It hummed. Then, suddenly, the landscape was spread out before us, a lifelike projection of the painting—the desolate yet beautiful wild lands of Dakkar, a place not many would ever see in their lifetime.
I could feel the palpable awe radiating off Erina as she scrambled to stand. I was forgotten, I realized, as I studied her face from my place on the floor. I smiled to myself, more intrigued to watch the appreciation flit across her features than imagine I was on a universally closed planet. If beings within the Four Quadrants thought Krynn was difficult to access, Dakkar was virtually impossible.
The pinpricks of light the Halo orb projected in front of herwere true colors. The real magic of it, however, she hadn’t even experienced.
“Reach out and touch it,” I told her. Eagerly, she stepped forward.
The moment her fingertips met the image, it enveloped her, wrapping her up in a sphere of light. I could still see her through the transparency of it, but I knew she would only see Dakkar inside. I heard her gasp.
“I can see the sand blowing! Gods, I can feel the wind,” she called out loudly and excitedly. I chuckled then, her voice much too loud in the quietness of the library, but she must’ve felt like shehadjust been transported light years away.
She turned slowly, a complete sphere around her that would allow her to see in every direction, something the painting in the book hadn’t allowed.
There were closed slits on the back of her dress, ones I’d not noticed before, but now I realized she’d sewn them over carefully. The dress hadn’t always been hers—it had belonged to a Kylorr with wings. I wondered who. And why she had it.
I watched her through the projection. Watched as she turned, marveling and cataloguing every detail.
“I could stay in here forever. All the things I could draw,” she said quietly. I wondered if she meant for me to hear that. It seemed more like an observation for herself. “It’s beautiful.”
There was a strange tightness in my chest as I watched her. Such a simple thing, a simple code in the pages of a book, but I watched her eyes glitter with happiness and excitement.
“There are more, you know,” I called out. “Is there one you wanted to see?”
Her head poked through the projection, refocusing on me. “I want to see them all,” she said eagerly, her face split open in a wide grin.
“Very well,” I said, dragging the book closer to me and snagging the Halo orb.
The book was part of a series, and this one held only fifteen paintings. I started from the beginning—the Golden City of Luxiria, which immediately prompted, “On Raazos, it’shothere,” from Erina. Next came one of the New Earth colonies, then a lake of fire on a planet in the Third Quadrant, then a transport hub in the Second, which she seemed to like the least. “Too industrial,” she’d decided, “and the smell makes my nose burn.”
“That would be cheap fuel exhaust,” I’d told her. It had a particular stench, one that felt like it was drilling a hole in your brain.
We went through them all—meadows that shone with glowing, flying insects the size of soul gems, of moonlit forests covered in pulsing blue vines, and the mountainous region on Balla during a meteor shower, which made her voice sound choked with tears when she’d proclaimed, “I’ve never seen anything lovelier in my whole life.”
When I turned to Pe’ji, I debated for a moment, but finally I had the Halo orb scan the code.
“Oh,” I heard her breathe.
I stared down at the painting, feeling some of my enjoyment of the evening lessen, but it felt…not so pinching. It didn’t ache as it usually did, and I found myself curious of what Erina would decide. She had fresh eyes and a fresh perspective.
“What a peaceful place,” she commented. “It’s so quiet.”
The irony,I thought. This painting and the recording had taken place shortly before the Pe’ji War, decades earlier.Before.Before everything that had happened to my aunt, Aina, her murder having been a raw ache in my family for years.
Now she was at peace…but it still hurt to remember what she must have felt in her final days on Pe’ji.
Quickly, I moved to the last page, of the waterfall city of Bvaro.
A small cry emanated from the sphere, a delighted little laugh that made my somber memories ease. I stood from my place onthe floor, suddenly eager to stretch my legs and my wings. When I stepped into the scene with her, she was grinning, her hands held out as she felt the mist shroud her.
The landscape was at the terrace of the capital city. Bvaro was covered in water. Their floating cities were high above the waterfalls, and yet everything was enveloped in a fine mist. It would be hellish to live there, in my opinion, but the majority of their society and civilization were within their pristine glass domes. It was one of the wealthiest places in all the Four Quadrants, attracting only the elite for how difficult it was to secure residency.
Erina was looking over the terrace, her palms upward and out in front of her as mist danced all around. It dampened her hair, clinging to her dress. It felt good, cool against my hot skin. When she turned to see me there, she said, “This is incredible. Thank you for showing me.”
No one would’ve ever appreciated this like she has,I couldn’t help but think. At least, no one that I knew. This would’ve been a passing amusement for a noble before it was forgotten entirely. This book was a small thing, though rare. The Halo orb was even more common. To see the radiant joy on her features, however—so pure and so candidly honest—it filled me with contentment. I was glad she’d pulled down this particular book when I had hundreds in my library. Selfishly, I craved experiencing her happiness. I consumed it, pulling it into me like I was starved, just as I did her blood.
“You’re welcome,” I said. We were getting wetter by the moment. “Come. Dry off by the fire.”
I took her hand, and she let me pull her through the projection. I tapped the Halo orb on the way to the hearth, and the landscape disappeared, golden light appearing again as the device circled us, no evidence left behind of the mist.
