The Waiting Shore

The wind smelled like salt and thunder that night. A taste that Jango had come to know like his own breath. He stood at the edge of the world where the gray sea of the cliffs of Orden’s Reach unfurled endlessly. It looked silver under the moons. The ocean below signed in its sleep, the slow heave of a thing too ancient to care for mortals. And yet Jango waited for it to speak. He always did.

For twelve years every evening since the Sky Gods had vanished Jango had climbed the cliff and watched the horizon. His mother said that it was completely hopeless. The people in the town called it devotion. But, Jango knew it was both.

Tonight he could feel them closer.

The air was heavy and alive. The clouds hung low like black silk shimmering faintly with purple and gold veins. The birds had become silent and the sea's rhythm had changed to sound like a heartbeat out of place. He had only felt this way once when he was a child, the last day the Sky Gods were in the world. He was eight years old then but he still remembered the light that filled the heavens. A river of stars poured down from the firmament, a songlike laughter and thunder braided together.

He reached out and one of them touched his hand. A being of wind and flame, a shadow of neither man nor woman. Its eyes were bright with eternity. It had whispered something to him, a secret that only he could hear.

“Wait for us, Jango, at the shore. The tide will come when the world is ready.”

Since that day Jango had never stopped listening for the tide’s voice. The lights of the houses below him flickered. The people of Orend’s Reach had long given up on miracles. They lived their lives normally as they could. They went to work, fished, took vacations, and grew older over time. The gods were silent and the ocean had become their mirror of sorrow. Only Jango believed.

He tightened his sea-worn jacket around his body and stared at the horizon. There was a very faint glow on the horizon now. It was as pale as the break of dawn but no sun would rise for hours. A hum reached his ears through the wind. It was deep and slow that vibrated in his bones. The same sound and hum that he had heard when he was a young boy. The same one that he had dreamed of for years.

“They’re coming.” He said softly into the air.

A voice behind him said, “You’ve said those exact same words every night, Jango.”

He turned around and saw his friend, Mira standing a few feet away. Her long dark hair was blowing in the wind. She held a lantern close to her. The flame of the lantern struggled against the wind. Her eyes met his. She was the only other one who came up there besides him any more. She was the only one who still believed in him.

“Maybe this time it’s true.” Jango said softly.

“Maybe.” She said. “Or maybe you want it to be the time.”

He smiled although his heart hurt.

“Wanting doesn’t make it less real.”

“No more real.” She said, stepping closer to him. “Jango, it’s been twelve years and that is a long time to wait for beings who might not ever come back. The sky gods left for a reason.”

“They left because we forgot.” He said. “Because of men like my father who haunted the storm leviathans and burned the wind alters and minded the clouds for the light stone. They said that the gods had abandoned them but it was not true. It was us who turned away first.”

Mira looked down at the restless sea. “And you think that they will forgive us?”

“I think that they will forgive me.” Jango said as his voice trembled. “They promised me.”

A flash of light tore from the clouds and then blue, violet and pure white light came through. Then the sound came. It was not thunder but more like a ringing tone. It sounded like the earth itself was ringing a giant bell.

Mira’s eyes widened. “What was–”

“Listen.” Jango said.

The wind changed. It was no longer cold but warm now blowing with life. The waves no longer rolled but rose slowly as if the ocean was standing straight up. Water spiraled upwards towards the moon forming columns of light that touched the sky. The wind became a melody, a low and beautiful melody beyond words.

“They’re here.” Jango said.

The clouds opened up like a curtain on a theoretical stagehand from the rift descended shapes which could only be called pure brilliance. Winged figures cloaked in the storm and flames appeared from the sky. The air around them warped and rippled.

Lightening ran across their forms like veins of gold. The Sky Gods had returned.

Mira fell to her knees. Jango took a step forward. His heart was pounding in his chest and his eyes were filled with tears.

“You came back. “ He whispered.

The biggest one of the beings descended towards him. Its voice sounded like a bright light.

“Jango on the shore. The waiting one.”

He bowed. His tears are now falling down his cheeks. “I waited for you like you told me.”

The gods' wings rippled and scattered drops of rain that glowed as they fell to the ground. “You kept watch when the winds went silent.”

“What do you need from me?” Jango asked. “Why did you come again?”

The gods' gaze turned to the town below. The lights from the houses flickered like faint small stars.

The seas began to boil, the skies tore and men no longer remembered the first songs. “We returned to awaken the world or to end it.”

Mira stood up. She was pale and trembling. “End it?”

The gods burned with compassion and sorrow. “If the hearts of mortals no longer sing with the sky the world will fall silent forever. Balance must return one way or another.”

Jango stepped closer to the edge of the cliff. “Then let me help you restore it.”

“You are the last of the tide keepers.” The god said. “The old blood of the watchers runs deep in your veins. You may call the tides one final time.”

Jango exhaled. He had heard the stories of the watches who spoke to the sea. The ones who once spoke to the sea who bound the winds and guided the storms. But those songs had been lost a long time ago.

“I don’t know how.” He said.

The gods extended a hand of light. “You do. You always have. The song we gave you still sleeps in your heart.”

The hum in the air deepened, pulsing with rhythm. Jango closed his eyes. He remembered that childhood touch and that whisper of promise. And slowly he also began to hum.

At first it was just a human humming sound. Then it caught the wind and the melody changed and grew echoing in the sea below and resonating in the cliffs. The clouds and stars came alive with the melody. The ocean’s rise steadied and began to glow from within.

Mia watched as the light spilled across the sky like dawn being reborn. The sky gods joined in and their voices weaved in with his creating a sweet harmony that filled the night air. The waters calmed and the earth shuddered. The people in the town stirred as they emerged and turned their faces upward to the miracle unfolding before them. The moon turned into a brilliant white.

When Jango opened his eyes the world was shining. But the gods looked at him sadly. “The song must have a heart. The balance. You know what that means.”

Jango understood. The song required something more. It always did. He smiled softly.

“No, don’t you dare, Jango!” Mira shouted.

“The world needs the sky again. The world needs the light of the sky and it is worth it.” Jango said.

“Jango–”

He touched her cheek and sang one more time. Light bursted from his chest like a star breaking in half. The melody rose until it was everywhere, in the air and in the water. The gods flared brighter and brighter. The ocean roared then stopped. When it was over the world was quiet again. The dawn broke. It was really dawn this time and the sunlight touched the waves gently.

Mira stood alone on the cliff.

The sea was a strange calm and for the first time in a long time the wind was warm and felt like a blessing. Far on the horizon she saw a figure walking on the ocean and then descending up to the sky fading into the light.

The people of Orend’s Reach still tell the story. They say the sky gods returned one more time and the man named Jango sang the world awake and when the storms come in and the sea shines in a sliver hue they say that he is watching and waiting but not for the gods this time but for the songs of men and women to rise again.