The Great Sleep Dreamed a Wish to Awaken

Stories reach hearts in a way no essay can.

From the Keeper of Tales trilogy archives, February 13, 2007. Sketch of a vision of Egnis the dragon coiling up through the ground.

Today’s post is an excerpt from my trilogy’s second book. I’m sharing the novel’s entire appendix, The Myths of the Four, because stories reach hearts in a way no essay can.

If you’re feeling the current potential for a big shift, you’ll understand what these new myths are about.

The Great Sleep

The Great Sleep dreamed a wish to awaken. All was quiet and still, no color or sound, shape or feel. The Great Sleep wondered within what it could be without. Its eyes moved under the veil to watch the question become a thought and then its lids lifted and there was a pucker and a pop in the deep dark, the echo turned inside out, a hum then a rumble.

In the distance, an orb of fire pulsed inside a blue cloud. The Great Sleep peered ever closer. Slowly, the orb formed a strange gray skin that shifted and turned. For an instant, the thrashing stopped and the skin ripped red and wet. There came a howl so loud and powerful that The Great Sleep moved back into the darkness. A spiral of flame curled skyward through plumes of vapor and rains of metal. Around the spiral blew a fierce wind, which cooled the molten skin and made a mountain. The orb heaved mightily as the fire spiral found its tail and coiled at last to enter the world.

There at the mountain’s navel stood the creature that had come forth, a red dragon. Its first call was a sputter, its second a bellow, its third a roar. And with that roar, the dragon found it had lifted into the air upon magnificent wings and began to fly with turns and twists of joy. It was she who first saw the world.

Now and then, The Great Sleep returned to watch the dragon’s delight, and when its gaze fell again on the orb, there were always new things to see. The skin became blue and rippled, brown and buckled, green and wide. Then on this skin there crawled tiny creatures, so small that The Great Sleep had to come close and squint. There was all manner of bustle and buzz above and below, things moving in, among, and through water, air, and earth, leafed and flowered, furred and feathered, shelled and scaled.

One visit, The Great Sleep saw that the dragon was not on the wing. The creature sat upon the top of the mountain, looking this way and that. Then it flew to the ground, searching here and there. Noises rattled the mountain, and the dragon lay in wait for what would erupt.

All at once, a cave tumbled open to the right and a geyser rushed up to the left. After the last boulder rolled away, a giant among dwarfs appeared, golden from the point of his cap to the round of his shoes. Under the final drops of spray landed a womanly wisp, white from the shine of her hair to the tips of her toes. The dwarf and the wisp shook their heads as if shaken from long naps. They looked at the dragon, the dragon looked at them, and The Great Sleep laughed and laughed until the Gold Dwarf and the White Wisp asked the other, “What in the world is that sound?” And The Great Sleep laughed all the more.

What Powers They Possessed

In a valley near an ocean, a desert, and a forest was a mountain, and near this mountain lived the Red Dragon, the Gold Dwarf, and the White Wisp. They came to call one another by names that suited them. The dragon was named Egnis, the dwarf was Ingot, and the wisp was Incant.

They had never been before, yet the Three came into being with great abilities.

Egnis had the power of air and fire. She who first saw All stirred the winds with her tremendous wings. When she was angry, the wind tore across the lands. When she was happy, gentle breezes swayed. It was Egnis who crept under the earth and burst through the molten ruptures. It was she who scorched the meadows and forests to dust. It was she who ate the sun every night and breathed it anew every morning.

Ingot knew the veins of the earth, hard with metals and bright with jewels. He smelled the sharp scents through cracks in the rocks. With strong hands, he tore away the stone to reveal the glint and glow. He crawled into small spaces to mine dense rock with brute strength. It was he who brought the metals and jewels to light.

Incant moved with the earth and the water. She delighted in the rush to seed and spore, the blossom into being, and the call of every creature. She spoke with the roar, whisper, and trickles of the seas and rivers, lakes and ponds. She drifted with the silent springs and fell with the rain. She spoke with rumbles and grumbles but most often with silence.

The Three—Egnis, Ingot, and Incant—delighted in their gifts but realized they were ever more powerful when working together.

With stick and stone, Incant carved seedlings from the earth and planted them hither and yon. She filled her hands with seed, sent Egnis on the wing to stir the wind, and threw the seeds into the breeze. Egnis partnered with the seas to dance, and rain fell upon the lands. She watched the creatures discover the beauty and food in what they found. They carried on the spread and rebirth where the land welcomed it.

Ingot asked Egnis to breathe upon the wall of the cave inside the mountain. The iron inside flowed like blood. The iron filled a crevice in the shape of an ax, then spilled through the cave’s mouth. Ingot seared his hands on the hot shape, toughening them like leather. He took the ax and beat it against the mountain’s walls and faces. Pieces of metal and jewels fell at his feet.

Ingot danced with joy, Incant wept for his happiness, and Egnis laughed in fiery gusts.

The mountain bled where it was touched by Egnis’s breath. Incant’s tears pooled near the molten flow. The two combined in a cloud of steam. Ingot rapped his knuckles against the hardened flood. They looked with wonder at proof of their combined strength, but the invisible and most powerful force was their love for each other.

It was Incant who noticed that Egnis’s claws sparked against certain rocks. It was Ingot who struck these rocks together over dried grasses that Incant had gathered. It was Egnis who gently blew on the sparks to create fire. Again, they danced and laughed.

How Fire Came to the Humans

Incant heard the shivering of the human creatures and their sighs when Egnis returned the sun. She had long moved among them, quietly, guiding them to food and shelter. As a silent whisper, she shared with them the gifts of the earth and the use of simple tools.

So she asked Ingot to appear with her to give them the power of fire. They went to a boy and a girl, young enough to be curious yet not too fearful, old enough to speak and be understood. Incant approached them as a thin woman clothed in a gown of mist. Her hair waved like boughs in the winds and weeds in the sea. She told them they were chosen to share a power with their kind. At their feet she laid a bundle of sticks and dried grass. Ingot stepped beside the White Wisp. He wore a triangular cap, a tunic, a vest, heavy pants, high boots, and a wide pouch. His eyes shined like jet through his whiskered face. Head to toe, he was the color of gold. He knelt before the children and took rocks from his pouch.

The boy, the girl, and Ingot struck their rocks all at once. Sparks flew into the kindling. Ingot told them to take deep breaths and slowly blow upon the light. Flames took to their eyes, then to the grasses. The children pressed their palms near the heat. They reached for larger sticks to feed the fire. The flames grew. Ingot taught them to tend the embers, and Incant taught them to extinguish the glow.

From high upon the mountain, as the sun slept in Egnis’s belly, the Three could see a glow in the distance, one that would multiply across the land like stars.

What Tools Were Given

Ingot built a forge into the mountainside. He fueled it with wood gathered from the forest. He dug pits and buried heaps of metals and jewels.

With zeal, he shaped the metal into form. He had watched the humans with curiosity, noting their clever thumbs and tongues. They made use of good tools, which Incant gave them, but the materials became worn and quickly broken. So it was that Ingot made long tools that could cut, slice, and chop, and wide ones meant to dig and scoop, and hollow ones ready to fill and store.

Ingot and Incant noticed the humans liked adornment. They carved rocks with rocks. They made clay beads to string with gut or grass. With colors taken from plants and the earth, they painted vessels of all sizes, human and animal shapes made of clay, and walls made of stone.

So Ingot took a lump of gold, melted it within his forge, and formed a rope. He called Incant to give aid. His thick-skinned fingertips took the cooling rope and bent it round her wet wisp of a wrist. Around the loop, Ingot placed beautiful jewels. The object shined like the sun.

They found a boy and a girl who were as young as the children who’d been given the gift of fire. Together they slept in a bed of ferns. Incant whispered for them to awaken. So gentle was she that when they opened their eyes, the boy and the girl thought they were dreaming. The Gold Dwarf and the White Wisp led the children to the cave where Ingot stored his wares. Within were scythes, shovels, and cauldrons as well as cups, bracelets, and medallions—that, and much more. The children gasped.

Ingot led them to the mines from which he dug and the forge at which he worked. He showed them how to extract the veins of the earth and to transform what they found with the sweat of their brows. The children clapped and smiled with mirth.

With a gentle hand, Incant led the boy and the girl back to their hidden nest. She sang them to sleep again. Certain that they slumbered, Incant left gifts at their feet. They would awaken from the ghost of a shared dream and to the mystery of a golden knife and silver cup, both adorned with jewels.

The Lessons of the Deer

She who saw All come into being was witness to that which came to be. She flew with the grace of birds and swam with the ease of fish. If she willed it so, she could become small as a grain of golden pollen or as large as a great gray beast of the sea. She could turn solid as stone or permeable as a spider web. Egnis could be that and all things in between, and because she was, she was everything.

Before the Gold Dwarf and the White Wisp emerged in the realm, Egnis experienced all that could be. Her presence was known and welcomed among all the creatures and plants of the world.

Yet Egnis had a favorite creature, and that was the deer. She found it one of beauty, grace, and gentleness. She liked to look into their clear, dark eyes and see her reflection.

There was a herd of deer she watched as the cycles turned. Egnis was present at the birth of one doe’s fawns, a male and a female. She who saw All felt joy when the small ones rose upon thin legs and joined their mother by her side. When the fawns were given a place to rest, Egnis was content to drowse with them in the sun.

When a sudden snowstorm separated the brother and sister from their mother, Egnis worried. Hungry animals and freezing cold could prey upon the unprotected little ones. Although she did not interfere with the cycles and their turns, Egnis chose to lead them to a hollow tree. She blocked the opening with her body and saw them through the night.

As the fawns grew, Egnis felt envy for their lithe, graceful legs. She could swim and fly, but she could not run and leap. She did her best to move on the land so that the fawns could play chase with her. Egnis startled with surprise when they disappeared into the grasses and trees only to leap across her back.

In time, the sister and brother became a doe and a stag. The doe grew to have fine fawns of her own, and the stag sired strong young as well. Egnis was proud of their vigor.

Their mother lived long and became ill. Egnis saw that all things must die to allow renewal, but she was sad to see the old deer’s decline. When Egnis found her lifeless body, she shed a lake of tears because of her grief.

Her children, the doe and the stag, emerged as great elders among their kind. Egnis visited them still.

The aged doe told Egnis that a strange matter concerned the deer and their fellow creatures. The animals accepted that the humans wanted them for food, but they were not killed only for their meat and skins. Egnis was confused by her story.

She followed the doe’s brother, a mighty ancient stag. He moved with slow dignity and tough muscles. Suddenly, several young men chased the stag until he was exhausted. They pierced him with spears and arrows. When he fell, they stabbed him with daggers. Egnis shook with rage. The young men severed the stag’s head, the antlers branched like a tree, and left the body on the ground. Egnis recoiled with disgust at the brutal sight.

She followed the humans to their village. A young man carried the stag’s head above his own. Men, women, and children cheered. Egnis wished to know why they had killed the stag. She knew of no other creature that acted as they did. So Egnis revealed herself, red, scaled, and winged.

The humans screamed. Some ran away, and others attacked with spears, arrows, rocks, and torches. Egnis froze for a moment. She had never known fear, but she feared these creatures. She did not approach or withdraw because she wished to understand. They continued to attack. Egnis felt frustrated that they did not see she meant no harm. She began to back away, but they continued to pelt her. Egnis rose up on her legs and leaned back against her curved tail. She felt a force within her, the pure power to destroy. She breathed a plume of fire that set all before her aflame. The screams were hideous. As she fled, Egnis dropped her head with shame, for her reaction had no restraint, and many innocent humans had died.

Why the Sun Didn’t Rise and How the Moon Came to Be

After the ancient stag’s death, the sun did not rise for three days. The creatures and plants in every land were terrified. Upon the top of the mountain, Egnis lay curled in darkness. Ingot and Incant could not reach her by climbing the mountain, so they worked together to reach her from within. Ingot wielded his sturdy ax and cut into the mountain’s belly. Incant called upon the waters to wash the pieces away. Step by step, the Gold Dwarf hewed a spiral passage into the rock. The boulders tumbled down the rough-hewn stairs and to a rushing flow that the White Wisp directed to faraway lands.

Ingot broke through the mountaintop. Egnis lifted her head. Incant joined them in the dark, bearing a small torch. Egnis told them of the stag and the humans and how she had destroyed the village. She was asked if she had slept, and if she had, what had she dreamed.

The Red Dragon said The Great Sleep had come to her and said, “Within All That Is, there is a choice. The choice is the ultimate power, within and without.” Ingot and Incant looked at each other. They told Egnis that they had shown young humans how to make fire and tools. Neither the Gold Dwarf nor the White Wisp had told them how to use what they were given. The humans made their own choices with the knowledge they had obtained.

Egnis wept with sadness for killing the people and for her friend, the stag. None of it need have happened, but it did. The dragon’s tears pooled at their feet. The torchlight gave Egnis a mirror for her face. Then she wept with gladness. The moment of reflection made everything clear.

She asked Ingot to create a silver orb. He did and rolled it into the valley. Egnis asked Incant to kiss the orb. She pressed her lips to its cool surface. Egnis invited them all to look upon its face. They saw themselves.

Egnis coiled her tail around the orb and flew into the sky. She breathed the sun into morning light. Opposite its glow, halfway past her circle of the world, Egnis dropped the orb. There it turned to pull the fluidity of feeling into union with the rays of thought. The moon reminded Egnis that in darkness there was always light.

The Orphan Was Found

On a fine day, Egnis followed the vein of a river as it flowed through a thick forest. Sunlight splashed between the branches into the water. A shape caught Egnis’s eye. She circled back to what she’d seen.

There, under the current against a rock was a human infant. Egnis pulled the limp creature from the depths. It did not move or breathe. A ragged cord hung from its belly. Its skin was blue, unlike the skin of any human Egnis had ever seen. She held it tight and returned to the mountaintop. Ingot and Incant stood near as they considered what to do.

Egnis lay the child within her nest. She breathed a gentle, red flame toward its body, and the infant wiggled its toes. Encouraged, Egnis blew a rainbow into the child, chasing the red with orange, yellow, and green. With blue, the child cried. With indigo, the eyelids opened, and with violet, light from the darkness entered its eyes.

The Three gasped, for they all believed the child was dead beyond return. The infant cried piteously. Egnis cradled it against her scaled chest with deep tenderness. It turned its head as it pursed its lips, desperate to suckle. Incant clutched her breasts. Her palms were wet with milk. She reached for the human child and took it to her body. There, the infant found nourishment.

When the infant had its fill, Ingot fetched a large basket filled with moss. Incant placed the child within. They stared at the sleeping babe.

In most ways, the child was ordinary. It had a head, two arms, two legs, and the usual number of fingers and toes. It had two ears, two eyes, one nose, one mouth. Yet its skin remained as blue as it had been when Egnis pulled it from the water. Below its waist, it was an oddity.

“The infant is male and female,” Ingot said.

“The child is he and she,” Incant said.

“The being is both and they,” Egnis said.

The Three agreed that the child needed a name. Egnis had saved the infant, and she was given the honor to bestow the name. So the foundling was called Azul.

Azul Grew

Egnis, Ingot, and Incant relied on the beasts to help with Azul’s care.

Incant observed the infant beasts were fed when they were hungry, and this she did for the child. If Azul’s thirst became greater than her store, the wolf, the bear, and the deer gave of their teats and milk.

Ingot saw the small ones were given closeness, and this the Three shared. Incant was filled with love, but her touch by nature was cool. Ingot covered the child with his gold beard and held them to his chest. When Azul began to sleep through the night, Egnis took the child to her nest, circled them with her body, and blanketed them with a feathered wing.

Egnis saw that all beasts took pleasure in play. The Three called upon the animals and insects to frolic with Azul. Incant taught the child to swim, climb, and stroll. Ingot delighted in making toys, some which rolled on wheels and others that turned on clever gears. Egnis asked Ingot and Incant to craft a pouch, in which the dragon placed the child and took it round and round the world.

The Three understood the raw nature of the foundling and agreed to guide them with gentleness. The Three noticed when they responded to Azul with anger or impatience, the child cried more or took fright. Egnis had observed that some beasts cuffed their young when they misbehaved. When Egnis tried this, Azul looked at her as if they had been betrayed and wept without consolation.

The dragon reminded the Gold Dwarf and the White Wisp of the lesson of the stag and the village. To pause before action gave space for choice. The Three chose love, for it was the flame of love that brought Azul back to life and the practice of love that taught the child to trust and share.

As Azul grew, the Three gave the orphan the freedom to learn skills. All that Ingot could do, he taught to the child. All that Incant could do, she taught to the child. In these lessons, Azul learned all the skills and trades that had taken root and flourished among the humans. Azul enjoyed the many gifts their foster parents gave them. Azul could do anything.

Egnis was the one to lead Azul away from the comfort of the mountain and into the wider world. Saddled upon Egnis’s strong, red neck, Azul traveled far and wide. From the sky, Egnis imparted her knowledge of the cycles within All That Is. Azul learned of cycles within cycles, of those that ended never to begin again, of those just beginning with the ends yet unknown.

Azul felt boundless and brave.

Yet a time of great doubt was ahead for the foundling.

Azul’s Rage

From the child’s earliest days, Azul knew that they had been found by the dragon. There was wonder in the tale, and Azul often asked to hear how Egnis discovered them under the water and fired them to breathe for the first time.

Underneath the joy was a murky feeling that Azul ignored. The Three had bestowed a rich life on them, and Azul felt deep within that they were loved. Yet deep within, Azul, too, felt they were not.

When Azul grew into the shape of adults, they began to explore the world away from the mountain. The Three encouraged the brief journeys, trusting that Azul knew well how to take care and be cautious.

Azul was intimately familiar with all types of creatures and plants but had not been among their own kind. The foundling crept to a village’s edge to watch. During one observation, Azul realized how different was the color of their skin. Azul’s travels with Egnis showed them the peoples of the world and none of them were blue. When Azul returned to the mountain, Ingot assured them that they were no different from any other human. Azul’s color was unique.

Then, Azul observed the bodies and clothing of the humans. Azul knew the difference between males and female from the beasts. The humans had the same distinctions, although often covered with clothing. Azul remained hidden until they saw male and female humans frolic and mate in the forest. With horror, Azul realized that they were one body with two forms. When Azul returned home, Incant tried to comfort them. Azul’s body was different from most humans, but they were still human. Nature did not always follow the same plan.

Again, Azul watched the village. As among the animals, there were small groups of adults and young. Some of the groups had more adults than young or more young than adults. Azul could see that those in the village knew one another—as a herd knew its members—but the small groups clustered together with obvious attachment. A woman carried and fed one infant and no other. A man returned to one small group and no other. Children played among one another, but some resembled certain children more than others. When Azul arrived at the mountain, Egnis saw them hide in the cave.

Egnis went to Azul, who refused to speak. In the night, a horrible scream stirred the forest. Egnis rushed to find the creature that was in pain. There upon the ground was Azul. They threw the objects near their hands and pounded the earth with their fists. Wails of rage flooded from Azul’s throat. Azul refused to see or speak to Egnis, Ingot, or Incant. Ceaseless, for days and nights, Azul cried and screamed. Each day and night, one of the Three approached to give comfort and was rebuked.

Then the raging stopped.

Egnis went into the forest. Azul looked wild and exhausted. At last, Azul told what caused them such agony. Azul had realized that they had been abandoned before their first breath. Their body was an aberration, and they were thrown unwanted into the water. Azul knew not the basic love a warm beast gives to its young. Azul knew not the company of their own kind or the way they belonged in the world.

Egnis could think of many things to say but said only one. “You are loved, Azul,” she said. She breathed fire in her chest and urged its warmth to her child.

Azul received the love of the dragon and pressed their face into her belly.

“I must go,” Azul said.

The Three knew this time would come. None tried to discourage Azul, and all understood the journey ahead was part of Azul’s cycle, which began in water and whose end was a mystery.

Azul Left the Realm

Azul received gifts on the day they departed for the wider world. The Gold Dwarf gave the beloved child, now grown, an amulet marked with a symbol that contained a circle, triangle, and square. The White Wisp shared an incantation that promised to lead Azul home, if spoken with mindful intent. Egnis simply kissed Azul on the crown of their head and watched the journey begin.

The foundling traveled without weapons and with a sense of ease that shelter and food could be found. Although Azul missed the Three, loneliness did not too often fill them because of the quiet animal companions along the way. Azul hoped to be welcomed among their human kind but knew their difference may cause alarm.

Azul entered several villages. Each time, Azul was forced to leave. Some people ran away in fear. Some people chased Azul with violence. Some stared with such coldness that it served no purpose to linger. Azul considered that their clothing, as well as their skin, provoked scrutiny. Azul dressed comfortably, and their garments did not resemble the clothing worn by most of the people they’d seen. Although Azul was neither man nor woman but both, Azul began to dress more like a man and move with the gestures of men.

After traveling many days and nights, Azul rested in the hollow of a tree. They awakened to the sound of children whispering. Azul smiled at the boy and girl, and they smiled in return. The little ones led Azul to their home. The adults, a man and a woman, regarded Azul with caution but also with kindness. Although Azul had never heard the language with which the people spoke, they found the words tumble from their tongue with ease. Azul received food, shelter, and friendship.

The family who gave haven to Azul introduced them to others in the village. Not all were welcoming, but Azul was determined to dispel doubt and fear. In time, because of Azul’s gentleness with human and beast and their cooperation to aid in tasks, the villagers accepted Azul among them. Azul felt immense joy and contentment.

When others asked from where Azul had come, Azul told the truth. They said that they hailed from a mountain near a valley, an ocean, a desert, and a forest. Loving foster parents found them as an infant and raised them with the world as their home and all beings as their companions. When asked why their skin was blue, Azul said that was the way they came into the world.

Because Azul could do any task, use any skill, the villagers thought them unusually bright. Azul noticed that men and women often served in different tasks. Yet Azul’s presence encouraged the people to try their hands at what felt right.

Azul Returned Home

In time, Azul wished to share their home with friends. The foundling, now grown, gathered their closest companions and invited them on an adventure. The group set out on a fine day. Although Azul had no concern about traveling without weapons, their companions were wary. They insisted upon bringing spears and daggers. If the group needed these items only to hunt, all the better. Azul’s friends thought them too trusting in a dangerous world.

To mark a trail back to the village, Azul carved an image into tree trunks along the way. The image was the symbol on the amulet Azul wore, the gift from Ingot. In time, the group became weary. Azul had not realized how far the journey was to the realm and decided to try Incant’s words, which were supposed to lead the beloved child home. To Azul’s surprise, the words called forth the cooperation of Nature so that the elements, the creatures, and the plants led the travelers in the correct direction.

Soon enough, Azul and their friends reached the realm.

When Azul saw the mountain in the distance, Azul began to dance. A flock of swallows over Azul’s head recognized the foundling and darted over a meadow, above the trees, and to the mountain. Beautiful twinkling music welcomed the group as they gathered at the entrance to the cave. Ingot and Incant embraced Azul and greeted the guests.

Incant led them to a banquet table filled with food and drink. Ingot turned a key at the side of a metal device made of wheels, disks, and gears, from which the music sang again. The Gold Dwarf said that he’d waited many seasons to share this new invention with his beloved Azul. As the travelers ate, drank, and rested, Azul waited to see Egnis, who was away but would, as always, return in the evening.

The sky softened with fading light. Clouds floated on higher winds. One great billow turned pink, then red, and formed into a familiar shape. Azul leapt upon anxious feet and ran toward the valley. Alarmed, Azul’s friends grabbed their weapons and followed with haste.

Egnis spread her magnificent wings and glided toward the ground, gentle as a bee. She fluttered with joy, sending a warm breeze to all the lands. Azul rushed toward her with open arms. Before Azul reached her, Egnis lurched backward with a claw at her chest. The handle of a spear jutted from her body. Suddenly, Azul’s friends surrounded them. The people attacked Egnis with ferocity. Scales dropped from her body as sharp objects grazed her. She who saw All That Is huffed until smoke hid the people from one another. She flew backward and waited.

Azul shouted at the group. “The dragon means no harm! She is my mother!” they said.

When all became quiet, Azul asked why their friends had attacked.

“We were afraid. We thought it was a threat,” their friends replied.

“There was no pause to find whether you faced friend or foe. Not a moment was given to learn or understand,” Azul said.

“We could have been dead by then,” one friend replied.

“And each one of you is a stranger to her. She could have killed you with one breath. Even with her awesome might, Egnis chose restraint,” Azul said.

Azul’s friends gasped as the Red Dragon stood behind Azul with a broken spear in one claw and a perfect white flower held in the center of the other. She dropped the spear and gripped the crown of Azul’s head. She bowed to welcome the guests. Egnis extended the flower toward them. Blood dripped to the ground.

“Leave us, please,” Azul said to the friends.

The foundling touched Engis’s wound. Azul’s love for the dragon flooded forth. A sweet song surged through Azul’s throat. The orphan’s hands warmed, then glowed along every contour, edged with light. The wound sealed to bleed no more, with a scar as a reminder of the hurt and the healing.

Egnis told her child that they were the same as any other human. Within, each human experienced the same feelings, and without, all needed food, shelter, and companionship. However, Egnis said, Azul had grown in love, in the absence of fear, and that made them different. Egnis urged them to forgive their friends.

Azul asked Egnis if she could die. She could, she said, in form and function. She was immortal, but she was not immutable. Then Azul asked what would happen if she no longer breathed the sun.

“All would dry in endless light or all would rot in endless dark,” Egnis said.

The Dream That Urged Azul’s New Way

The night after Azul’s friends attacked Egnis, the foundling fell into a deep slumber. They walked a wide spiral to the center where there was a well. A voice called from the darkness and wetness below. “Azul,” the voice said, “you are to teach what is not remembered. You are to remind others of what has been forgotten.” A boulder rolled past Azul and became wrapped in a knotted net. Then the voice said, “Without the connections, it would fall apart.”

Azul awoke as if shocked to be in their body. But their body was suddenly no longer one of both sexes. The flesh was female. The maleness between Azul’s legs had transformed. Azul’s slight breast was now full.

She told the Three of her dream and the remarkable change. The Three agreed that the power of The Great Sleep had touched her. Azul must do what the transcendent guidance called her to do.

Azul and her friends departed after a breakfast feast and embraces among them all. The symbols she carved into the trees led the group home to the village. They returned amidst much joy and were promised a celebration to honor them.

As the village prepared for the feast, Azul overheard friends tell of their journey. Some stories matched her memory, and others did not. She felt shocked when one friend bragged of the attack on Egnis and another told of the hoard the dragon kept within its lair. Others said they always thought Azul odd and now had an inkling as to why.

Azul wondered if she should speak to the villagers as she planned, afraid she would be ridiculed, even cast out, for what she would say.

After much eating and merriment, Azul called for silence. She thanked her friends for their companionship and good humor on such a long journey. Her return home had filled her with an impulse to build her life anew with those who felt a similar urge. She told of a place where everyone was welcomed in love, where trust and cooperation reigned and all were honored for their skills and gifts. Dark feelings would find release without violence of any kind to one’s self or others.

“Where would this be?” a voice asked.

“Here, if that is where it can begin,” Azul said.

“Does that make you the leader and liege over all?” another asked.

“I wish to guide. A council may lead, with guidance from all.”

“What makes you think you can do this?”

“Because I believe in the possibility of a different way.”

A few people mumbled and giggled. Then many others joined the laughter. Azul expected to burn with shame but stood with patience until the noise died.

“Anyone who shares the dream is welcome to join me,” Azul said.

Azul chose to sleep under the full moon. She felt close to Egnis, calmed by the darkness. A noise awakened her. She sat up quickly to see a friend from the journey. He was her favorite among them and had been from her earliest days in the village.

He said he knew that some of their friends spoke falsely of what they’d seen and that some boasted of what they’d done. He did not know whether Azul knew he alone had not joined the assault on Egnis. She did not, and she asked him why he stayed behind. He said that the night before they arrived at the mountain he had had a strange dream. Azul appeared as a strong woman thatching the roof of a cottage. A dwarf poured gold upon the ground, which flowed to create a road that led to the cottage. Rain poured down, and the land became rich with plant food, green life, and animals. He walked into the cottage and saw children dancing. Through a window, he saw a red, winged serpent fly around the sun. He turned to kiss Azul, who became quick with child, and then he awoke from his dream.

For a long moment, Azul was silent. She said she must unburden a deep secret and asked for his trust. She told of her beginning, abandoned in the water, and of the mystery of her body, which was both male and female. Yet during the respite in the realm where she was first loved, she dreamed of another home to come and awoke with the body of a woman.

“I have long loved you for who you are, Azul,” he said. “Let me join with you and bring the dreams into being.”

They, as a man and a woman, met as two and one. In the morning, Azul and her mate left the village with a small gathering of friends. They walked toward another way.

The Death of Azul

Although Azul was human, they proved to be unlike most humans.

During Azul’s life, they were neither man nor woman but could be either in turn or both at once. Azul bore a girl and a boy when not a man, and sired a boy and a girl when not a woman. The children were born generations apart to two different mothers and two different fathers. Azul did not know they would outlive beloved mates and the children who brought the couples and their families such joy.

Again and again, four times with a mate and several times without, Azul built the peaceful, loving places they had dreamed of. Each settlement spiraled from a center, marked by a sweet, deep well. Ingot arrived with a team of oxen and cartloads of gold. He built beautiful roads and singing wheels for the children. Incant called upon the creatures and plants to protect their long journeys. When the shelters were complete, the crops set to root, and the smithy hot with fire, a group of the people traveled, bearing gifts, to see Egnis, Ingot, and Incant. The people filled the cave with swords, daggers, cauldrons, cups, bracelets, and buckles, crafted by their own hands.

Along the way to visit the Three, the travelers took comfort and shelter in cottages built within the forests. Great elders chose to live in solitude, awaiting those in need. The elders lived away from the margins of the settlements, but their cottages were connected to one another by design.

During Azul’s long life, the settlements grew with prudent balance. The people lived in peace and treated one another with respect and love, from the newest newborn to the most aged elder. They were no different from their distant neighbors in the other lands, regardless of their customs and languages and ways, yet they were not the same. The tranquility and cooperation in their lives were choices they made every moment, every day. This mighty but tenuous web of understanding held them gently.

Azul was confident, although never certain, about what their long-ago dream had meant. As an ancient, Azul sat in the sun surrounded by birdsong and flowers gathered by happy children. They felt the darkness of their abandoned beginning, the end that had not been. That fact, that truth, could not be denied. Yet, too, Azul could not deny the Three’s profound love, their despair to be among their kind, and the struggles and joy to build the world they dreamed of. At that moment, a young couple placed an infant in Azul’s arms.

“Beloved Azul,” the mother said, “what is this light in my child’s eyes?”

Azul gazed at the newborn, at the darkness in the light, the pupil in the iris, and saw what the mother had seen.

Azul smiled. They touched the cheeks of the babe’s mother and father.

“Dear ones,” Azul said, “that light is love.”

The ancient Orphan’s head dropped as if in sleep. Gentle as a dream, Azul died.

The Families Venerated Azul

Across the lands, in every settlement, the people mourned Azul. Grief filled many hearts with heaviness. In the place where Azul died, the people gathered to decide how to honor them. The people agreed that Azul should be taken home and for the settlements to join in an act of veneration.

Azul’s closest friends wrapped the body in linen and sealed the shroud with beeswax. Ten young people were chosen to make the journey to the mountain with Azul’s remains.

The young people used the ancient incantation to lead them. All of Nature was saddened by the foundling’s death and took great care to ease the humans’ effort.

When the ten young people arrived, Egnis, Ingot, and Incant greeted them with love and tears. They could not have known that the Three had not aged a moment in all these eras or that Egnis alone bore several scars. The Red Dragon removed a copper breastplate from her body. Her chest puckered where she had been stabbed many times.

“Majestic mother of Azul, what happened to your breast?” a young woman with violet eyes asked.

Egnis told her that time and again, bands of humans had come to raid the treasures and to try to kill her.

“But you mean and cause no harm,” a young man said.

“Their perception makes it seem so,” Egnis replied.

Egnis, Ingot, and Incant surrounded the cart on which Azul’s body lay. The Red Dragon lifted her child, carried them to the valley, and placed them on the sweet grass next to a pyre. The others watched as Egnis melted the wax with a soft flame, removed the wraps, and cradled Azul at her breast.

When the Red Dragon lay Azul on the pyre, nine of the young people reached into their hip pouches for bells. Ingot placed bracelets of silver and gold upon the dead orphan’s wrists. Incant covered Azul’s skin with flowers. Egnis kissed their fragile crown. The Three who loved Azul first and always joined hands upon their child.

The Red Dragon moved to the foot of the pyre. With a heaving cry, she who first saw All drew a pained breath and blew a raging flame into the waiting wood.

As the fire rose to Azul’s body, the young woman with the violet eyes began to sing. Her voice carried over the valley, beyond the ocean, across the desert, and through the forest. The young people clapped the bells in sharp, clear unison. Along the lines that marked the lands, invisible to the eye but known to the pure of heart, the bell tolls rang true. At points along the lines, solitary elders stood at their thresholds wearing blue garments and swinging bells. Between the lines, thousands of people dressed in blue as deep as the sky bowed their heads.

Tongues of fire reduced Azul to ash. The bells were silent, but the young woman continued to sing. She stared at Egnis through the flames with tears on her cheeks. The Red Dragon met her eyes and told her beyond words what The Great Sleep had said in a dream. Within All That Is, there is a choice. With that, two embers flew into the girl’s eyes and blinded her, but her mind was so open she did not notice.

With the last note of her song, a flock of swallows whisked over the dying fire and scattered Azul’s ashes into the wind. Incant keened until the skies clouded and rained. As she calmed, clouds drifted apart. Suddenly, a rainbow arched over the mountain.

The young woman stood in front of the line of her fellow travelers. “Great Ones,” she said, “we vow to be guardians of the way of love. As you guarded and loved Azul, we will do the same for you.”

“As you must for one another,” the Three said with one voice.

The Three bowed to them, and they bowed to the Three. Each one stood strong and earnest, beautiful and brave in matching boots and fine blue coats.

From The Chronicle of Secret Riven, Keeper of Tales Trilogy Book 2
© Ronlyn Domingue