THE PROTEAN TOWERS
THE HERMIT
The dust expanse knew no rival.
The Hermit went unperceived as he followed the High Priestess' path.
Unseen went the shift of the sand as The Hermit’s obscured foot pulled itself forward, unheard went the jangle of the worldly possessions that disguised him as an ambling heap of faded fabrics and bags filled only in their smallest creases with decades-old dust. Assorted technology not germane to his voyage was suspended and strung across his figure, causing his gait to be burdened.
The Hermit lurched perpetually through the expanse; he was known only to the unflinching gaze that guided him.
Time found itself not considered. Offended by The Hermit’s indifference, it shriveled his body and cataracted his eyes, dulled his eardrums’ perception, yet he felt no indignation nor pain. The angered construct stole his sensation, if he was to ignore time he was to be removed of the privilege to perceive it.
The Hermit remained undeterred, he found no reason to take issue with time’s wrath. Cut off from the outer world he was left to himself and to be left to himself was to be enveloped in the gaze of the Priestess who beckoned him to continue deeper and deeper into the catacombs of the unperceived void. Self-indulged, he became like the world, the two existed adjacent to one another but unconscious to the other’s existence.
At a point in its existence, the expanse began to turn.
With a mighty rumble, plumes of dust violently sprouted from the dunes. They billowed into the heavens before crashing back into the Earth with the might of humanity’s civil wrath. Sections of Earth, previously undisturbed for millennia, were thrown into a new existence, the indomitable savagery of human invention kneading the land into an environment not meant for itself.
Within this, The Hermit was engulfed.
Raucous melodies of turning Earth filled his being as the dust that made his ground gave out, becoming a chute into the eternal realm.
As he fell, the presence of the High Priestess made itself known; Tons of sand pummeled The Hermit, the shattering of his bones cementing his being as the crystalline brown of the Priestess' eyes suspended him within her gaze.
DEATH
The sand soon settled and the Priestess excused herself.
For a moment all was dark.
In the abyss, The Hermit’s vision returned. At first, all was blue.
The Hermit attempted to shield his eyes from the emerging color but found that he was still paralyzed by the uniform realm. As he waited for resolve, oceanic crashes began to permeate The Hermit’s consciousness. In his vision, an ocean emerged, an endless expanse of cosmic blue complimentary to the barren orange that had stuck him. The Hermit found his limbs released from atrophy and allowed himself to float freely on the ocean’s surface.
Floating with his back to the clear water, The Hermit stared into the eternal ether, a quiet grin finding place on his sallow face. With the return of time, The Hermit’s garments became saturated and, with more time, caused him to sink.
“As is the way of fate,” croaked The Hermit within his last worldly breaths.
THE HIGH PRIESTESS
With The Hermit’s sinking, his worldly possessions unraveled.
In the depths, he became the revealed man.
As he sank, darkness became known to the revealed man once more. Slowly, vision of his unraveled being faded away as he descended further down into the depths he did not realize he knew.
For eternity the revealed man sank. Slowly, he became a paradoxical being, both known and unknown to himself and the world. In his perpetual existence, the revealed man became the eternity the High Priestess had led him to be consumed by; only the emergence of a sickle moon interrupted this stasis.
In his regained consciousness, the revealed man began to turn himself through the depths. Without resistance, he continued to sink, but the siren call of the sickle’s reflected hearth uncovered a latent instinct—soon the revealed man found himself thrashing through the darkened depths to the growing light. In the space devoid of sensation and sound he fought and screamed his way to the sickle, which revealed itself to be attached to a pale blue edifice, obscured by the darkness and depth.
The light of the sickle moon only grew as the revealed man made his approach and upon his touch summoned an otherworldly quake as it began to ascend from the obscuring depths.
The revealed man stood momentarily stunned before lurching forward to grab onto the edge of the sickle moon as the speed at which it rose increased.
White-knuckled the man held tight to the bottom arc of the sickle, his legs struggling to wrap around a further point of it as it and the mysterious edifice tore through the depths. In moments, it found itself within the crystalline ocean that the man had sunk into a time before. The edifice’s speed slowed and the sickle moon’s light diminished as the structure neared the ocean’s top.
In a chorus of cataclysmic rumbles, the edifice crested the ocean’s surface and revealed itself as a magnificent sculpture whose color and design found itself occupying its mosaiced surface.
Weary, the man let himself fall from the sickle’s arc. To his surprise, he landed on solid ground en lieu of sinking back into the ocean. With this unexpected reprieve, the man assumed a fetal position and pressed his cheek to the mosaiced platform, letting the shallow film of water soothe his skin that had been beaten raw by the immense pressure of the rise. Due to its salinity, the water didn’t provide much more than stinging numbness in place of relief.
Through half-opened eyes, he observed the fractalized swirls of the yellow mosaic beneath him. If not for his intimate position to the pattern, it would be hard to discern the subtle shifts in color that formed the pattern of pale yellow globes that spanned the platform’s surface. He took a moment to listen to the cascades of ocean water that fell from the edifice he had risen with, and, when he felt the time was right, moved his gaze from the platform to what sat in front of him.
A statue of a woman was what the depths had erected, clad in cosmic blue robes, a sickle moon caught amidst the frilly bottom of the garments, a large white cross centered on her breast. In her right hand sat a scroll, her left empty and placed upon her lap. From under a horned diadem and similarly blue veil beckoned her face: tan and slim, her lower lip heavy and her nose broad, her mouth flattened into a stoic line, her large, brown eyes stuck in an unflinching stare.
Entranced by the familiarity of her crystalline gaze, the man stood from the ground and led his hands to touch the foot of her fluid robes. He looked up to meet her eyes, however, their gaze was set straight ahead. After a few moments of reverence, the man looked behind himself, following the direction of her gaze. In the distance stood two large columns, one black, one white, a tall veil that fell to the ground fell between them.
He looked back to the statue, then back to the veil, then began to walk in its direction.
The journey to the veil did not prove itself strenuous, instead, an immense feeling of nostalgia and rejuvenation washed over the man as he drew nearer to it.
Standing at the veil, the man found himself welcomed by a distant melody, its nostalgic tune burrowing its way into the back of his mind as he observed the veil. Up close now, he could identify the pattern that adorned the behemoth tapestry: pomegranates, delicately woven stitch by stitch, sat atop a minimally patterned taupe backdrop, an intricate harmony of rich yellow and magenta brought to life by the pale green that depicted the leaves of the tree from which they came.
The veil blew gently towards the man, curious, he made his way around the white pillar in search of a source but all he was met with was the backside of the display as he teetered on the edge of the platform that sat atop the sea. He made his way back around to the front and took a step back, taking in the display at large. In this action, he revered the columns in tandem with the veil, recognizing their strength in holding the mystic force. Then, without much caution, he approached the veil, meshing through its surface upon contact and entering another realm.
THE EMPRESS
Amidst a field of golden wheat, the revealed man stood nude.
A nostalgic melody hung on the breeze.
After a moment spent basking in the dawning sun, the man began to wade through the golden wheat and towards the familiar tune. His gait relaxed as he felt the leaves of the crop brush gently across his skin, progressing through the field, he let his eyes close and his hearing focus on the hummed melody that grew louder with each forward step.
As intuition led him, the sun rose and set. In the new dawn, he reached his destination.
In an alcove off the wheatfield, a woman and her newborn child sat amongst vermillion pillows. She wore a simple cotton gown adorned with the same pomegranate motif that marked the mystical veil. On one side it was lifted to show the breast she held her baby at, the skin that adorned her abundant flesh smooth and deep. Obscured by her cascading hair was her face, the dark healthy coils creating an oval shape around her head that stopped at her shoulders. Beside her sat a starry crown.
In the time that the man stood, the humming had ceased. Now the woman spoke to her feeding child.
“One will always meet with my sister within their lifetime,” said she, “It is a part of the fool’s journey after all. Though, it is usually few who follow her for life.”
The infant removed its mouth from its mother’s teat. With one arm she cradled the child as she lowered and adjusted her gown. Then she returned to cradling the child with both arms. Her face remained looking down at the content babe.
“At the beginning of each life, we encounter two towers. They will be unrecognizable upon each encounter but they will remain a constant in your eternal existence. The course of your previous life determines how these towers manifest; to one they will appear as ornate stone beauties amongst a luscious jungle of ferns, to another they will appear as angular monoliths, fortresses within an unconcerned desert. Due to your devotion to my kin, your towers show that strength and gratitude will establish you in this new life.”
She planted a gentle kiss on the child’s head, then spent a few minutes rocking it until it fell into a soft slumber. She relaxed her arms and smiled at her child before looking at the man, the friendly curve of her wide lips outlined by the deep creases that flowed from her full cheeks, her round face punctuated with amber eyes that looked upon the man with acceptance and grace.
With a small nod, she invited him to sit with her on the grass and with the pillows in the modest alcove. Once he was seated, she turned to speak to him once more.
“The world you will remember in dream will not be the same as the one you will be given to. At the end of your previous life calamity shook it, like you it is reborn.
“With my blessing, you will nurture this raw land, in turn, it will nurture you. Like every life you have lived before this, it will be unconventional. Keep yourself open to the world and find the beauty in its reinvention, in your pain. From your heart, you will grow and with that love, you will grow others…”
As she trailed off, The Empress outstretched her arms to the man, handing him the baby which contained his life. With a forbearing grip, he took the child in the arms that were his own, cradling it as he had seen The Empress do.
As the man tended to the child, The Empress donned her starry crown, the light that emanated from it attracting the man like the sickle moon had in times before. Mindful of the resting child, the man inched his way over to The Empress who had opened her arms in an invitation to embrace.
Nearing The Empress’ touch, the child began to softly glow, its aura extending to the man as he found himself nestled within the soft contours of The Empress and wrapped in her arms. Like she had done to the child before, The Empress planted a kiss on the head of the man and the child’s combined being—The Fool.
With that final blessing, The Fool became enshrouded in ethereal light before fading from The Empress’ embrace.
Once The Fool had been born, The Empress resumed her contented lounge.
For another eternity she would be lost within the cloudless sky of the world known by the veil.
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Word Count: 2205
Prompt: Rebirth
Click HERE to see it with proper indentation/spacing. It doesn't change that much but I like it better.
Thank you for reading my submission! It's only been recently that I've started to take writing more seriously (around September of 2023?) I'm very keen on building technical skill for any larger projects that would involve me developing a world/characters. For anyone curious, Tarot cards were my inspiration for this, each section and its heading corresponds with a card from the major arcana. If you're confused as to why he became "The Fool" at the end, look into it, that title is far from a negative thing. Going into this jam I had just finished the game "Who's Lila?" (which is great for those of you that like ARGs, existentialism, and good spins on point-n-click adventures) and was compelled to look into the major arcana in Tarot cause each ending was vaugely explained/processed through those in-game. The concept of the veil is also inspired by that though mostly just the fact that it is a literal curtain that takes you into another realm.
Hope you enjoyed my submission, I plan to participate next year if it happens. I had a lot of fun!