Chapter Eighteen #3
“I imagined the moon to be cold,” she suddenly said as she glanced at me with a smile. “Mean…cold, very direct. Why are you not like this? You are very…comfortable and natural to be around Maggie Grey.”
“Whoa…Why the government name,” I muttered before laughing at my own self. “I dunno… I’m just me. My family always kept me well-grounded I guess.”
We were silent for a while as we continued to walk, looking out into the distance as the wind gently wrapped around us. It felt like we were moving in a circle, always coming back to the starting point with no hint of buildings or structures in sight.
“Your friends, are you upset with them?”
“Frustrated, yes. Upset? No. It’s a lot to ask and they don’t know my parents or family.
They’re not obligated to do anything they don’t want to do.
Otherwise, it would be all of us trudging through the sand instead of just us two.
Souxie would stay quiet and just stare… Isis would go wherever the wind blows and Asha is bound to fight whoever brought us here in the first place.
You would be the helpless princess they spoil, and I would still be thinking about how to get to my parents. ”
“Not helpless…I am fearless,” she stated with a raise of her chin. “I was never raised to carry the burden of fear.”
Nor common sense. I smiled, enjoying my own retort even if I didn’t say it out loud before asking, “do you miss home? Do you ever think about your sister being in your place?”
It was the first time I saw a crack in her armor.
Her eyes softened up as she looked out into the distance.
Letting the sun rays hit her skin, I felt the warmth creep up against mine.
For some reason, neither of us spoke for a while.
She never answered the question, and I was concentrating on our pacing through the sand.
The dunes in the distance seemed to shift and move with just a light brush of wind blowing but that was it.
There was absolutely nothing. Just heat growing thick in the air as I opened my mouth to release my own hot breath.
Ayira seemed so at peace in this environment.
Her eyes were heavy, and the small faint smile curled ever so slightly upwards against her cheeks.
Even her skin seemed to welcome the sun while I was beginning to sweat and dry out in the same minute.
“Helloooooo!?” I shouted. My voice bounced back towards me in a faint echo as the dunes moved towards us.
I decided it was time to stop and take a break and for once, Ayira didn’t protest. I sat down, trying to catch my own breath while she knelt down to run her fingers through her hair, and cleared out any sand particles from the strands.
“Well at least we know nobody else is here since it’s my voice talking back to me,” I muttered.
Ayira gasped with her eyes lighting up with excitement as she raised her hands together in the air.
She held them high, keeping her palms close before pulling back for a loud clap that sounded more like a call to the wild as she stood up.
The gritty sand fell from her knees as she listened before clapping again for a second time.
“What are you doing?”
“When I was little, my mother would tell me that the old would clap twice in the middle of the night and if they heard the desert clap back, they would survive because there is a way back home.”
It was already strange to hear an echo in a desert but given the Underground exists, it was the least strange thing I’ve encountered. Now Ayira was standing tall looking around and ready to clap again. Instead, I reached for the book to pull out of the bag and flipped it back open.
“Okay well you do that. I’m going to read…
The Old World of Sakuran,” I read out loud as I began flipping through pages.
I stopped when I came across an old painting of women sitting by a fire and one stood with her hands in the air with the motion that she was clapping.
Curious, I began to read what I could for the most part.
“The Solhari people are said to be the first to understand magic at its core. They used their bodies, mind, and soul to create the very first form of magic we see today. Sakuran, the oldest king to ever live, was said to be a tyrant ruler known for killing and punishments. He took the place of his father King Tharel who died at an early age. Slavery was a way of life, and the kingdom was slowly built off the backs of the Solhari people. Those who lived out in the desert away from his watchful eye were said to have found a way out. A way nobody till this day understands. Among the sun born, they would stand around a controlled flame during a time when fire was not permitted outside of the king and his guards and clasp their hands together three times until it grew.”
I paused as Ayira knelt down beside me to see before continuing.
“The controlled flame and then what? Did they jump into the fire?” I asked out loud as I flipped to the next page that was obviously missing from the spine. I touched the torn edge squeeze in between. “Did they survive?”
“You know how to read Sutari?” She asked in awe. “I did not know!”
“Huh?” I let out, confused. She pointed to the text that was in plain English to my eyes.
“When they jumped into the fire,” she read with her finger trailing the words. We both began reading out loud.
“After three claps, they disappeared completely from the desert, never to be seen again. It is one of the earliest signs of moving through time as a means of escaping brutal treatment.”
“This is Sutari,” she said. “You can read it the same as I.”
Three times? Clapping three times to move through time, like the doors? I slowly gasped at the realization when I thought about Ayira standing up to clap two times. If the desert clapped back, that would make it…the third…clap.
“This is the original moving door,” I said, voice barely above a whisper.
“The what?”
“The doors!” I blurted out. “You all created moving through the doors! Jumping from one place to another! It’s no wonder you jumped in your sister’s body! The man from the class! The video! He was probably Solhari like you!”
“What is a moving door? Isis said something about a door, but I do not understand.”
I gripped my hair as I shot up and tapped my chin to think.
Come on Maggie girl…you're a smart girl. Come onnnn… Think. They didn’t create the door itself, but they created the idea of moving from one place to another for safety reasons.
The Solhari have been living beneath society as the old world for centuries.
Of course they would have found a way to escape.
I whipped around to face Ayira, ready to ask her a question when I froze. A single dark wooden door stood just a in the distance from the direction we just came from. It was buried deep within the sand, but the full single frame was obvious, and the gold doorknob glistened against the sun.
“Ayira,” I whispered, feeling my adrenaline kick in.
If this was going to be anything like the first time with the girls, I was more than ready.
We finally made some headway. Ayira slowly stood up as we stared at the door with our hair blowing towards it with the wind.
Suddenly, she took off, bursting into a sprint up the tall sand dune as her shoes continuously slid back down.
“Ayira!” I shouted. “Wait! Just hold on!”
“For what?! Is this not a door?!” She called out over her shoulder. Shit! The damn woman had no brakes on her. I followed behind her, forgetting everything as she grabbed the gold doorknob and whipped it open.
“AYIRA!?” I screamed, watching her body get flung into darkness before the door slammed shut in front of me.
I froze with my mind immediately trying not to panic.
The door was still here. I could touch it and even smell the fresh wood but when I tried to shakily turn the knob, nothing happened.
I looked around, whipped my hair back from my face before banging on it repeatedly. “NO! NO! NO! AYIRA?!”
Looking up at the sky, I could see the faint view of wings spreading across the clouds before disappearing.
Closing my eyes, I tried to silently pray for the instincts of an old burglar desperate for a flat screen TV in the living room, and the flexibility of a cat stuck in a tree because I was getting in this damn door if…
Opening my eyes at the sudden sensation, I looked down at my shoes to see the overgrowth of grass beginning to come up.
Bright green blades of nature began to stretch as high as my calves.
I looked around to see it fold up like hair growing from the scalp instead of the sand.
The ground cracked and shook as thick rope like vines began to creep along the door.
Covering it completely with weeds and flowers decorating the edges until it was nothing more than a bush.
When I turned to look back, wondering if this was spreading, that’s when I saw the house.
A two-story home with a wraparound porch, and painted railing with smoke coming from the chimney above.
There were plants hanging down from the porch ceiling in woven baskets, clay pots were filled with overgrowth of plants, and wind chimes made of metal trinkets and shells gently blew sideways in the humid cool air.
The house looked as if it was breathing, stretching and settling within the foundation.
The screen door gently waved back and forth as if it was telling me to come on in.