Not many can say that they’ve called upon the Abyss from beneath the Citadel, but that honor was given to a resident of the realm above when she gave a piece of it an entire heart. The pomegranate fell like a bleeding anvil into the stone well, and sang like a bell all the way down. Instantly, the shadows of the Deep swirled and coalesced, rising up and out of the shittah as if it had, all along, been a flower waiting to bloom.

The girl, still with pomegranate juice on her hands, reeled back, shielding herself as the darkness took on the shape of the living before her. Shadowy hands unfurled, eyes like white coals opened wide. Faint feathers of light about the shade rested around the darkness of her form. This, in turn, collapsed over the newly-given heart like a shutting eye.

The shadow of the Boundless below existed in the known with one sudden breath. Echoes, gentle and finite as periwinkles, lapped in waves about the small clearing. The shade rose up further a bit, then crumbled upon the pillowy moss and birch leaves radiating from the well. Hearts are often filled to bursting, and they’re the very first things we’re supposed to bear.

After a silent moment, the girl asked, “Did it work?” Her voice was scratchy and sore, but shivering with the sweetness of honey and almonds. She reached out, hesitantly, to touch the shade’s hand. The latter shivered at the contact as the fluttering warmth of the living jolted through her.

The shade felt her heart beat rapidly beneath her skin, and touched her chest with her hand. She could practically taste the throbbing splotch of color and life in the midst of the nothingness at her core as she looked up at the girl who’d called her. The shade suddenly ached with a question, which hesitated at her throat briefly as though it didn’t know the way out.

“Why am I here?” she finally asked. Her voice was soft as ash but burned at its edges. It felt nice in her throat.

“I – I need your help,” the girl said. She slid closer to the shade across the lacey lichen upon the ground. “I called you because you’re the only one who can help me, and I’ve got nowhere to go.”

The shade looked up at the cavern ceiling, high above. The stone seemed to pulse in synchrony to her heart as faint bands of black and gold engaged in soft pirouettes.

“Where are we?”

“This place is called the Citadel,” the girl said, gesturing all around the clearing and up at the lanterns draped over the trees’ boughs. “I’ve lived here since I was born.”

The shade placed one of her hands over the ground, marveling at feeling of the soft, breathing moss. She sat up and looked down, eyes watering with emotion. “This place feels alive, like me.” Red droplets pooled and slipped over her cheeks.

The girl smiled, not moving her gaze but running her hand over the earth as though she was reading it. “My teacher used to say that even the stone above us is alive.” She bowed her head and the smile fizzled and vanished. “But soon there will be no life left. I wish I could see it again before I go.”

Her voice dropped to a whisper so quiet that even the ferns seemed reluctant to eavesdrop. “I’m the only person still here. I gave you a heart because…I hoped you would lead me home.”

“Oh.” The shade felt uncertainty flutter over her, but she didn’t push it on the girl. A beat of silence followed.

“What should I call you?” asked the girl, when she was ready.

The shade opened her mouth, but found for the first time since her incarnation that there were no words waiting upon her tongue. The girl smiled once more, and inexplicable relief stilled the former’s thoughts.

“I suppose you don’t have a name, other than the place you came from,” she said. “The Deep. Tehom, we named you.”

The shade frowned slightly. That name, while it sounded familiar enough, didn’t seem to quite fit anymore. It was too big and heavy for her shoulders, now that she had them.

“I think I’m something different altogether, now, but I’m not sure,” she said, tossing her words hither and tither, as though casting a net. She didn’t know what she was trying to catch. “Now that I can…live, and have thoughts of my own. I’m too small.”

“Would you like a different name?” the girl asked.

The shade’s eyes flickered and widened at the prospect, and she nodded vigorously. The other girl laughed.

“Let’s see…” she mused, raising a finger to her chin and crossing her legs in front of her. “How about…Ayalah? No,” she countered herself as the shade scrunched her nose in congruent displeasure. “That doesn’t suit you at all.”

The shade watched this process of thought for a few moments, enthralled. She placed her chin in the palm of her hand, mentally winding the thread of deliberation, but not paying close attention. It seemed so important to this girl, finding the right name for the being whom she’d summoned.

“Do you have a name?” the shade interrupted, her face still pressed against her hand. The other girl paused in the middle of recounting her childhood friends for inspiration.

“Oh! It’s Shira,” she responded, taken aback at the shade’s outburst.

“Shira,” the shade repeated softly, determined to memorize it.

Shira cleared her throat, resuming. “Um, how about Ora? She was a blond-haired child I sat next to at prayer. Or…that other girl…we used to fetch water together in spring. What was her name?” Shira bent her head, deep in thought. Almost immediately, she snapped triumphantly back up so quickly that the shade jumped. “Mosel!”

“That one!” the shade cried. “I like that one! Mosel!”

Shira grinned. “Want me to call you that?”

“Yes!” Mosel crowed.

Shira smiled, her eyes sealed crescents. The two markings under each of her eyes conformed to similar shapes. “It’s nice to meet you, Mosel.”

Shira stood and extended her round hand to Mosel. The latter peered at it, feeling that same quivering heat settle over her face this time, and took it gingerly. Shira pulled Mosel up, then let go as the lanky shadow found her clumsy footing upon the ground. Shira giggled a little and stepped forward to help Mosel, but the pale green moss about her rose slightly to help her steady herself.

“Thank you,” Mosel said to the ground, grinning. “What’s that soft life on the ground called?”

“Moss,” Shira responded.

“Thank you, moss,” Mosel chirped.

The afterglow of Shira’s smile was suddenly tight on her face, and she looked away. Mosel didn’t see this, but watched the moss settle back upon the ground, amid the wispy leaves.

Immediately after, Mosel jerked her head up to look at Shira, alight with curiosity. “Shira?”

“Yes?” Shira asked, turning toward Mosel so that her round face waxed into full view. Mosel’s heart stuttered, but it found the courage to speak once more.

“Remember what you said before, about wanting to see the life here before you go?” Mosel asked. “Why can’t you see it? It’s all around us.”

“Well,” Shira said, “I’ve been blind since I was a child, you see.” She shifted away and began to walk away from the well. Mosel, confused, waited and watched as Shira’s small feet nudged the earth with each stride, calling it to focus. The ground shifted in synchrony to her movement, like two fronts of mist folding into each other.

Shira turned to Mosel in the absence of sound behind her. “Oh,” she said, and waved to Mosel gently. The air hummed about her hand. “Sorry, you can follow, Mosel.”

Shira’s invitation failed to propel Mosel for a moment, in which her thoughts swirled into the nuance of life about her. Another tear slid down her cheek. “Coming,” she finally said.

Unknown to her, one of the pomegranate seeds at her core dissolved into the void about her heart, marking the beginning of the end of her experience as a living being.