Smoulder

Haven was a realm divided in two. There was Verdant - a flourishing land of green, home to humans, creatures and flora, all unique though each tailored to the same fundamental design. And then there was Smoulder, a primordial ecosystem of chaos. To the inhabitants of Verdant, its fundamentals of function were unknown - incomprehensible, intangible, untameable. The plants and animals knew to stay away on instinct, but man's curiosity meant that laws had to be enforced to discourage traversal and exploration.

The divide between the lands was a thin strip of barren ground called the Rift, where the humans had erected a great barricade. Each year, one child was selected from the settlements of Verdant to become a guard of the wall, and seven years prior, that role had gone to Caius, at the age of eleven. It was a duty framed with pride by the civilians of the realm, but Caius had been there long enough to see it as it truly was. Long gone was the bright-eyed, spirited boy honoured to be selected for duty. Instead he cursed his responsibilities, bored and broken by the pointlessness of it all. If nothing crossed the rift from Smoulder, why was a wall necessary? They weren't keeping anything undesirable out of Verdant, it was just there to keep humans in.

Caius often thought, 'let them.' If there were people foolish enough to cross into Smoulder, then Verdant would be better off without them. In all his years on the wall, his unit stopped a grand total of two people from getting through - both young boys around his age teased into crossing on a dare.

He wasted the days missing his family, mourning his missed opportunities and dreams that would never be fulfilled. His comrades had come to recognise that so little had to be done for their jobs, they instead occupied their time with games and hobbies, some relishing a life of being expected to do nothing yet to be provided with food and lodgings. It was a lot more than most had come from anyway. With the selection being random, more commonly, children from rural villages were chosen, taken from hardship and struggle and being granted easy, uncomplicated lives.

It would be a life-long position that would amount to very little. For those who abandoned their duty, the punishment was execution. And so one day, Caius decided that he had nothing to lose if he simply went over the barricade into Smoulder - at least he might be able to see what they were so adamant to keep him from before his certain death. Working on the wall certainly didn't constitute living.

Under the cover of night's darkness, beneath a new moon that would obscure him from even the shine of moonlight, he began his descent down the barricade. He had planned his escape strategically - ensuring he was the only man on duty upon that stretch of wall, and distracting his colleagues with the rationed drink he'd been putting aside for months. Getting around the outcrops was tricky, but with the barricade only being two stories high, it wasn't all that difficult to get down.

He left the cords he'd used to help him scale down in plain view. There was no point in hiding them after all, so long as he was out of range of the bowmen by the time anyone noticed his escape attempt - no use dying before he'd had a chance to see what was out there.

His cloak billowing behind him, he ran over the remains of the Rift and towards Smoulder. Ever unsure what he may find beyond, he'd prepared for the journey with plenty of rations in his pack, weapons to hand, and a mask over his face to protect his eyes and help him breathe.

Caius took his first step into Smoulder. His first obstacle was a raging river, with the waters apparently coursing upstream and blood red in hue. He spun around to find a stick to test its depth, but what he thought was an innocent tree branch was instead limp and flexible as rope in his grip, cracking and melting with the slightest pressure. Squeamishly cleansing his hands, he shook his head and gave into carelessness, planting his shoe upon the waters instead. They were solid underfoot, though the waves still rolled and threatened to carry him away. He cautiously balanced himself upon the swell, charging to the opposite bank, eager to find himself on solid ground. But the sand upon the beach gave way to him like a pool. He clawed his way back to the surface. He'd been taught to swim in childhood, though the liquid sand was firmer than any sea, demanding more effort with each kick of the legs and stroke of the arms.

Return to the river or on to what could be dry ground? He knew he had little time to decide. No use going back, he thought, instead embracing his circumstances and swimming on to what could have been a grassy embankment. Yet something stirred in the waves. Fins or spines poked up out of the sands at his back - the fear of a predator on the hunt was enough motivation to increase his drive for safety, and grant him ignorance to exhaustion.

He reached a hand up to what he assumed had been a form of black grass growing on the slope ahead, however the blades were sharp and brittle as glass, drawing blood from his palms. Bracing the pain, he looked for somewhere safer to ground himself. The spines circling him dove into the depths, and rose up from beneath him. What he had suspected to be a terrifying abominable predator instead served the form of an island emerging from the sands - the spines no more harmful than ferns. He remained on his mysterious raft until he could step off onto a safe-looking bank.

After catching his breath, Caius carried on in his exploration. He took out a notebook and pencil, noting down quick reminders of what he had discovered so far. 'Solid rivers, sand pools, finned islands, bladed grass,' and of course he was sure to describe the ground he stood on in that moment, which partly resembled a dry, cracked soil that on closer inspection blended hues of dark greens and reds.

He came across what he perceived to be a forest, although as he observed, the 'trees' walked on the surface, and had no trunks but were instead smooth stems dotted with thousands of simple eyes like those of molluscs. Their branches bore fine shells in place of leaves, with their brushing against each other harmonising in an ominous symphony. He watched them travel together for a time, then carried on his way.

Beyond the migrating forest's chorus, his senses were hit by sounds and sensations outside his comprehension. Since his mask limited his exposure to any scents or tastes, his ears were his primary means of understanding the extended stimuli of the world surrounding him. Odd cries and grunts, singing winds, cracks, splashes and stomps assured him that Smoulder was very much filled with life, and yet he didn't perceive half of it. And what was life in Smoulder? There were no creatures the same, no plants or fungi that could be compared to those in Verdant. How could he describe the migrating forest, the lights that zipped across his field of view, the plate-like forms that floated down from the sky, and the rocks that crawled across the mountainside? And what was the mountain when it drifted across the plains? Caius knew not how to explain what he saw, what to do or judge, so all he did was maintain an open mind.

He crossed the wasteland that remained spongy and slack underfoot, with a single goal upon his mind - to climb the flying mountain ahead of him and acquire a better view of Smoulder. Raising his arm up, he grabbed the wind, carrying him much of the way up the slope to avoid the black grass meadow between him and the mountainside. He encountered another sand pool and immediately leapt between the finned islands lurking below the surface. He spared his energy by riding one of the rocks that crawled with spider-like limbs, and whistled along to another forest's harmony as he crossed its path.

The mountain's peak offered him a greater vantage, as the hills far in the distance appeared larger than they were, and he could pinch the clouds out of the sky like wisps of spun sugar.

It all caused him to question the true reason why humans were kept from Smoulder. Did they assume the blood-red rivers, grey sand seas and inexplicable inhabitants would be enough to scare a human to death? Were they afraid of what someone may find there, or what they would have to say about it upon their return?

Maybe it was more straightforward than that. Animals and plants distanced themselves from Smoulder by instinct purely because they wouldn't thrive there. The soil was too different compared to the land in Verdant, and creatures would find no food there. It really was that simple. Even Caius couldn't deny the fact that, for all Smoulder's unique mystery and beauty, he couldn't live out there for long. His rations would only last him a few days, and he had no access to water. If he stayed, he'd starve. And yet if he attempted to return to Verdant, he'd likely meet his end.

So why was that the case? Why was Smoulder so feared, no human was permitted to so much as set foot there, even for a moment, a day or more, just to explore? Caius reminded himself of the nature of humans, and found his answer.

Caius removed his mask, and took a deep breath of Smoulder's air. His final days were upon him either way, he might as well embrace all of Smoulder. The aroma was like nothing he knew from Verdant, and so he decided to name it 'freedom.'