Chapter 11

Chapter 11: The Holy Handouts

“Heeeeeey! Everyone!” The gentle, smooth voice, still found, somehow, a way to boom across the vast palace. “Heloooooooow? Is everyone here? Yes?! Hello. Yeeees.”

She let out a deep, strong attack of laughter, as she looked down outwards, toward the crowd.

I watched from afar, an almost unbelievable distance, as she spoke. I was completely drawn in by the ceremony. She stood, completely still, not moving at all, but instead, dancing with her voice. The tune and pitch, rising and falling.

Then, as if settling into where she stood and what she was about to say, the lids over her eyes lowered, as her expression became solemn and serious, “We have all come here, from far far far far far away. From the end of this land, to find something.” Her voice now resonated with still and calmness, a monotonous tone.

“We have all come,” she continued, “To drive out our demons, to relieve our emotions, and bring peace to ourselves.”

She stopped to take in a deep breath, which sounded like the breathing of the wind. “This is our most sacred day, at our most sacred site. It is a special spirit that overtakes all of us, on this magnificent day. This day nearly 500 years ago, at this very site, is where the Ecuadorian tribes first were born. Our history comes from this spot, these very stones. The first tribes all sat here, under this very ancient roof, this place, which was sacred even back then. They became the first of this... “ She paused just for a second, as if doubting her next words, “...glorious nation. However this is not what we celebrate, as we all come to here, to the sacred city of Celephais.

“For those who do not know, it is a story we tell all our children, the story of these most sacred of stones. This place, where we gather every year, together with our vast family.” She motioned towards all the crowd, with her arm, “The name Celephais, means in a language of the eldest beings, ‘The Shadow of God.’ Eons ago, as is told, there was a world, not unlike this one. It was inhabited by something close to people. And these people had their families and their dreams. Their hopes and their lives. Their arts, their dances, their love, their beauty, their wives, their sons, their daughters. But they had also their fears, their hatred, their death, their war, their sin, their evil and their Gods. But not all the Gods of the world could save these people, even with all this. All their war, dreams, fighting, struggling, hoping, loving, could they stop the storm, could they stop the flood.”

Her still voice, which had grown dimmer and dimmer, now was literally a whisper, and I was amazed I could hear it.

“The land, was covered in a storm, and all became consumed in the raging sea, never to be seen again. Except for one being and one mountain. The being was named Ihab, and the mountain Sanak Tama. You see? The only island left for this world was this very place, this very spot. Ihab, from this place, the Shadow under the mountain, recreated humanity, and the world. And from here, from this spot, came all the people of Nitzanland. Celephais is the beginning of our world and the lands of Ecuador, the cradle of the entire world.”

She paused again and closed her eyes, taking in another breath. Then, opening them again, she spoke again, in words mixed with her own breath, “Here we worship life, we feel our own existence, we praise our own spirits, not the Gods, up in heaven. Not religion, but our own peace.”

Her final words reverberated across the palace, and through the rows of people, all anxiously staring, however there was not a single sound. All was still, for time I cannot even count.

Then in a silence-cracking start, she let out a cry, that filled the room again with her gentle voice, “These are the days of the sun. Breath with me, all of you, together. Feel your origin! Feel this place!”

Then, everyone, all the crowd, the riders, as I heard, the priestess and myself, all pulled in the cold, eerie air through our nostrils. Then, as I thought of all the words she had spoken and of the ancient stones that surrounded me, I released my breath, somehow at the same time as the entire crowd. It all sounded like one titanic breath and the room seemed to swell with the people filling with air.

Then, the crowd, one by one, began to extinguish the torches, as I could see. The priestess stood, still watching, as all the lights of the crowd went out. The torches and lights of the walls went out as well. As they blew out their lights, the people of the crowd also kneeled, and, as if praying, set their faces down on the mosaic floor, backs fully stretched out.

Slowly, it seemed the entire crowd did the same. A darkness filled the room, as the masses of people did as well. It all became fainter and fainter. And then, as the absolute last torch went out and the last glow of light left the wide palace, I saw the priestess also kneel.

I was left in absolute darkness, but I did not kneel down on the floor; instead, I stood still, looking into absolute darkness. I had seen the others join in, but I had resisted. I just stood there, looking out into absolute darkness and silence. Probably for minutes, or maybe for hours. This I do not know.

However, after a short while, I felt a tug at my sleeve, and, quite surprised, looked to where it had originated. Of course, I could not see anything, only darkness, and nothing more. I tried to whisper, as gently as I could, and found that I really couldn’t, it just fell like a sin disturb the silence at all.

I felt the tug again, and this time, I simply allowed myself to be pulled. I took a few steps, and was led away from where I was standing. I looked back briefly to where Naomi and the others probably were laying, but of course, still I saw nothing.

As I was led forward, I began to worry that I actually might step on someone, but as I noticed, the invisible tug seemed very precise, and by some miracle could see in the utter darkness, whereas I could not.

I walked and walked, past what I assumed were thousands of people, until suddenly, I felt as if I had entered some other room, or space. I don’t know why; maybe the darkness around me felt different, or simply the air was calmer, more stable.

Nearly at the same time, however, a small, tinkling light turned on, right in front of me. It was a small candle and it illuminated a face in its wake. I probably should have been startled by the sudden appearance of the figure but instead, I was simply amazed.

It was the priestess, and upon seeing me, simply smiled the same, natural, glossy smile.

“Hello, Amir. Thank you for coming.”

I think I stared at her for a while, and merely did nothing at all. I was unable to speak, until I asked the least of my questions, “What do you mean ‘thank you for coming’? Didn’t you bring me here?”

“No, of course not.” she answered, in the same calm voice. “Do you really think I would walk through the dark and be able to find you?”

I thought about it, “I guess not. But then what did?”

She shrugged, then smiled again, “I don’t know. I think you pulled yourself. Here in these ruins, sometimes the city takes you where you need to go.”

“Where I need to go?” I thought back to the force, which had pulled me. “Is the city alive?”

She laughed, gently, softly, “I think it doesn’t need to be alive to speak, it does so in its own way. You should know, they also call me the speaker of Celephais. I translate what it has to say.”

I stood, there, completely unaware of everything, yet I still only spoke, calmly, uncaring, only willing to understand, “Then what does the city know about me? What does it want me to do?”

“Speak to me. I guess.” Then, she took the candle, which only slightly illuminated her own face, and began to walk away. Before the light had completely vanished, she whispered back, “Come with me.”

I saw her candle, begin to chase away with her, and in an instantaneous decision, I began to follow.

I followed the candle, as it bobbed up and down, flowing, continuously into the darkness. Then, it began to ascend, as the priestess began to climb up some stairs. I realized, I must have managed to walk all the way to the base, at the very center of the palace of the majestic, towering stairs. They curved up to fabulous heights and were made by the same black stone, as was the city itself, except for the railing, which felt cool to my hand, and seemed like purely white marble.

The candle seemed to be dancing away from me and I made my way forward, worried I might be completely lost in the dark without its slight luminance. However, the two of us climbed and climbed and climbed, without end. The staircase reached up to unfathomable heights, and as I walked up, now almost forgetting the people below, I wondered how high I truly was. I also thought of the invisible force that apparently had guided me; I imagined it as a black, shadow hand, with long raspy nails, tugging at my shirt. The idea made me shiver.

We had walked up for several minutes, when I saw the candle stop ascending, obviously reaching the very top of the stairs. I followed, and then suddenly, all around me, I heard the slamming of a wooden door.

Startled, I turned around to see what had happened or where the sound had come from. And then, as soon as I had, looking back into more darkness, I heard the low moaning of flames suddenly incandesce behind me, and a light, which I could feel on my back. The room was suddenly consumed in the light of fire, and I turned back to see, stone walls, riddled with torches. The smooth, marble walls, all shivered with the light, revealing a bare room, except for one, wooden, plain chair, standing in the middle of the circular room. It’s brown surface, glittered in the rays of fire.

The priestess sat there, relaxed, laying back, the candle still in hand, wearing the same, complacent, calm smile. She looked at me, and calmly asked, “What do you wish to hear?”

My eyes, averted just for a second to behind her, where I spotted a large bulky, door. I could see light crack through, and briefly wondered, what laid beyond.

“Eh… what do you mean, want to hear? I thought you had something to tell ME?” I asked, a tone of fear strangely escaping from my words.

“Don’t worry,” she answered, “I am the answerer of all questions. That is who I am. I hold the knowledge, not only of the tribes of Ecuador… but of all the world.”

“How?” I asked, now simply amazed.

She let out a slight burst of laughter, and then looked at me again with the calm glittering eyes, embezzled by the fire, “I don’t know. Maybe, it is as they say and the spirit of the city possesses me, or maybe. It is just that I read alot.”

“Read?”

“Alot!” She hesitated for a while, looking at the low roof before adding, “And bread, I eat a lot of bread. The whole wheat stuff, the good kind. A ton of bread!”

I looked around the empty room, quite confused as to the answer, and then I realized where I was. “We are in the tower of this palace, right? Do you live here?”

“Yes.” She answered simply and shortly.

“And live here the whole year?”

“Yes.”

“And you live here alone?”

“Maybe.”

She smiled again, then continued, “What do you want to know?”

I thought about it for a second, but I could not think of anything. So I asked, “I have no idea of what I should ask?”

“Well….” she answered, smoothly, as if letting out a mouthful of smoke, “It can be anything you like. It can be of your friends, of your home, of your fears, of your eyes, of your soul, of your future, of your quest, or of any.. perhaps secret mistakes you have made.”

My hand suddenly tightened over the key in my pocket and dreadful thoughts entered my mind again, for just an instant.

So I thought for a while, under the reddish torches, and thought of a question to ask, till a doubt began to emerge in my head. I looked at her, seeing that she had watched me intently as I had thought and then asked, “You gave the story of this place, and why it is sacred, but it sounded incomplete. What is the real history of this city; of Celephais?”

“That…” She answered, “Is the right question.”

She smiled, as if excited to tell this tale, and then let out a calm, breezy voice, “What if I told you, the man, Ihab, was not a man at all?”

“Then what was he?” confused.

“An elephant!”

I did not answer.

“It was many eons, ago, when even the planet itself was unrecognizable, in a time which is today called, Purim, which means, “The Flood” in an ancient lost language. The world was a different place, and water covered everything the eye could see. Except for two islands, and on one of these two, Ihab the elephant sat and waited, for anything, anything to happen.”

“How did he survive?” I asked, interrupting.

She looked at me, and answered, shrugging, “I don’t know!”

“But he did survive, and he sat on an island, only metres in length, for days and days.” She continued, “He simply sat there, looking into the vast seas in front of him. And he waited, everything calm, nothing stirring even the slightest.”

“What did he eat?” I interrupted again.

“I don’t know.”

“How did he survive then?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he lived off his own self-examination, or the power of his mind. or…. maybe he was a spirit elephant who didn’t need to eat... Look, I don’t know, just listen.”

“Okay,” I answered, aware that I may have been asking too many questions.

“You see,” she continued, “Ihab was a lonely elephant, as he waited there. And as he waited he always was consumed by the same dream. He wished to fly, to fly away from this terrible place, this lonely island forever. Yet this never came true. He simply sat there, for a very long time, looking out over the vast surface of the ocean world. He was alone, except for a single orange butterfly, which danced around him, day and night.”

“How did the butterfly survive?” I asked accidentally, again.

She looked at me, her eyes still as calm as before, in the dancing flames, “Amir, I can tell you. But first you need to ask less questions.”

“Okay…”

She smiled, “So Ihab simply sat there, alone and dejected, till that one day, when something magical happened! One day the elephant awoke, and on his back giant butterfly wings had sprouted. And so, with a jump and a flapping, he flew away from that dreadful island, once and for all. And since, the island has never been seen again. But as Ihab flew across the vast oceans, he saw nothing at all. He realized the entire world was covered in water, until the day he found the last island.”

As she told the story, she raised her voice in excitement, “It was a miracle! The last piece of land to survive the flood. It was the only place left on earth. And although it has changed form, grown vast volcanoes, or beautiful castles and forests, dreadful rivers and cities, it is still the same as it is today. And we know it today as Nitzanland.”

“Wait! So we are all descendants from one half butterfly, half elephant named Ihab?!” I asked, confounded.

She looked at me, surprised that I had so suddenly raised my voice, yet, continued, “Well, no. Not exactly. Ihab the elephant came here, found Nitzanland and that is it, that is where the real story ends. That is what we celebrate.”

“So….. what is the point of that?” I asked, still confused.

“Well, all we know is that this is as far back as things go. Other lesser known stories, a lonely tree, which stood at the top of the hill of mercy and survived the storm. Others, of a God who fell from the earth, and whose back became Nitzanland. And one mentions some mysterious man named Marvin, who hid in a cave and was never heard from again. Maybe the point is that we know very little, say very little, celebrate a lot, in a simple way. We have many ways to say what happened. But what matters is what is found in all the stories.”

“And what is that?”

“What indeed?”

I thought about it. Thought about what she was telling me, and the riddles these things seemed to be. She looked at me, as I thought, smiling.

“The flood?” I asked, doubtfully.

“Hmmmm, not really.” She scrunched her nose and laughed, then gave me the same waiting look.

I thought again, and leaned to my left, placing my hand on the white marble wall. The cold stone shocked my fingertips and I looked towards it. A window lay just beyond it, and I managed to see just how high we were. Fairly high as I could tell, and down below I could see the twinkling of candles and the city below. I got an idea.

“The city?”

“YES! The city! the city is always the same!”

I smiled, but then began to think about it. It only raised more questions than it answered.

“So… what does that… wait…. where did the city come from, if the butterfly elephant didn’t build it?”

She smiled now, as I had finally figured it out, “It’s a mystery, yes. We do not know. All we know is that the city was here before any of this, before the flood, before the civilization which was destroyed and before anything else on Nitzanland. As it seems, they all speak of the city as a ruin, more ancient than anything on earth. It was simply found here. No one knows who built it or how. Where it comes from, or why. But it was and is the seat of the last of civilization on this planet. That is what we celebrate, that is what the tribes of Ecuador revere. We pray to the ancient remnants of earth, that which has been here since the beginning, the creation of Nitzanland. The greatest mystery.”

She continued, “Of all those who found this last land, of all those people who made their way here, our only answer as to how, is that this city led them here, much like it led you to me. We can only assume it was the power of these ruins, which by the way, have stayed the same since. It is the only thing we cannot explain, our last mystery, this is what is most sacred to the peoples of Ecuador. The only thing we have left from creation. Well, except for one other thing.”

Her point made, she ended with a solemn tone of conclusion and then smiled at me. I looked at her, and smiled back, thinking about what she had said. Then, in the same calm tone asked, “And how do you think it got here?”

She looked up at the ruff, and placed her index finger around her chin, and answered, “I’ll think about it.”

Then I made a realization and exclaimed, “Wait! There is something else?! What do you mean, the other thing?”

She frowned, looking back down towards me, and then answered, “If Celephais is a mystery, there is something else, even more perplexing, which has remained since the beginning of our land. It is shrouded in the unknown and not even spoken of, for it has been forgotten everywhere else but here.”

“What!?” I asked as I saw her expression change to one of terror.

She looked away from me, out the window, into a starry night, “It has been passed down through the generations of the priestesses, and has always been considered the most secretive pieces of knowledge. A murmur, a whisper, which was passed down since the creation of Nitzanland, since the beginning of the tribes of Ecuador. That when the world flooded, something else survived beyond several people, 332 species of banana, an elephant named Ihab, and ancient godlike ruins called Celephais. It is an ancient evil, and this shadow has lived among us ever since.”

“Ancient evil?’

“Yes.” She looked sad as she continued, as if these words had forever haunted her. “I do not know what it is, or even what to think of it. All I know is that it is evil and has always been among us, since the beginning. Also, it is rumored to have something to do with the ancient, Angry Lord Ben.”

“Evil force?” I pondered for a minute. “It’s like what Lavinia was talking about! Of course, this is what I have been looking for… but who is this Ben?”

The calm had returned to her expression and she shifted her green eyes back to stare at me, “Of course I know, Amir, I’ve known all this time. Why else would I send the riders for you?”

“It was you!?” I asked in disbelief.

She smiled at me and giggled, “Of course, Amir. I told Carlos and the riders to go with Sofia. I have known about your quest for a long time. I needed to help you. You see, I have felt this evil fast approaching, and need your help. Bad things are coming.”

“What…bad things?” I asked, apprehensively.

“I don’t know. But I could not allow you to stay in South Tom; all is lost if you do not complete your quest, Amir. You see, there has been a prophecy, which tells of a young hero, which will save us of the evil to come.” She gently looked into my eyes. The green flashed, with the fires around, and her light skin face, as I could see now in the light, was a distinct red around her cheeks.

“What prophecy?” I asked, feeling as if too much information was being forced into my head.

She blinked slowly, then drew a bit closer, “The prophecy, written by Tucker Barrows, the prophet of Nitzanland.”

“Tucker!” I exclaimed, suddenly remembering everything.

“Yes. I know this is why you came, to find his ancient handouts. It is rumored they can reveal the root of his pilgrimage. It is true, as my mother told me, that he came here, long ago. He passed by the city, this sacred city, and spent an incredible amount of time. He left some of what he wrote. This is why I called you.”

I suddenly interrupted, shouting my question, far louder than I had meant to, “Wait! You said the city called me?!”

She rolled her eyes, “”Whatever, same thing. What’s important is that you find what you need.”

“And where..” I interrupted, “can I find that?”

She turned around suddenly, away from me, and began to prance across the room. She twirled and leapt, till she reached the wooden door, at the end of the room. Light leaked out from its bottom and flickered. I could tell fire illuminated whatever lay within, and I was suddenly hit with furious curiosity.

She reached for the doorknob, and with a graceful tug, unleashed what room lay within, and a blaze of light. My eyes were instantly fried and I looked away from the intensity. I heard the priestess giggle and then my eyesight returned to a most wonderful sight.

“Behold, the sacred Library of all knowledge!” I heard the priestess call out of the blinding light, in a voice which sounded almost like a scream and a whisper mixed together.

As my eyes adjusted, I saw the priestess, twirling around, her arms outstretched, a smile of complete bliss and laughter, in the middle of a stone mosaic floor like the one downstairs. She danced there, rotating in the light of the flame. Around her, all in disorder, and held by shelves upon shelves upon shelves, were simply millions of books.   Thousands, of books, an uncountable amount of books, a crapton of books. My eyes boggled as I walked forward, full of wonder. The light shone on my face as I entered the room and beheld all the books. My face was speechless.

The shelves, all wooden, made of dark wood, all piled in no particular order and some even looking like they could fall over, were completely chocked full of books. Just a pile of wooden shelves and books. All around them, on the walls hung hundreds of torches, emitting the light that had blinded me.

She must have seen my expression of complete astonishment, for then she asked, “Do you like it?”

The only word that came to my mind was, “Yes.”

“This is the great treasure of Ecuador, of Celephais.” She looked towards the books with me, laughing a chortle of complete amusement between words, “All my life, my duty has been to care for this library. It is a collection of all knowledge in Nitzanland. All that is known is here and is trusted to Celephais. The people of Ecuador and the priestess are encharged with preserving all the knowledge of the world. This is why Tucker stayed here for so long, studying everything he could. His writings are here for you to find.”

She watched me take it all in for a while, smiling all the time, laughing at my surprise, and then finally beginning to walk away to the door.

I stopped her, “Where are you going?!”

She looked back and smiled, dipping her head at an angle, “Leaving. I have thousands of people, my people, to be with.”

I gapped at her, and then looked at the books, “But how am I supposed to find anything here?”

She smiled again, in an almost impossibly encouraging way, “You’ll find a way, trust me.”

I smiled back, for the first time.

She took a step to leave before I called out again, “Wait!”

She looked back, “Yes?”

“How did you know my name?”

She smiled, looking back at the door she planned to escape by, “Well, I don’t know, maybe Sofia mentioned it when I met her.”

“O okay. Bye then.”

She took another step to leave, before I called out again.

“Wait!”

This time she ran off quickly and slammed the door behind her, just as I managed to get out the question, “What’s your name?!”

But she was gone already and I was left alone in the library. I took a few steps around, unsure of what to do. The room was massive and I wondered how such a huge library could fit in such a lean tower, from what I had seen from far away. I decided the best answer was magic.

As I walked around, I took a quick glance at other books, such as a book called The Slave, which looked so new it had obviously never been read or even opened, a book called Cannibalism And You, written by some weird guy whose last name was Shpadoinkle, and finally a smallish book called, Fireplace Cooking for One.

I was flipping through the later, learning how to make a killer chicken parmesan, when I felt the same tug on my shirt as before. It was stronger now and this time, I knew to let it take me where it pleased.

It tugged me along, gently down toward one particular shelf, on the far left corner, where suddenly I felt the force stopped. I looked at the shelf where I had been left and stared deep into its contents, quickly hopelessly. There must have been some 23 Gyrjamithrimillion books, on the one shelf alone. I stared as my eyes squinted deeper and deeper every time. Dismayed, I was on the cusp of giving up, when suddenly, I heard a soft thud, from behind. A few loose papers flew behind me and as I turned, I saw that a large book had fallen from one of the upper shelves.

I jumped excitedly over to the fallen book and turned it to the title.

I angrily dropped The Ultimate Encyclopedia of Martina’s Health Tips, and frowned in frustration. This could have taken me hours.

Yet, suddenly, on the top of my head, I felt the gentle weight of a piece of paper. I swatted at my head and grasped the document that had been neatly balanced there. I examined the writing and found out it was more like a series of pages all held together by a single staple.

The writing, however, was not one which I understood. It was unlike the writing I had seen outside, yet still not known to me. I stared at the clear title of the pile of papers in frustration, but I still knew.

This was it, I had found it! This was the sacred handout of Tucker! I could feel it! I lifted the pieces of paper high in triumph and called out, “Eureka! I found it!”

I examined the pieces of paper once more and then darted out of the corridor, making my way to the door. I found the vast wooden door, and dashed past it. I needed to find the priestess as soon as possible. I began to run down the stairs, when suddenly I came out of the room from before, and discovered that everything was lit and no longer dark.

I stopped where I stood, surprised by the change in scenery, and looked around, quite confused as to why everything was so light out. I was standing from the very top of the stairs, overlooking the vast palace from before; however, the palace was now clear to me, as the darkness had disappeared.

Was it day already? How long had I been speaking, and how long had I been looking at the books of the library? I was shocked, surely this meant I had been in there for plenty of hours. But I did not let it stop me; I shoved the questions I had aside for just a moment and continued to run down the stairs.

As I did, I noticed that the palace was also empty of people altogether. But I did not even try to think what this meant, or where everyone might have gone. I simply kept running, running, running, running down the stairs.

Until all of a sudden, with a crash came a splatter of bright lights; all I saw was a flash of white light and then nothing at all. I felt myself hit the floor in response and a faint ringing in my ears. My face and the rest of my body felt numb, and I simply laid there, on the cold marble ground.

I had no idea what had happened, only that it had happened very quickly. I simply lay there, on the ground, my eyes closed. Then suddenly I felt a great pain in my nose and head. I don’t know what it was, but it was horrifying. I thrashed around, still on the ground unable to understand just what had happened, until I opened my eyes.

Standing above me was Carlos, looking down, the same grave expression on his face. He saw me open my eyes and asked, quite plainly, “What happened?”

I looked at him, holding my nose and answered, “I don’t know!”

He turned to look at something a bit off of my field of view and then back down at me, and said with fatal deliverance, “I think you hit a wall. Also…your nose is bleeding.”

I looked at my hand, and saw it was stained in red. Something as bright colored as this usually would have surprised me, but I was confused, dazed and simply shrugged at the sight of my own blood. Carlos looking at me, his eyes semicircles of indifference, held out his hand for me to get up. I held my nose and realized that it wasn’t bleeding the normal way, but instead I seemed to have to a cut on the top. I touched it, feeling it out, as Carlos watched me intently.

He looked at me, and asked, “Did that hurt? You must have been running down these stairs or something and slammed into the wall. Weird.”

“Does that happen a lot?” I asked, still focused on my nose. “I mean, that came out of nowhere.

“Nope. Never seen it happen. You’re just special.”

He smiled at me. And then I remembered exactly why I had been running down so quickly in the first place.

“Carlos! Me Amigo! Listen, look.” I shoved the pieces of paper in his face, which apparently I had grasped firmly in my hand the whole time.

“Can you translate this?” I asked, enthusiastically.

“What is it?” he asked, now with a slight tone of enthusiasm.

“The Handouts, Carlos, THE HANDOUTS!”

I think I had forgotten that not everyone understood what I was raving about, but I watched as Carlos closely examined the document. After a while of somber silence, he looked up with a frown and said. “I can’t read this.”

I looked at him, disappointed and perplexed, “WHY NOT!”

“Because I can’t,” he said, reluctant to add anything else, until he whispered, “It’s almost like an entirely different language altogether.”

I was truly disappointed. I looked at the curvy lines on the paper and sighed. My disappointment did not last long though, as I raised my head again and ecstatically asked, “Where’s the priestess!?”

He looked at me and cocked his head, rather confused, before answering, “I don’t know.”

I sighed again, disappointment joining me once more, until with a careful voice Carlos continued, “But…she left this note for you.”

Carlos lifted his arm up in slow motion, and as soon as the damp piece of paper came into view I snatched it, leaving Carlos simply standing there, uselessly looking at his hand, as if curious as to what force had made this paper disappear.

I unfolded the paper without hesitation and looked through the writing as quickly as I could, and read:

Amir,

I’m sure you have found what you are looking for. Good. I also know you probably realized it is written in a language older than is known in Ecuador. The language is ancient, and none will know it here, not even me. But there is a chance you can find someone who can. Go with Carlos, to the Spring, outside of the city, known as Eve. I know Carlos pointed it out to you. He is good at pointing out things. Maybe there you can decipher the meaning behind it all.

I looked at Carlos who was nonchalantly picking his ears, and then back at the paper. It was exciting, yet there was one thought that still bothered me. In a doubtful voice I asked Carlos, diverting his attention, “That spring, Eve, right...What was it you said about it? Does anyone live there?”

“Nothing lives there.” He answered in a somber tone, “It is the where ghosts of the past roam.”