Seven that knew
nor longing nor name
abandoned their fate
to a forest far lain
On the first day, after they had set out in flight from afar to seek refuge wherever
it should find them, they found themselves in a great, forbidding forest. None could
remember how they had come here, for in times of struggle and strife survival becomes
the sole objective. They felt at ease, for surely nobody would now come to pursue
them let alone locate them. For the time being, this was to be their new home.
Exhaustion obliged them to rest, for whichever road had led them here was arduous and
demanded much of them, of whom only seven were left. As other concerns were thus
presently none of theirs and as there was much in the way of sustenance and all else
that life required all around them, they remained where they were.
A few of them were soon dispatched to forage and hunt and scout the region. By the
time they returned, it was getting dark and thus they built a fire, gathered around
and ate what the forest had to offer, which was plentiful to them as hunger renders a
pauper's meal a delicious feast. A singular crow was observing them at a distance
with great perspicacity. As they were sat and ate, they began to recount the many
misfortunes they had to suffer but their recollections had grown increasingly hazy
and sooner than later, they ceased to do so. The forest began to awake.
Seven that lay
in darkness awake
to the heart of the forest
a path were to make
On the second day, exhaustion had grown, as last night had robbed them of sleep much
needed. Strange, uncannily strange sounds and noises remote to the ears had begun to
emerge from somewhere neither near nor far as soon as night had dawned. There was no
sleep. As soon as night had fallen, a cacophony of increasingly distressing sounds
and noises had grown into a terrifying song that spoke to, into their very hearts
words they did not comprehend in languages beyond reckoning until it permeated the
infinity within their very being. None had dared to move let alone flee anew, for the
thought of doing so had become meaningless in the face of their torment. There was no
sleep.
As soon as morning dawned, the song waned and the sounds and noises grew quiet as
though but a nightmare by now fading. They arose. A group of crows had gathered
around them, observing them at a distance with great perspicacity. After a while,
they decided to go about their daily affairs, to the extent to which there were to be
any besides nourishment and much needed rest, although the nightly terror had cast a
shadow upon their weary faces. A few of them were once more dispatched to forage,
hunt, and scout. Then, they ate.
For reasons beyond their reckoning, there was no need to discuss their plans nor
discuss the need for such discussion, for their very hearts now beheld their
purpose.
They set out towards the very heart of the forest.
Seven met seven
and seven once more
on their quest without fail
became lost in the Pale
On the third day, disorder and delusion beset them. They had wisely chosen to spend
most of the day gathering food for the journey ahead and then sleep. The animals,
creatures, beings, of which they expected to find a great abundance of seemed to
avoid them with much success, save for those which seemed to almost demand to serve
as sustenance to them. They had set out at nightfall, determined to defy the
nocturnal terror, the moonlight and the stars their guide.
This had turned out to be a perilous decision. The nocturnal terror had grown into
coherent, sublimely frightful speech that soon led them hither and thither, for
they found themselves incapable of disobeying its guileful guidance, which led
them nowhere. Moreover, the further they went down deeper into the forest, the more
forest there turned out to be although it simultaneously appeared more and more empty
and devoid of anything in it at all. Sooner than later, they were terribly lost, even
moreso than they had been before, for returning whence they had come turned absurd
a proposition.
They were wandering without aim, laying claim to places without location, without
purpose nor direction. No words were exchanged for the nocturnal torment had cast
their souls into darkness and thus, they had become one with the Pale. They paid no
mind to the paths their steps defined nor to hunger nor rest, for all was now the
same to them. They had no memories nor notions with which to make sense of them
and their very identities seemed to blend and merge into each other. At times it
seemed as though they were seven, at times it seemed as though they were one. They
bore the Pale on their faces as they descended into the depths of abject
darkness.
Beyond their awareness, they were to cross paths with many another seven. Wherever
they had been before, another seven came to be in. There no longer was a forest
nor any animals. The Pale had robbed all that there could have been of its essence
such that but effigies and silhouettes remained in their places. Countless groups
of seven that merged into and out of one roamed every single point in the fraying
fabric of space and time that now constituted reality. Almost nothing was
discernible from anything else. All but the unfathomable depths of their
consciousness remained, in blood-black nothingness.
As soon as morning dawned, all ended, the nocturnal terror stopped, as it had before,
and they came to be anew. By then, they came to notice that they had gone in circles.
As they closed in on where they had set out the day before, they heard voices, though
human voices they clearly were. There was a group of crows surrounding another
group gathered around a fire, seven in number they were.
In Sea Apsû Nisaba dwelt and dreamt
She wove her dreams into a net
and gathered words from deepest deep
she sowed the words upon a field
from every word was born a seed
and from each seed grew wheat and grain
and then the words turned formless, free
She wove her dreams into a net
and gathered words from deepest deep
and sang the words in lay and song
of heroes daring, brave, and strong
and cast their names upon the sky
and then the words turned formless, free
She wove her dreams into a net
and gathered words from deepest deep
and strung the words upon a chain
and from the chain she made a trail
that led to doom and disarray
and from the words the world was made
But seven words defied her will
seven words there did remain
fled to a place remote, far lain
where hidden and concealed they lay
unseen, in silence, unattained
forever bound to seek their name
On the fifth day, although they were oblivious to its arrival, they had ceased to move. Not a single step backwards they were to go nor a single step forward and by all appearance, their journey was finished and complete and there they were stood, perfectly still, as though unravelling their very conditions of possibility. Suddenly, the forest disappeared. There was no forest, the forest had been an illusion. In its stead, rows and columns of trees graciously encircled a clearing, hiding within something they now greatly desired to come into union with. They decided to walk towards the trees.
They were mesmerised by rows of trees dressed in the garb of changing seasons. There were birches bestowing the melancholy hues and shades of autumn upon the perceptive eye, pines perennially youthful reaching towards the sky starkly bearing snow, oaks old yet ornate, colourfully decorated in the regalia of summer, offering refuge to plentiful blackbirds and sparrows, crows and owls, and a singular hudhud bird at the very top, the king of the birds. The birds were singing incessantly words that previously had been terrifying to them but that they now comprehended:
Awake and arise!
Let your heart be your eyes!
At the very centre of the clearing, there was a tall white fountain. They gathered around the fountain. They became one.
In those days, in those distant days, in those times, in those faraway times, at the
beginning and at the end, there lay the very heart of the forest.
Everything and everywhere sprang forth from there and nothing and nowhere led
there.
Only those that desired it not and that were in possession of their hearts would find
themselves within.
Surrounded by the illusion of all-encompassing forest and the seas of sorrow, there
stood a tall white fountain that eternal moonlight shone upon and therein, seven
white roses.
Īnkuzén, the Golden-Eyed, there stood and gathered dew.
She cast the dew upon the seven white roses and they became one.
Everything was resolved, nothing was to be determined, all was left to chance.
She was stood within the void.
Her future was now uncertain but she was free.
Her future was now uncertain and she was free.
