The elevation hadn’t bothered her at the start of their trek up the mountain. But as they traveled higher and higher, she was becoming increasingly aware of how small the city was becoming behind them. She focused on her sights ahead. She forwent admiring their surroundings in order to ignore what was behind her. 

This plan worked well until they came upon a mechanism that would take them up the rest of the peak and down the other side. No one else seemed to mind the height, and they acted like the strange mechanism was something they encountered every day. At least, they didn’t show any concern over its reliability. 

The lifts were shaped into long chairs that fit 2–3 people. They hung on cables that at first glance didn’t go that high off the ground. 

There was no discussion as to who would ride with whom, Bahar pulled Canelle into a lift and they were off. One lone bar ‘secured’ them into the chair that lunged forward and upwards, at a speed that shouldn’t have scared Canelle, but did. 

What pained her most was that Bahar had been talking the entire time, and she had been unable to focus on half of it due to her internal dilemma. She prayed that she wouldn’t ask her any questions, as for the time being, Canelle was only capable of noises and meek smiles.

Reaching the peak of the mountain, the woman shifted gears, having recalled why they came up in the first place. “Oh, here we are! I wanted you to see this view.” 

Powerless to avoid the vision below, Canelle held her breath steady. There was an unattainable beauty in it, yes, a paralyzing otherworldly beauty. It helped to focus on the horizon, but her peripheral vision fought her, wanting to look at the colorful valley below. 

A great river carved out the terrain and the vegetation growing along it was overgrown, claiming the territory as its own. The land wasn’t fully free from the touch of humans. Remains of what resembled the towers from Dofev City protruded out of the immeasurable foliage.  

The structures were primitive compared to their successors. They were stout, and bore a resemblance to pyramids made of carved rocks. At their distance, it was impossible to see the details of the carvings. 

Canelle inhaled sharply, heeding the distance again. Her fingers were beginning to hurt from clutching the bar so hard. 

Only then did Bahar become aware of her discomfort.

 “Are you scared?” She placed her hand over Canelle’s on the bar, bringing warmth to her clammy cold hands. It was embarrassing but out of her control.

She concentrated on Bahar’s hand, allowing herself to spend her energy solely on that. Swallowing her nerves, she spoke, “The view is amazing, I’ve just… never been so far from the ground.” 

Her companion’s smile was empathetic. “I apologize. Here I was trying to impress you, and instead I have traumatized you, Canelle.” 

The visitor deliberated within herself, wondering if eye contact with Bahar was more intimidating than the view. 

She looked her in the eye assuredly.  “It will pass, I’m sure.”

Bahar squinted, she almost believed those words. Canelle’s faux bravery betrayed her. 

 “Can I tell you a story?” she asked with a determined smile. 

“Please,” the visitor squeaked. 

On cue, Bahar tucked her dark hair behind both of her ears and stretched her right hand outwards, palm down, fingers spread, straight ahead. “You see those mountains out on the horizon? You see how one of them has a blue hue, and the other pink?”

There were mountains on the other side of the valley, taller than the ones they descended. The shapes were different too, sharper and jagged. Stabbing through the thin layer of pink-yellow clouds.

“The blue one is called ‘Saturasule’, which is our word for ‘bright blue’, along with the name of an old hero from a Dofec myth. She was a human born under a comet of terror. A comet that was said to pass every three hundred years. ‘Mietlentes’ or ‘bringer of fire’. They called it that because the year following its passing would be plagued with volcanic eruptions along that mountain range.”

Canelle was under the impression that volcanoes were mountains of physical fire. She was dumbfounded to learn that they resembled typical mountains. 

“Usually the eruptions were devastating. Can you imagine? Restarting a civilization every three hundred years? It was during one of these years—actually it was during the night the comet passed, that Satura was born.

“They said that when she opened her eyes the first time, they were colorless. And while this perplexed the doulas, they found her healthy, so home the baby went.”

The lift they were in shifted, Canelle swore loudly, braced herself, then apologized. They both shared a short nervous laugh before Bahar resumed.

“When they returned home, her parents were shocked to see that her eyes were blue. Inside her home, they were green, and in the night they were black. This cycle had her family at a loss. It was only until a neighbor pointed out that her eyes reflected the color of the walls that the connection was made. Her eyes were mirrors, reflecting the color of her surroundings. If the room she was in was green, her eyes were green, and if outside, blue in the daytime, gray when cloudy, pink in the sunset, and finally, black in the evening.” 

An enchanting concept. Canelle wondered what colors Satura’s eyes would reflect, standing in the center of this valley. A blurred combination of the colors? Or the whole spectrum of colors around her? If she looked in a mirror, what did she see? A descent into an infinite void?

Bahar continued, “There are two versions of the story: One is that her first fifteen years of life were besieged by sharp, taunting, tremors. Volcanoes spewed smoke, threatening, tormenting, as if to say ‘we could eradicate you at any given moment’.

"In the second version, a volcano erupted every year until she turned fifteen. Every eruption would lose them another part of the valley. Until Saturas’ home was the last one standing.”

The valley was bewitching, and it baffled the visitor to think that it could be so dangerous. Aside from the soft whirling from the lift, the surrounding nature carried a peaceful silence. Sure, there were ambient sounds, but nothing remotely threatening or frightening. The distant mountains stood great and imposing, as they descended further into the valley. 

Humans thought they owned these lands, when in truth the land owned them. 

“Rumors in the town claimed that the volcano longed for its child, the daughter born under the comet. The tremors, the eruptions, wouldn't stop until she was returned. Satura’s parents fought for her, Satura fought, but there was no convincing anyone that she was normal. Not with those eyes of hers.

“One night, the townspeople came in through her window and grabbed her. They gagged her and dragged her all the way up the mountain, all the way to the mouth of the volcano, and pushed her in. In triumph, they declared the end of all their troubles. A bold assumption and a wrong assumption, they were naive in believing so.

“Like a phoenix, she rose from the fiery depths of the volcano, and she aged 5 years in the act. Some said it was from the betrayal, others said she found those years at the bottom of the volcano. Amidst being torn apart and seared together, she heard the voice of the mountain, heard its story, and heard its pain. Pain from its land being exploited by the mortals, and pain from being threatened by the comet.

“You see, the comet and the volcanic eruptions were only related by their feud. The volcano had no desire to erupt every 300 years, and only did so to fend its home from the threat of the mocking comet. 

“Satura swore then to protect the mountain. She stormed the valley, tearing it apart with her bare hands.” Bahar pointed below, outlining the river with her finger. “The water marks the path Satura took. She cracked the earth with her power, when she stood at the center of the valley, yelled towards the heavens, and called forth the comet Mietlentes.

“The comet was unable to resist the call, it broke its trajectory and returned to the earth. Satura met the comet at the peak of the volcano, where she ground it into the mountain range.” Bahar pointed to the mountains ahead once more. “That is said to be the peak of their encounter. After the event, she took the remaining survivors over these mountains and started a new way of living. What would one day become Dofev.” 

“Wow, did you make that up just now?” Canelle asked with wide eyes, no longer preoccupied with their height. They weren’t that far off the ground anymore, and she could see the pole that marked the end of their journey poking its head through the trees. 

Bahar laughed with delight. “Ah no, it’s a myth, more or less. I added some flourishes here and there, but I’m far too self-conscious around you to share with you something completely original.”

To believe that Bahar was self-conscious was to believe in flying pigs. The noble was good at masking it, if that were true.

“It’s easy to write about the things that you haven’t experienced when the people reading them haven’t experienced them either. I’ve had the fortune of living in a home where nothing material was ever missing. I’ve never been too hungry or too tired,” she explained. “I’m not ignorant of the real world however. In fact, I’m rather intrigued by the way others live their lives. Intrigued as I may be, reading about something is not the same as living through it, I know that. I can base my stories on what I have read, to convey the emotions of someone who is actually living it is beyond me though.”

“I understand.” Canelle would store this memory somewhere she would never forget it. “It’s amazing that Satura did all those things. What you said before about the role women have now, why is it that women are no longer allowed to do as they wish?”

“I’m glad you asked, as you make a good point. For a long time, the Long Table was made up of only women.” She gauged the expression on Canelle’s face to see if she knew what that was before explaining. “The Long Table is the name for the governing body here. Instead of one person, decisions are made up by a group majority. Among them, there is a leader who implements the final decisions. The Czitpar.” 

This struck Canelle as a complex topic simplified for the sake of time. She nodded to indicate that she understood the general idea. 

“Satura was the first Czitpar, and for a long time the Czitpar was a woman. Alas, many things have taken place since then. Wars fought and lost, famines, illness. It’s an old system with old flaws, and it's been taken advantage of for many years—don’t let me bore you with politics now, as you see we’re here!” 

The lift whirled louder, losing momentum at the base of the mountain, the mechanical parts had to kick into gear. It never stopped, only slowed down enough for the two girls to hop off. 

Landing on the ground filled her with a new appreciation for the solidness of it. Her legs were a little wobbly, and she longed to hug the floor. Instinctively, she turned to the lift behind them, expecting their companions to be behind them. But the chair's occupants were strangers, who hopped off and wandered off towards a trail.

A couple of lifts went by, some carried other tourists, some empty. 

Bahar expressed her suspicion,“Wow, they’re really going to abandon us like that?” She laughed and shook her head.“I’m not all that surprised actually. Let’s give them a few minutes in case they turn up. While we wait, let me show you something!” 

Through the overgrown bushes at the mouth of the trail, they found themselves at the entrance of a cave. There, Bahar took the initiative and pulled her into the cave.

“Don’t worry, we’re not going that far in,” she assured. 

They walked into the darkness without a lamp or a source of light. She could hear other visitors pass them on their right also without light.  

When they stopped, there was nothing to see in the darkness. 

Bahar answered Canelle’s question preemptively, “Give your eyes a moment to adjust.” 

Fading gradually, blurbs of colors faded into view. One second it was a hint of something and the next it was a radiating mosaic on the wall of the cave. Like painted glass, but glowing, in pinks, blues, greens and reds. 

“What is this? The rocks glow?” she asked, coming to a stop. 

The faint outline of Bahar grinning formed in the dim blue-violet light. “It’s crystals in the rocks, sort of. This is actually an art piece by an artist named Ledvif Berto. These rocks are found in nature, although they are scarce and found sporadically. He collected these over the years and assembled them together into an art piece. Is that less impressive? I still rather like it. He found comfort hidden in the darkness.” 

“That is very poetic.” 

Her tone shifted, her expression serious. “Canelle, if I asked you to tell me about your life, would you be offended? After my disclosure of wanting to learn about these things, you must think I only want to hear about you to exploit you. I promise that my interest in friendship is genuine.” 

“Your interest in friendship?” The visitor had to consider her wording carefully. “I don’t doubt your intentions, there’s not really a story here to exploit. But I also don’t see myself as interesting enough to befriend.” 

She shrugged as if that were no issue. “I’m interested regardless, and in particular your perspective.”

“This way?” A voice echoed from the entrance, it was Elvia’s. “Bahar! Did you come this way?” 

“Yes! We’re coming!” Bahar called back. 

“See, I told you they came this way.” Canelle heard Onixe say. 

They paused their conversation and Bahar led the way back. Canelle meandered after her, wondering if she even had a perspective to share. Growing up and in her working life, she had been told to not have a perspective, or to avoid voicing it. “Way to leave us behind!” Elvia joked when they reached the cave’s opening. 

“You left us. We waited a whole five lifts, and we didn’t see any sign of you three.” Bahar winked at Canelle. 

For some reason, this made Canelle meet Lior’s gaze, who appeared bored but smiled coyly when she caught the squire’s eye. 

The group made their way out of the area, and Lior slowed her pace to match Canelle’s. 

“What’s wrong?” the noble asked her. “You look like a ghost.” She kept her voice low and out of the hearing distance from the group. 

“Nothing, she asked me to be her friend,” Canelle muttered softly. 

“God forbid you make a friend.” Her tone defaulted to sarcasm.

“Well, it seems inappropriate, I’m ‘the help’, Lior.” 

“You can play in the big kids playground while you’re here. I know it’s not what you’re used to, and it probably isn’t what you think it will be. Wealthy folks are hardly not assholes.”  

 “I thought—you mean—you don’t mind?” 

If she wasn’t already, Lior then looked annoyed, “Why would I?” 

Canelle dropped the subject. Seemingly, to mull it over. But in truth, she dropped it because despite her own words, Canelle had the impression that Lior did, in fact, very much mind.