Chapter 14: Wander

An unspecified day, 7:00 AM.

Êyavia opened her eyes as if just emerging from a long, drawn-out dream. She brushed her teeth, washed her face, and went downstairs for breakfast. A routine all too familiar, marking a day printed from some distant, unreal past. She did not pay much attention to what day it was, nor did she bother to check her phone.

She walked silently down the familiar street, the path etched in her oldest memories. Along the way, rows of lush green trees shielded her from the scorching summer sun. Perhaps this was a day sometime during her graduation.

Thinking about graduation reminded her of herself before all this happened. Just as she walked down this street, she wondered what she would do next. Reflecting on it, she realized she still did not know the answer to that question.

Hmm, but perhaps she was too tired, maybe she should think about it later…

And where should she go now? Alisa is probably busy looking for a job somewhere; she cannot bother her right now. So where should she go? Mrs. Ingfa's house is still closed. Hmm, she is probably still dealing with family matters; she should not disturb her at this time. Does she have any other friends?

After wandering aimlessly for an unknown amount of time, Êyavia stopped in front of a large art gallery. Was this not where Stalas usually displayed his paintings?

Entering the large room, there were quite a few people walking around admiring the artwork. Some Êyavia recognized, others she did not. They were either gathered to discuss a painting or scattered around just to look at it, not caring whether it was important or not.

It took Êyavia a while to find Stalas's exhibition, as she rarely frequented this place. The artworks were untitled, marked only with random numbers; Stalas had not even bothered to sign them.

A considerable crowd gathered, carefully examining each painting and sharing their opinions on its depiction. It seemed to be related to mysticism or social issues, though she was not sure if they were correctly interpreting Stalas's ideas. Êyavia also looked at the artworks.

The first piece was marked with a long string of numbers, a topic of much discussion. It was entirely painted in the blue of a midday sky, devoid of any white or gray to suggest clouds. However, at the very top, a circular object was depicted, either pale yellow or perhaps milky white. Some guessed it was the sun, others said it was not as dazzling as the sun but gentle like the moon. But some argued that since the painting depicted daytime, how could it possibly be related to the moon? Êyavia silently refuted this, thinking that sometimes, even during daylight hours, the moon was still clearly visible in the sky; it would be visible by evening anyway. Speaking of the moon, Êyavia recalled the story of the Storyteller; this moon goddess, though only mentioned once and without any significant action yet, had left a deep impression on her subconscious.

She glanced at the second painting, numbered 6132. This painting was far more detailed than the first, and the dominant color was no longer sky blue but a vibrant red blended with dazzling yellow. She did not know what the painting depicted, in her eyes, it was just a chaotic jumble of colors dancing together. Perhaps only those who seem to have an appreciation for art here could sense it. And rightly so, even she herself could not understand what Stalas was thinking at this moment.

Then she looked at the third, fourth, and fifth paintings. All were bright, warm colors surrounding an even brighter object. That object was multifaceted, difficult to pinpoint exactly what it was. It just remained hazy behind the light.

Furthermore, none of these paintings used black, not even for outlining the objects. This made all the details in the paintings seem to blend together seamlessly, making them inseparable.

According to Êyavia's memory, one of these paintings was bought by someone for a considerable price. But she could not remember which one or who bought it. It probably did not matter much.

Êyavia left the gallery, wandering. Where would she stop next?

The park that Stalas often passed was deserted, and it was almost evening. At the far end of the public park was a large lake. Êyavia approached a bench and sat down. This must be where Stalas often went to admire the view around the lake. It was so quiet, probably why Stalas chose this spot�"there were hardly any people passing by, no one to disturb them. The lake was still, only the sky gradually turning orange before receding towards the setting sun. This peaceful feeling was not bad; perhaps she should accept the job at Prismara like Alisa, receive a salary, and choose a simple life, spending her days here gazing at the sky and the land. It did not sound so bad, Stalas probably thought so too as he sat there.

But where was Stalas? Surely, when he was not home in such beautiful weather, Stalas would be jogging here. The world separated and peeled away, bringing her back to the Pillar. Two mirrors silently drifted towards Êyavia's hand, reflecting Stalas somewhere with someone around his age. Yes, it was still that cheerful face, laughing and chatting animatedly with everyone, and they were talking about something that sounded interesting.

She listened to their voices; they were discussing the future. Some wanted to continue their studies to earn a PhD, while others decided to drop out to pursue their passion for racing. Each person drew up a plan for the distant future. Someone else turned to ask about Stalas's career as an artist, jokingly saying that if Stalas ever became famous and wealthy, he should not forget them. Stalas went along with it, replying, "I'll try."

It was just a normal gathering of friends. But she still tried to watch, still tried to listen and rewind each segment of the conversation. The more she looked at his cheerful face, the more uneasy she felt. She wanted to learn more about him, but did not know where to begin or how to start the conversation. All she could do was rewatch these historical replays and hope that someday Stalas would blurt out any detail, even a small, insignificant one, just its appearance would be enough. So from beginning to end, she kept trying, probably thinking that if she kept believing, it would come true. But nothing happened; it was as hopeless as before. Stalas did not reveal anything about himself; he only listened to others, and when everyone laughed, he would smile even more brightly.

The Storyteller appeared behind Êyavia and asked, "You still have not given up? I thought after the last event you would have chosen to sleep for a few days, but I did not expect you to return so quickly."

"Perhaps I should've given up, but in the end, I couldn't. I truly wanted to save her," Êyavia replied, pausing for a moment before looking up at the god behind her and asking, "What if I find out the reason why but can't accept it?"

"Life is always like that, between actions lie reasons. Explanations for why things are the way they are. You do not need to accept it, you just need to understand it."