The lights were rising from the abyss. Again, as always, they would take their erratic courses to the top of the sky. Again, as always, light trails would slowly fade. The sky would sparkle and glisten irregularly, but as exhilarating and predictable as new song. Then the lights would fuse into the large bright ring that enclosed the barrier, and midday would lie flat upon Phar Sheeth. The lights, however, would be long in reaching the barrier. Their trek had but begun.

This was Zamani's favorite part of the day, when shadows first stretched long upon the cultivated fields below, when lights shot bright streamers through the mists of the nhola's night, piercing deeply through vine and flower to reach the living heart of the forest. There, the mist and light would vie. There, as always, light would win; mist and shadow would be put to flight. Daylight, victorious and jubilant, would rise and rise.

Zamani stood upon the voal of a lofty nhola, facing the castle-city, Zhereen. With arms akimbo, and breathing reverently stilled, he thrilled once more at the dawn. The waking noises of uncountable creatures arose from the motherly embrace of the magnificent forest that stretched out below him. Wings stirred. Legs stretched and straightened. Voices called and answered.

Zamani's eyes were drawn left, where a beautiful giant unfolded wings of red and white upon the billowing dawn. It lifted those wings until the black trim was visible. Gathering winds, the wings thrust dirtward, so that the sturdiest nholas danced and swayed. Mighty wings rose and fell. The forest gesticulated. This sight most grand was the kingdom's first denizen, Zamani's first subject. It was the oldest and largest of all the floaters.

Dimmed by distance, awash in mist, the old floater sailed up, slicing through streamers of bright morning light. Great wings of red and white flashed brightly through each morning shaft. Zamani sat and crossed his legs; the old floater's daily ritual was a treat not to be missed. Huge even in the distance, the floater changed direction with a monumental thrust of its wings. Up it went, sailing higher, moving out to probe the barrier.

Zamani's black eyes widened, absorbing the floater's moves. It beat it's way skyward and turned. It dove, headlong, into the barrier. Zamani felt as though he watched his old friend from the top of the sky. Time slowed. The floater fell back, beating the air with furious wings. So, the floater had failed again.

Zamani threw himself back with a grin, stretching his bare back upon the cool moist surface of the nhola. Such was the favorite part of his day. Always had, and always would the old floater rise up to test the barrier. Always had, and always would the floater fail.

Zamani opened his eyes to the top of the sky; already, it reflected pale light. The voal of the center-most nhola almost touched it. Someday, he reminded himself, he must climb it; he must conquer it. He must subject it to his will, as he had subjected all else in his kingdom. This was his forest kingdom; this was his world, and this was the favorite part of his day. All things were bathed in new light, and joy sailed high on mighty wings.

He filled his chest with cool air and shouted at the sky, “Zamani's.”

The sound struck the sky and fell back into the forest. Waking creatures answered him. He laughed, for all was well.

Then, his thoughts were drawn home. In the lower nholas, large green vines formed a supportive mesh for the loftier boles. They were very tall in the heart of the forest. So tightly woven were those vines that they grew together to form enclosures. Some were large, others small; most of them were home to the noisy zeo. Star gnats, too, were fond of them.

It had been a large, abandoned zeo hive that Zamani claimed as his. Zamani rolled to his feet and leapt to the nhola below. Nimbly racing over vines that were worlds in their own right, bouncing from one spongy voal to the next, and sidestepping the slippery sweetchurs, Zamani soon reached his home.

How he relished his home! So large it was, so comfortable and secure. Filled with treasures it was. How many middays he had seen in amassing such wealth, he could not say. Forever is a misty land without borders, but here and now had clean lines, and crisp edges, and, here was the door to his home.

He released the tightly drawn shroomskin cover from the lower stays, pressed through, and quickly pulled it tight. He knew that he must prepare for school, but there was still time enough for his treasures, so he turned and danced into the room with a leap and a laugh.

“Try for these; hobbedy, hobbedy!” sang he.

Hung upon the wall was the hand-crafted cage that contained two star gnats. Their

brightly flashing butts cast an orange light upon his many possessions. What should he take with him for his first day of school? There were colorful wings, quill caps, and pots. There were simple spears, staffs, woven rope, and silk vestments.

Clothing - yes! He remembered. This midday was clothing day, and he had promised Xarhn something special. He had collected a flower and made her a fetching dress the eve before, but what would he take for himself?

His mind drifted. Xarhn! How she pleased him. How she troubled him.

He sat by the table and sighed involuntarily, “Xarhn.”

So lovely. So sweet. He played her name across his tongue as if it was the sweetchur's treasure.

He knew her colors; he knew he could bend them at will, and yet . . . and yet. Within him stirred feelings unnamed, feelings his powers failed to constrain. How she troubled him; how he ached. Zamani had stuttered; Zamani had tripped. His strength had failed him, and his mind had lost its keen edge. All for the nearness of her!

The smell of her lingered in his nostrils.

But, he was Zamani! He was king and conqueror, wind song, and brushing breeze. His hand was high. He would ride the old floater; he would conquer the highest nhola; he would reach up with his own hand to the top of the sky. He would sing and dance circles around the girl, and disappear as the morn mist. Yes, she was only a girl. She, too, would he conquer.

And yet . . . what strange, new feelings these were. What ragged hot wings they were that fluttered in his belly. Was it possible? Might Xarhn conquer him?

“Enough,” he told himself. “To work.” He dismissed the pesky thought. And yet . . .

“Arrrgh!”

Now, what to do first? As he sat by the heavy table, his eyes wandered over his many possessions. He drew his hand across the cool, smooth surface of the table, and fell helplessly into a deep reverie. It was this morn last, when tiring of his forest triumphs, that he decided to breach the barrier and see what adventures lay beyond.

Inksgiving 2020 is here!

Inksgiving is an annual event on Tapas during which you can support me and your favorite creators AND get something in return!

For 48 hours, starting afternoon of Friday, Nov 20th, every drop of Ink given to any creator on Tapas will contribute to an overall goal. The more total support given during Inksgiving, the more you will get back as bonus Ink the following month. For example, if we reach 20 million in support given, Tapas will give you 20% of what you spent back!

Earn or Buy! (pupper and friends)

You can get ink by buying some of Tapas’ ink packs (Special ink packages will be available for the entire Thanksgiving week!) or you can earn ink by playing games, watching ads or taking surveys. You can find all options in your ink shop!!

Thank you!

I am too new here to expect much but to all of you who read me, I am immensely grateful. I sincerely hope you have enjoyed my offering.

Want to see more?

Search for #inksgiving2020 on social media to see other creator’s and Tapas’ posts and announcements for this event!