“Go inside, Korra’leigh,” Idleaf urged me, her eyes shining with eagerness to peek into Fallen’s Cry. This time I had to stay strong and true to my decision, though. So, while shaking my head, I braced myself for her disappointment. “Not today. Tomorrow.”

“Why? You have its mark, just like them.” 

Yeah, I was a seeker, too. However, unlike the others on the platform to whom she gestured, I had the spirit of the World Tree with me. “I am weak and inexperienced, Idleaf,” I said bluntly, seeing no reason to beat around the bush. “I don’t know what might happen if I... go in now as your Guardian.”

“I’ll get a look inside.” To her, it was that simple.

“Perhaps and perhaps not. The Labyrinth may reject you, and so may me. What if it sends me somewhere else entirely or throws at me things I won’t be able to face?”

“Then I’ll save you.”

That was nice of her. “You don’t know if you’ll be able to...or do you?” Damn it! Back at the barracks, everyone was wondering whether or not getting into the Labyrinth was going to be an issue for her, and no one thought to check with Idleaf herself. 

She could have asked the elder ones, right? I kept forgetting about the other World Trees, and apparently I wasn’t the only one. These plants, creatures, whatever you want to call them, have been around for hundreds of years, more like millennia, quite possibly remembering the Ancient Era. They ought to know a thing or two about the labyrinths.

Brushing my wing against hers to regain her attention, which was once again on the platform and seekers, I gave her a stern look. “Have you talked about labyrinths with the elder ones? They must know about them. What did they tell you?” Even though I didn’t want to, I sounded a bit like my mother when she found out I was talking to strangers. 

Idleaf frowned. “Nothing.”

“What do you mean by nothing? So you asked? Do they have the same experience with the labyrinths as you? Did they send their Guardians there?”

“No, Korra’leigh. They didn’t.”

T-that was kind of surprising. There were twenty-six known labyrinths in the world, only three of them in Sahal. Even if there wasn’t one on Itane, the continent of elves and the World Trees, they must have had access to some. After all, with roots spanning the entire world, they had to know the location of all these ancient structures. Or was that just a human legend, and their roots were not far-reaching? Question for later, though. Back to the problem at hand.

“They didn’t even try over the millennia?”

Idleaf chuckled, looking into my eyes. “The elder ones didn’t. The Guardians did. Not listening to those they have vowed to protect, they tried.”

“And?”

“It hurt both of them.”

“Oh, like it hurt you when you were a little seedling?” Not the pain I wanted to inflict on her again, or myself, for that matter. The way she talked about it, it wasn’t anything pleasant.

“Wait! Does that mean I can’t go to the Labyrinth?”

The spirit giggled and shifted to poke me in the side playfully. “Silly Korra’leigh. I wouldn’t ask you to go there if that were so.”

“Okay...” So I could. That was a tremendous relief. “Why can’t they, then?”

“Bound by oaths: never to touch; never to look; never to visit; never to talk about it. What they told me was as far as they could push their oaths. But I never swore them, and they do not bind me.”

‘W-well...I...y-you gotta be shitting me.’ Now I was even more curious about who built the labyrinths. That was a feat in itself, but to be able to bind by oath creatures like the World Trees and for millennia at that was unfathomable. It literally took my breath away, and for a while, I just stared blankly into space before my brain was able to form another coherent thought.

Seriously, who built them? From what Idleaf said, the World Trees knew. They were around when the labyrinths were created. Is that why they were silenced? Because they witnessed something they shouldn’t have? What then? Or was there more to it? Was my first assumption closer to the truth than I thought, with World Trees having some part in the creation of the labyrinths? But why forbid their guardians to enter, then?

So many questions and so few answers?

“Did they really not say more?” I hated to tear Idleaf’s attention away from a platform that fascinated her to no end again, but I had to. “Any detail can be important.”

She shifted her weight from side to side, thinking about it. “Nope, that’s it. I’m not bound by the oath not to go in there, so I can, and so can you. Don’t worry, Korra’leigh. The elder ones have assured me that the Labyrinth will not harm us.”

“It has already hurt you, though.”

She winced at the memory. “I was young, and I didn’t know. It will hurt anyone who tries to get anywhere near it other than the entrance. And we’re standing at the entrance,” she said, beaming with excitement, making puppy eyes at me. That’s the best way I would describe the expression she used to coax me into going in.

I’d be lying if I said it didn’t work on me. My heart wasn’t made of stone, after all.

Stay strong, Korra.

“So you’re saying that if I go in the proper way as your Guardian, nothing will happen to me or you, is that right?”

She nodded enthusiastically, foolishly thinking I had given in to her urging. “It’s safe...should be.”

Oh, so she wasn’t so sure. “Okay, tomorrow.”

“Korra’leigh,” she whined, drawing attention to us. “We’re here. Why not go now?”

“I told you.” Seriously, for such an old creature, she was incredibly impatient.

“Ahhh...” a frustrated grunt escaped her throat. “You’re no fun, Korra’leigh. Look at them; they’re having fun.” Who she meant was a group of eight seekers heading for the platform, joking amongst themselves, some of them laughing out loud.

“Tomorrow we’ll go down there with my friends. It’ll be more fun than just the two of us. Come on, Idleaf, you gotta understand that I want to be better prepared and not go down alone.”

“I’d be with you,” she argued before her wings sagged and she gave up, visibly disappointed. The guilt hit my heart, but there was no other way. Going there now would be rash, considering how unprepared I was.

“Let’s check out Traiana,” I said to divert her mind elsewhere while trying to sound cheerful. Yet, my attempt to interest her in something else didn’t meet with much avail. 

Getting a lack of response from the downcast spirit, I grabbed her hand and pulled her along. “Do you know what’s interesting about the statue?”

She didn’t answer right away, fighting her curiosity. Predictably, she lost in the end. “What?”

“Once an hour, whoever looks at it, the statue makes them cry.”

“Really?” she asked, her question fading away as we got closer, and she fixed her gaze on the statue of a woman carved in black stone to last an eternity.

The details with which she was depicted were breathtaking, and even I found myself staring at Traiana, brought to her knees in battle, mesmerized by the magic of this piece of art. Unchanged in time, she was wearing armor, damaged by a fight, pierced by several arrows. One broken protruded from her chest, the other three from her back. The blood gushing from these wounds ran down her armor to the ground, glowing with the same white light as the runes on the black floor into which it seeped.

With her helmet lying at her knees, still holding a sword in her hand, she cried hard, her tears glowing the same white color as her blood streaming down her cheeks. 

Sure, I cried too. Nothing unusual, and I expected it. Though, what took me by surprise was how vividly my body was flooded with a sense of grief and my mind with hazy images of plains and hills covered with the dead. Without a doubt, Traian’s battlefield, the one where she fell and the part that was new to me. The whole experience was more intensive than I remembered.

Was it because I was a Guardian?

Glancing at Idleaf in search of an answer, I paused as soon as I saw her. She was crying hard, sobbing loudly, almost choking. 

Not knowing what to do, I hugged her, tucked her into my wings, and wrapped Sage, my tail, around her while stroking her head. “It’s all right, Idleaf. I’m here. What you saw and felt is just a trick of the Labyrinth, nothing more.”

“How can you say that?” she spoke between sobs.

“I know it felt real to you, but...it was just a memory of what once took place, a record.” At least that’s what I was told.

“No, it wasn’t. Didn’t you feel it?” Even though she was still sobbing, there was no trace of doubt in her voice that this was more than mere recording. 

“Tell me about it,” I said gently, letting her cry out onto my shoulder.

“It was like one of my dreams before I woke up. Terrible dream. You say she sees it several times a day?” she asked, horrified at the thought.

“I’m not sure about...her. It should be more for us, those coming here to see what she’s been through.”

Idleaf shook her head vigorously. “You’re wrong. She’s dreaming the dream and this...” she gestures around us, at Fallen’s Cry beneath our feet. “Allows us a glimpse into those dreams; to dream with her.”

I hugged her tighter, not knowing what else to say. My knowledge of labyrinths was too limited to be able to tell her otherwise, with any degree of certainty. I truly wished I could say that she just confused the records the Labyrinth was showing us with her dreams, but I couldn’t find the balls to lie to her, doubts creeping into my mind. What if she was right? If so, and what Fallen’s Cry was hammering me with every time I came in here or teleported down were actually dreams of Traiana, who was...I don’t know, trapped somewhere within, then it was a nightmare that made me shudder in horror.

“Can you help her, Korra’leigh?”

“I’m afraid I’m too weak for that.” I was, and I wasn’t afraid to admit that. Just look at the seekers around us, and the lack of my strength was obvious at a glance. Not to mention that for millennia, people like them, perhaps even stronger than Deckard, were trying to unravel the mysteries of the labyrinths and reach their bottoms, if they had any. To my knowledge, so far, without success.

“And if you get stronger?”

“Maybe. I’d have to be a lot stronger, though.” 

“Like Zeewet or Esudein?”

Instead of a reply, a chuckle burst out of my throat. I couldn’t help myself. The way she said it made it sound like an easy feat. Ridiculous. Yet, upon second thought, it might have taken that kind of power to conquer the labyrinths. “That’s hard to say, Idleaf. Stronger than Deckard, at least.” That was for sure.

“Are you sure that’s enough? He’s not that strong.”

“I don’t know if he’d agree with you,” I said, amused by the way she saw Deckard. “He’s one of the strongest humans I know.”

She shrugged, wriggling out of my embrace. “Humans are weak. But clever, and there are many. Very interesting too.” Not exactly a flattering assessment of the human race. Considering the beasts I’ve had the pleasure of meeting, the sad truth, though. 

“Even if he’s not strong like Esudein, it’s going to take me a while to get to his level,” I said to warn Idleaf I wouldn’t get that strong in two or three days, if ever. 

“I know,” Idleaf said, offended that I thought her so silly as to think that. Then she smiled as the idea flashed across her eyes. “I’ll ask the elder ones if there’s any way you could get stronger faster. They know a lot.” She paused, frowning. “They nag me a lot, too. So if I ask them...what’s wrong with you, Korra’leigh?”

What the bloody hell was wrong with me, she asked? Nothing. I was just a little freaked out by the idea of thousand-year-old beings advising me on my growth? I didn’t know whether to jump for joy into the tree or dread it. Esudein was also old and knowledgeable, however, his way of helping was quite painful.

Channeling my inner peace, I hit my mind with [Indomitable Will], and with panic pushed away, I collected my thoughts. “Sorry, I’m fine. I’d be incredibly grateful if you endure their nagging and ask them.” After all, there was no harm in asking, right? Plus, not taking that chance would be stupid. Who knows? Maybe there really was an easy way to level up that humans didn’t know about.

Hearing my plea, Idleaf nodded, satisfied, then frowned as she looked back at the statue. “When you’re strong, promise you’ll help her. It is awful to dream such a dream and not be able to wake up.”

Still unsure whether Traiana was actually dreaming, I gave her a nod. “I promise, Idleaf. I will do what I can.”

Relieved, she gave the statue one last look and whispered: “Hang in there,” before she turned back to me, her enthusiasm back. “Where to now, Korra’leigh?”

Quite bummed by the way the visit to the Fallen’s Cry entrance turned out, I was looking forward to the prospect of heading elsewhere. Where to? That wasn’t hard to figure out. I was long overdue with a visit to a place where I’ve always found tranquility. 

“There’s one place I love. I’m not sure you’ll like it, though.”

“Why?”

“It’s boring.”

 

***

 

To my disappointment, when we got there, I found the library door locked for the first time. Despite being well past nine, the time Mr. Sandoval said he usually opened, the library was closed.

To be honest, the guilt that I hadn’t shown up at this place of tranquility for several days was eating at me. The old man, without having to or me paying him, helped me selflessly, and I haven’t even been able to find the time to visit him, always finding some lame excuse.

It was too late.

I was too tired after training.

All bullshit. If I wanted to, I could find the time and energy. 

“Interesting place,” Idleaf remarked, staring wide-eyed at the library. “I can’t go inside.”

Was she serious? Didn’t I tell...

“I know, I know. It’s rude to enter people’s homes uninvited,” she said, repeating what I told her earlier after the incident with the painting merchant. “I didn’t set foot in there, just wanted to take a peek. But I can’t.”

Not stupid enough not to figure out the rest, I looked at the library with new respect. The building was getting more and more impressive. Sure, Idleaf was only here in her spirit form, even so her perception was much better than mine, apparently allowing her to see through solid objects, the ability required to move past a closed door, and she was denied.

If I wanted to peek in, I would have to hug the wall, as my outer domain did not allow me to do so or use a keyhole.

Leaving my lack of ability aside, I gave the door one last try before giving up with a heavy heart. I really wanted to talk to Mr. Sandoval, to hear if he made further discoveries regarding my mutations and introduce him to Idleaf. 

He gave me the impression that he knew every legend that had ever been written down, so I was curious about how he would react when one came into his library. I think he’d be thrilled. Once he’d regained his composure from the shock, that was.

However, once again, this visit would have to wait, postponed for the umpteenth time. 

“Are we leaving? Where?” asked Idleaf, as I took a step away from the library without leaving a note. Sadly, I didn’t have a paper or a pencil with me to write one.

Determined to come back later, I looked at the curious spirit. “To meet a little kitsune. I think you two will get along very well.”

“Why? is she like me?”

“She’s not the World Tree, if that’s what you mean. She’s playful and fun. Still a kid...”

“I’m not a child,” Idleaf objected, pouting a bit like one. “Exceedingly young, according to the elder ones.” In other words, a child. Although getting my head around it was a bit challenging when she was hundreds of years old. 

“How old are you, anyway? How many cycles?” I never understood that bullshit about it being rude to ask a lady’s age. What was so secret about it? I was twenty-nine, so what? Would it make me look younger if I claimed to be eighteen? No.

“Many cycles,” Idleaf said after a moment’s thought.

“You don’t know exactly?”

“No,” she shook her head. “I was sleeping, dreaming. You remember when you dream?”

“That was silly of me.”

She giggled. “It was. Esudein might know, though. He’s taken care of me since I was very young. Wait, let me ask...”

“Wh...” And she was gone, her form drifting away like mist with the rising sun, not giving me a chance to say it wasn’t so necessary to bother him with such a trifle. “What a hasty fool.”