. He kept his hands clenched in his lap, kept his eyes fixed on the floor of the boat.
“If you’re finding it hard to cope with the boat’s movements, or fear of the water,” Muirrach said softly, sitting beside Enrique, “it is easier to fix your eyes on the horizon. Where the sea meets the sky, you can find clarity and peace.”
Enrique resisted for a time. But after a while, his face rather pale, his hands sweating, he finally looked up. Straight ahead, where they were going, towards the horizon. Roland smiled as he saw the boy’s posture relax somewhat, his hands unclench. He kept his eyes fixed on that distant, unchanging sight for the rest of their ride across the calm, placid waters.
Shureen’s Cove drew closer, and closer, and once they arrived, it was clear why the tub boats weren’t just a cultural fascination, but also the best functionally for going in and out of the cove. While the actual island itself was quite large, with ample space for hundreds, even thousands, of visitors, residents, and merchants to live and tour and work comfortably, the only entrance to Shureen’s Cove was a narrow tunnel through towering, rocky cliffs. There was no perimeter beach to Shureen’s Cove, no place to dock outside, so this was their only way in or out. Two tub boats could pass through the tunnel side-by-side, but only by the most expert hands — such a maneuver saw each boat come within a scant two or three inches of each other, and with only about that much clearance between each boat and the cliffs, too. And overhead, their pilot, standing tall on his elevated platform, had less than a foot between his head and the rocky ceiling. For their entrance, Roland and his companions’ boat passed through the tunnel alone, making for a much more relaxed experience for those new to this adventure.
Once through the tunnel, the view opened up, a wide vista that elicited gasps from both Erika and Enrique. Far across, two docks were at the beach, one for new arrivals, the other for departures back to Caladhlen. Each dock then had a boardwalk heading up to a multi-tiered town, boardwalks and stairs built into, around, and with the rocky cliffs, full of shops, eateries, a hotel, and numerous attractions. Beyond these buildings and walks, what they could only faintly glimpse from down in the water, was a dense jungle. On the far side of it was housing for those who lived at Shureen’s Cove, while in the center they would find the Canon itself.
But out here in the water, before even docking, there was already so much to see and be excited about. To the left, a high outcropping on the tallest cliff played host to cliff divers, those intrepid few who delighted in a daring leap from the highest point into the waters below. And those intrepid few…
Were mostly children. Children screaming and laughing, playing games with each other as they took their turn leaping and diving from the highest cliff, then swimming around, splashing and congratulating each other in equal measure in the waters below.
On the beach were numerous games being played, many people swimming in the shallower waters here, and sunbathers. There were clear lanes marked out where swimmers could not go, specified traffic patterns for the tub boats constantly coming in and going out. Up on the first tier of the town itself, a large stage was alive with music, a twenty-nine piece percussion ensemble with steel drums, marimbas, glockenspiels, djembes, bongos, and bells, playing the morning welcoming suite that Roland realized was more familiar than he’d expected.
Six years away, yet it remains etched in my heart. And all the emotions that accompany this music…
Not all of which are dark or gloomy. Thank goodness. This is not an evil place, and I don’t want to have it live in my memory as such.
Roland was the first out of the boat when they docked, helping the others up. And with that, he also smiled at them, and said, “Welcome ashore to Shureen’s Cove!”
It was putting on a brave face. But it was also a choice, in his heart, to seize this moment.
I’m not who I was six years ago. Today will not be the same.
Today… I move forward.
“Where do we start?” Erika asked, gazing around in awe. Enrique held her hand so she didn’t stray. “Do we go to Shureen’s Canon first?”
“No, we can save that for after we’ve at least seen the sights,” Roland said. “There’s no rush. That’s why we came over as early as we could. We have plenty of time.”
“Plenty of time for shopping!” Tsubasa said, beaming. “Come on, everyone! We have books to find for Enrique, and bags and jackets to procure. Oh, today is a marvelous day!”
“Don’t forget why we’re here,” Muirrach said, rolling his eyes.
Up the stairs they went to the first tier, and for a moment gathered by the stage and enjoyed the percussion ensemble. Then they continued up to the next tier, where a wider variety of attractions awaited them. Much of it involved stages featuring various performers — magicians, jugglers, fire-breathers, acrobats, and more musicians — because of the thriving performance arts community in this region of Wonderia. But part of it was also a deeper philosophical choice.
Shureen’s Cove was a tourist destination. The people who lived here had embraced that. But that didn’t mean they wanted people to lose reverence for this bountiful place of beauty and wonder, or for the Fantasian that made it all possible. Performances were out in the open, and there were no traditional carnival games or other events with prizes. In short — there was a startling lack of opportunities to throw money away at various events and short-lived attractions. Visitors were meant to enjoy the artistic and performance talents of those sharing their gift with them, not fuss about how much money they had left and where they should choose to spend it, missing out on some events to experience others. Yes, there was a large and luxurious hotel, and yes, there was ample shopping available. But prices were surprisingly low when there were opportunities to spend money.
The people who lived on and around Shureen’s Cove had, long ago, made the choice to allow people to visit, rather than close off the tunnel to outsiders. But that didn’t mean it had to turn into a commercialized operation, diminishing the awe and reverence for the Fantasian housed here. And while these tiers of the town closest to the beach were bustling, lively, and full of fun and shopping, the bustle faded the higher and farther one went. Roland knew from experience the serenity around Shureen’s Canon in the center of the island, and the peaceful walks that could be had through the jungle beyond.
And he was glad that he wasn’t in a hurry, that he and his companions could enjoy Shureen’s Cove as much as possible. It was his first time here in six years. The place was so much the same as the last time he’d been here, but now he saw it through new eyes. Time, experience, and circumstances could change so much.
Even though Shureen’s Cove hasn’t changed, I’ve changed. It changes my perspective, and makes the entire world seem to change around me.
And that gives me hope — hope that this time will be different, wonderfully different, from the last.
Just as Roland and Tsubasa had promised, they spent quite a lot of time shopping. They sought out the books on Enrique’s list, and found every single one, as well as a notebook and several pencils and pens of Enrique’s choosing — and Erika got herself a notebook separate from their dream journal, as well, along with a few new pens and pencils for herself. And to help with carrying them, Tsubasa found Enrique a very sturdy messenger bag, and a lighter, sleeker one for Erika. Stylish, too — the twins picked out the colors, matching white-and-blue designs that were easy on the eyes and matched their white ensembles quite well. Erika was immediately taken with hers. But once Enrique put his books in his bag and slung it over his shoulder…
“It’s too light!” he said, gaping. “It’s like there’s nothing in it at all.”
“That’s the idea,” Tsubasa said, looking quite proud of herself. “It’s a portable application of pocket space.”
“Pocket space?” Erika asked, cocking her head to one side.
“Wonderian magic,” Tsubasa said. “Lets you carry as much as the space in question is designed to fit, while ignoring all the weight. Perfect when you’re a smaller kid who’s gotta carry a hefty assortment of books, huh?”
“I was more than happy to deal with their weight,” Enrique said. He pursed his lips slightly. “It’s certainly convenient, but an unnecessary convenience.”
“Well, excuse me for trying to be helpful,” Tsubasa said. She sighed, then knelt in front of Enrique and pointed out a crest on the latch of his bag. “See here? If you press the center diamond, it deactivates the magic. The choice is yours. But the bag was made extra sturdy to give it some sense of heft and weight even with its contents essentially weightless.”
Enrique wasted no time in pressing the diamond on the sigil. His torso tilted ever so slightly with the new addition of the books’ weight, but he righted himself quickly. “Thank you,” he said. “I’ll keep it in mind. I…” He looked away. “I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful.”
“Not to worry,” Tsubasa said, smiling. “Come on. Let’s find a pair of jackets for the two of you, shall we?”
Here was where it took a great deal of work to rein in Tsubasa’s passion. She was entirely committed to searching out every single jacket in Shureen’s Cove that would fit the twins, compare them to each other, and then find the perfect combination of price and quality. Erika proved the skillful negotiator, saying, “For my brother and me, it’s really about how the heart speaks. When we find what’s right, we’ll know. But we count on you to help us find what won’t be found so easily, the perfect diamond in the rough.”
After four stores — Shureen’s Cove had twelve apparel stores and boutiques, so they didn’t even make it halfway through the plan Tsubasa had in mind — they found the diamond in the rough that spoke to both Erika and Enrique. They left clad in white jackets with a feather motif that complemented their current clothing quite well, particularly the white feather ornaments that adorned their ears.
And, best of all, they had numerous pockets, inside and out.
“It’s perfect!” Erika said, twirling once, looking down at hers. “Oh, I love it. Thank you, Tsubasa, Roland.” Enrique echoed her thanks, and they both bowed to the pair of them. While Tsubasa had done the searching and finding, Roland had paid for their choices. It was a true team effort.
“And we’ve been able to see plenty of the opening sights along the way, too,” Muirrach said. “Shall we stop for lunch, and then head further up and further in?”
“It’s about time you entered Shureen’s Canon, isn’t it?” Erika asked, looking up at Roland.
“It is,” Roland said, feeling a strange thrill of anticipation. Not quite nervousness, not quite excitement. Something… undefined. In between. “But yes, lunch first sounds like the perfect plan.”
“Let me pay this time!” Tsubasa said. “I feel bad for your wallet, Roland.”
“I have plenty of funds left, I assure you,” Roland said with a chuckle. “I really don’t spend a lot of my salary — mostly just food and books, and occasionally clothing. I have ample savings to spare if what I brought runs out.”
“I insist!” Tsubasa said, cheerful but firm.
“Then I humbly accept,” Roland said. “Thank you.”
They headed up to the topmost tier of the beachside town, where they were spoiled for choice with various cafés, bistros, and assorted eateries. There were dishes from all over Wonderia and Albia on offer, and the fragrant smells of meats, fruits, vegetables, spices, baking bread, and more were overwhelming.
Since Tsubasa insisted on paying, she also insisted that the choice of where they eat be up to the others. “It’s my treat!” she said. “So pick whatever you like!”
Roland and Muirrach both agreed that they’d be fine with almost anything — and, sharing a look, Roland realized that Muirrach also internally agreed with him that it would be best if the twins were to choose, regardless. They had seen so little of the world, and this was their first time in Wonderia. It was only right that they lead the way when possible.
Wide-eyed Erika and reserved-but-clearly-intrigued Enrique led them into a place specializing in coastal Wonderian cuisine, with outdoor seating that had the perfect view of the entire town, beach, cove, and cliffs below and beyond them.
“It’s warm here, but not unpleasantly so,” Erika said, sticking her hands in each of her jacket’s pockets in turn. “This really is a lovely place. And the water is so clear! The coral reefs below are so striking! That’s all Shureen’s influence, isn’t it?”
“She is the Fantasian of rivers and seas, rain and snow, of water in all its forms and for all it represents,” Roland said. “Her Canon is a wellspring of pure, perfect water, both fresh and salt. For miles around, the water is just as pristine as this, no matter how everything else may change.”
“No wonder so many people live and work and visit here,” Erika said. “So then Kirin’s Canon must be in a lush woodland, right? What about Viatos’ Canon, and Jurall’s?”
“You’re quite knowledgeable about the Fantasians,” Roland said, smiling. “Vi is the Fantasian of the air and sky, of wind and boundless freedom. Her Canon sits atop the highest cliff beside a wide, deep valley, where powerful winds blow through all the time. And yet they aren’t destructive, and they often serve to carry pollen and seeds across the realm, ensuring the constant growth and abundance of flowers and trees. And there are plenty of pockets in the valley and among the cliffs where the air is so gentle, so calm, and it is the cleanest, purest air in all the realms.”
“Do any of the other Fantasians prefer a nickname?” Erika asked.
Roland chuckled, remembering his meeting with Viatos, and the spunk and charm of the second Fantasian, such a contrast from calm, gentle Kirin. “Vi is an outlier in that respect, as far as I know,” he said. “But it certainly suits her personality. As for Jurall’s Canon… I’ve only read and studied a little bit. Master Alystair preferred to have me focus my studies on a Fantasian only when I was ready to travel to their Canon and form the Pact.”
“Jurall’s Canon sits within Mount Fuarain, surrounded by the city of the same name,” Muirrach said. “The Mount itself is a volcano, the largest and hottest in all the realms. But though it has erupted several times throughout history, Jurall has always protected his followers in the city, and diverted the clouds of ash and flows of lava to places where they do the least damage, and often even help heal and strengthen the land.”
“Heal and strengthen?” Erika asked.
“Fire can be destructive,” Enrique said thoughtfully, “but also purifying. Ash and lava both have been found to create the most fertile, rich soil in the realms. Fire and heat are also some of the most potent sources of energy for more technological societies.”
“Very true!” Tsubasa said, beaming at him. Enrique looked away, blushing slightly at the praise. “Yukitoshi, the capital city of Fuyuo, actually sits atop a geothermal hot spot, and that’s been a rich source of energy for technological advancement and innovation. And it’s no surprise that the city is famed for its hot springs.”
“As is Mount Fuarain,” Muirrach said. “There are many hot springs that claim healing properties, and they can be relaxing and enriching, there’s no doubt about that. But Mount Fuarain’s hot springs are unparalleled in their restorative powers, healing even major illnesses and injuries. And those who bathe in their waters regularly often live decades longer than their peers.”
“ ‘Miracles flow from the Fantasians’ abundance’,” Roland said, quoting his Teacher. He gazed out at the cove, at its sparkling waters, marveling that even from high up here he could still see down to the vibrant coral reefs deep beneath the water’s surface.
“Then our journey won’t be short on amazing sights and experiences,” Erika said, beaming. “Oh, I’m so pleased! Enrique, isn’t it exciting?”
“It is,” Enrique said. He, too, fixed his eyes out at the world, down at the water, taking in this brand new vista. Slowly, he turned his attention to Roland. “What kind of powers do the Fantasians grant the Summoner? We’ve seen you use Vi’s power twice, and both those times it was strong, targeted wind to carry our foes away. But that can’t be all there is to her, can it?”
“I’m still very much just a student,” Roland said, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “And while I spent the last six years studying the Fantasians further… I spent very little time honing my actual Pact artes, and the powers that Kirin and Vi have granted me. I have a very long way to go before I’m truly tapping into all their gifts.”
“Muirrach, you must know,” Tsubasa said. “You’re a scholar about all of this, aren’t you?”
“The gifts the Fantasians grant to the Summoner are not consistent,” Muirrach said. He sat back, a thoughtful look in his bulbous eyes. “They have differed from one Summoner to the next. Each Summoner relates to and bonds with each Fantasian in their own way — it is a blending of hearts, two souls uniting, changing each other forever. The powers Roland awakens depend on him as much as on the Fantasians.”
“So basically, you need to study less, and practice more,” Tsubasa said. “That’s how you’ll find out just what kind of Summoner you’ll become.”
What kind of Summoner I’ll become…
Will I be who my Teacher believed I could be? And how do I become that?
I walk the Path of the Eight, that other Summoners have walked before me. But my Path is different from theirs. Where will my Path lead me?
They ate, and drank, and happily headed off, deeper into the island. A lush jungle awaited them, but its density was nothing to worry about — wide paths had been claimed and maintained for centuries, and it was an easy walk to Shureen’s Canon.
Roland’s heart caught in his throat when he finally laid eyes on it for the second time in his life. The jungle opened out into a beautiful clearing. The symphony of birdsong, the sounds of other creatures roaming the thick jungle floor, even the sound of the wind teasing the branches and leaves, all faded away into a sudden pocket of humbling serenity. Though there were nearly a hundred other pilgrims visiting the Canon, they were nearly silent, save for scattered, hushed conversation, the faint, soft brushstrokes of painters and pencil-scratching of drawers capturing this moment in time, and quiet, reverent footfalls.
And water.
There was the gentle sound of currents running off from the pool through various streams, going around to bless the entire island. Not a splash, not a strong current or rapids, just the calming babbling of brooks going on their way.
The pool itself was surrounded by round blue stones that reflected the light gently, playing those reflections across the water in a way that was easy on the eyes, not blinding or glaring. The floor of the pool, visible through perfectly clear water, was made up of similar blue stones that were flat and smooth. And in the center…
The entrance to the Canon.
Rising about ten feet up from the water, a great stone archway revealed a dark entrance, hiding what lay within. All up, down, and around the archway were blue etchings of Shureen’s wave-like crest, along with her Song in Elysian, and other water symbols and renditions of Shureen herself, beautiful and serene.
Roland gazed upon it, and found that same thrill of… the in-between. The undefined.
“Brave heart, Roland.”
His companions looked to him, but said nothing, simply waiting. Roland looked at each of them in turn, and realized just how dramatically his life had changed, how drastically different circumstances were from his last visit.
All I had then was my Teacher. He led, and I followed. Now…
Now they look to me. I’m the one who leads. But with them by my side, I’m…
…not afraid.
Roland rolled up his sleeves, revealing the tattoos marking his Pacts with Kirin and Vi on his right forearm. He walked forward, leading the way towards the pool, his companions following.
The crowds took notice. People saw him, saw his arm, saw his tattoos, and eyes went wide. Everyone stepped aside, making way for “the Summoner,” who they talked about amongst themselves in hushed voices.
I’m not a Summoner. Not yet. I’m still just a student, still forming the Pacts and understanding what it all means.
But I’m on my way there. And today, after six years…
He paused at the edge of the pool. While most of the pool’s water was deep, deeper than he was tall, there was a lone path straight towards the Canon’s entrance, where the water was only a foot deep. Roland took his first step into that water, onto that smooth stone path. The water was warm, but also cool. Gentle and inviting.
…I’m taking my first step forward.
He continued along the path, his companions following. Once they were all with him in the water, he felt a gentle current around his feet. It wasn’t something that forced him into action, that pushed him against his will. It was too calm, too kind for that.
But it was a current moving towards the Canon’s entrance.
After my failure before you last time…
You know who I am. You know even before I enter your Canon. And yet… you invite me in?
Roland felt tears sting his eyes, and he blinked them away.
If I succeed, finally… then I will allow the tears to fall.
He’d hesitated, multiple times, before this walk through the water. But now, when he reached the stone archway, there was no hesitation. Head held high, gathering his courage, Roland stepped inside Shureen’s Canon.