Her heart began to hammer. “Can I take some with me?” she begged. “Those who brought me, who helped me, they are injured and dying. Mother, if I save them—!”
“Child,” her mother said soothingly, interrupting, “this will not be easy to understand. You must try, though. There is no time here. There is no need to rush or to hurry. In the mortal world, time flows in one direction . . . like a brook of water.” She motioned her hand over the rippling waves. “But we are not in that brook, nor are we subject to its laws or constraints.” She rose and pulled Phae up with her. “You can enter the brook at any point, before or after. There is no rush. The dangers you faced in the woods cannot follow you here.” She squeezed Phae’s hand. “Come, let me show you Mirrowen. Walk with me.”
Phae did not understand it, but she trusted what she was told. As she looked around, she saw deep foliage on the other side of the brook, covering her gaze. Tall fronds appeared on each side of the sandy path, and from the sand grew a hardy green plant that she did not recognize at all. It had large violet flowers blooming amidst it. Beautiful trees appeared deeper behind her, enormous redwoods that almost formed a wall the way she had come. The sandy trail led away from them, toward the murmuring sound she had heard since arriving.
They walked side by side, hand in hand. The trail was crooked and finally opened to a broad expanse of beach. Phae stopped, staring in amazement. The sights filled her eyes all at once and she almost quailed from the majestic images revealed to her.
The first thing she saw was an ocean. She had never seen it before, but it was the source of the shushing noises she had heard since arriving. The waters were vast and grayish-blue, and white foam churned as the waves hammered against the glassy shore. There were many others on the beach, walking back and forth, some in deep conversation, others looking silently at the crashing surf. Some were Vaettir-born, others Preachán. Some races she did not recognize at all because of their skin color or the shades of color in their hair. She blinked, trying to understand.
“They have all earned the right to live in Mirrowen,” her mother said, as if reading her thoughts. “Many are Druidecht, but not all. Do you see the city?”
Of course Phae did. The beach was several miles wide, crescent shaped. Huge towering rocks and boulders were in the waters, and the waves crashed against them with enormous sprays. The boulders were of different sizes but they seemed to form some sort of border or boundary. There were hills on each side of the beach. To her right, the hills were full of enormous redwoods and eucalyptus trees, and amidst these towering trees was a city that filled the hillside.
Phae gasped, her eyes trying to absorb the enormity of it. There were multiple levels within the hills and she could see streets and garden, archways connecting separate buildings. The levels were all interconnected through a series of intricate stone structures, polished to a glassy shine. Some of the hills had waterfalls, showing cascading rivulets that caused a gray mist to emerge where the fountains struck the ground. Lights zigzagged throughout, reminding her slightly of Canton Vaud. Vaettir-born floated between the levels, and she wondered how many thousands lived in the palaces built into the vast hills. The structures even extended into the sea, with balconies opening up over the waters.
Phae’s knees became weak as she stared at the beautiful land. Lights and color, trees and gardens, music . . . the music! She could hear the strains even from the distance, and its echoes were haunting and mystical, reminding her of the charm Shion had taken from her father. The Paracelsus had captured part of the music of Mirrowen, but it was only a shadow in comparison to the real experience.
“Look at the sea,” her mother whispered. “This wave is massive.”
Phae broke her gaze from the dazzling city gardens and watched as a wall of churning water came roaring at the beach. It was ten times larger than any she had seen since arriving, a vast monster of churning foam that advanced like an army. She could see the wall of waves coming in, thundering in, high enough to submerge the entire beach and drown half the city. Phae clutched at her mother’s arm, staring in horror. Seeing it made her want to flee, but her mother stared at it with unconcern, but respect.
“It cannot harm us, Phae.”
The wave seemed to build in height and intensity as it drew closer. There were people near the edge of the surf, walking blithely, as if unaware of the looming danger. Phae stared, her mouth agape as the waves gathered to a ferocious height. As if there were an invisible dome shielding the beach, the waters crashed against the rock sentinels in the shallows, but the rocks repelled the sea. Phae blinked in amazement, as the waters seemed to hang poised over them, unable to penetrate the bubble. Then all the energy seemed to fade from the rushing waves and the waters slid back. Some of the waves had been high enough to feed the upper fountains of the city and thus the waterfalls began to churn more energetically, draining away the spent fury of the waves as they receded.
“Child,” her mother said soothingly, interrupting, “this will not be easy to understand. You must try, though. There is no time here. There is no need to rush or to hurry. In the mortal world, time flows in one direction . . . like a brook of water.” She motioned her hand over the rippling waves. “But we are not in that brook, nor are we subject to its laws or constraints.” She rose and pulled Phae up with her. “You can enter the brook at any point, before or after. There is no rush. The dangers you faced in the woods cannot follow you here.” She squeezed Phae’s hand. “Come, let me show you Mirrowen. Walk with me.”
Phae did not understand it, but she trusted what she was told. As she looked around, she saw deep foliage on the other side of the brook, covering her gaze. Tall fronds appeared on each side of the sandy path, and from the sand grew a hardy green plant that she did not recognize at all. It had large violet flowers blooming amidst it. Beautiful trees appeared deeper behind her, enormous redwoods that almost formed a wall the way she had come. The sandy trail led away from them, toward the murmuring sound she had heard since arriving.
They walked side by side, hand in hand. The trail was crooked and finally opened to a broad expanse of beach. Phae stopped, staring in amazement. The sights filled her eyes all at once and she almost quailed from the majestic images revealed to her.
The first thing she saw was an ocean. She had never seen it before, but it was the source of the shushing noises she had heard since arriving. The waters were vast and grayish-blue, and white foam churned as the waves hammered against the glassy shore. There were many others on the beach, walking back and forth, some in deep conversation, others looking silently at the crashing surf. Some were Vaettir-born, others Preachán. Some races she did not recognize at all because of their skin color or the shades of color in their hair. She blinked, trying to understand.
“They have all earned the right to live in Mirrowen,” her mother said, as if reading her thoughts. “Many are Druidecht, but not all. Do you see the city?”
Of course Phae did. The beach was several miles wide, crescent shaped. Huge towering rocks and boulders were in the waters, and the waves crashed against them with enormous sprays. The boulders were of different sizes but they seemed to form some sort of border or boundary. There were hills on each side of the beach. To her right, the hills were full of enormous redwoods and eucalyptus trees, and amidst these towering trees was a city that filled the hillside.
Phae gasped, her eyes trying to absorb the enormity of it. There were multiple levels within the hills and she could see streets and garden, archways connecting separate buildings. The levels were all interconnected through a series of intricate stone structures, polished to a glassy shine. Some of the hills had waterfalls, showing cascading rivulets that caused a gray mist to emerge where the fountains struck the ground. Lights zigzagged throughout, reminding her slightly of Canton Vaud. Vaettir-born floated between the levels, and she wondered how many thousands lived in the palaces built into the vast hills. The structures even extended into the sea, with balconies opening up over the waters.
Phae’s knees became weak as she stared at the beautiful land. Lights and color, trees and gardens, music . . . the music! She could hear the strains even from the distance, and its echoes were haunting and mystical, reminding her of the charm Shion had taken from her father. The Paracelsus had captured part of the music of Mirrowen, but it was only a shadow in comparison to the real experience.
“Look at the sea,” her mother whispered. “This wave is massive.”
Phae broke her gaze from the dazzling city gardens and watched as a wall of churning water came roaring at the beach. It was ten times larger than any she had seen since arriving, a vast monster of churning foam that advanced like an army. She could see the wall of waves coming in, thundering in, high enough to submerge the entire beach and drown half the city. Phae clutched at her mother’s arm, staring in horror. Seeing it made her want to flee, but her mother stared at it with unconcern, but respect.
“It cannot harm us, Phae.”
The wave seemed to build in height and intensity as it drew closer. There were people near the edge of the surf, walking blithely, as if unaware of the looming danger. Phae stared, her mouth agape as the waves gathered to a ferocious height. As if there were an invisible dome shielding the beach, the waters crashed against the rock sentinels in the shallows, but the rocks repelled the sea. Phae blinked in amazement, as the waters seemed to hang poised over them, unable to penetrate the bubble. Then all the energy seemed to fade from the rushing waves and the waters slid back. Some of the waves had been high enough to feed the upper fountains of the city and thus the waterfalls began to churn more energetically, draining away the spent fury of the waves as they receded.
