(Semifinal - 1) Zovo v Ink

[Matteo ((Taed))]

The topic is your choice.

The restriction is .... WRITE USING YOUR OPPONENT'S SETTING!

[ASGetty ((Zovo))]

A Darker Light

When we are young, we learn to seek the Echo; that last vestige of the holy Creator. I remember this well for I was the first among my class to feel her resonance.

Of more than a dozen iamo younglings sitting before Matriah, legs akimbo, listening in silence I was the first. I felt her essence within me, a warm soothing embrace upon my soul, and I unlidded my eyes to find her gaze upon my own. Her gaze projected a mixture of emotions for I did not humble myself, nor did I cast my eyes down in reverence as children are wont to do. Rather I met her wide eyes unblinking and unafraid; there was joy there and I felt her love. I think even then, so many years ago, she had foreseen events to come.

As a child I did not revere Matriah and grovel at her sacred altar. I did not spend days and weeks in her illuminated temple bathing in her bodily light, seeking her guidance and offering my prayers, for she was always with me and thus I felt no need to be physically in her presence. I was never plagued by indecision or doubt, for I could always rely in the feeling in my gut to inspire a course of action within me. While others toiled away and made offerings to gain her favor, I took the Echo for granted, such was the strength of our connection.

I had been told by my brethren, on their way to worship, what it is like to face the uncaring world without the Echo’s resonance to guide you. It is a relationship which must be cultivated, and nurtured, and through this repetition the exchange becomes mutual all become one and the iamo can each live in the best interest of one another. I, on the other hand, was granted a freedom unknown to my peers; I could be carefree and selfish.

Matriah is not the source of Echo; she is but a conduit. A single iamo, blessed with the Creator’s Light and the ability to spread its blessings and love, Matriah becomes an object of reverence in acknowledgement of her gift. She is a living relic to all iamo; regardless of colonial affiliation and through her, no iamo is ever truly alone.

Except for me.

It was the seventeenth anniversary of my birth when Echo deserted me; I think her sudden absence awakened me from a slumber. An ambient ache permeated my very soul, the way a sudden tinnitus screeches in your ears when a loud room goes suddenly silent. I couldn’t, at first, put my finger on the source of this empty ache. I dressed myself as usual and made my way upstairs to where my family awaited me. It was midday, and I had been allowed to oversleep. My father had quipped that I needed my beauty sleep, for on the following morn I was to be betrothed to a local boy named Truli, in celebration of my advancement into maturity.

My emergence was greeted with warm gestures and greetings and I replied habitually, but everything felt a little bit off from center. Each person felt remotely foreign. Their embraces took on an invasive quality I’d never experienced before. My mother and father spoke of a recent land acquisition, the human incursion on the outskirts of the colony, and how these events related to my dowry. I was not listening. I broke my fast hastily and left my home without explanation. Absence seeks absence; it would seem, for the loneliness in my soul could only be rebuffed by loneliness of body and I sought to escape.

I could no longer feel Echo, I could not sense Matriah and yet I travelled further and further into darkness. Down endless tunnels, beyond the limits of my prior exploration, past the fungus farms and the slave pits, down and still deeper into the earth. The tunnels there filled with hot air and steam, my clothing became soaked and clung to my body inhibiting movement but still I delved deeper until far in the distance, around a winding corner, I spotted the unexpected.

It is unclear to all but the clergy why Matriah glows. But there is no doubt that it is not a trick as some human visitors have cynically suggested. I have stood in her presence and watched the gentle throb of warm, pale yellow light emanate from her core in time with her heartbeat; I know it to be real. I asked her once, when I was young and naïve and not above asking forbidden questions. Her answer was a stunning vision of a white hot light, burning bright upon a distant field of washed out blues and whites. I assumed she meant to tell me she had met the Creator, perhaps in meditation, perhaps in reality, she had witnessed Sun, Moon and Echo and been gifted the holy glow.

There, at the edge of my vision, though, I spotted a darker light; angry and red it cast demonic shadows of forms unknown upon the cavern wall. It, too, throbbed in rhythm but carried with it its own resonance; a primal roar almost unbearably loud, punctuated with crackling explosions and fiery gusts of hot air. I shielded my eyes and advanced upon the light, enraptured. Rounding the corner I found myself standing high above a river of molten stone. Though iamo utilize it little in day to day life, I had encountered fire many times before this; but never on so grand a scale.

I stood there, on the embankment while my flesh grew dry and taut in the heat. I felt the fires light flow into me and take up residence where Matriah had lived. The feeling was not wholly unfamiliar. I felt a strength and sureness of presence I’d always known, but it was no longer warm and loving and glowing meekly in the background. This new Echo, this more assertive Echo, wanted to be known, it wanted to be seen and with each heartbeat I felt it growing more powerful within me. Planting roots and nesting itself within the core of my being, I knew now that this light had called to me, that Matriah had not withdrawn, but been supplanted. My soul had been annexed and this vessel would carry the red Echo back to the colony.

My hands glowed a vicious red as I traced them along the walls of the caverns leading back to my home. The tunnel seemed to grow brighter as I travelled and I knew it was because, like Matriah, my whole body had begun to glow. My excitement grew more intense and the light within me shown all the brighter. I forced myself to stop, to calm my breathing, to slow my pace and to douse the light as best I could. After long moments I managed a dull orange aura, surrounding my exposed skin like a halo.

I passed the slave pits and I thought as though I could feel the disquiet among the slaves. Task masters watched me pass without word, though I felt an animal urge within them; a primal desire. Lust? I wasn’t sure. I pushed back on the feeling in revulsion and the pit-bosses returned to their tasks of whipping and slaving. A similar experience greeted me at the fungus farms, albeit less threatening. I allowed myself to entertain it with a certain thrill. Though mature, I was still but young and unused to the advances of males. I could feel not only their eyes upon me, but also the pull my presence exerted upon their minds. It was a powerful rush.

I arrived home confident and drunk on these new sensations. Truli was there with my family when I arrived. He was mine, immediately. Surprisingly, others had begun to gravitate in my direction. None were so overt as to approach me directly, but I couldn’t help but feel that the pathways nearing my home and in my immediate vicinity were more crowded than was usual. Iamo from all over the colony, male and female, seemed to be amassing in the area, though few appeared to be doing any more than going about their normal business; as though they didn’t realize their behavior. There was excitement in the air, an impermeable tension that threatened to overwhelm me.

But the red Echo wasn’t finished. I took Truli by the hand and I heard him gasp at my touch. A wave of nervous energy washed over me; I wondered if he felt the raging fire burning in my chest. I marched my new mate to Matriah’s temple and strode inside with an uncharacteristic confidence. I heard her speech trail off; she was discussing with her flock the human incursions onto our lands, her plans for diplomacy, and appeasement. I could feel the sentiment in the room, the trepidation and disquiet resentment. I could see on her face that she, too, could feel it, but was at a loss for what to do about it.

We had all heard this line of speech before; that since our colony is small we must deal with the humans, as they delve deeper into our mines, and extract our minerals and resources. That we should appease them through compromise and trade. And that, somehow, when they finish digging our colony will avoid the fate some many other have suffered at the hands of men. It was a weak argument. Matriah had become weak; or perhaps she always had been. Better suited for peacetime but ill-equipped to deal with the problems at hand.

The thought filled me with rage and the angry deep crimson iridescence leapt from my skin, bathing the room in fiery light. Matriah was awash in my red-orange glow, her own more subtle warmth devoured entirely. I felt the surge of energy and wave upon wave of emotion flow over and through me as each individual iamo noticed my presence. The iamo became one through me; this was my colony now, and we would deal with the humans under my terms.

I offered little in place of words, and not a soul acted on her behalf when I choked the life from Matriah’s mortal form; not even Echo.

[Inkdrinker]

The man sat cross legged on the sand, swirling smoke concealing his face. Alani suppressed a cough, the smoke's invasion of her lungs unpleasant to say the least. The mystic across from her looked almost to be carved from stone: ashen skin, wrinkled features, and an overbearing brow. The koa logs crackled tirelessly all the while, white noise against their thoughts.

Alani wondered how long things would continue like this. She knew the kahuna to be an eccentric man, but this display, or rather lack thereof, was testing her patience. He was a Kahuna Kilokilo, one who could see the future in the fire. It would have been unthinkably rude to speak or otherwise interrupt the man's trance, but it had been hours since Alani had joined him at his fire and she was beginning to wonder if he had simply dozed off.

Alani knew the sand would cling to her, leaving faded marking upon her legs, the caress of Po'O. She did not care, did not stir or make commotion. What the kahuna could see in the fire was too important to risk breaking his concentration. Alani's body would remain patient and still, but behind her calm brown eyes, her mind was ablaze with worry and wonder.

Weeks ago, her husband, Kai, had set out on a fishing voyage with seven other men. The weather had been clear and the portents favorable. She could still hear their calls as they drifted off.

“See you soon!”

“Back in no time!”

“Keep the fire burning!”

They had not returned. Days passed with no sign, not a single clue washing up along the shoreline. Wives, now widows, and hopeful partners combed the beach and watched the stars, to no avail. Most had given up, cursing Kun's cruelty and giving in to grief. Not Alani.

Against the protest of her friends and the village elders, Alani had decided to go on a journey of her own. She walked the island, feasting on the fruit of the land, with only the few supplies she could fit in her woven pack. She visited many villages, seeking kahunas and seers, mystics and shamans. Those who watched the skies at night, to learn from Ka.

She would ask them what had happened to her Kai, if they would ever be with each other again, if she would live to hold him in her arms once more. Without fail, the answer was unsatisfying and cryptic, at best revealing only a sliver of the whole picture.

“The future is shrouded,” or “The answers you seek lie over the horizon of far sight.”

It frustrated her, but she would not be deterred. If men were ignorant, she would simply seek answers from the ailia of the island. Mysterious in nature and often quite tempestuous, they were her last best hope. Many refused to speak to her, as she expected they might, but Alani would let no obstacle remain in her way, simply moving on to the next ailia she could find.

Alani's quest for answers took her far and wide. Eventually she found herself in a small grotto, hidden in the side of a waterside cliff-face. Floored by wet sand and lit by a modest fire, the cave was known to be the resting place of Kawenakolina. Her memories, at least. Brilliant blue and reflective, the mineral littered the cavern walls, being found nowhere else on the island. Alani smiled a smile of solidarity to herself as she stepped past the threshold of the cave. It felt right that she should seek answers in this place, Kawenakolina's tale was not so far off from her own.

Kawenakolina's was also a tale of love and of separation, beginning at the same place: the marriage to a fisherman. The object of her affections was Likana, a man of the sea through and through. They had been married under Ka's gentle light, as was the tradition of their village, and for a time, they were happy. But legends are not made of happy lives with happy endings.

Likana, like Kai after him, promised to return within three days. He gave his love to Kawenakolina and set off. Kawenakolina awoke early in the morning, before even the sun. She hiked her way up to the cliffs overlooking the water by torchlight, to watch the sun rise and await her husband's return. As promised, there were no signs of Likana on the first day, nor the second. On the third day, Kawenakolina stood eagerly on the cliff, scanning the horizon for a boat that did not come.

She stood there, watching and waiting, until the moon had drained by half, having been almost full when Likana embarked. Each night she offered something new, in the hopes that Ka or Kun would guide her husband back to her safely. On the first night she offered kind words, on the second, fresh fruit and fish. The third night, Kawenakolina brought a woven basket and on the forth she came with a ceremonial carving. She grew more desperate with each passing night and on the fifth she promised all her possessions, unconditionally. The sixth night she pleaded with Ka, with Kun, with Talua, offering all her future good fortune. On the seventh and final night, Kawenakolina fell to her knees, she had only one thing left to surrender. Kawenakolina offered her memories.

They flowed down her face, intermingled with her tears, falling softly upon the sand-dusted stone. With every tear, she forgot: a face, a name, a sensation. With every new gap in her memory, a little of the agony of loss fell away. She wept and she wept until she could no longer remember why she had been weeping in the first place. When the last tear dripped from her chin, she could not even remember her own name.

The tears found their way into a slim crevice in the stone and down into the concealed cave below. Her tears and her memories flooding the cave almost completely, but when Ka's starlight filtered down after it, the water began to recede. Her memories soaked into the cavern walls, becoming hard and almost crystalline, brilliant blue and reflective.

On the eighth night, Likana found his way back to his wife. He told her his tale, how much he had missed her and how sorry he was for leaving, but she did not remember him. He tried to kiss her, but she recoiled from the stranger's touch. Likana filled her head with stories of how they met, of the life they lead together, but she would not be persuaded. She could not remember his name. She could not remember his face. She could not remember anything.

Alani resolved to learn from Kawenakolina's mistake. She walked in without further hesitation, seeking the site's custodian: a grizzled wisp of a man, his form lost in smoke. He beckoned her forward, one of Kawenakolina's crystalline memories in his hand. He spoke no words of greeting, simply nodding as Alani took her place on the other side of the fire. He knew why she had come. The kahuna placed the small blue shard into a mortar of speckled stone, grinding it down to a coarse powder.

“A good memory,” he said, “let us hope.”

“A wise one, at least.” Alani smiled.

The kahuna grabbed a handful of the sparkling powder and threw it into the fire. The fire flared up momentarily, hungry for what he had given it, then the flames shifted in color, taking on a blue-green humor not unlike the sea. Alani could not look away: the fire shimmered like sunlight on the water, danced like playful whales, and twinkled like the night sky. It was an enchanting, hypnotic spectacle. Even the kahuna, no doubt having been audience to the phenomenon a thousand times prior, could not hide his wonderment.

But hours passed and the initial thrill passed with them. Still beautiful, the fire had faded back to a more natural, more subdued array of softly glowing yellows and reds. The kahuna did not seem to notice, sitting still with eyes somehow unblinking in all the smoke. Alani found herself drifting off to sleep, she had traveled long and her muscles and eyes pleaded for rest. She decided not to fight the impulse, slipping comfortably into unconsciousness.

Alani dreamed of strange, twisting things: a great pale serpent, woven like rope from other serpents, who in turn were comprised of even smaller serpents, into infinity. The beast slithered around the circumference of the island, forming a seven-coiled barrier to the rest of the world. Alani stood alone at the head of her village, a crude spear in her hand. The hissing smothered all other possible sound, a chorus of whispers louder than any storm.

The spear began to glow in her grip, abrasive light shooting out from between her fingers and quickly spreading to the rest of the weapon. Alani knew it to be starlight, for dreams rarely followed such mundane rules as the real world. She charged the writhing wall of serpent-flesh spear-first, a fierce and confident battle-cry spilling forth from her throat. Layer after layer of molted skin and black, sticky, tar-like flesh fell away under her assault.

The beast's thick, oozing abyss-blood burned as it touched her skin and Alani cried out, but she was relentless, not wavering in her onslaught for even a second. Each layer proved twice as difficult as the last, but she would not be deterred. Not now, not ever. Eventually there was nothing left to cut in front of her. Waves lapped gingerly at her feet as she cleaned the vile viscera off of herself in Kun's soothing water. When she looked up again, Alani saw a familiar face looking down at her. Peaceful in demeanor and smiling, Kai's naked form embraced her own.

“I know what you must know,” said the kahuna, abruptly grounding Alani, tearing her away from the world of dreams. She looked bitter as only a separated lover can.

“Tell me.”

The kahuna spoke of what the fire had shown him, what wisdom Kawenakolina's memories had yielded while Alani slumbered. He had seen an island, much smaller than the one they were on, to the northwest. He had seen a great storm churning the ocean and whipping at the trees. He had seen men catching fish and fish catching men. He had seen Talua's face fade into nothingness and be born again, bright as ever. The fire had shown him many things and he shared them all with Alani. She thanked the kahuna and set out immediately to borrow a boat from the nearest village.

Bobbing softly on the waves, she turned the vessel – a small outrigger canoe for one – northwesterly. Alani was not a sailor by trade or by nature, but she would not let a mere expanse of water stand in her way. She paddled with steady, strong arms, humming a simple tune to keep herself on rhythm and pass the time. It was an old song, something her grandmother had taught her, or else another village elder. She could not remember, but she hummed all the same.

In just a few hours Alani could see the island she sought, it had not been so very far away after all. She paddled with renewed vigor, riding the waves all the way to the beach. She stepped out of the boat into knee-deep water, warm and clear, then dragged the canoe out of the water, letting it rest on the soft white-gold sand of the beach. Alani was glad to be on land again, she did not like the lack of control sailing brought, how helpless one was in the face of Kun's whims.

Out of the corner of her eye she spied something distressing, something she could not have seen from farther out. A catamaran wreck, once fit for eight or more, lay fractured some ways up the coastline. The same kind of boat Kai had set out in. Alani tried to keep herself hopeful, this was a good sign, after all, she was in the right place, but doubt and fear crept forward from the back of her mind. Her heart began to race as she hastily made her way over to the wreck.

Jagged splinters littered the beach, the thing had taken quite the thrashing, threadbare and ragged as it was. Strangely though, there were no bodies or supplies to be found, like it had been picked clean by scavengers. Alani curbed her worry, biting her lip and combing for clues. A spark of excitement shot through her when she saw the footsteps in the sand, just far enough up the beach to be out of the tide's reach. The trail lead inland and Alani dutifully followed it, quick but careful. She was anxious, unsure of what she might find.

The trail became harder to follow as the underbrush grew more prominent, but Alani did her best. She smiled to herself, drawing humor from the peculiarity of her day and parting the stream of worry: first a sailor, now she found herself playing at hunter, both parts equally new to her. She had happily been a weaver all her life, providing for herself and the whole village. She likened it more to a creative outlet than work, though not everyone saw it that way.

The trail opened into a serene clearing of tall grass, with a great big boulder just left-of-center. Five men were sweating in the sunlight, constructing something out of reeds, felled trees, and other various supplies. Two more men perched atop the rock, each drinking from a coconut half. The men on the rock spotted her first, while the others mostly continued working. They called out, yipping gleefully and clambering down off the boulder.

As they got closer and the other men joined them, Alani began to recognize faces: Palanakie, Laionela, Kana, Ieki, Makaio, Kilikopela, and leading the charge, her Kai. They embraced and shared a kiss, the others cheering and whooping.

After things calmed down a bit, they told Alani their tale: the storm from out of nowhere that threw them off course and wrecked their boat, the man they lost and the plan to get back home.

“I kept telling them you would come for me,” Kai said, “but they did not believe as I did.”

“Nothing could have stopped me.”

[Matteo ((Taed))]

Zovo: It's odd seeing you go back to a more overtly fantasy tone, after so much time spent with Mauwale. I don't think the transition was entirely seamless, as this definitely felt a little choppier in places. Nothing really egregious, but I definitely stumbled once or twice, whereas Mauwale had pretty much perfect readability from start to finish.

I don't have a whole lot to say, other than that there just wasn't very much meat on the bones. Everything was basically fine--your writing is always solid--and I don't really have anything specific that I can point to and tell you to fix (which is so frustrating as a judge), but I just wasn't especially engaged. It needed a little more spark to really catch my interest. Maybe even something more in the protagonist's relationship to Echo, and how that allowed her to be so easily co-opted? As it stands, what I took away was that she wasn't so much religiously devout as she was naturally gifted with a connection to the force behind their religion. Maybe she was next in line to be Matriah, but she was superseded by a more militaristic entity, in order to respond to the threat humans pose.

I suspect that's the correct interpretation; I would have liked to see more done with it. Maybe something along the lines of the protagonist chafing at her original path, and thereby drawing the attention of an alternative. As it is, she's very reactionary: she's born with a connection to the white Echo, without having to work for it, and then when the Red Echo takes over the show without a struggle, she just goes along with it. It would make for a much more interesting character and story if she were to run across some nasty things that humans did, leading her to rebel against the peaceful, subservient route in her own right.

Ink: Again, this story was kind of go-nowhere. Like Zovo, the writing certainly does its job, so I can't fault you for that, although I think it also lacks some of the creative imagery that really drew my eye to your earlier entries. Beyond that, everything is basically fine. I suppose my main complaint is that nothing really changed for anyone involved. Alani set herself the goal of finding Kai, she pursued it, and she accomplished it. There wasn't any demonstrable growth for the character, and by the end her circumstances had stayed the same. I'm not suggesting that Kai should have died in order to make it a better story, because then it would have been go-nowhere, but with a bummer ending. It's just that the whole thing kind of reminded of when my dog escaped a few weeks back. I was really worried about him, I went out to find him, and then I did find him, and neither of us was changed for the experience. If the nice lady at the church who saw him run by had used magic crystals, the story would be identical.

I think it was strongest when you were describing the story of Kawenakolina, because at least then you were blazing new ground. That sebset of the story had some direction, but then you returned to the present, and things just sort of rambled on regardless. You needed some conflict--unfortunately, having a problem to solve does not necessarily equal conflict. Even if Alani had had to make some sort of sacrifice to find Kai, mirroring how Kawenakolina had to make a sacrifice to find Likana, it would have been much better.

Kudos on pretty much nailing Zovo's setting, though. That felt bang on; he's left things pretty vague, giving you some wiggle room, but still, the content and tone were perfect in that regard.

Winner: Ink

[ASGetty ((Zovo))]

I'm glad we agree, Taed.
Ink certainly wrote the stronger piece here. I knew it as soon as I read it.

Also, good job Inkdrinker.