Ymiden 81st, Arc 720
Yana still hadn’t completely gotten over it. How long ago had it been now? Several years? And she still felt her asterism pulse at an accelerated rate when she thought about coming close. The crystals making up her abdomen tingled uncomfortably, every shard of her being wanting her to turn around and walk away. Back to the warm light of Yldria. Back where it was safe. Where no Nulliem could go, the rays of the Mother Crystal too much even for a creature that fed on light and crystal.
She wanted to be anywhere else than here. Too close to the abyss. That impenetrable infinite void more dangerous than any place she’d ever been. Once the Yludih had dared to tread there, rushing in to drag a stray stranger out. She hadn’t known him. She hadn’t had any reason to take such idiotic risk. In the waking world Yana wouldn’t have moved a single muscle. Here though, she’d been unable to stop herself. So many had died because of it.
And the Yludih still remembered the utter dread settling in her crystals once she’d grabbed the Wanderer by the arm. When the Nulliem had begun swarming around them. When she’d turned around and had seen how very far away the crystal structures were, how dim Yldria’s light had looked. When she’d realized that no-one else was dumb enough to risk going in. Well, no-one who knew what the Nulliem was capable of.
That debacle plagued her every time she entered Uleuda, everything here reminded her of it. Less and less over the course of the years, the therapy of the monks had helped a lot. But still, whenever her mind was idle, whenever she gazed upon that abyss, their rough-hewn crystal features appeared before her mind’s eye. The desperate pulse of light while they tried to make their way back, spears stabbing wildly at any approaching Nulliem. The voidlings encircling them, nearly invisible in the darkness, moving fast and elegantly, as if skating on ice. A far cry from their sluggish pace on the crystal ground, their bodies absorbing all it touched.
She remembered the featureless shades reaching out gently, grabbing one of the young Yludih in a tender embrace. Body crumbling to dust at the slightest touch, absorbed within their void. One moment they were present, the other only a few shards remained. She remembered some others changing after witnessing it. Giving in to despair and hopelessness. Crushed by it. Unable to see anything but dark. It’d consumed them from the inside out, crystal being sucked into what had once been an asterism. Collapsing in on itself, until only a shadow of the Yludih remained.
That had been the turning point. When the gravity of the situation had really sunk in. Formation lost, they’d run. Not looking back. Not bothering with others. Just running as fast as they could. To the crystals, away from the void. Leading the Nulliem—
Someone shook her by the shoulders. Roughly, but with a concerned tenderness. Yana snapped back to the present, becoming vaguely aware that the monk before her was speaking to her. She couldn’t make out words. Just white noise. Chimes of worry. It reminded her of the screeching of crystal trees being felled by the rampaging—
He shook her again, harder. Twisting her shoulders to turn her around, away from the endless fields of void. Down the stairs, off the wall. Now she could feel she was trembling. Now she could hear a wail coming from her throat, quiet and subdued, but there all the same. There were no tears, but she knew she was crying. The monk pushed her onto a bench, sitting down beside her. His eyes sought hers, focusing on the general area where they should be. He found only blank crystal, but there was no uncertainty in his gaze.
“You need to learn to forgive yourself. Let go of the guilt. Stop chastising and torturing yourself. You’ve been punished enough. Yes, you made mistakes. Yes, their consequences were heavy. But your intention was to help. You tried but failed. You did not know what you were up against. You acted in a way you believed would be helpful. People can’t fault you for that. And YOU must not fault yourself for that. Everyone deserves to be forgiven. If not by others, then by yourself. Everyone makes mistakes, it’s important we learn from them, not wallow in guilt and sadness instead.”
He turned away, fully formed eyes watching the sky. No response came, but he had not expected one. Instead he sat in silence, leaving her to mull over his words. Progress was slow, but it was there nonetheless. She sometimes still went catatonic when looking at the void, but it wasn’t as bad as before, even if he wasn’t completely sure what triggered the episodes. Nevertheless a huge improvement. Facing her fears and overcoming them was the easy part though. To stop blaming herself for her actions was the most difficult.
The silence continued for some time, the monk watching those guarding the wall scurry up and down the stairs, luminescent crystal weapons at their side or in their hands. As always vigilant for any attack the Nulliem might launch. Usually it wasn’t anything large-scale. It wasn’t known if Nulliem were sentient, most of the time they seemed to act on instinct. They were drawn to crystal and light. If they got close enough to the wall, they obeyed their hunger and got closer still. Those watching the void were there to stop them before they could cause too much damage. And the spikes made of Yldria’s shards –just like the weapons—had been placed to buy some more time. The beings were afraid of those as one stab anywhere on their body erased them entirely. Yet, as soon as they realized the spikes did not move, the Nulliem sought ways to avoid them, twisting and bending in unnatural ways to avoid getting stabbed.
Not a hundred percent effective as a defense mechanism, but more than enough to allow Yludih soldiers to arrive at the scene and deal with the threat quickly. He hoped the Yludih could one day find a substance or crystal capable of containing the Nulliem indefinitely. A wall made from that material would be much more efficient. And it would stop the need to hurt the beings. Some, if not all had once been Yludih too, after all.
“What if I hadn’t?”
It came out of nowhere, one softly voiced question in the middle of a vast silence. The monk wasn’t sure if he knew what exactly his charge was asking about.
“Excuse me?”
“What if I hadn’t done it? What if I’d done what they told me to do?”
“You mean stand down and do nothing?”
She nodded.
“You tell me. What do you think would have happened?”
Her head snapped towards him, blank crystal face still somehow bearing an expression of challenge. He could feel her gaze, her frown. Calculating. Invisible tears still running down crystal cheeks. He nudged with his head to encourage her, to show it was part of today’s session. The female Yludih turned away, thumb tapping on her chin.
“He’d be dead.” Her chimes were out of tune.
“Yes.”
“Everyone else who died would still be alive.”
“Most likely.”
“It would have been the best outcome. One life lost in exchange for the lives of the many.”
“That’s the rational way to look at it, indeed.” The monk nodded, mostly formed features turned pensive. “But would you have done it? Could you have made that decision to leave him to die? Even if you knew you should?”
Her answer came quickly. Too quickly. “Yes.” Confident. Both in tone and body language. As if to convince him. And herself. It didn’t last. Her shoulders drooped. “No.” Softer, nearly as quiet as a breath. A confession of guilt. Of shame.
“And why is that?”
She slumped even more. Back hunched as she leaned forward, elbows on her knees, head in cupped hands. “I don’t know. My body moved on its own. Before I realized it, I was next to him.” She sighed.
“Ah,” the monk said, leaning back to look at the sky. Void, just like outside the wall, but softened by Yldria’s light. “Do you know why you reacted that way? What did you feel when you saw him there wandering off?”
Silence. He didn’t glance over. He was in no hurry. They had time. They needed it too, for these things couldn’t be rushed.
“I don’t know. But when I noticed him there, a small speck of light surrounded by vast darkness… I don’t know, he looked so… lonely and lost. Fragile. So far away, yet still within reach. I… I just wanted to help, I think. Bring him back to where it was safe. I couldn’t just leave him there.”
“Compassion,” the monk mused. “And you think that is a weakness? Something to be ashamed about?”
No answer. Minutes passed, but the monk was patient.
“So many died because of me,” she finally said.
“That’s not an answer to the question.”
“Yes, it is. So many died because of my decision to help. The consequences speak for themselves.”
He sighed. “Yanahalqah. You think you wouldn’t feel guilt and shame and sorrow if you had just stood there and allowed him to perish while you did nothing? While your asterism screamed for you to reach out and help?”
She did not speak, so he continued.
“The consequences of your actions were not something you could predict. You wanted to help, and you acted on it. That is admirable. Yes, the cost was high, but you were not to blame for that. All those others who ran after you? They made their own decision. You did not call for them to come join you, did you?”
“No.”
“You did not urge them beforehand to rush into the darkness to bring Quiome back, did you?”
“No.”
“Then it’s not your fault. You didn’t know they would follow.”
She shot up straight, voice chiming loudly. “But maybe if I hadn’t run off, they might not have followed! What if it was my action that prompted them to do the same?”
“Those are hypotheticals. Plausible, yes. But--” he added quickly when her head drooped anew. “—it still was their choice to follow. Again, you couldn’t have known how it would turn out. You wanted to do good. Sometimes such actions are rewarded, and sometimes they are not. But does that mean we have to stop acting with good intentions, just because it may turn out badly? I don’t think so.” Once more he stared intently at his charge’s empty face. “Listen well, Yanahalqah. Your compassion is not something to be ashamed of. It ought to be fostered, not suppressed. Everyone makes mistakes. Not every action has consequences that reflect their intent.”
He shrugged again. “What you need to do is differentiate between the things that were your fault, and those that weren’t. Don’t deny what happened, but acknowledge it. Acknowledge that you did what you did, and didn’t what you did not. That’s the first step.” The monk stood then, stretching his arms above his head, and bending his torso sideways a few times. “And, importantly, consider whether you really should be ashamed of your actions. Analyze them thoroughly. Maybe ask someone you trust for their opinion. For what it’s worth, I think you should be proud you acted with such kindness to a complete stranger. You displayed great bravery too.”
“It was just stupidity. I was ignorant. I didn’t know what I was doing.”
“Maybe. And maybe not. Give it some thought. Now, I think it’s about time to head back. It’s enough for today. You have quite a lot to chew on, I would imagine.”
A nod, and then a shake. “I’ll stay for a bit longer,” she spoke. “I need to be alone for a while.”
“Here? Are you certain?”
She nodded again. A little hesitant, but determined.
The monk considered for a moment. “Very well then. Be safe, be careful. And don’t push yourself.” He could feel her smile at him. A tiny one, but a smile nonetheless.
