Chapter 15: The Moon follows

Êyavia mused, "If we don’t accept it, how can we understand it?"

"No one can accept something they do not understand, even if they claim to. If they still do not understand the reason, deep down, they will still feel a sense of aversion. Therefore, the first step before acceptance is learning to understand."

After pondering for a while, Êyavia relaxed her hands, allowing the mirror to drift away. She sat down on the ground and looked up at the starry sky, asking, “Besides you, surely there are many other gods?”

The Storyteller did not answer immediately; his gaze seemed to be fixed on the stars as well. "There are many things out there, but most of all, there are stories."

"Is the moon goddess in the story you told earlier real?" she asked.

"There are many gods out there with authorities related to the moon," He replied.

"So, if I pray under the moon like that wolf cub, will the goddess appear to guide me?" she continued to ask.

"Perhaps yes, perhaps no."

"You always answer so vaguely?" she said, smiling. No matter how incomprehensible this god's words were, the comfort of being near him remained, contrasting sharply with the stifling and oppressive reality.

"If you can find the specific and complete honorific name of that god, perhaps they will listen to your call."

Again, new concepts were casually uttered without any explanation. Some she understood, some she only vaguely perceived, but perhaps those things did not really matter because whether she understood the stories he told or not, she still felt comforted �" comforted because when she heard those words, she did not need to think about reality, just focus on what she was hearing.

"You once said that there are countless worlds out there, each with countless different stories. So why do you stay in this world? I mean, what interesting things are there to hear in this world?" Êyavia broke the silence that had enveloped them.

"There is no story that is not interesting, young lady. The way we perceive things is not really the same as how your kind experiences life. Humans spend most of their lives hiding their emotions, fitting into some kind of mold they have created. We are not like that. Between gods, there is almost no secret, and none of us would choose to live within a fixed mold. It is precisely these differences that make your stories, however ordinary, extraordinarily meaningful to us."

Êyavia still refused to give up: "So, the story in this world that attracts you so much, it's not about me trying to save my little brother, is it? Anyway, I already feel quite pathetic about my failure, and I feel this whole thing is hopeless."

"The story I want to see is the end of this dying universe, how it will save itself."

"This universe is dying? Then I guess I don’t need to worry or think about those other things anymore, the ending is already decided anyway," Êyavia said jokingly.

"Do you know that you have a smile exactly like your brother’s?” Storyteller replied in the same tone and intonation. Êyavia responded with silence, her eyes fixed on the starry sky. On her rosy face, there was no sign of emotion, only silence.

“Perhaps I should continue with my mission,” she said, standing up, her eyes filled with complexity as she looked at the floating prisms. Even after the prisms descended into her hands, she remained motionless, staring blankly into the dark glass. Now, what time period would she choose? Fragmented memories began to surface in her mind, the dark glass seemingly picking up on these signals, reflecting fragments of the past, both hidden and revealed.

No coherent "story" was told on that smooth surface. Images piled upon images, their speed increasing with time. From brief memories, they became flashes of light on the glass. They were so intense and dense that the light no longer reflected on the black mirror in Êyavia's hand, but instead shot into the vast expanse of the sky. Even the wind chimes were distorted, twisted, and intertwined with whispers. At first, they were barely audible, but as the images crowded together, their volume increased. Voices were echoing from afar and vice versa, and overlapping, conflicting conversations. It was not until the sounds of their recent conversation kept repeating themselves, and alongside them, the image of the enormous full moon in the night sky kept appearing with increasing frequency, that Êyavia suddenly came to her senses.

The last and clearest image she saw was the full moon high above, peering down at her as if stripping her naked; wherever she went, the moon followed. And when she looked up, its position remained unchanged.

But her bewildered expression did not last long as she immediately dismissed the thought with a single self-reassurance: this had happened several times before, nothing strange or worth worrying about.

"You said this world is dying, right? Then everything I'm doing is completely meaningless. I don't know why I'm trying anymore. I'm tired, I want to rest," Êyavia said calmly, her face expressionless.

The Storyteller remained silent throughout, waiting until Êyavia disappeared, leaving him alone. Only then did he speak to the stars: "So my conjecture was correct. Now all I have to do is wait." As soon as he finished speaking, a sigh echoed from afar, accompanied by the melody of wind chimes.

......

A woman standing on the surface of a majestic ocean. This night had no storm, and yet, the waves rose fiercely. Her eyes were closing peacefully. But then, suddenly, those sirenic eyes opened.

The gaze shifted to the everlasting night sky. Up there, only a giant blue moon reigns.

Underneath the dark water, trillions of voices scream in her name. Tears drifted out of her eyes, floated as if there was no gravity. Her expression remained cold and distant.