Fire. When he died, my Father burned with the first proper flame anyone had seen in almost three years. His embers were light, playful, they waltzed over to greet my hand; unlike him entirely. I thought he would blaze, furious like a bonfire, but instead he resisted his true nature. Perhaps it was one final act of protection, or maybe it was simply a warning that not all was right. Someone had called it the colour orange, but to me it was the colour of life. I was thankful that, for whatever reason, his colour seemed peaceful now.
He was cremated, in the centre of the Village, as was tradition. Our filth, the mud huts where brick had once lain, and the lichen-covered boulders, now barely pitiful rocks from being chipped for tools too often, were emphasised by his glow of prominence. All thirty-two members of the Village had gathered, well, thirty-one now, to view my Father’s passing. Chieftess Torma made a speech, but I heard little of what she said, staring at his last sputtering sparks of life. When he went out, the light blue purgatory swallowed us once more.
I’d spoken to him this morning, and now he was ash. He’d come to terms with his death, but knowing that there was no remanence of his body, had I?
He had made two requests of me, in private, as I stood next to the bed which would be his last. The first was not to waste any good tinder on his cremation, something I’d already failed to meet; the second was to leave.
“We can’t leave, it’s not safe.”
“Jetsan,” Father replied, “your Mother was right, you and your Brother need to go into the Void.”
Our Village didn’t have a name. If you never left, it didn’t need one. A thick black fog surrounded us, tormented us, holding us prisoner; a vaporous dome of muffling emptiness. Opaque, with a surface that unnaturally glistened, like a wet puddle of oil. Occasionally, if light caught it just right, it would glint like obsidian, reflecting any hope of journeying through.
The Elders called it the Void, an endless expanse of nothingness, an absence of life or matter or anything. But that was a lie. I knew it, and so did she. I resented my Mother for leaving, if not for me then for Axel, who never knew her. Now that Father was gone, and our home was so quiet, I had time to reflect on why she’d made her decision to abandon us.
That fog, that Void, didn’t sound empty, which contradicted its namesake. It undulated like a living cloud, but on particularly bad nights, you could hear the snarling beasts lurking within its depths. If there were beasts, surely there could be more? More contradictions. Belief made me doubt the Elder’s malice, but that didn’t rule out deceit, for now the mould of doubt plagued my mind. I couldn’t help but wonder what else they might be wrong about? What else they might know to be out there, in the so called ‘Void’.
Each family had a duty in the Village, ours was to tend the fungal farm. Bioluminescent mushrooms bigger than fists, they were both food supply and light source. I plucked a ripe one from the soil, its pale blue glow highlighting my malnourished arms. Holding one always comforted me, its light far more nourishing.
“You cannot,” Chieftess Torma said. Her wooden headdress was carved to cast intricate shadows, with triangular spires of wood circling her head like a halo. I’d never liked that overt flaunting of wealth, but I found it hard to hold it against her family. They were in charge for a reason.
“I won’t allow it,” she continued, “double rations if you stay.”
“It’s not that I want to go,” I said, “but it was his dying wish.” I moved inside my hut, hoping my comment would deter further bickering, but she trailed my steps, snapping.
“Don’t follow that fool into darkness.”
I winced as she whipped the cloth door open. I could hear the fabric wearing thin at the seam, the old thing would tear soon. Then I realised I was leaving, so it was a worry of the past.
Most Village folk lived simply; mud walls, stone and reclaimed brick furniture, any wood was saved and rationed. Each family had their treasures though, ours were four pre-darkening books. They were textbooks about the science of agriculture, and were perhaps the only reason we survived this long.
Selecting one of the four books from its stone pedestal, taking great care with its hard-backed spine, savouring the touch of its rare plastic cover, I opened to the marked page and repeated my Fathers words.
“Soil degradation is too great, crop yields will reduce each season. You can see the signs here.” I twisted the book towards her, tapping the illustration with my finger. “We dug up all the trees, except Mother Tree of course – praise be – and replaced the crops with mushrooms, which aren’t native. Combine that with repeated heavy rainfall and, well, erosion. To put it simply, our farm floor is cracking.”
“Nonsense!” she exclaimed, “but if both of you leave, who will tend the farm? We need food, light, Jetsan. At least teach someone new before you go.”
She made a good point, so I hesitated. What if Father was wrong? Then I wouldn’t only be condemning Axel and myself, but the entire Village. “I’ll think about it.”
“You don’t sound so sure,” she said. Her voice was quiet when she spoke, like a mother to a naughty child, “you don’t want to be like Koraden, do you? Void sick and scared of everything?”
She put a hand on my shoulder, making my heart skip. The most important person in the Village, looking into my eyes. It was hard not to stutter. She was right, of course, Koraden hadn’t been the same since he returned from the Void, but there must be something out there.
Axel would follow whatever decision I made, Father coddled him to a fault, he would follow. For only being two years younger, he’d never known Father’s temper like I had. I was jealous of that, Axel’s innocent sadness, the purity of mourning Father at his best. I knew that wasn’t a fair thought, and in part I was glad he could, but the rest of me was bitter.
No tears of mine were shed for the man. I felt the desire, a dry yearning for release, but they just wouldn’t come. He wouldn’t have appreciated them anyway: ‘not practical’ he would’ve said. So instead, I remembered his teachings, his ruthlessness, his sacrifice. I don’t think he ever really wanted to stay here.
A week had passed and still I’d made no progress on my decision. Torma quelled my blind desire to follow Father’s words, so now, without momentum, I was stuck. Packing and repacking my satchel every night. Realising I only owned one change of toga without holes in, and space for but one of our four books, due to their weight; it didn’t reassure me.
I’d concluded that our chances would be slim.
How could we survive in the unknown, the inhospitable beyond? For all we knew, there was no beyond, the Void might go on endlessly. Or while we journey through it, the ground might drop out from beneath our feet, and we would fall forever. Or perhaps we would simply drop dead, unable to survive. These thoughts only offered pain, contemplating infinite possibilities.
Everything I’d known had already been cultivated – or barren – so how would we eat? Our families books even state that mushrooms couldn’t be trusted outside the Village. Poisonous to consume, or inducing of narcotic effects. How could something so safe become so dangerous? Our sole reason for survival, turned against us…
If we were to leave, into that danger, there would be no return. Only one has ever found their way back from the dark… and all it cost him was his mind.
A few days later still, at the edge of the Village, I held a mushroom high, illuminating Mother Tree’s holy bark. All others had been dug up for their fuel, or died for they didn’t like the taste of bio-light. Mother Tree, unlike the rest, stood tall, leafless arms strong, with Her pointed fingers warding off the Void. Some say She was the only reason the Void didn’t engulf us all in endless nothing.
I’d developed the habit of patrolling the perimeter of the Village each night, while the Light Keepers covered the main mushroom clusters, dimming the ambient illumination. I suspected my new routine had begun to concern the others, though that didn’t stop me. Axel was especially anxious about it, fearing I would leave without him. It was funny, how much they all worried without reason, for these walks were deterring far more than they were convincing for me to leave.
Each walk ended here, in front of Mother Tree, to ask her how She survived when others did not, or could not. I, of course, received no answer, but I paid my respects regardless, bowing deeply, hoping that she’d offer me guidance next time.
“Our sins will eat and burn and lick and feed,” an incorporeal voice echoed, “fuel your fear or fly your fall. Turn in death, or turn at all.”
“Who’s there?” I said, not recognising the hollow voice.
“Slash and pound, scream and howl,” the voice said, speeding up. “Blood and teeth, death and claw. Thrash and spit, snap and chew.”
“Where are you, spirit?” I found my words to be far sturdier than my legs, as I stepped backwards away from Mother Tree. Bio-light from my mushroom casting Her shadow on the Void’s surface; pitch black on glossy. I yelped, tripping on one of Her roots.
“Brother!” Axel called, running over.
I accepted his help up, “Mother Tree is haunted – be careful.” My heart pounded, making my words pant, betraying the smile I had tried to offer my Brother. It was an attempt to calm his nerves, and my own, as I knew he would be worried. Regardless, he was here now, and I wouldn’t lie to him, not like Father had.
Axel was small for his age, with Mother’s wavy hair and plump cheeks. I resembled Father: tall, preferring my dark hair long and tied at the back. Only our noses revealed us as siblings, straight and slim; we were both skinny as well, but so was everyone.
Father’s death still weighed heavy on his shoulders, like the bowing of a poorly built hut, during a rainstorm. He would be hardy, he had solid foundations; a lesser child would’ve crumbled already.
There was panic in his eyes, but it faded as quickly as it appeared, as was his way. “Your spirit was only Koraden,” he said, pointing a bony finger towards the man leaning on Mother Tree’s trunk. His hair had grown long, unkempt, helping him blend into Her bark in the monochromatic light.
The Madman looked up, wincing at the light. “Putrid noise, pleasant light. Fears of snaps and sounds of teeth.”
I didn’t know what to do, feeling guilty for avoiding the crazed man’s eyes.
“What does he mean?” Axel asked. He always did that, asking questions I had no chance of answering.
“It’s gibberish, Void tongue, there is no meaning,” I wanted to move on, confront him about following me again, but Axel stepped towards the Madman. “Don’t get too close, he’s dangerous.”
“Why?” Axel said, stepping closer still. “Father Carbon said he doesn’t even scratch at lichen, I don’t think he’ll hurt us.” Koraden cocked his head like an animal, investigating my Brother’s movement. “Maybe he just doesn’t think like we do.” Axel unhooked a mushroom from a sling at his hip, and offered it to the man. “You can have it. Go on.”
Koraden stepped forward, hunched, hesitant, and snatched the mushroom. He scurried back to Mother Tree, resting upon Her once more, examining his gift.
“What were you thinking?” I snapped. “What if he lashed out at you?”
“Why would he lash out? Because he talks differently? That’s very judgmental of you Brother.”
Axel met my eyes with an expression I’d rarely seen on him before; defiance. It made me oddly proud of him, in that moment, with his resolute question, yet it was another I couldn’t answer. Perhaps he was right, why judge a man who tried to leave? That’s what I was debating, and to judge him for the sole reason that he failed seems hypocritical. If anything, I should respect him.
“Why were you following me again, Axel?” I asked my Brother. He didn’t respond straight away, so I let the silence settle. I wasn’t afraid of silence. I found no awkwardness in it, for however consuming it may be, it could never truly be reached, always overcome by at least a heartbeat. In this case, the only noise was from Koraden, who picked off spongy chunks of mushroom to eat.
I could tell Axel was trying to be strong this time, looking at his leather wrapped feet, refusing to answer. I walked over to the edge of the Void, with its slight undulation at my presence. It always reacted to proximity, if someone got too close, like ripples through water that was never touched. I raised my right hand, extending my fingers towards its slick surface, with its endless absence beyond.
“Brother?!” Axel cried.
I allowed myself a smirk, my ploy having succeeded, and pulled my hand back.
“I just don’t want you to leave without me,” Axel paused, “I don’t want you to leave. I don’t want you to leave like Dad.”
“I won’t leave you.” I promised. His words hurt me. I knew he felt that way, but to hear them out loud. “Why do you think I would?”
“You’re slacking on your duties at the farm, we’ve hardly spoken since Dad died, and all of my friends think you’re going crazy, walking around the Village like you do now.”
I suppose I had been quiet recently, but that still felt harsh. If I were Father, I would tell him not to worry. That I would handle everything, and the others were just fearing for nothing. But I wasn’t Father. “Did you know the Void isn’t in a perfect circle around us? No, I didn’t either. It’s hard to notice at first, but it wobbles and contracts to form a flush outline of the Village. I only figured it out while going on these walks.
“I also learned that this is the furthest point away from the centre of the Village, next to Mother Tree. So we’re technically at the furthest point we can possibly reach without entering the Void. Isn’t that interesting?”
Axel shrugged, so I continued.
“So, now I wonder, was the Village built with the Void’s border in mind? Or was the Void built to accommodate the entire Village? Was it built for us?”
“Was it?” he asked.
“It’s hard to know,” I said, before I picked up a small rock from the ground, and threw it into the Void – its surface rippled up into the sky, over our heads. “But now the Void is no longer a Void, for it contains that rock, so what else don’t we understand?”
That sparked a thought in my mind, one that excited me. “Koraden?” I called, turning back to the man who had mostly finished his mushroom. “Why did you turn back? Wasn’t there anything out there?” It seemed so obvious now – to ask the one person who had experience in leaving.
“Dark death stink, death loud, b-b-breath loud, on back, death back, fangs teeth” he picked off another chunk to eat, with a conversational quality to his voice. “Trip death, death down, fell folly, scared, fear fang, sound, death back ran.”
After Axel’s kindness to the Madman, I felt pity well up inside. It must be a challenge, losing your mind and being alone in your turmoil. Was that the fate of anyone who ventured out into the Void? Would we contract this word fog? Or did something else happen to him while he was out there? Father said he left when he was young with three others, but Koraden was the only one to return.
“Thank you,” I said simply. Koraden nodded, having imparted great wisdom, then he swallowed the last mouthful of his meal.
I found myself wanting to discover logic in his words, so I dissected his language, picking it apart like the mushroom he just consumed. The repetition of ‘death’ was concerning, but I always knew there would be danger, so chose to look past it. Emphasis on ‘breath’ was interesting, my first instinct was that we shouldn’t breathe in the Void, but ‘breath loud’ made me think we should breathe it in, and deeply. ‘Trip death’; was he saying the journey ends in death? Or if you trip up it’ll end in your death? Or maybe he was saying that he had fallen? ‘Fell folly, scared’; ‘trip’ and ‘fell’, suggests he did fall. If so, was falling the issue? Did his companions leave him? But why would falling make a difference?
“Jet?” Axel said.
Snapping back to the present, I replied with a muttered grunt.
“I don’t want to go...” There was shame in my Brother’s voice, so I feared that Koraden’s words had rattled him
“What? Why?”
“I like it here, the Village was made for us, like you said. Why would we leave?”
“It might have been…” I replied, slowly. The Void might have been made for us as well, I thought, though I didn’t say that out loud. Now I’d been confronted directly, I realised I had already decided to go. Brother’s resistance strengthened my resolve, I knew it was exactly what we had to do. If Koraden wasn’t what he seemed, then the Void might not be either.
The desire to help my Brother inspired my words. “Something being made for you, or given to you, doesn’t mean it’s right for you. Our farm was made for mushrooms, but now the soil can’t sustain them. Look at this,” I grabbed Axel’s toga by the shoulder, “A second hand’s second hand. I can almost see my fingers through the cloth its worn so thin.”
“So I need new clothes?”
“Yes. No. I’m saying you’ve outgrown them.”
“I’ll get a new toga then, we don’t need to leave to do that.”
My forehead tensed, frustrated by my words falling short. “We’ve all outgrown them. How many times can you repair the same hole?”
“It doesn’t have any holes.” Axel lied.
I pointed to the clear hole near his right foot.
“Gauge said she’d fix that tomorrow, it doesn’t count.”
“Brother. What if we run out of string tomorrow? Or it ceases to rain? Or we burn all the wood? The farm is a slow decline, but we still survive without a backup plan. We’ve outgrown this Village. Does that make sense?” That seemed to make sense to me, as I’d begun convincing myself. Then Koraden spoke again.
“Nothing nowhere, fainting fear, no noises, furious fake,” he said, whipping around Mother Tree manically. “Caring life, death rattles. Caring life, death rattles.”
Axel went over to calm the Madman, which worked to settle him down somewhat. He was fearless in the face of Koraden, but had no desire to leave – that would always confuse me. ‘Nothing nowhere’ scared me more, but I pushed the worry deep. I told myself Koraden never actually made it out, he helped lay my path, but I had to discover the answer on my own.
“It’s what Father would’ve wanted,” I said, “I think we should go.”
“Well he’s gone,” Axel spat, “And you’re not him, so I’m not leaving.”
Such ferocity – I could feel his heat from here. He’d never spoken back to Father that way; I’d never seen him react to anything that way. His outburst made me step back; what happened to my quiet little Brother? I was left without words.
“You said you wouldn’t leave me,” Axel continued, “so if I don’t leave, then neither can you.”
“Axel… that’s not fair and you know it.”
“I don’t care, you can’t make me go.”
The pale blue light on Axel’s agitated face grew brighter on one side, casting shadows across his skin. The horizon was a burning blue, the concentration of bio-light from the Village centre, making it hard to look for too long. A mob of Villagers, most all of them probably, approaching with Chieftess Torma leading their way.
“Sometimes,” I said, “we’re told something is, or is not. We accept the first answer we hear, but how do we know the truth, if we don’t discover it for ourselves?” I tightened the strap on my satchel, hoping my words broke through Axel’s tough facade. Meanwhile, I prepared my soul for the journey ahead, waiting to have one final word with our Chieftess.
“You’ll doom us,” Torma shouted, “you’ll kill us all, Jetsan.”
“No, I won’t,” I said, with a coolness I wasn’t aware I possessed. I pulled out a single sheet of thick paper from my satchel and handed it to her. It contained cramped, tiny handwritten notes, with advice for applying our teachings to the farm. Paper was scarce, hard to recycle, so I had to be sparing and efficient with space. “Our farm is dying, but I’ve left our treasures behind, the textbooks, so that you may squeeze some more life out of her yet. Maintenance will be straightforward until the next harvest, by then you’ll have had time enough to teach yourselves.”
Even if the farm wasn’t sustainable, it was easy enough to maintain for now. I knew she wouldn’t listen – Torma’s eyes shone like a bursting flame – but I had to try. I would like to have left on good terms.
“If you try to leave,” she yelled, “we’ll restrain you. Life will get worse.”
“Jet please, what are you doing? Please don’t go,” Axel begged. He pulled on my cloth, something he hadn’t done since we were boys.
“I have to.” I said, “come with me.”
He didn’t respond.
Torma stepped forward, closing the distance between herself and Axel. “Jetsan, if you leave, I’ll be forced to restrain your Brother instead. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”
Horror twisted Axel’s face, as Torma lunged for his wrist. I heard rustling behind me, then Koraden scuttled across the mud ground like a manic spider, splitting the two of them apart. “Sounds and ears,” he hissed, “Teeth and drool.” His limbs twitched to ward her off; matted hair covered his eyes, adding to the feral ferocity the others always claimed he had.
Torma stumbled backwards, her arms raised defensively; her headdress askew. “You’ve trained the Madman to guard you I see. How’d you do it? Promise him your teeth?” She scoffed, straightening her headdress.
The Villagers shuffled backwards as well, sheep to the wolf; a look on their faces I’m sure I once shared for Koraden. Now that he protected my Brother, I only knew gratitude for the Man.
“Axel,” I said, ignoring everyone else, “It’s now or never. Come on.”
“I-I can’t,” He said, looking small.
I stifled my response, trying to accept his choice. It was always his decision to make, I just never thought he’d disagree with me. I tipped my head to him instead.
I walked to the Void’s edge, its surface undulating once more at my presence. Turning back, mushroom in hand, I yelled out to my neighbours, my Villagers. “Come with me,” I said.
Silence. Then Chieftess Torma spoke, “you’d better run.”
I nodded thanks to Koraden, though if he understood he gave no sign of it. Turning, I gritted my teeth, closed my eyes, and stepped into the Void.
My eyes opened to blackness. The slimy mushroom’s glow swallowed by the abyss; feeling discomfort from not being able to see my own hand, which I knew to be in front of me. It was cooler in the Void than I had expected – not unpleasant – akin to a cool breeze on a hot day.
I already wished to share this experience with my Brother, debating if I should turn back and force him to venture forth with me. For company's sake, if nothing else. Taking a deep breath, tasting the Void’s tangy, metallic smoke, I committed to my decision. One less mouth to feed meant more food for the others – a comforting thought.
The Void’s contradiction entered my mind once more; walking through it like I was, meant it was no longer a Void, an absence, for it contained myself. Did that make it simply black air? If so, could we blow it away? What was its purpose? While I walked, making an effort to keep my path as straight as I could, my mind wandered as well. It was oddly peaceful; the hypnotic nothing that was toying with my eyes, causing fond memories to flash in front of my mind, of family, of school, of the farm. I was so lost I almost didn’t hear my Brother’s voice.
“Jet!” He called, distant and muffled. “Jet!”
“Axel?” I called back, “I’m here, follow my voice.”
Turning back to greet him, his outstretched arm thumped my side in the dark. “I’m here, Brother, it’s me.” We embraced, and I could feel his shaking. “You did it. I’m so proud of you.”
“I didn’t want to make you a liar,” Axel said, his voice shaking. “What now?”
“Now,” I said, turning, already feeling disorientated in this empty maze, “we discover what’s beyond.” Before I’d finished my reply, howls broke out in every direction. They stopped, a momentary silence where nothing moved, except my thundering heart. More howls. “Hurry,” I said, squeezing his shoulder, “whatever you do, don’t stop.”
We ran.
Within seconds, so did the beasts. Their footfalls were of bears, heavy and pounding; their breath of rabid wolves.
Growling scratched my ears.
So soon? It didn’t matter, just run.
Gnashing fangs snapped at our heels, we’d barely had time to lose our breath. I could picture their savage razors, eviscerating my skinny legs, like crunching dry twigs. But all I could see was black, a blessing, for I pretended they weren’t there. Simply running was difficult enough, pushing against uneven mud, believing that I made progress with my eyes as good as closed.
A thud came from behind, like a sack of mulch hitting the ground.
“Brother?” He must’ve tripped.
What do I do? If I turn back the beasts will get me.
Remembering Koraden, his words and my promise, I skidded to change direction. I dashed towards Axel’s screams, almost tripping on him in the darkness. While I stumbled over my Brother, the mushroom I carried slipped from my grasp. Without any way to locate it in the blind panic, I knelt towards my Brother instead.
“It’s okay.” I said, panting. My head spun, I’d lost any sense of direction, if not for the ground I’d be floating in smoke.
“They’re all around me!” he shrieked, thumping me in the stomach with a flailing wrist. Winded, I grabbed his thrashing limbs, restraining him.
There was nothing around him, just me and the noise.
The noise.
“Come on.”
Axel screamed again as I lifted him to my shoulders. We moved forward, ignoring the sounds of beasts. Their snarls echoed whispers: “Abuser. Killer of land, everyone will die because of you. You failed us.”
I ignored them too.
Stepping one foot in front of the other, not sure where they’d take me. I just had to keep moving.
The floor began to slope down – I slipped. Clutching my babbling Brother, we tumbled. I took the brunt of the impact, protecting Brother’s head, while my body bashed against the ground over and over.
When we stopped tumbling, pale light comforted me. Axel looked dazed, but we had survived.
As my eyes adjusted to light once more, shades of blue I’d learnt to recognise on my Brother’s face were deeper than usual, more vibrant and contrasting, even warm, as I realised they weren’t blue at all. This wasn’t the bio-light I’d grown up knowing. I’d lost the mushroom on our journey; where was this light coming from?
Scanning our surroundings, we were at the bottom of a great hill, the Void coalescing at its top like a black boil. Behind that, the sky was on fire.
A deep mushroom blue was high above me, which faded downwards into a flame licked horizon. Bursts of hot fluffy orange clouds covered the sky; the illustrations I’d seen of them hadn’t done their brilliance justice. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
We were in the hills shadow, but even so, I’d never felt such heat; like I was resting on my deathbed in the Village. Turning, there were hundreds of other hills in the distance, each with black Voids on their tops. Some larger, some smaller, but I could guess what was inside each one.
Plants the colour of neither flame nor mushroom inhabited the space in-between the hills. I couldn’t find any word to describe the colour of these plants, except that it felt more appropriate than fire had, to represent life. There was also a freshness to it, a clean breath of air, unlike the dank musk of the Village.
I stared at the plants, as a farmer who grew one type of yield, their sheer variety overwhelming. That wasn’t what worried me, however, as I realised they weren’t as still as the mushrooms I’d known. They writhed, they whipped, they crawled towards us.
“Stay here,” I told Axel, who was slumped on the ground.
I stepped forward, meeting the vines that lunged at us. Their movements reminded me of Koraden. Intimidating, but harmless; misunderstood.
Against my better judgement, I closed my eyes, standing still, allowing the plants to do as they wished – I wouldn’t resist.
Rustling, they investigated my legs, poking at my toga with a childlike curiosity. I opened my eyes; still alive, slowly lowering my hand towards one. It rubbed against my palm, which made me smile, for its leaves tickled my skin.
The clustered plants opened up a path down their centre, to what looked like a forest. I moved to get Axel, but the plants pulled back – skittish. They must be nervous too.
“Axel, come on. Let’s see what’s out here.” I said, grabbing my Brother’s hand, taking our first steps down this new path.
