The Selfless Vote

Well, I wouldn’t call them my friends,

all these other scholars walking along the great corridors, following each others with their confident look and piercing gaze, hurrying to see, at long last, the blue flame. I remember I was invisible, among them, no one was paying me any mind. 

The air was unusually crisp. I had to pull up my blue scarf and breathe through it. Did a teacher leave a window open? For what reason? 

As we made our way through the gray corridors the walls to the right became columns, and outside the view was breathtaking. The sky was blue, immaculate. The sun was nowhere to be seen yet, oddly, I felt its warmth. I saw its light everywhere on the waving lush grass.

How exciting, I couldn’t remember the last time I actually went outside the tower. Everyone was stealing curious looks past the columns, and I found it a bit funny how all our seriousness and confidence disappeared when the unusual came. 

I wouldn’t call them my friends, but without them I suppose all these years of study would’ve been lonely. There was a sort of security in our number, much akin to a school of fish, appearing imposing and powerful by its sheer number, its movements synchronized.

As soon to be graduates, we were allowed to roam and busy ourselves as we pleased, but very few actually wandered on their own. After all, the Lazuli tower was a frightening place. All these faceless teachers, patrolling the vicinity, taking notes on their stone tablets. The countless mechanical clocks adorning the walls, none showing the same time. The intricate statues of unknown figures, erected for long forgotten accomplishments. The impossible architecture of the circular corridors along the main tower, leading one day to the auditorium, the other to the library, and that day leading us all outside.

The stone floor made way for lush grass that grew especially tall near the many marble columns, sprouting outside in geometric patterns, leading us naturally toward the central area, where a great many teachers were apparently waiting. 

Behind me I knew stood the Lazuli tower, taller even than the mountain range to the east. I turned around and as I gazed upward, in awe at its marvelous architecture, I lost balance, falling on the grass, both hands on the ground. I couldn’t help feeling dizzy at the sheer height of the tower. It was almost as if it had no end, that the tower continued skyward, toward infinity.. Laughters brought me back to reality. An arm pulled me up violently, a harsh voice pierced my ears, loud enough for everyone to hear. 

'What do you think, Marita? Is the Lazuli tower there, if you don’t look at it?'

And the laughters grew louder, meaner, as I stood up and turned around, facing the same way as the others. Holding me up was a teacher, his horrible faceless face staring me down, his other hand clutching his stone tablet, trembling. I looked down, feeling my cheeks turning red. I was so embarrassed I couldn’t even think of anything to say. I just wanted to disappear again.

Once more his voice filled my head.

'Did curiosity kill the cat? Or was it its fate to die? Or is there no cat at all?'

The teacher added, more as a remark than a question, before letting go, and walking toward the main platform, scribbling on his tablet. The other scholars were giving me quick looks, some still laughing while others looked at me strangely. I kept looking down, silent tears flowing down my cheeks. I tried to breathe as quietly as possible, to not draw any more attention toward myself. 

Before I could calm myself, another teacher, this one adorned in a prestigious blue garment, addressed us all, congratulating us on our successful studies. From the stadium his voice reached me clearly, without any echo, due to the garden’s layout, carefully planned for these sorts of events. He continued, his voice somehow soothing me.

'As you all know, the time has come for you Lazuli scholars to graduate. Through the true blue flame any wish will be granted, so long as it is most precious and dear to you.'

That was a surprise to me, but before I could ask anyone, a thunder of applause shattered the air, to the apparent pleasure of the teachers. I quickly joined in, and clapped as loudly as any others. But my mind was racing, I thought we would all graduate together? And what was that, about granting a wish? 

The applause continued as teachers were distributing pieces of broken pottery, to each and every one of us scholars. The blue teacher explained that in light of the exceptional results of our class, we were granted the honor to decide, amongst ourselves, who would graduate. Who would enter the blue flame, and be granted their own wish. I remember the same teacher that scolded me earlier was the one to give me my piece of pottery, along with a tiny piece of charcoal to write. I was still confused, yet the other scholars were quickly writing down their choice, and walking toward the stadium, where a beautiful amphora was placed. Every time a vote was casted, the pottery hit the bottom of the amphora, the impact resonating through the whole garden.

Such a melodic, introspective sound. 

I soon realized that most of us had voted already, while I was still holding my piece, blank. My mind raced, and I figured that this whole operation must have been a sort of test, a riddle. After all, the teachers loved their riddles. And seeing how fast the others wrote their vote, I found the answer to be incredibly funny : everyone must vote for themselves, therefore everyone will graduate!

I felt all my stress leave my body, as I wrote my own name on the pottery, and made my way to the amphora. I instinctively held my vote face down against my chest, as I waltzed to the stadium. 

The Lazuli tower behind me felt as real as the countless gazes of my fellow scholars and teachers, all waiting for me to cast my vote. Standing in front of the amphora, I studied its art, striking me as one of a kind. Its surface was a rusty orange, with black carvings, representing a single human figure, looking up to a massive fig tree, taking most of the surface. I’d never seen anything like it. Its fruits were of different shapes and around them, some symbols I'd never seen before... I snapped out of it and approached the amphora, holding out my vote and at last dropping it, the impact breaking the unending silence of the last few seconds. I went back to my place amongst my fellow scholars, still smiling from my realization. 

I was fiddling with my fingers, waiting to see the big reveal. But once again I felt I wasn’t so invisible anymore. I saw the other scholars stealing looks at me, staring at me. I was about to ask them what was the matter, when a shatter came from the stadium. I looked up and the blue teacher had a stone in his raised hand. He must’ve used it to break the precious amphora, which was now in pieces. I was horrified, why would they break such a beautiful piece of art? 

A few teachers helped him pick up the pieces, in two large copper bowls. I figured that in one was the amphora itself, and in the other our votes. We were all waiting for the results, and a few moments later great commotion came from the stadium. It felt strange, never before had I seen the teachers in such disarray. The blue one was standing still in front of the copper bowls, holding his head with both hands, as if in complete disbelief. The other teachers were whispering amongst themselves, some writing on their stone tablets, others recounting the votes. What was happening? I felt dizzy once more, a cold sweat on my forehead. I couldn’t stop thinking, was all this because of me? After all, I wrote my own name, thinking this was some sort of riddle. Maybe I was mistaken.

Did curiosity kill the cat? 

Around me the other scholars seemed as confused as I was, barely standing still, trying to figure out what was happening with the vote. The blue teacher moved at last, and with large movements of his arms he chased the other teachers away, making his way up the stadium. He stood there, in complete silence, as we all waited unbearably to know exactly what happened. He raised his hand, clutching a piece of pottery, revealing a name, my own!

Marita, written in big black letters.

I gasped audibly. That wasn’t my own writing! The teacher then let the vote fall on the grass, silently, and picked another vote randomly in the copper bowl, revealing once more my name. And every piece he lifted had my name on it, Marita. Marita. Marita.

There, that one was my own handwriting.

I stood there, staring at the spectacle of my own graduation, as the blue teacher kept dropping the votes one after the other, in a sort of never ending ritual. He reached once more for the copper bowl, and pushed it down the stadium as well, revealing it was finally empty. He proclaimed, in a raspy voice, that never before had a Lazuli scholar graduated by unanimity. He continued, after a pause,

'Never before, until today. Marita, congratulations.'

The following applause startled me, and this time I couldn’t join in with them. I felt my feet move and soon enough I was up there, on the stadium, looking down on my fellow scholars, that I wouldn’t call friends.

Why did they all vote for me? Why did I vote for myself?

I felt the full weight of the invisible sun on me, added to the one hundred eyes staring at me, their gaze, indecipherable. This sudden, overwhelming attention on myself nearly broke me. I fell to my knees, holding up my blue scarf in front of my face, paralyzed. All I could hear was the unending applause, deafening.

All I could see was hued in blue, blurred by my tears. What was going to happen? I felt a hand on my shoulder and once more I stood up, painfully. But no one was behind me, and as I pushed down my scarf I felt a sort of relief, swelling in me. Maybe graduating wasn’t as bad as I thought. The blue teacher was waiting patiently. He turned over to me, holding out his hand for me to shake it. I took it, softly, and shook, hating how surreal the moment felt. As we shook hands he got closer to me, and whispered some words that I forgot, for he spoke with such speed that I couldn’t comprehend.  I must’ve had quite a perplexed look on my face, as he held my hand, guiding me down a set of stairs, opposite of the crowd.

Or was it its fate to die? 

Behind the stadium was a lowered platform. On one side, dozens of bricks of some kind, stacked neatly. On the other, a sort of fountain, holding a blue liquid. Placed in the middle of the platform stood an imposing sculpture, of stylised white marble. Seven arching pillars, carved masterfully, rising from a solid base, not larger than a meter. The blue teacher let go of my hand, and told me to walk around, before leaving.

I took a few steps toward the imposing altar, and the whole platform started to rise, to the sound of rattling chains. I held on to one of the pillars, so as to not lose balance. I flinched and quickly removed my hand, it was burning hot! Between the pillars a blue flame was raging, its hot air licking my face. I kept my distance and walked around the altar, dumbstruck as to how it ignited so suddenly. I walked past the next pillar, and the blue flame vanished; the second I looked away it was gone. I kept going around the altar, as the platform was rising, and sure enough the blue flame would flicker between the pillars. What kind of trick? Maybe mirrors could reflect the flames from somewhere hidden, yet that wouldn’t explain the heat. After all, I did burn myself on the first pillar.

I wept as I looked at my burnt palm, the slight air current causing me excruciating pain. I figured I may as well use my scarf as gauze. I wrapped my hand neatly in the blue fabric, hiding away the burnt skin. Now standing in front of the empty altar, cold and quiet, I still couldn't make sense of what just happened.

The platform was still rising, now almost the same height as the stadium, and outside, the terrible, incessant clapping of the scholars. I stood there, rising slowly, becoming visible by all, once again, my heart beating faster and faster. Looking down I realized that I had no safe way of coming down. The chains were lifting the platform from somewhere I couldn’t see, and a fall from that height would at least wound me severely, if not kill me. I looked for the blue teacher, but he wasn’t even looking at me. I was alone, up here, and everyone was waiting for me to start the blue flame.

At last the platform stopped. 

From the floor in front of me, a tiny wooden box rose. I opened it, and inside was a blank piece of paper, with a blue quill. I could still feel everyone watching me from down there, in a sort of apprehensive patience. I was paralyzed once more. What to do! I looked around and I figured, it might have something to do with the bricks and the blue fountain. Maybe I had to start the fire. And what about the piece of paper, and the quill, thats for my wish?

I decided to act, only so that I would stop just standing there in confusion. It felt surreal, as I walked around the altar once more, looking through the pillars, at the blue flame. I could barely see but it seemed the bricks were burning, fueling the blue fire. They were arranged neatly in a sort of half-moon pattern, leaving plenty of space between them for the air to flow. As I walked toward the bricks, the flame flickered between the pillars. I never seen or learnt anything about this in all my years here.

The bricks were surprisingly heavy, and one by one I brought them inside the altar, placing them in what I thought was the correct position. I assumed I had to use all of them. But as I was putting in place the last one, I realized I didn’t have anything to start a fire with. No matches, nothing. I looked down at my hands, what have I been doing? Was I mistaken again, just like when I casted my vote? I turned around and looked everywhere, until I saw the fountain on the side, spewing its blue liquid silently.

Up close the fountain was nothing more than a white ceramic bowl, with a sort of copper pipe rising from it in the middle, where the blue liquid was flowing from. So underwhelming. Compared to the amphorae, the altar and the intricate wooden box, the fountain was shockingly crude, almost primitive. How unusual for the Lazuli. 

I smelled the liquid. Nothing. And there was no cup, so I figured I wasn’t meant to drink from it. And I didn’t really have anything to dip into its blue water, except perhaps my scarf. I tore away a long piece of it, wincing at my burnt skin underneath. I dipped it in the fountain, a silly smile on my face, evocative of the utter cluelessness of my situation.

To my surprise it caught on fire, the blue flame reaching quickly toward my hand, and the rest of the scarf going in flames. Shocked I let go and shook my hand left and right, stopping myself from screaming, yet I felt no pain. I stood there, watching my hand covered by my burning scarf, its massive blue flames rising higher than myself, a blue fireball, at least in appearances.

I may as well light up the bricks then. I approached the altar, from the side, and through the marble pillars I extended my burning hand. I shook it, letting go of what remained of the scarf that fell on the bricks. The blue flame was lazily burning away, my precious scarf disappearing slowly. The bricks underneath didn’t seem to light up. Frustrated, I went back to the fountain and formed a cup with my hands, holding a fair amount of the blue liquid, some of it dripping on the floor as I hurried back to the altar. I threw the blue liquid as best I could over the bricks on the altar and it bursted in flames. The heat was back, and the whole platform was bathed in an ethereal blue light. It was getting hot, very hot.

Down there the students started clapping.

Again. But now I wasn’t hearing them as clearly anymore, with the crackling of the blue flame. I sat down in front of the opened wooden box, and stared at the blank piece of paper. 

Or is there no cat at all? 

My most precious and dear wish… I took the quill and I tried to write something, anything, yet nothing came to mind. I kept looking up to the altar. I knew I had to walk into it, after writing down my wish. Walk into the flame.

But, it’s not a flame, it’s a brazier! A blue pit of fire. To willingly enter it would be suicide... But did I have any other choice? Besides, I did vote for myself. This is punishment for my mistake, my hubris.

I sat there for I don’t know how long. Maybe not that long, since the longer I waited, the stronger the flames, and the heat. I was still holding the quill, sitting in front of my blank piece of paper, and all I could hear was the maddening sound of the clapping underneath, and the now more intense crackling of the blue brazier.

By now it was blinding to me. I couldn’t come up with a wish. I know it’s silly. It’s just, at that moment, nothing came to mind. Nothing. 

What did I want, really, my most cherished desire?

Isnt that the point, to get what you want?

I got up, the blank piece of paper in my hand, and walked toward the altar, its heat licking my whole body, its long blue flames enthralling me, inviting me forward.

I felt panic surging in my heart, and I just did what they all expected me to do. There was no escape!

I held the piece of paper flat on my chest, and eyes closed I jumped in the fires, to the echoes of the maddening cheering of these scholars down there.

I stood there, surrounded by the blue flames, expecting something to happen, anything. I was still holding the quill in my hand, and in panic I put the paper on the ground, feeling the heat and flames growing stronger around me, embracing me.

I wrote something, I just can't remember what.

I felt my hair burst in flames, I closed my eyes and collapsed on myself. I wrote something down, my wish.

What was it, what is my dearest wish?

***

I opened my eyes, or so I thought. I couldn’t see anything, or hear anything for that matter.

Did I wish to die?

I couldn't help but shiver at the thought that maybe after all these years of study, my dearest wish turned out to be untimely death. 

There, in nothingness, I couldn't see or touch or sense anything. I was in a void, an abyss. What bliss! Gone, the clapping, the crackling, the learning and the walking, the teachers and the other scholars.

I saw, in my minds eye, as if an hallucination from lack of stimuli, the school of fish we were, dark mastodon of lies, and from it a single soul, ejected, rejected, excomunicated, vulnerable, alone in the depths, and from the comforting lie arose the ugly, the unfathomable truth;

I was alone, and I always was.

Confronted with that realization, I went through my memories and cursed every moment of connection, of proximity, of LOVE I ever felt, for truth is paramount, or at least the pursuit of truth. And so I opened my eyes, to no difference whatsoever, but I still tried to see. Nothing.

Though If I focused hard enough, I could feel a slight flow around me, almost imperceptible, almost like perfectly lukewarm water. I flailed my arms about, and my legs, nothing. Floating there I wondered where, in fact, I could be. Lost in the cosmos? The Lazuli did have a corresponding description, being basically the nothingness between realms.

Or perhaps in Aether’s arms? I pictured her terrible presence, this massive insect Queen with a thousand eyes and as many arms, all of which were focused on me. I was stuck in her shadow, helpless. Once again I shivered, and I tried to think of brighter things, such as the sun I always cherished.

But I could not remember, and soon enough I sighed out of boredom, bubbles of precious air leaving me. The bubbles did not rise up. They were finding their way down, I felt them inching down my body, tickling me.

So I was indeed underwater? And upside down, at that.

I realized that all that time I hadn’t been breathing, I had simply forgotten. I gasped for air, panicking. How could I swim all the way down there, to the surface? 

In panic I felt the waters suddenly move frantically, my hair flowing with its current. To my surprise something touched my hair. A hand? I froze, in horror, as the hand touched my head, as if trying to identify something in the dark. Was it Aether after all? I screamed a silent scream, but the hand covered my mouth, and another grabbed me by the hips. I was propulsed downward, toward the surface.

I felt fingers forcing their way in my mouth, such a grainy sensation, and what overpowering bitterness. I wanted to bite the fingers off and free myself, to no avail. I felt dizzy, not only from lack of air but also from whatever was in my mouth, that disgusting substance that I tried spitting out. My mouth went numb, and I couldn’t focus anymore. I felt like I was dying after all. A sudden burst of bitter laughter, then sadness. Tears flowed secretly from my eyes, joining the moving waters, as I was dragged downward.

I felt much heavier then, as I finally emerged from the water, completely disoriented. At long last the hand let go of my mouth. I coughed, fighting for air. I opened my eyes, still crying, yet the world around silenced me brutally.

It was more than night; I was on a lake’s surface, in the arms of a man, walking to shore. Around me, complete chaos. I looked above, and in the sky, a massive planet, so close that it filled the firmament. On its surface, layers and layers of storms, shifting about in hues of purple. There in its very center, a dark spot, its biggest storm, akin to a pupil. Up there the planet was looking down at me, and so tiny I felt under its terrible gaze. Around the planet, the otherworldly lights of aurora borealis, shining of teal and crimson, reflecting on the hills and ruins around the lake. 

I was getting carried to the shores, yet I could not take my eyes off the hills; what was crawling there? A thunderstrike fell, revealing the Flow, in all its horror. Large centipedes towering over already massive insects, some with wings and others with long antennaes, but all of them moving as one, at a steady crawl. These giant insects were flooding the land all around, to think I could barely distinguish them in the twilight.

Where was the sun? Where was the blue sky, the birds, the trees? Where was the Lazuli tower, and my fellow scholars?

I looked up, to see who this savior was, for any trace of hope. The man was tall, muscular, and bald. He was imposing, and on his skin all over his body was a coat of scaly patina, a rusty red to a deep purple, almost like rust upon metal. On his face and arms the color shifted to a deep red, with details of unknown symbols.

He put me down, on the shores of the lake. He grabbed something in the twilight, raising his arm. A curved black longsword, crude and flaking, apparently waiting for him.  He took it, as naturally as one picks an apple from a tree, and looked back at me, as I was still on my knees, feeling the lukewarm waters of the lake. I got up, and walked toward him, to the wicked man I'd come to know as Aemon.

At that moment, I thought, ''Surely I didn't wish for him.''