Nothing we see is real. The senses carry their stories to the mind, and the mind must knit them into a seamless whole. Lost in the waves of this liquid sky, everything is shadow and light. To those who have eyes to see, it is easy to bend the light and make the shadow. This is the root of the Maker’s Arts.

Tien Shaa, Tides and Seasons

Vibrant scarlet birds flocked through the violet sky of Al-Benu, singing their sacred songs into the universe for protection and food. 

Ianus lost himself in their music. Would their song stir his soul the same way after the ceremony? He closed his eyes and sighed. Centuries ago, the Enmadra saved his people from slavery. After helping them resettle, they entrusted them to watch over and protect the life of the Sukallin. Not everyone accepted the responsibility. His father and mother did. So had his birth parents. What choice did Ianus have?

His time had come. Once they called him into the sanctuary, he would join his mind and body to another entity so much older than him forever. He would change into someone else.

Perhaps it was just a story, a morality tale to convince the young to share their bodies and life with another creature. He’d never seen an Enmadra. No one he ever met had. The stories say they disappeared only decades after liberating their people. Once, they controlled a vast interstellar empire that the Shedu inherited. While ruins existed, even on Al-Benu, they could have been built by anyone before they settled. Legends were hard to prove.

He opened his eyes and stared into the sky. Legends ruled his life. The ritual was a relic of the great saints who worked with the Enmadra. He had to go through it. He couldn’t betray the memory of his parents. Not that he had any of those. Everything he knew about his birth mother and father came from stories his foster parents and their friends told him. They died to save him. The least he could do was uphold their memory and their traditions, no matter how scared he was.

He turned from the birds to gaze at the temple of the Holy Ennead. Its towering stone arches made him feel so small. The stained glass mandala of the nine saints sparkled in the light to remind him of their faith and sacrifices on behalf of them all.

Straightening his robes, he tried to relax, but suddenly felt like the birds and trees shook in anticipation of this moment. It was just the wind. 

Ianus shook his head and sighed. Had he messed up his hair? He panicked as he ensured every braid was in place. Everything fell silent, and he squirmed, careful not to mess up his robes.

The wind still rustled in the trees, and the birds sang their song. People went around their businesses without thinking. The world should have stopped for him. This was a momentous time. They all sounded so distant, like they existed in a different world. 

Ianus stared toward the carved oak doors that led into the nave. The crowd was silent. It had begun.

Friends and too many strangers filled the pews beyond.

Why did so many people attend his Ascension? He stepped in and paced in the narthex. 

His adopted father, Ihy Khem, was a very popular friar in Shiloh. They must be here because of him.

He stopped, and counted the nine saints carved into the door, bringing each one’s life and name to mind. His eyes fixed on the image of Tien Shaa at the top. There was something familiar about the holy prophet, a friendship that warmed his heart and strengthened his faith. The closeness he felt to Tien Shaa and his mother Uma Nari gave him confidence his prayers were heard on high.

He smoothed his white robes nervously and closed his fox brown eyes. He recited his prayers. 

His chestnut skin paled as they called his name. 

Opening his eyes slowly, he took a deep breath. It was time to enter the temple and take his companion. 

He pushed on the aged oak as he had done a thousand times before. The doors were heavier than before. He pushed harder and stepped through.

All of those faces... The room was full. Every shade of skin he could imagine, peach to brown, to blue and red. Some attendants had fur. They were not from the village.

Slowly, he walked down the center aisle.

Ianus scanned the crowd for his adopted parents. They sat in the front row, smiling. 

Maya, his mother, waved at him. Her cinnamon eyes shimmered with tears of pride.

The sweet and spicy smell of the incense wafted from the altar. From its prominence on the dais, the aroma filled the room with otherworldly warmth. 

Everyone was so quiet. 

Ianus’ footsteps resounded off the marble floor. Sterile echoes broke through the sound of his breath. They all just sat in the pews, quietly staring at him. 

Ianus gulped.

Their expectations radiated from their eyes with the heat of the desert sun.

The tender touch of the incense that only a moment ago invited him into the heart of the mystery only numbed him now. He felt caged in. He wanted to run. Even the familiar bas-reliefs carved into the granite oppressed him. The saints were remote. They lacked grace. 

Taking a deep breath, Ianus tried to let the scent of the incense relax him, but the great responsibilities he would soon carry weighed heavily on his mind. After today, he would be an adult in the eyes of his community, and a guardian of another’s life. Stopping before the dais, he bowed to the altar. The golden laver in the center of the altar caught his eye.

“Ianus Akeru!” The green robed friar behind the altar cried out. The oversized, leathery wings of the tiny dragon-like Ceeri hanging onto his back opened. His cowl covered most of his face, only his pointed, ivory chin shown. “You have come to this place through many trials and tribulations, and may I say, a few more than most.” 

A whisper flashed like lightning across the congregation. 

“Do you stand before this altar willingly,” the officiant continued, “Knowing and accepting the consequences of the choice you make today?”

Ianus smiled at the friar behind the altar. He wished his father could have performed the rite, but that was forbidden. Family members could not officiate the ascension ceremony. At least his good friend Aashen could preside. 

“I do.” He pronounced confidently.

Looking down at the golden laver on the altar, Ianus blenched at the sight of his own boyish face looking back at him. Beyond the mirror-like surface of the water, he watched with trembling lips as the silvery black Sukallin churned in the water.

He could still hear Aashen speaking, but no one had ever fully explained the ramifications of sharing his body with another sentient life. He agreed to the merger because it was tradition. 

Every Shedu on his eighteenth birthday entered the temple to be entrusted with a Sukallin. The blending of the two species formed the core of their culture and identity. Without it, he would just be an Aerisian, empty and unconnected from the grand history of the galaxy. Through this bonding, he took his place as more than the descendant of former slaves from a forgotten world. 

Ianus repeated these ideas to himself in a rapid mantra. He wanted to calm his nerves. It didn’t. These expectations were nothing more than pressure to take on a persona he didn’t feel like he deserved. 

Would sharing the memories of the Sukallin’s countless other hosts with whom it had shared their life. He feared losing himself.

Aashen walked around the altar.

Ianus turned to face him and gulped. The weight of the crowd’s expectations washed over him again. He forced a smile.

Aashen winked at him and laid his palm on Ianus’ brow. “My child, may your life be long and full of joy and wisdom. Today you open your heart to another, may your life together be filled with peace.” Aashen took hold of Ianus’ hand, “On this day, we entrust you, Ianus Akeru, novitiate of the House of the Jade Moon, with Osanna, this great and noble Sukallin.”

Ianus gazed nervously into the golden laver. Holding his breath, he pushed his robe back from his right arm. A salty scent, reminiscent of an ocean breeze broke through his fear. He smiled and wondered if the merging would hurt.

Cautiously, he submerged his forearm under the cold water. The gelatinous Sukallin felt like seaweed against his skin. Every instinct in him told him to draw his hand out, but he resisted.

Pain, like a thousand needles, cut through his skin. The Sukallin constricted around his hand. An icy cold shock ripped through his fingers. The hematite—colored ooze slithered like a million worms up the dark skin of Ianus’ arm. 

Rivulets of blood dripped into the water. 

Ianus fought off a shiver as the Sukallin wriggled between his cells into the flesh of his arm, leaving only a discolored mark in its wake. 

The pain vanished. Ianus smiled. That wasn’t so bad.

Suddenly, the world spun around — 

His vision blurred. 

Warmth fled from his body.

His chest collapsed. 

He struggled to steady himself as the room went black.

Softly, in the periphery of his vision, a cold light illuminated an empty field that stretched out before him. 

Where was the temple? He desperately pulled at the air to find his breath. 

The light grew brighter. 

Ianus staggered backward as a great stone tower erupted out of the ground, scraping at the sky. 

It came out of nowhere... out of nothing.

At the base of the tower, something ghostly white glistened against the gray stones. 

Ianus couldn’t tear his focus from the strange white shadow. 

He approached the tower. 

The white light was a dragon... larger than any Ceeri that he knew of. The beast was sleeping. 

“It sleeps, blissfully ignorant of the world around it.” A soft feminine voice whispered in his ear. “Take a good look at it. Your time has come. Ihy’s time is passing.”

“No!” Ianus screamed, “My Father’s time is now! He is strong and healthy.”

“He stood by and did nothing at the foul deeds of his children!” The voice interrupted.

“What are you talking about? I am his only child! He adopted me when I was a baby. He has no other children.” 

A sudden gust of wind shoved Ianus to the ground. He looked up. A titanic red dragon rose from the ground. Its blood red scales glistened in the light. Savage teeth overlapped in its maw as smoke billowed from the corner of its mouth. It hovered over Ianus’ head. Calmly, it surveyed the tower. With a great burst of speed, it lunged forward. 

The white dragon stirred.

The red pulled back. 

“What’s going on?” Ianus shouted. “Why are you showing this to me?”

Silence.

The red dragon landed. Slowly, it crept toward the tower. Closing in on the white dragon, the red beast grinned slowly. Rearing up on its hind legs, it slashed the white dragon’s throat. 

Blood gushing from the wound, the white dragon let out a great cry. It reeled back. Its legs collapsed under him. Screeching, it thrashed about violently, as if fighting off numerous unseen assailants. Screeching, it crashed to the ground. After a thunderous roar, it fell limp beneath the tower. Its hollow eyes stared plaintively toward the heavens. 

The earth shook violently. A horrid clatter echoed from the very stones of the tower. Dust and smoke erupted from the grout lines. Ianus leaped back. Brick by brick, the tower crumbled and fell, crushing the body of the slain beast.

The red dragon crawled atop the rubble and bellowed in victory.

“Some have lost their soul to the machine,” the voice continued. “The cacophony of voices within the liquid sky is too much for them. Others have lost themselves to their aspiring spirit, thinking they can control the fluidity of thought itself. You must become the soul of the machine — swimming in the waters without drowning. Follow the path of the War Maiden and rebuild the tower.”

Ianus gasped. Everything vanished. He was alone.

His mouth fell open as the high altar came back into view. The statue of Uma Nari caught his eye. Her soft blue robes invited Ianus to prayer, “O holy Mother, protect us all from evil, stand guard at the gates of our cities and in the temple of our hearts. Pray for us, Holy Mother, now and at the hour of our death.”

Slowly, he turned around. The proud, thin face of his father stood out from the crowd.

“The rite is concluded,” Aashen announced triumphantly, “May we all go in peace.”