Chapter 9: A rainy day

June 14, 2025, 9:12 AM, 34 days until then.

Outside, it was pitch black, occasionally illuminated by flashes of white lightning, followed by thunder. Sometimes it was just a low, rumbling tremor in the sky; other times it was a crisp, snapping sound, as if the clouds were creating cracks in the dark curtain. The wind howled like screams, and the rain pounded against the wood, glass, and ground like pebbles. Stalas did not like days like this because he could not go outside in this rainy weather, or at least that was what Stalas told Êyavia. Because when the two sisters watched the rain together, Stalas, like Êyavia, would intently gaze at the falling raindrops.

It was not beautiful, but it had a peaceful feeling. Stalas never showed any emotion when looking at the rain, just sitting there silently, resting his chin on his hand, lost in thought. Êyavia, however, loved this feeling of sitting quietly and watching the rain. She was not in a hurry to go anywhere; after all, it would rain for a long time, Stalas would not have a reason to go anywhere, and nothing special would happen today.

She pulled up a chair beside the table by the window, sat down, rested her chin on her hand, and gazed out the window at the relentless rain.

Only the sound of rain, wind, and occasionally thunder remained. Êyavia did not move, just sat silently in the dark room, even though it was still morning. Since all this had happened, she had not often felt so peaceful inside; it was so quiet she could not even hear her own heartbeat, and only the sound of the rain was real at this moment.

The feeling would be even better if it could last forever. There was nothing to worry about, for the restlessness outside had been cast away by the rumbling thunder in the sky. There was no need to hold onto sadness, for the rain had poured down on the ground instead. And there was no feeling of confinement as the wind swept past, carrying her body to wander the world. Dreams began to occupy the space in Êyavia's subconscious, making her realize she was not sitting still, but flying. Flying with the wind and clouds, free and unbound. Soaring effortlessly without anything weighing her down. She did not need to care what she was chasing; she just needed to let the air carry her�"that was what mattered.

Êyavia wondered if, if everything ended peacefully, she should return to this moment every day. That would be good; others could only wait for this moment of peace to come to them, but she would seize it. For the first time in her life, she felt truly in control of something.

She wondered if, when everything ended peacefully, she should return to this moment every day. She was genuinely curious whether this was the feeling of the ever-present images in her mind. The feeling of simply choosing, choosing for herself without fear of others' gaze.

And so the day passed, Êyavia remained motionless, maintaining the same posture. Only when the rain began to subside, no longer as heavy as in the morning, did her posture change slightly. And when the rain completely stopped, it meant it was dark. Throughout that time, she showed no signs of hunger or thirst, nor fatigue, only the floating sensation brought about by the experience.

It was rather strange that Stalas should have disturbed her all day while she was still lost in her thoughts during breakfast and lunch. She glanced at the clock, which showed 7 PM, and saw she had not gone down to eat. Had the boy not reacted either? Until she turned back to look out the window. The sky, which had been dark and dry just moments before, had reverted to the gloomy morning scene with torrential rain. Êyavia stood stunned for a moment by this strange occurrence. Could the feeling of a day passing by just now have been an illusion? But was the clock not showing 7 PM? Êyavia turned to look at the clock; its face now displayed the four numbers 09:12.

Thinking there must be some reason for this, Êyavia decided to explore the house, searching for clues related to Stalas. As always, whenever it rained, the only sounds echoing from the house were the rain and wind from outside, while inside, there was an empty feeling, devoid of any sign of life.

As she passed Stalas's room, the white wooden door remained tightly closed. Just as in her vague memories from a month ago, the boy was still inside on rainy days like this. Her parents were probably still busy at work. Only the two siblings were home.

She gently pressed her ear against the closed door; the surface was icy cold, and the inside was just as silent. Perhaps, if she tried hard, she could even hear the faint, steady breathing on the other side. Besides that, there were occasional sounds of blankets being pulled, of movement in the room. Deep down, she wanted to try turning the doorknob and stepping inside to see what was there. Just standing outside like this, no matter what, made her feel a little uneasy and anxious. She could feel her body struggling to squeeze through, both hands pressing tightly against the door, sinking deeper and deeper. The sensation of the back of her hands touching something gradually disappeared. When she looked down at her hands, she was startled to realize that the feeling was not an illusion. Êyavia's hands had pierced straight through the other side of the door, only her wrists remaining exposed. Startled, she recoiled and stepped back, but the door did not pull her hands back; her hands separated gently. The surface of the door remained intact, without any holes, and her hands were unharmed and undamaged. Her heart was still pounding, her breathing ragged, the shock of her hands suddenly disappearing still lingering in her mind. Looking up again, she saw Stalas's bedroom door, but the surroundings had changed back to the vast expanse of the Pillar's landscape. She unconsciously scanned her surroundings until she turned back, and the door was gone.

If it were not for the wind chimes tinkling after the door vanished, she would have thought she was hallucinating.

The scene remained the same, the ground slightly rippling more than usual. Êyavia stood bewildered, unsure why she had been drawn here.

The Storyteller was still there, but instead of looking at Êyavia as usual, he focused on a gray cloud held in his hands. From deep within the cloud, tiny droplets of water trickled out. They did not fall to the ground but swirled around the cloud.

Unconsciously, the slender, small figure took hesitant steps towards the giant god and sat down on the ground. Her eyes were fixed on the cloud, her dark eyes seemingly contemplating the secrets hidden within that gray mist. Suddenly, she asked, "What is this cloud?"

"A simulation of a story I have collected. The scene of you watching the rain down there reminded me of that story."

Êyavia, curiously asked, "What kind of story is it?"

The Storyteller replied, “It is the story of a living cloud. It did not want to be blown away by the wind like other clouds, nor did it want its raindrops to return to the ground. It had gone through that cycle too many times, so this time it chose to stand still. Even though it could not hold the raindrops inside, it did not allow them to fly too far. Then one day, it could no longer maintain its vapor state, and then transformed into a giant droplet in the sky. In the end, it still fell to the ground and then began its journey back to being a cloud.”

Êyavia frowned, "Isn’t that pointless? After all, it couldn’t escape that fate anyway, so what was the point of trying so hard?"

"It might be meaningless to others, but not to itself. Perhaps the time it spent standing still in the sky was worth all the effort, even though the final outcome was inevitable. Just like you, you try to cling to the time you spent immersed in the call of the rain, even though you know you will eventually have to return to reality. Others might find that time meaningless, but consider whether it was worth stopping and listening to it?"

Êyavia was startled, then lowered her head slightly in thought. It was true that she had wasted an entire day just watching the rain, while her original mission had been put aside. Well, it could not really be considered a waste, as long as she could rewind time, no matter how long it took. Was that time worth it? It seemed so!

"I think, whether it was truly worthwhile or not, I won’t regret stopping and listening," her voice radiated confidence.

Having said that, she stood up, preparing to return to reality once more. This time, she would put aside her rest; she still had a more important task to accomplish. Only by completing it would she truly be able to rest.

As she was about to return to reality, a thought suddenly flashed through her mind. If she returned now, she would have to wait several more hours before Stalas woke up. Did she really have to wait that long?

She glanced at the Storyteller and asked, “Is there any way you can help me speed up time?”

The Storyteller tilted his head, looked at Êyavia, and replied, “Isn’t it enough for you to just focus on your own desires?”

“I’ve thought about that, but what if there’s some important detail I missed during that time? I don’t really want to sit there waiting…” Êyavia initially spoke naturally, but then her voice gradually faded until it was completely inaudible. She realized she had been a little too relaxed lately, and was talking to the gods like this, considered disrespectful?

"There are two ways. Either you go back and fast-forward it yourself �" I am sure if you concentrate, you will get used to it," the Storyteller paused slightly, then slowly turned his head to look at the stars above, "or you choose to watch it again from an outsider’s perspective. You do not need to intervene; just observe from the outside, like watching a film."

"Can those stars help me?" Êyavia mimicked the Storyteller, looking up at the twinkling stars.

"Ah, they are not stars, they are eyes," the words were spoken neither too fast nor too slow, enough to send a shiver down Êyavia’s spine. Although she was beginning to get used to these strange things, to be told that the glittering objects above were actually eyes looking down at her was still terrifying.

“In a way, they are also your eyes. Each of those stars is a lens through which you have lived your life. When I was first drawn here, before I met you, they were the most interesting things to me,” Êyavia half-understood, half-didn’t, but the thought of using them to re-examine her life made her want to try.

She slowly raised her right hand towards the stars as if to pluck them. As her consciousness wavered, one star gently detached itself from its kind and landed in her palm. As it drew closer, its form became clearer, until it settled into Êyavia's right palm�"a thick, circular piece of glass that looked like a crystal cut and sculpted by an artist.

On its surface appeared an image of Êyavia dozing off at her desk by the window, the rainy day she had recently watched on the other side of the glass. She gently stroked the glass, the image flickered, then changed to Stalas sleeping in bed, occasionally shifting his position. So this was the real image of that day. Êyavia had not stayed awake to watch the rain; she had fallen asleep at her desk. This was what her day looked like.