Night in the Garden

Stories were told of a land where there was light, bright rays of warmth that speared the sky. Myths of when the lady moon would dance across the night sky, forever leading her lover, the sun, on a merry chase and how the sun would warm the day with his love for his forbidden lady. Those stories were told to children as they lay tucked in their parent’s arms, memorizing the feel of the warmth and protection found there. She remembered those tales of wild gods and creatures of night that danced across frozen planes of ice and stillness. She remembered someone with a soft and musical voice reciting the rhythmic tales of love and loss, warmth and cold. The night the voice went away is the same night that the light did. She was just a child, too young to understand just how cold and cruel the world could be, to keep the world in everlasting night and leave a baby knowing the pain of the freezing cold.

Ezera no longer remembered a time where there was light. She could not recall the shape of her mother’s face or the home she knew she’d grown up in, surrounded by a warm glow. It had been so long since the sun had shone on her that she was beginning to believe that the legends of the sun and moon were little more than children’s riddles and silly words told to keep little ones entertained during the long months of endless night. The words from long ago echoed in her ears, in the still silence of the Garden where she waited.

Not long after the light faded, Ezera was plucked from her home, now devoid of warmth and protection, and sent to the Garden. The Garden was equally a myth at one time; Ezera now understood that some myths were true and others were fairytales. The Garden housed the Eternal Flame, the final speck of light in the all-consuming world of night. Few had ever looked upon the light and those who did would not speak of the experience. She had never truly wondered about the flame or guessed at its importance; like other myths, she disregarded the story as falsity and went about her life. Now, she knew why those who had looked upon the flame remained silent forevermore. She knew, she too would no longer speak when she left the Garden and returned to the inky darkness of the world. When she left the Garden, she would be leaving behind the only hope that she’d experienced and the only hope that still existed.

Known as a Radiant, Ezera was one of the few who were chosen to protect the Eternal Flame. Some said that you had to be born as a Radiant, others say that your soul had to have a level of illumination that could not even be dimmed by exposure to continuous night. All Ezera knew was that she was a Radiant in the Garden now and she would sooner forfeit her life than allow another to threaten that precious swaying spark of light.

Ezera settled herself at the base of the golden torch that supported the flickering, burning light. The torch was nestled in the middle of the Garden and surrounded by stepping stones made with precious gems, and small unfurling leaves of green vines. The Garden was the only place on the planet where plants grew, even then, those plants were precious few and sickly. The torch that lifted the flame high above the ground allowed the weak light to filter onto as much of the surrounding area as possible, which still wasn’t very much. It had taken longer than she cared to admit for her poor eyesight to adjust to the limited light of the Garden but now that she had, she couldn’t imagine going back to being in the dark all of the time.

This was the way things were, she thought, sighing. This is the way things would always be. In another eight years, another would be chosen as the Radiant and Ezera would be banished from the light and her soul would wither and wilt. Not for the first time, Ezera wished she had never been exposed to the precious light. Her mind struck on a thought and refused to be freed, despite the blasphemous nature of the thought. As a Radiant, it was her job to protect the light, but what if the light could be shared? No Radiant before had ever tried to expand the light for fear of accidentally putting it out completely. Still, the thought turned round and round in her mind, getting into all of the tiny parts that questioned her life and the scared parts that thought of returning to the darkness.

Ezera lifted her eyes and stared at the wisps of twining light that danced, making the shadows move and sway to a song she could never hear. What if there was more beyond the dark? What if she’d never knew more than the dancing flicker of flame in front of her, something that was already so much more than the majority of her people would know.

For a moment, Ezera could imagine the old myths to be true. She imagined a beautiful woman clothed all in silver, gracefully evading her golden shining lover, laughing as he chased her across the sky, turning night to day and back again. She wondered, if the risk of dooming her people to complete and total darkness was worth the possibility of extinguishing the only hope they currently had. Ezera stood; her bared feet silent on the cold gemstone path-markers. Her clothes were made of the softest and finest linen and draped over her without a whisper of sound across the threads. She reached a slender hand toward the flame and let it lick over the tips of her fingers and winced at the burn.

A silent breath later, she’d made her choice. She would either be known as the savior of her people or the harbinger of doom, either way, there would no longer be a need for a Radiant and there would be no question of if there was more beyond the Garden and the darkness. She would be free of her sacred duty and free of her fear of hoping. Ezera grasped the hilt of the golden torch; it was surprisingly cool to the touch and was heavier than she would have guessed. The fire drank hungrily of the darkness around her, beaming enticingly at her, promising her impossible things like warmth and continuous light. She cupped the torch protectively and knelt. The flame leapt and the torch burst into a brilliant display of sparks, startling Ezera and momentarily sending dark spots across her vision.

The fire was spreading, consuming everything it could and leaving behind glowing hot coals and embers that twirled joyously on the air. Ezera fought for control of the panic that set her heart racing as she watched the line of fire race toward the very edges of the Garden. It lit up everything in its path, creating frolicking shadows that tittered and chattered merrily. She followed the blazing path to the gates of the Garden and watched the glow trace the mountain’s peak. In the rising light, she thought she saw the shadow of a woman, long hair flowing, as she pranced just out of reach of a man. Ezera smiled gently and started carefully picking her way down toward the little village at the base of the mountain, The dance of the skies had returned and the Eternal Flame had been restored to its rightful place.