Herein is made known the story of the Way Wards and the creation of the second world. My name is Weaver, and I am a Whisperer. I am of the species, Watcher, and my particular whisper is the story.

I remember when the second world was joined with ours, and the Way Wards walked beside Whisperers on the First World. They heard the Music then. The Music is the song of the Divinethos, the First before all, which connects all things and creates all things and establishes all things. Now, the Way Wards’ world is divided from the First World, and Whisperers must go to the second world to whisper the Music in their ears, or they would not even know the Divinethos exists. 

The world of the Way Wards is cloaked in Tempor. Tempor is like a thick sludge that captures all creatures on their world, so none can traverse freely. They are trapped like bugs in amber, only being able to move moment by moment in a single direction. It is a truly torturous way to live.

Because of the veil of Tempor, the Way Wards cannot see our world or come into it.  But because we flow in the Music still, Whisperers can travel between their world and ours, as if the veil is lifted from our side but is an impenetrable wall on theirs. It is our calling to enliven the Music in the Way Wards once again, so the Whisper can once more rule. So, we whisper the Music. Some listen. Some do not. 

Don’t make the very common mistake of thinking one species of Whisperer is higher than another. We all exist together as one and as separate, and each species has a purpose, equal to the others. My fellow Watchers and I have the distinction of observing all. With the two worlds divided, it is our job to both sing with the Music on our world, and to take our songs to the second world.

The Watchers are not allowed to influence the Way Wards. The Metanoi is the species of Whisperers who can influence. However, even the Metanoi have limits, because the Divinethos has decreed no Whisperer may change the choices of the Way Wards or make their choices for them. It is sad, really. But so says the Divinethos. As it is so it is.

 The ‘Ro species helps touch, stir, and move the hearts of the Way Wards, to help them glimpse the Music and hopefully remember the Divinethos. This species of Whisperer has the most beautiful songs. They really are very sweet to the ear. The Bellator species, on the other hand – well, suffice it to say, you do not want to end up on their bad side. They love the Way Wards with a fierce devotion. If not for the Bellator, the Way Wards would never again hear the Music and would sink into darkness for eternity. This story ending is too terrible for me to contemplate.

Whisperers are not perfect. In fact, Skia Skotos and the Dark Whisperers are to blame for the division of our two worlds – but I am getting ahead of myself in the story.

The Way Wards have been changed by their separation from the Music. The division meant their sarkikos would wither and perish, something no Whisperer can even comprehend. The Teleilogos has attempted to explain perishing to us, but an ending makes no sense except within the constraints of Tempor, which we do not know. The tragedy of an ending, the finality of it, seems unbearable. I don’t think I even want to try to understand it.

 The Way Wards whose stories I tell are the ones who despise the chaos and division and feel the deep loss of the Music in their hearts, even if they don’t yet know what it is they are missing. For those Way Wards, I have the most hope.

In the beginning, the two planets were a single planet, where a variety of sentient species lived in harmony. The Whisperers are one of the species. We are made of light and energy and move freely through space and time. There are four species of Whisperers: the Watchers, the Bellator, the Metanoi, and the ‘Ro. The other species are all matter-based creatures.

The Jasperi are tree dwellers with green skin and fluffy tails. They are a skittish group – all, that is, except Amadah, one of the Wards important to the rejoining of the two worlds – and of course, the child known as Kindra. I will not speak of her story, for it is hers to tell.

Emraldi, grassland dwellers, are bright, winged creatures with pearlescent skin. Little Aleshanee has an important role to play in the rejoining. She still hears the Music.

The Topazi are desert dwellers, very dragon-like, if you have heard the stories of dragons from other worlds far away, but without a dragon’s wings. The Topazi, Fala, is crucial to the success of the quest. His strength and wisdom may save them all in the end.

The Jacinthi live on the high mountain. Their wings are white or shades of blue and purple, but they have arms along with their wings, feathers on their sarkikos and faces, and long, flowing hair. Their leader is Angeni, and I fear for her. She teeters on the brink because of her pride in her many giftings from the Divinethos, and since she has forgotten the Divinethos, nothing remains to stay her false sense of importance.

The Saphiri dwell in the ocean. Their tails are various shades of blue and silver. Misa and her father, Towila, will play key roles before the end of the journey.

The Onyxi, cave dwellers, are strange-looking, black, fur-covered lumps who are quite timid, but they have hearts of gold, especially Enla and her friend, Yiska. They are unusual for Onyxi in that they still have hope.

The Carneli, cliff dwellers are vicious carnivores, but the one who will come along on the quest has a vast capacity for love. His name is Kilchi.

The Chalcedi are also winged creatures who live in an aerie on the other mountains. They equal or exceed the Jacinthi in size but have none of their intelligence. They are, however, fierce warriors. Should they side with the Dark Lord…well, let’s hope that does not happen. One named Cholena may yet be saved.

The Turqosi live in the wetlands. They are a warrior race whose spit melts their enemies’ skin off their bones. Long and lean of sarkikos with a frill around their heads, they will be a force for good or ill before the end. Leenha, their leader, is quite impressive. She rules with an iron fist.

The Chrysoli, plains dwellers, are large, stately, golden creatures with huge manes, but I regret to inform you that they keep slaves, an abominable act for any species. Yet, the Divinethos holds out hope even for them.

And finally, the Amthysti – a selfish, grasping, arrogant species – they live in a golden tower in the center of the world. Ogima, as I understand it, has a significant part to play, even though he will not be on the quest with the others. I pray that does not mean his part is on the side of the Dark Ones.

So back to my history lesson. A revolt took place on the First World when a faction of the Whisperers, led by Phaini, joined with the twelve matter-based species to try to overthrow the Divinethos (also called the Forever, and the One Before All, who deserves all honor and glory and praise). Phaini, a Metanoi, was able to influence many Whisperers and the other species to join him and try to usurp the throne. In response, the Divinethos divided the one world into two. The First World remained as it was created, a place of great beauty, with crystalline waterfalls, emerald plains, and mountain spires reaching into a brilliant sky, unbound by Tempor.

The Divinethos made the Second World a reflection of the First World, except it was bound by Tempor, having a beginning and an end, so all the colors and richness of the First World is muted. The revolutionaries were exiled to the Second World. As a result, those Whisperers lost their light and were left only as energy. They are now called Dark Ones. Phaini changed his name to a god-name – Skia Skotos – and gave all the Dark Ones god-names as well, such was his hideous pride. Now bound in Tempor, the twelve species’ lives also have an ending. Each life lasts only a span of cycles, which is an unbearable loss for us all, but necessary to prevent the darkness from infesting the First World like the disease it is.

Over the course of thousands and thousands of years, the twelve species’ descendants forgot about the First World and the Forever. The Dark Ones’ influence grew, and violence, division, and struggles for power became their norm.

Then, a thousand years ago, a huge war broke out between the twelve species which almost destroyed the planet. Entire land masses on the world were rendered uninhabitable. With only one land mass left, the twelve species signed a treaty giving each a region of land and prohibiting any and all contact between the different species. Violation of these provisions was punishable by death. So, the different species have had no contact for over a thousand years.

Now, the end of the Second World is approaching. If the two worlds are to be rejoined before it is too late, the First World’s Whisperers must bring all the species together, and we must try and help those on the Second World who will listen – if any still have ears to hear.

From Messenger

Communique from Messenger, the Watcher, to the rest of the Whisperers:

My fellow Whisperers, the task you have undertaken is of the greatest importance to the Divinethos. If the Second World is not reunited with ours before their sky light’s final fall, all the created will be forever lost. The Way Wards would never again hear the Music and would sink into the dark morass once and for all. This terrible fate is not the will of the Divinethos. And so, you must succeed.

Brothers and Sisters, as you journey to the other world, you must remember, because their world is bound in Tempor, the Way Wards cannot traverse freely. They are trapped like bugs in amber, unable to hear the Music on their own. When you step into Tempor, you, too, may lose your ability to know what was, what may be, and what will be, and may only see what is. By necessity, you will leave your sarkikos behind on our world, lest Tempor cause you to wither and cease. But this will make your task even more difficult, as the Way Wards will not perceive your presence with their natural senses. Your great sacrifice in these matters is known and appreciated.

My fellow Watchers will remain behind and will use the Music to communicate with you, to keep you apprised of developments as your wards make their choices. You may Whisper what you hear in the Music to your wards; however, the Divinethos has decreed the Way Wards will always have a choice, so you may influence only. Metanoi Whisperers, you will be of great importance in this aspect of the task.

Be on your guard, for the Dark Ones will have no compunction about violating this decree and will not hesitate to use any means at their disposal to interfere and overcome your influence with your wards. Rely on your Bellator brothers and sisters to defend you. ‘Ro, you will not be able to hear the words of the Dark Ones. The Divinethos has determined your hearts need to be protected from their evil, for your hearts must be pure to touch the hearts of the wards. You, also, must rely on the Bellator.

I know it is difficult to comprehend, but most of the Way Wards have forgotten the Divinethos exists. Yes, I know…but remember, they cannot hear the Music. Well, most cannot. You will need to rely on the few who still perceive the Music and who still believe to convince the rest, for belief is required to rejoin the worlds. The Teleilogos has gone before you and will help in this matter.

Breathe in the free air one last breath, then fly, dear friends. Fly. May the Whisper carry you and may the Great Love guide your every step.

The Jasperi

Amadah nestled deep into the branches of her favorite tree, having climbed up to a treacherous height just so she could catch a glimpse of the rose-colored sky, which reminded her of the sparkling blossoms of the sweetserri tree in spring. Her own skin reflected the color of the leaves surrounding her, but with more of a shimmer that looked like boucha leaves when they were dripping water from a late season rain, or a distant horizon when waves of heat distorted the point where sky meets land.

Her position was obscured from the ground by the tree’s thick growth of leaves, and her skin color helped conceal her in her hiding place, but her thick cascade of auburn hair would have given her away if not for the height of her perch. She loved her hair, even though other Jasperi found it shocking, disturbing, an aberration. Almost all Jasperi had hair the color of tree trunks, and few varied from the norm beyond a slightly darker or lighter tone. Amadah liked being different.

Her neighbors rustled through the leaves and branches of nearby trees, but none climbed as high as Amadah, so no one saw her. Wrapping her arms around a branch, she leaned her head back until she caught an unobstructed view of the sky. Others found strange her constant questioning about what lay beyond the borders of their forest or beyond the pink blanket above them. Apparently, they didn’t think about such things, focused instead on caring for the trees and collecting fruit, nuts, and berries. But Amadah only thought about such things. She wanted to explore beyond the woodlands, to leap and swim and fly like other species, to discover the answers to mysteries no one else cared about or noticed.

Sani would snort and grumble when Amadah babbled her stream of questions. “Get your head out of the sky! What’s wrong with you?” 

“You just don’t understand.” But Sani would throw up her hands. And that ended that.

Her friend, Nikani, tried to understand, but he didn’t have Amadah’s curiosity, so he was content to move through the trees gathering food and flowers, without wondering what else was out there or why his actions mattered.

Amadah always wondered why. “Why can’t we leave the woodlands?” “Why do we have to gather from the trees?” “Why is the sky pink instead of green?” “Why is it forbidden to speak with other species?”

“Life is simple. Stop asking questions.” Sani would shake her head and walk away. Amadah kept asking.

As Amadah gazed into the shimmering pink, she imagined a monster the size of a thousand worlds. The monster had one huge eye, the color of rose quartz, and that explained why their sky was rose-colored. They were inside his eye.

That’s not it, but you are not wrong to ask. Keep wondering; keep imagining; keep asking.

“One cycle, I’m going to leave the woodlands and go exploring.” Amadah always talked to the quiet little voice in her head as if she was having a conversation with a friend. She had few enough of those in the canopy. She’d never told anyone this, of course. They already thought her strange enough. “I’m going to violate the code and speak with other species. I’m going to find out all about who they are and what they do and why they do it. I’m going to ask them if they know what is beyond the sky. Surely someone will know.”

Be free, my precious free spirit.

Amadah fidgeted with a leaf. “I just have to figure out a way to get beyond the edge of the wood without being seen. Let me think; how can I do that?”

Don’t forget, you will also need food and supplies. You do not know what to expect beyond the woodlands.

“And I’ll need food and supplies.” Amadah sat up, rustling the branches around her. “I can begin to save a portion of whatever I gather each cycle until I have enough to sustain me on the journey.”

And water?

Amadah scrubbed her hand across her forehead. “Water might be a problem, though. How could I carry enough water to be sure I can make it to the riverlands?”

What would be large enough but lightweight enough if you carried it on your back? Be creative.

Amadah lay back slowly, and her eyes gleamed. “What if I hollowed out a branch? I could use tree sap to close the end, so it would hold the water. If I hollowed it out enough, it would be very light. Then I could wrap a vine around it to strap it to be back, and my hands would still be free to carry my other supplies.”

Brilliant.

“I can wait until sky fall, after I gather up all my supplies of course, and sneak away after all the Jasperi have settled for rest. If I’m very careful and very quiet, treading only on the straw and dirt and not on the leaves, I think I can make it to the tree line without being seen. And if I choose to leave when there are no tiny sky lights in the sky and wait until after the firebugs have returned to their nests, I can do it.”

“Amadah! Amadah?” A distant voice dragged her from her reverie.

“Nikani.” Amadah breathed his name like he was a viperidae. “Why won’t he let me be?”

“Amadah, are you up there?” Nikani had made it to the base of her tree.

Amadah was tempted to sit very still and wait until he tried another area of the forest.

He is your only friend.

Amadah’s heart folded under the pang of guilt. She was being mean and selfish by ignoring Nikani. “Up here!”

“I don’t see you!” Nikani shook her tree.

Amadah sighed and began her descent. Nikani was calling her for a meal or maybe a meeting, or perhaps he simply wanted to play with her. In any case, he would never come up as high as she was perched, so down she must go. No one needed to know how high she had climbed.

“There you are! I see you!” Nikani laughed as the bright color of her hair flickered through the leaves of the tree.

“Come up.”

“No, I came to get you. Sani has called a meeting of all Jasperi.”

Amadah increased her pace. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” Nikani’s tousled hair fell into his eyes. He swiped his hand through the curls and shook his head. “I never know. No one tells me anything.”

“Well, I guess that’s true of me, too, then.” Amadah swung down off the lowest branch to land in front of her friend. On level ground, Amadah towered over Nikani. While she was long and lean, he was short, square, and stout like a cuocow tree.

“The meeting is at the Blasted Tree.” A note of warning crept into his usual, easy-going demeanor, and his tail bushed, flicking back and forth nervously.

“Uh oh.”

“I know. I wondered if you did something to upset Sani.”

“Not that I know of.” Amadah shrugged. “Not yet, anyway.”

“We’d better hurry. It took me many beats to find you. The meeting might already have started.”

The two friends grasped vines and branches, swinging themselves along near the ground until they reached the clearing where the Blasted Tree stood.

Thousands upon thousands of cycles ago, a spark from the sky struck the largest tree in the Jasperi forest, leaving its trunk split and its dead limbs reaching above the rest of the forest like claws into the sky. Rain and weather gradually decayed the limbs, but sediment settled in the split trunk and turned the tree to stone. Now, the Blasted Tree served as a symbol of the longevity of their species, their strength, their ability to overcome, and their perseverance in difficulty. It became the meeting place for all Jasperi to gather when serious issues arose, and decisions had to be made.

Amadah and Nikani found the clearing filled with their neighbors, standing in a circle around the dead tree. Sani stood before the massive hole in the split trunk, arms folded across her chest and a thunderous scowl on her face. Her deep green skin seemed even darker than usual, matching her mood, and her furrowed brow accentuated the cavernous lines on her face. She sneered as Amadah entered the circle. “I’m so glad you could join us.”

“I’m sorry, Sani. I found Amadah as quickly as I could.”

“Oh, Nikani, I’m sure you did.” Sani glared at Amadah as she took her usual place at the back of the group. 

Dark Ones! What are they doing here?

Dark Ones? What in the canopy did that mean? Her own thoughts were going rogue.

“You’ve held up a vital meeting, Amadah.”

“I apologize, Sani.”

“As you should.” Sani tossed her graying hair.

The Jasperi shifed from one foot to the other. A meeting called at the Blasted Tree meant trouble, and Sani was in a mood, which meant double trouble.

Don’t listen to the whispers of the Dark Ones.          

Uh uh uh. No fair. You know you’re not allowed to block her choice.

You don’t have to listen. You have done nothing wrong. You are not the problem here.

Now her thoughts were having an argument. Sani truly was making her crazy.

“Amadah! Your lack of respect for our codes and your leader undermines the very fabric of our community.”

Amadah strode toward Sani, wondering what she had done to deserve this unwanted attention. “Why? Because I was late to a meeting I didn’t know about?”

You don’t have to listen to any of it.

Amadah turned her head to catch Nikani’s eye, to see if he would come to her defense, but he was toeing the dirt and didn’t catch her pleading look.

Sani huffed. “Do you hear her disrespectful tone? Do you see her attitude toward your leader?”

The group murmured agreement, some shaking their heads.

Amadah squared up to Sani, her fists on her hips. “Why was this meeting called? Certainly, it wasn’t called to chastise me because I was late to it.”

A low snicker rose from some of the Jasperi. Sani’s eyes looked like green moons as she shrieked, “Silence!” She glared at Amadah. “Back to your place.”

Amadah tossed her head and turned to walk toward the back of the crowd.

Sani cleared her throat. “Sonta, come forward!”

Amadah stopped in her tracks. Sonta? Why would Sonta be in trouble? Of all the Jasperi, he was the one everyone trusted, even Sani. Amadah turned back with renewed interest.

Sonta, a towering, strong Jasperi who resembled the trees he cared for, ambled slowly toward the front of the group. Everything Sonta did was with deliberate care and purpose, even walking. His hair, a mixture of brown and gray, befitting his age, hung down loosely instead of in its usual neat bun, and his shoulders sagged as if he carried a terrible weight.

“Sonta, tell the Jasperi what you told me.” Sani’s self-important tone grated on Amadah’s last nerve.

Sonta hung his head and shuffled his feet before responding. “Sani and my fellow Jasperi.” He paused several beats. So unlike Sonta. “We have a crisis emerging that we’ll need to address immediately, before it’s too late.”

Gasps rustled through the group. Amadah moved a step closer to Sonta. Sonta paused, but Amadah knew him well enough to know it was not for effect like it would have been if Sani was giving the speech. It was almost as if Sonta was struggling to collect his thoughts, to present the crisis in the least frightening way possible. Amadah’s concern grew.

Sonta finally gathered himself. “I’ve been mapping the forest and cataloguing our trees. The markers I put out at the edge of the forest many cycles ago…” Sonta paused again and swallowed. “They aren’t in the forest anymore.”

The Jasperi stared at each other, eyes blank.

 Amadah took another step forward. “What happened to them?”

Sonta looked directly at Amadah, and the look in his eyes frightened her even more. “They are now—out. Out in—the desert.”

“How is that possible?” Amadah clasped her hands in front of her to keep them from flying to her mouth.

Sonta looked back to the ground.  After several beats and a glance back at Sani, he took final scan of the group. “The forest is shrinking.”