Ganymede stared at the dragon.  Surely she didn’t hear her right.

The dragon fluttered her wings.  “Well,” she said.  “I would rather you set up a harness for yourself, first, so that you don’t fall off.”

“Are you serious?” Ganymede said.

“Yes, I’m serious.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

Ganymede fidgeted with her paws.  “Isn’t there… anything I can do for you?  In exchange?”

The dragon laughed a small laugh.  “Wolf, you just saved me from a life of servitude.  Isn’t that enough?”

“I…” Ganymede thought.  She wanted to say how much this meant to her, how she would trade her whole life for it if she had to.  But if what the dragon said was true, Ganymede had already saved a whole life in exchange, so maybe the dragon’s gift was appropriate.

“Go ahead,” the dragon said.  “You may form a harness using the same ropes that were used to tie me down, I don’t mind.”

Ganymede knew how to tie ropes, but she wasn’t sure how best to use them to secure herself to the dragon, so the dragon provided her with instructions on how to do it.  The harness was meant to be comfortable, but secure, since they would be moving at high speeds in order to “escape the atmosphere”, as the dragon put it.

Once Ganymede knew what she had to do, it was a simple matter of wrapping the ropes around the dragon’s body and tying them together.  As she pulled the ropes around the dragon’s smooth belly, she suddenly found herself feeling very self-conscious, like she was doing something intimate.  It didn’t help that the dragon smelled unusually sweet, like fruit, flowers, and mint. To distract herself from these thoughts, Ganymede decided to make conversation.

“So, um.  Do you have a name?” she asked.

“Ah, yes, of course,” the dragon said.  “My name is Sjöfn.”

“Syo-fin,” Ganymede said.

“Close.”

“Mine is Ganymede.”

“Mm.  Yes.”

Ganymede cleared her throat. “So… what… what’s on the moon?  Are there other dragons like you?”

“Yes, there are.  Well… it may be difficult to explain to a mortal being like you.  The concept of ‘individuality’ is not something that works the same way on the moon as here on earth.  There are multiple ‘wills’ on the moon, multiple desires, but they all flow and blend with each other.  They do not have individual bodies, usually, and they are not always distinct persons, if that makes sense.”  Sjöfn wriggled into the loop that Ganymede was tying around her.  “That I am here, now, with my own body, is because I created a manifestation of myself that was able to have a presence here on earth.  What you are seeing now is not what my original form was.  But it is the form I have now.”

“So… it’s just an ocean of spirits, all swirling together?”

Sjöfn grunted.  “Yes, I suppose you could phrase it like that.  But it is truly impossible to comprehend unless you are part of it yourself, which I no longer am.”

“Is it where our souls go when we die?”

A pause.  “That is unknown even to us, little one.  New desires will appear every now and then, but it is impossible to say if it is someone from earth, or a creation of the other desires, or something that appeared all on its own.”

“Did life on earth come from the moon, like so many religions say?”

“I do not know.  But I can say it is certainly possible for the life on the moon to take form here if it wishes, as I have done so now.”

“But you did that because someone called you here, right?”

A small gasp from the dragon.  “What makes you say that?”

“Because of the other one who wanted to go to the moon,” Ganymede said.  “He summoned you here, didn’t he?”

“Oh.”  Sjöfn snorted.  “No, in spite of what he said, he had nothing to do with me being here.  I came here of my own volition.  His presence here was a mere coincidence.”

“It was?” Ganymede looked up at her.  “Why are you here, then?  I’ve never run across any accounts of anything coming from the moon.  Nothing that couldn’t be brushed off as myth.”

“Yes, well… usually, those who live on the moon have good reason to stay there.  But I had something important to take care of.”

Ganymede waited for Sjöfn to specify, but she didn’t.  “What was it?”

Silence for several more seconds.

“My reasons are my own,” Sjöfn finally said.  “And I would rather not say.”

“Well… okay,” Ganymede said.  “Um… I guess I have my own reasons for wanting to leave earth, too, actually, and they’re kinda personal.  So I guess I can relate.”

“Indeed,” Sjöfn said with her “soft” voice.  “And I am sorry that you are in such a position that you feel such a strong need to leave your home.”

“Yeah,” Ganymede whispered.

Ganymede was quiet for another minute, finishing up the last of the ties for the harness, and then she spoke again.  “Is… is the moon itself a living being?”

Sjöfn looked at her, but didn’t respond to her.

Ganymede felt her own face flush.  “What… what I mean is…”

Ganymede thought about what she was actually asking.

Did it even matter anymore?

Originally, she had felt a sense of connection with the moon because she had thought it would be lonely, like her.  But based on what Sjöfn had just said, it wasn’t.  It was literally swimming with life.  And this was just the latest in a long line of realizations that made Ganymede question whether the moon was even what she thought it was to begin with.

No one else thought of the moon as a place to connect with other people, like Ganymede had.  Most other people seemed to think of the moon as an origin of life, or an origin of power.  Dal-Sun’s dealings with the moon rock had shown that it was a source of power, and that was further suggested by Sjöfn’s presence as a powerful glowing dragon that could breathe green fire.  Based on what Sjöfn was saying, the moon was a source of life, too.  But there was nothing there about connecting with other people.

Or was there?  The way Sjöfn described life on the moon, it sounded as if the idea of “making connections” was no longer even relevant, because life on the moon had no barriers between them to begin with.  They simply flowed with each other, always part of each other, all the time.  Maybe Ganymede could be the same way, or maybe the life on the moon could tell her how to remove the barriers between her and others.

And if not… then maybe there was still reason to talk to the moon anyway.  Maybe the moon was lonely even if it was surrounded by life.  After all, Ganymede was.

“I want to talk to the moon,” Ganymede said.  “If I can.”

Sjöfn continued watching her.  Her expression was unreadable.

“It may be that the simplest way to answer your questions is simply to take you there, wolf,” Sjöfn said.

“Okay,” Ganymede said, her heartbeat becoming heavier again.

“The harness is complete,” Sjöfn said.  “We can go as soon as we make sure you’re secured.”

Without another word, Ganymede strapped herself in and held on tight.

“Very well,” Sjöfn said.  “Let us take flight.”

Sjöfn stepped out of the cavern and into the moonlight.

Then she spread her wings.

The speed at which they left the ground was faster than Ganymede could ever have expected.  They shot upwards even faster than the speed that Ganymede would have fallen if she happened to fall.  There was more going on here than the mere flapping of wings; magic was involved, Ganymede was sure of it.

Still, she was very secure in her harness.  Sjöfn had instructed her well.  Ganymede felt like she was just a part of the dragon’s body, and she found herself practically nestling into Sjöfn’s smooth grooves.  She was tempted to look down, but instead, she kept her eyes on the moon.

“I must ask you to forgive me, wolf,” Sjöfn suddenly said.  “There are some things I chose not to tell you until after we started flying.”

Ganymede wanted to respond, but there was no way she could be heard with all the wind whipping around them.

“You need to understand the full truth of the moon, of what it is.  That is part of why I decided to show you rather than simply tell you.  You need to feel the truth of it for yourself.”

As they made their way further upwards, Ganymede realized she was starting to have trouble getting air.

“The moon is not like earth, in the slightest,” Sjöfn said.  “It is a place where all things are possible.  It is a place where all things are conceived.  The moon is nothing more and nothing less than pure potential.  Anything that you can imagine happening, it can happen there.”

Despite the wind, Sjöfn’s words were still clear in Ganymede’s mind, too clear.  More magic must be involved.

“And yet, that isn’t totally true,” Sjöfn continued, “because no matter what happens on the moon, it must stay contained on the moon.  The moon is the only place where everything is possible.  Once anything leaves the moon, it becomes finite, and limited to the realm of actual possibility.”

Her words could be heard clearly, but Ganymede struggled to understand the meaning of them, and it was becoming more difficult as it became even harder to breathe.  What was Sjöfn trying to explain to her?

“What I am saying is, it is one thing to leave the moon, after living there as a being of infinite potential, as I was.  But once you leave, there is no possible way to return to the moon.”

What?

“I am still a being of tremendous power, yes,” Sjöfn said.  “More than any being living on earth.  But even I no longer have the power to return.  I have become a limited being, and my home is here on earth, now.  And what I need you to understand, wolf, is that this is especially true of you.”

No.

“Surely you must feel it already.  We are leaving the atmosphere.  We are already past the point where you have air to breathe.  If we leave the earth, we will enter a vast realm that consists of nothing.  The moon exists only as a pocket of everything that exists within nothing; we are of the same substance as ideas.  We can exist in this realm of nothing because we need nothing to be able to survive.”

Ganymede was starting to choke.

“You, however, are a wolf,” Sjöfn said.  “You are a mortal.  You are alive.  You cannot exist within nothingness, as we can.  Nothingness would tear you apart.  You need things to live.  You need air.  You need food.  You need ground.  You need earth.  And you need the other beings that live on earth with you.”

Sjöfn stopped moving upwards, and spread her wings out.  “Remember this view, and this feeling,” she said.  “This emptiness.  This blackness.  What it’s doing to you.  Remember this, and know that this is what it means to go to the moon.”

Ganymede could barely pay attention to Sjöfn’s words, and she started to wonder if she was going to black out.  As soon as she thought she might, though, Sjöfn turned around, and started diving back to the land that she thought they had been leaving behind.

“I do not know exactly what you were hoping to accomplish,” Sjöfn continued.  “But you do not belong on the moon.  You are not a being of the moon.  You are a being of earth, and you belong on the earth.  The moon is a place of wonder, yes, but it is also a place of unfathomable chaos; as much good happens as bad, and all of it happens at once.  There is no separation or distance from anything.  Here, on earth, you have control over your life.  And you have the option of living a good, quiet, and simple life if you wish to have one.  It is best for you to make the most of that while you still have it.”

Ganymede was gasping for air, and a part of her wanted to scream.

“Oh, and in regards to speaking with the moon.  The moon contains many living beings, but just like the earth, the moon itself is not a living being.” Sjöfn looked back at her, with an expression that seemed to be one of pity.  “I am sorry to say this, but the moon is just a rock.”

Ganymede felt as though she’d been run through with a kitchen knife.

The return flight took less time than their flight up through the atmosphere, and as Sjöfn landed, Ganymede realized it wasn’t the same place they’d left; it was an open field of grass.  But she couldn’t process anything else as she removed herself from the harness and threw herself to the grass, facedown, pounding her paws into it out of unbridled frustration.

“I am deeply sorry that I had to deceive you, wolf,” Sjöfn said.  “But I did not think you would believe me until you felt it for yourself, until you felt the lack of air, until you understood how hostile that nothingness is.  How it would kill you if you tried to pass through it.  I cannot take you to the moon, because you would be dead before we even arrived, and hopefully you understand that now.”

Ganymede kept staring at the ground.

Another person telling her the moon is just a rock.

Another person telling her she belongs on earth, when she knew she didn’t.

Not only that, but telling her she didn’t belong on the moon.

The only place she thought might ever have any hope for her.

“I cannot take you to the moon,” Sjöfn said again, “but I am still grateful to you and would still like to do something for you, if I am able to.  Just say the word.  Please let me know what you wish of me, what you would have me do.  I will do my best to accommodate.”

Ganymede stayed there on the ground for another minute.

Then, she slowly stood up and brushed herself off.

“Thank you,” Ganymede said, “but like I said, if you can’t help me get to the moon, my plan is to leave here and find some other way to get to it.”

For the first time, Sjöfn’s eyes widened in shock.  “What?”

“I made a promise,” Ganymede said.  “And I’m not going to abandon her up there just because things are hard.  So I appreciate your concern, but I know what I need to do, and I’m gonna do it, one way or another.”  Ganymede saluted her.  “Thank you, Syofin.  And so long.  I won’t be bothering you any further.”

And as Sjöfn continued staring at her, jaws agape, Ganymede turned around, and walked away.