Island Near the Sky

“And the ones who tell the lies are the solemnest to swear, and the ones who load the dice always say the toss is fair. And the ones who deal the cards are the ones who take the tricks. With their hands over their hearts, as we play the game they fix. And the ones who speak the words always say it is the last. And no answer will be heard to the question no one asks.”

The sun began to set in the sky as Nola watched the waves gently brush up against the sand, like long locks of hair being carefully woven together. The wind blew wildly as she began stepping closer to the sea’s beautiful azure blue matching the skies in their previous hour, now a few shades darker. The night was still young, but near its entirety, just like the waves looked like they were violent from a distance but just barely touched the sand. 

Nola held her breath as she started walking closer and closer to the horizon line, her eyes leveled. Her short wavy hair bounced around her head, and her breaths were short and panicked despite the serene environment. She was terrified, terrified beyond belief, but still, she kept her eyes on that little invisible line where the sky met the sea, that line where she would find that little island in the distance, that island near the sky. 

Hy Brasil. Her ticket to the Otherworld. The only way to bring Maeve back.

As Nola waded through the water, she could feel the harshness of the waves at her toes, then her ankles, then her knees. The water kept riding upwards, until it was at her chest. She kept walking through it, letting the water take over her body, letting it control her, as long as she could keep her gaze towards the horizon. As long as she would always look forward. For Maeve. 

Everything was for Maeve.

The water had made it over her head now. Nola gasped for air, frantically flailing around her hands, but to no avail. Still she kept her eyes at the horizon line, a steady gaze as she continued to move forward. Moments passed and passed, but Nola couldn’t feel them. She was stuck somewhere in the ocean, somewhere desperately searching through the crashing waves as they hit her body like wood hits fire - slowly diminishing her energy as she gradually sank down into the pit of darkness that was the great wide seas. 

It was all for Maeve. It would all be worth it when Maeve came back.

Nola missed her so much. She missed holding her in her arms, clutching her tightly against her chest. She missed crying with her, laughing with her, feeling emotions she didn’t know how to explain. She missed her words, beautiful and harsh, and the calm, clever voice that spoke them. 

She missed Maeve so much. Everything about her, but especially those words of hers. Those words that made her love her, that made her care for her beyond believe. The words that made her feel welcome when she was completely lost.

“It’s okay, Noli,” she remembered her saying, as she started to fade away into the mist. “It’s okay. I’ll never truly be gone, as long as you remember me.” Even as she died, she spoke softly and surely. Even as she died, she spoke of sorrow and happiness. Even her last words were solemn, yet beautiful.

Nola wouldn’t change her friendship with Maeve for the world. Everything was perfect. As perfect as it could be, at least. Parts of her life were in shambles, but at least she had Maeve to keep her going. At least she had those constant words holding her together. At least she had her friend with her, always there for her. Through it all, at least she had Maeve. 

Until she didn’t. Until she was gone, like the sand in the seas, lying beneath a blanket of blue, covering her until she was dead. Gone, like a whisper in the wind, echoing sounds as far as they could be heard, but covered by the slick sword of the wind. Gone, gone, gone - dead as a doornail, left behind, only with words and memories left over. Her words, sweet like honey, and her memories, like the stingers of the bees that had created those words. Sharp and bitter. 

And suddenly, it left Nola lost. All alone with bittersweet memories left of her friend. She couldn’t feel anything, at least nothing genuine. All she could feel was sadness - all of her sorrows bursting out of her chest, out of her heart. There was only one way to get it out, to lighten the load. Just one way to make it through her life. 

And so, she started on her journey. To where she was now. To somewhere in the middle of the ocean, floating away towards an island mythically claimed to appear every seven years. 

It was a sign, she thought, that it just happened to be a week before the Hy Brasil would appear that Maeve would die. Just enough time for her to get ready. To set her plan in place. 

She would leave the night before it would appear, and she would run into the seas. She would let the water devour her, but she would make sure that she was still looking towards the horizon - to the balance between the skies and the seas - so that she would eventually find Manannan and make it to the Hy Brasil. She would wash up on the island, where she would find the gods. 

And then she would sing. She would sing and sing and sing, the words of her loss and the notes of her friendship. She would sing the words from her heart, the words from those now bittersweet memories she shared with her fallen friend. She would sing away her sorrows, until Manannan could hear her, and then she would have Maeve back.

Maeve was always the writer of the two of them, and Nola the musician. But musicians must have their own ways with words, as well, so Nola took all she could learn from Maeve. She sang and she sang, notes and lyrics. Poetry of love and loss, with music guiding it together. 

The sky was now several shades lighter than before, though Nola couldn’t see it. Her eyes were closed, though still facing forward. The ocean had swallowed her, but she was no longer lost. She had a purpose. 

Slowly, Nola began to open her eyes, but it was not the horizon line that she saw. Now, she saw the sun, bright and burning, and the clouds around it, forming shapes in the sky. She darted her eyes around her, looking for something to give her a hint towards her location - to show her that she was in the right place. The sand was dry, despite it being submerged in water. As if it had been gently placed there by the gods themselves. 

Nola was there.

“Hello!” she yelled, hoping, desperately for a response. Her voice was strained and weak, just like she felt in her heart. Maeve was closer and closer to coming back, but she didn’t know if she’d ever see her again. “Manannan!”

Nola was lost, but somewhere near the clouds, she was heard. Somewhere on the island, someone had heard her calls, and came to hear what she had to say. Someone was listening.

That someone the god of the seas, king of the Otherworld. Not a deity of the dead, but a deity of over the land in which Maeve would be in. Manannan.

The person she was looking for. 

“Manannan! Hear my voice! Listen to my cries! I have made it to your island, now see me!”

A man appeared out of the mist, the same way Maeve left. He was covered head to toe in armor, and held a sword, sleek and thin, like the moon in its crescent shape. All she could see were his eyes, which were a dark shade of brown, telling stories of olden times she would never see in her own lifetime. He stood tall in his place, commanding respect. 

“I hear you,” he said, his voice deep and dark. “What is it you have to say, young one, who has made it this far?”

A rush of the wind came over the island as he spoke, his eyes staring into Nola’s own. A chilly sensation when through her body, as she tried to mutter the words out loud. 

“I am Finola,” she said, using her full name she gave no one. “And I am here to bring my friend back from the dead.”

The words felt so strong coming out of her mouth - so brave, so powerful. In reality, Nola felt devoid of all power at that moment. Her whole life began to flash before her eyes - Maeve, her family that she had lost. Her music. Everything she was feeling, it was all too familiar. The powerlessness. The feeling of doubt and loneliness. 

The feelings Maeve took away. 

Manannan chuckled, his voice echoing out through his armor. “You believe that you can do that? That you can achieve the impossible? You may have made it this far, but you are nothing, Finola. Nothing.”

Nola sighed, holding her breath. Words were about to start spilling out, words she didn’t even know if she had in her. 

“I may be nothing,” she said, releasing those words. “But she isn’t. Maeve isn’t. And with her, I am something. Together, we are something.”

Manannan chuckled again, a faint smile coming across his face. She couldn’t see it, but she could tell it from his eyes. “Strong words,” he said, “from someone so powerless. What else do you have with you? A speech? A play?”

“A song.”

And then she sang. She sang and she sang, of love and loss, of the sky and the sea.

“How can I remember you, when I push it all away?”

She sang of happiness and sadness, of the big blue blanket smothering Maeve until she died, of the mist she became as she moved on to the Otherworld.

“How can I find you again, when without you I’m so lost?”

She sang in harmony with herself, with notes and lyrics of pain and love. 

“How can I follow you, when I am so afraid?”

She sang of her journey to get there, of the same ocean taking Maeve away that would bring her back. 

“If I am to get you back, what will be the cost?”

She kept on singing. 

“What is to come, of not a pair, but one, who longingly stares at the moon?

“What is to come, of not a pair but one, who longingly stares at the sea?”

She sang, and she sang.

“What is to come of the love that we shared, when you were lost too soon?

“What is to come of the song that we sing, when I don’t even know who to be?

“Oh, how we cry our songs and melodies.

“Oh, how we cry, of that island near the sky.”

She finished with a flourish, ending the song. Nola began shaking as she finished, but her voice was still steady. With one last note, Nola ended everything. Ended her changes at finding Maeve, possibly. Ended her way of bringing her back. Ended her journey forward.

Now all that was left was the way back. And she had no idea what would come of that - who she would walk with, how she would cross the sea. She had no idea how she’d end her story, if it would finish with a flourish or if it would stop abruptly. She had no idea if her life would go on further. She just didn’t know.

Manannan’s face dropped as she sang her final flourish. She could see his shoulders relaxing, his eyes dilating and then dilating back. He felt her song - she knew it. He heard her, and he listened. 

Out of the wind, a voice appeared. A whisper, just like Maeve had left as. A whisper in the wind. “Nola,” it called. “Finola. Noli.”

Nola knew that voice. 

“Maeve!” she cried, gasping as the air surrounded her. “Maeve! It’s you!”

The voice danced a little with it’s pitch, and Nola could tell it was smiling. “It’s me,” said the voice, said Maeve. “It’s me, Noli.”

For the first time since Maeve had died, Nola felt happy. She felt immense happiness, lightening the weight she bore in her chest, in her heart. She felt it all move away in the wind, the wind that was now Maeve. 

But that happiness was short lived, as she remembered where she was. As she remembered the man - no, god - in front her, watching her. Listening to her song. 

“Can we go back?” she said, holding her breath again. “Can you bring her back?”

Manannan sighed, her shoulders tightening again. His eyes were less relaxed, as he began to speak. 

“I don’t know. I felt emotions while you sang that I never knew I’d feel again - I haven't heard the songs of humanity in many years.

“But I can’t very well let her go back, can I? I can’t just let someone go from the Otherworld.”

Nola’s face fell. A long pause came between the three. One human, one dead, one god. 

With one last sigh, Manannan spoke again. 

“I know what to do,” he said, pausing before speaking again. “I’ll let you go - but under one condition. When you leave the island, you will see an apple branch. Silver, with golden apples. You cannot turn around by the time you reach the apples. You may pick them, to ensure safety on your way home through the seas, and to prove to the rest of your world that you have reached Hy Brasil. But you may not turn around.”

Tears started to stream down Nola’s cheek, as she turned to hug the now alive - even if possibly only temporarily so - Maeve. She cried into her shoulder, just like she used to, as Maeve hugged her back. 

“Remember,” she whispered in Nola’s ear. “If we fail, I’ll never truly be gone, as long as you remember me. “

The same words she spoke as she died. 

Nola hugged her tighter. “We won’t fail,” she said, but she couldn’t see Maeve’s face, a look of worry coming into her eyes, as a tear dropped down.

The two began to walk, Nola in front, towards an apple branch in the distance. It just looked like a faint splash of silver, but as they walked, it became clearer and clearer. A picture started to form, an oasis, of sorts. A silver bough draping down with little golden blossoms where apples would eventually be. Only two apples were left, one for Nola, and one for Maeve. Nola reached towards the apples, careful not to look back.

She plucked one, but as she did, she stopped in her tracks. Was Maeve truly behind her? What if the apple was just a decoy? Manannan had said it himself - he couldn’t very well just let someone out of the Otherworld. What if she’d just been tricked?

It wasn’t very far behind Manannan to trick her. He was a god, after all, and it wasn’t very unlike the gods to play tricks on mortals. Perhaps he wasn’t even truly Manannan, but Morrigan, the goddess of fate. Perhaps it wasn’t her fate to bring Maeve back.

But that didn’t matter, did it? Because she had made it this far. There was no way they’d just let her go.

And yet… 

Nola took a single step forward, dipping her toes into the cool ocean. Into the seas she sang about. 

Slowly, gradually, she turned around. 

“Noli…”

Maeve.

“It - it’s you.”

She looked at the apple in Maeve’s hand, and at the empty branch.

Maeve began to disappear into the mist, the same way she did before. The howling of the wind grew stronger and stronger, as Nola was blown off of the island and into the sea.

“Remember-” Maeve, her voice desperate, her eyes trying to make contact with Nola’s own. “Remember, Nola, I’ll always be with you, as long as you-”

But it was too late, as she was cut off by the howling of the wind, the great wind, knocking Nola into the ocean as the island began to disappear. The seven year cycle was complete, and Maeve was gone. Gone, gone, gone - dead as a doornail, like a whisper in the wind.

Nola’s tears began to mix with the ocean’s as she watched for the last glimpse of the island near the sky. 

(Author's note: Wow! The prompt was about apple picking, and I wrote an Orpheus retelling with Celtic mythos! Either I'm extremely creative, or extremely crazy. Well, I guess if you liked this one, check out the other myth retellings, and if you didn't like this one, leave a comment explaining why. I really liked writing this one, so I'd really appreciate feedback! Also, I'm not Irish or Greek, so if you don't like this and you are Irish or Greek and you don't like this because I misrepresented your culture, please tell me, I'll delete it or change it accordingly. Thanks so much you guys!)