THE SKYSEEKER

rlana raced through the night. Planets hung heavy and crimson on the horizon. The stars pulsated in the lavender twilight, reflecting in the hundreds of small pools below. On evenings such as these Orlana was wild, running, the moss soft and wet beneath her frenzied bare feet. Her arms reached out for a universe unknown, a universe beckoning. Deep within she longed for flight.

Tonight she would leave this world and truly fly.

At last the child came to rest, her heart beating an untamed rhythm in her tiny frame, silvery hair glowing in the dimness. There was stillness in this place, as calm as the many waters. She sat at the edge of a pool, dipping her feet into the cool water, her toes disrupting its tranquility.

She breathed the air and heard the music of her tribe, the people who raised her as one of their own. The Nantook had a song for all things and they would gather and let their throats expand and call out, the men with deep hearty croaks and the women with bright chirps. They sang to the land, to the snails they shepherded, to their unhatched young in the pools. Now they sang to the coming of night and this was Orlana’s favorite. She would miss them.

They were direct people, and slow. Steady. They lived with intent, humility, and kindness. Very different from her own people. They clothed her as a babe when she came hurtling down from the sky in tremendous fire. Restless, she looked at the still pools and wanted nothing more than to cause ripples. She splashed her toes again, watching the movement. She was alive under the moon, a fact the tribe had come to accept. A daughter of the gods they called her. She played games with the young, but she knew she was not like them.

The music ended and with its ending came her adopted mother, holding dinner in her webbed hands.

“Good evening, my little skyseeker. One last meal before your journey.” Her mother crouched beside her. “Are you ready for ascension?”

Orlana gazed up. “Will you tell me about my tribe?”

Her mother croaked in soft laughter. “Again with this bedtime story?”

“One last time?” she pleaded.

She took the food and nestled up against the Nantook.

“There is a song for all people. Ours, it is of hills and water. For you, bright one, it is the song of the sky. Can you hear it?”

Orlana closed her eyes and smiled. Her skin prickled and she felt warm.

“Yes,” she answered softly.

“Good. Now, listen as I tell you the story. There is a tribe of those who travel among the stars. The skyseekers— for the sky is their domain. They live as free as the birds of our world. The Nantook saw them fly across the sky each night. They protected us from the raiders of beyond. Nine seasons ago there began to be fewer and fewer, just as you came to us from the dark between worlds. You are one of these skyseekers.”

“Soon I will join them, because I can fly as they can.”

“Yes. This is an ability beyond the Nantook. Some ride in crafts, others on the animals of the space between worlds. But the Nantook, and many other simple creatures, care for the ground, for the moss, and the pools.”

“What if I fail? What if I cannot leave the atmosphere?”

“My child, there are other dangers apart from the flight beyond.”

And her mother continued the story.

“There is also the beast, whose wings cast a shadow on our moons, whose mouth is a black hole. As a fish feeds on the smaller creatures in the pool, so did the beast devour your people of the light. Your tribe was always at war with it. We tell stories that one day the beast will come here too, and we will either be devoured or freed from its evil.”

Orlana looked at her with sorrow.

“I wish my people were here. Do you think I will find my mother and father?”

The Nantook mother nodded. “Perhaps, but first you must go forth and answer the call.”

Her mother tilted her head.

“Not to know oneself is a heavy burden. Many things weigh us down. Not all are bad, but doubting afflicts the mind. Do not always rely on others to tell you such things, little skyseeker,” she said, taking her daughter’s hand, cold skin slimy against warm flesh.

“Remember you are the center, the flame. Listen to the sky.”

“I do! I listen every night.”

“But you are not still, daughter. You chase and call when you should be still. To move great distances you must often be still.”

She stood. “Tonight will be different.”

Her mother began making her way back to the village. She looked back at her daughter.

“As you have listened to my words, so will you listen to the sky.”

With that she left Orlana to begin her flight. She would not watch, for she knew it was too sacred a moment for her to witness.

Orlana rushed through the roving hills of endless green moss. Her mother’s words rang true. She would truly fly.

She looked up to the beyond and reached out. She opened her heart and her mind, starlight touching her skin, warming her, and she felt the melody of the sky, and it came and filled her spirit wholly.

She burst into fire.

The ground around her produced hissing mists and charred earth. Orlana was at the center of this fire; it was this truth that gave her the most excitement of all.

All at once she soared through the air, through the atmosphere. And her heart was joyous. She zipped into the sky as a burning white light, deep into the expanse. She darted about dozens of moons, round rings of planets, and left streaks of shimmering fire. She came to a place of nebulas, maroon and yellow gas giants. She flew solely on instinct, an inner music telling her to go beyond the colors and into the dark. And she did.

At that moment she was a skyseeker.

In a field of ancient asteroids and debris she rested, gently floating in the gravity of their cosmic pull. What Orlana did not know was, like the pools, her flight had left ripples across the sky. A darkness moved to her now on this path, a darkness with a primal hunger.

And so the beast was awakened, awakened by her light and promise of food. Roused from its hibernation, it floated in infinity, a tenebrous mass engulfed in a starry expanse.

Orlana froze. It let out a moan that shook the asteroids and sent her hurling. The beast came at her, mouth ready to swallow her up. She felt herself growing weak. She saw her body draining, shimmering streaks pulled into the mouth of the beast.

Orlana did the only thing she could do; she fled as fast as she could.

The winged terror stayed right behind her. It sucked her burning trail, gaining strength from her fire. Orlana was gripped with fear. She tried to outmaneuver it, using her size to her advantage, zipping through the asteroid field, darting to and fro. The beast crashed through, paying no mind as debris collided into its bulk. It continued undaunted.

The starchild flew to a planet of all ocean and violent crimson storms with several moons in its orbit. She flew among them, hoping the beast would lose her. But all it did was close its mouth and crash through them. There came a terrible and concussive force as one moon's gravity broke against the beast's body. Its opened mouth sucked in the energy left behind.

Orlana had an idea: she darted to a drifting chunk of rock and instinctually doused her flame. Without her fire she shivered, holding her breath like in the water games she played with the young Nantook. She’d never won, but now she was playing for her life.

The beast, having lost her trail, let out a guttural roar.

It flew off in a direction it guessed she had gone. Orlana took a deep breath and reignited herself. She was still shaking but managed to keep her head. In an instant the starchild flew far away. After a while Orlana realized, with a pit in her stomach, she had lost all sense of direction. She had no way of recognizing her homeworld.

For all her brightness she was alone.

She thought of the Nantook and of their rolling hills, and her heart was heavy with homesickness. Why had she been so eager to leave?

She flew frantically, past planets burning red and glowing golden; past planets of dead blue ice and living green jungles. In dreaming of the sky Orlana never imagined how vast existence truly was. Its beauty was overwhelming. She felt small with such knowledge.

ime was strange out in the coldness. There was no way of knowing how long she had been traveling. But indeed time did pass. She descended onto a world’s surface looking for food or other life. She found strange vegetables and incredible fruits. After many days of wandering she came to one where the tallest tree only just passed her own height.

She was a giant. But the environment was warm and she felt safe, and in its jungle she finally fell fast asleep.

Orlana awoke to the sound of what at first she thought was the chirping of mice. She rubbed her groggy eyes and saw before her a crowd of tiny furry creatures.

“The fire gods have returned!”

“Who are you?”

“We are the Hanull. Surely the gods have not forgotten us?”

Orlana stood up and towered over the Hanull.

They barely came up to her knee. She remembered her bedtime story, that her tribe protected not only the Nantook but many other peoples.

“Yes,” she said with pride. “I have returned.”

They cheered and a celebration was held, a large feast of bugs and berries of which she ate hungrily.

The Hanull needed her help with many things. She moved stones that to them were immovable obstacles, but to her were mere stones. In the fields she cleared brush and used her hands to dig up the dirt. What took them a week was for her but a day’s labor. She burned away the Serpents of Lunasha with her fire, the snakes who killed their livestock and the best Hanull warriors.

Orlana was glad for the Hanull’s company, but after a time the sky began to call. It was time to resume her journey.

She ascended in a blaze, telling them she would one day return.

rlana soared. On and on she went, not a single sphere to be seen, only the great ink. She missed the cool pools and soft moss of home. How simple such times had been.

She was pulled from her thoughts as a beam passed by her right side, rupturing the dark canvas with orange plasma. Then another and another.

Behind her she saw a massive vessel, the kind her mother spoke of.

A ship.

And it was firing at her.

One of its missiles hit her and all she knew was all-encompassing pain. The cold of space wrapped and reached into her. Her light went out. Before she lost consciousness she knew the ships were the ships of the raiders.

Alongside this giant ship two other craft harnessed smaller beasts of the same kind that pursued her. Drawn by their hunger like hounds they led raiders to their prey.

Raiders came from many systems, filled with the lust for resources and the heart to carry out violence. First the beast and now the raiders.

All because she wanted to fly.

Orlana was held captive in a crystal cylinder. The raiders hooted and jeered, calling her names she couldn’t understand. They cleared the way for their captain, a being who walked on two legs, who might even be considered a man, but his eyes showed the nature of a monster.

He tapped on her crystal cage.

“Little guppy, little guppy that burns so bright, little star that swims the night— whose power gives ships flight.”

His mouth gave a crooked grin.

“That was the old nursery rhyme my grandmother used to sing to me when she was captain.”

“Who are you?” she asked, trembling her knees hugged to her chest.

“I am the one you listen to from now on,” he said, looking down at her.

“What do you want?”

“It's that light of yours, the light of a thousand-and-one suns burning. It’s every captain's dream to capture a skyseeker to power their ship. You're my dream come true, did you know that?”

His voice was familiar.

“How do I know you?”

He seemed genuinely surprised. “Well, well. Little guppy. You remember me, I'm touched.”

He made a mock gesture of affection then slammed his fist on the crystal. She flinched as the crew heckled in wicked amusement.

“I was there the day you were born. Such a little thing. And now you will power my ship until the end of your days, like your mother.”

“My mother!” Orlana raised her voice.

“Oh yes. She burned fine until she had you and tried to escape. She got you to safety, but unfortunately, without my protection, the beast ate her up as it did your father. You’re just a lonely star twinkling in an endless void.”

She thought of the Nantook. Of her mother. Not her birth mother, but the one who fed and raised her. Loved her. Who believed even when she could not.

“No,” she said aloud. “I am not alone. I have the Nantook tribe.”

“Oh, that's right! Those savages you were hiding with. Well, we’ll give them a visit and remind them there are consequences for deceiving raiders.”

Orlana’s eyes blurred with tears.

The captain touched a button on his gauntlet and the ship’s wall became translucent. Below was the world of the Nantook.

“A raider always takes revenge!”

The crew cheered.

Her tears fell to the floor with a hiss. Rage awoke in the girl. Her eyes burned. She stood and ignited into fire.

The captain took a step back.

She threw her body against the crystal cage.

It cracked.

The captain looked around at his men. He’d shown the slightest moment’s weakness to a child. If he did not answer with retribution he would suffer. He pressed a button on his gauntlet and she was hit with savage pain. The raiders laughed.

Undaunted, she set herself alight once more. She hit the cage with such force that the cracks increased like a spider’s web.

The crew looked concerned.

Suddenly warning sirens blared and all was forgotten as panic erupted. Before Orlana knew what was happening the ship and raiders were replaced by black space. It took her a moment to realize the ship had exploded from a massive impact, from the destructive wing of the beast. The smaller ships fled.

She floated in the cage but one last burst set her free from one threat to face another.

he beast had found her. It moved towards the Nantook homeworld, its mass casting a suffocating shadow on the home she loved. All she held dear would be swallowed in an instant.

Orlana realized no matter how far she fled, this unyielding void would pursue her—or the Nantook.

The skyseeker turned now and flew as fast as she could, directly into the beast’s mouth, and was willingly consumed.

The beast purred as its endless hunger was satiated.

There was no sound or sight. She felt herself torn apart, absorbed. But she was still. And she listened. Not to the music of the sky, nor the song of the Nantook, but the melody of her heart.

She burned with the love for her people, those who she promised to protect; for the love of her mothers and her tribes— the one she lived with, the other she longed for. In a chorus of fire she burst into a living flame. Orlana shone bright and brighter still; the chorus louder and louder; the rhythm faster and faster.

Not a shadow could flourish in her platinum radiance.

When she opened her eyes at last the beast had burned away.

rlana hovered above the world where she had been raised. She flew into its atmosphere not with a crash, but as a homecoming. Round and round she went, and the Nantook for the first time saw her not as a child but as their guardian.

The prophecy of the beast’s death was fulfilled.

She landed in their midst.

The Nantook croaked their cheers for her return. Gathering round her, they praised her with hymns and prayer.

Her eyes met her mother’s, and the villagers made a path for their embrace. Her mother took her hands in her own.

“You have learned the music of the sky. You are free to leave and find your tribe among the stars.”

“Yes,” said Orlana. “I may leave. But I will stay and continue my purpose here.”

Her mother knelt and sobbed tears of joy and began to sing. The others joined. They sang a song of Orlana, how the pure heart of a child restored them.