Chapter One: The Forgotten Gate
Solara turned her radiant hazel eyes towards the window. The rain drops were chasing each other towards the ground on their gravity driven journey. Despite their speed they hit the ground producing only a gentle patter, which calmed Solara's racing soul. Her eyes turned from fiery fervor to overwhelming calm. She reached her graceful hand out the window to greet the rain, a few drops caressed her skin, exciting her nerves and causing her to get goosebumps. She retracted her hand just before the cold rain could make her exposed flesh numb. She slid the window shut and returned to the broken world she inhabited.
She took a deep breath, inhaling the last of the cool fall air that lingered in front of the window. Her soul was weary and tired, she felt as though a weight had been on her shoulders from birth, a burden she carried within, which now, at seventeen years old, she searched for a way to relinquish. She had run from her past to a present where the sun shone like a gray bulb dangling like something out of a film noir, but it was brighter than the shadow she'd crawled from. But, she reconciled, we all have scars, we're all just wounded souls which have been stitched shut so that the bleeding can stop. The ideas brought a few tears to her eyes, they shot down her cheeks like bullets and fell to the sheets of her worn gray bed. A bed, if you could consider it such, more of a cot really, but what could an orphanage provide other than slightly better than poverty conditions.
She stood, her one piece gray rag of an outfit shook with the shivers she felt as cold raced up her bare feet. But something else in the air caused Solara to shudder and tremble like a leaf, a beautiful leaf as it is shaken free from its branch and begins its descent into the unknown. An energy sparked around in the air, Solara could feel it, almost taste the change. She looked around at the sparse and worn countenances of the other girls, but none seemed to grasp that anything was off. Was she the only one who could feel it? Her senses couldn't have been lying, they hadn't lied to her yet.
Something was indeed amiss, but Solara was not the only one who felt it reverberating in the air. Across the city Thompson Amos stood in the rain and looked at the sky. As though invoking spiritual help he stared into the sky wondering what had changed. At the beginning he thought it was indigestion, but whatever it was he had to go, far away from his dysfunctional family. His step-father had been poison to the home he'd once called utopia, now he called the library home. Now he stood outside the library in the rain, letting the drops speak to him, and tell him their angst. What was it? He felt it tug at his heart, pulling on him, he could feel it permeating, flowing in the air, digging into his skin to afflict every pore with a strange sensation. He felt it leading him, and he began to follow.
Across the city the rain was just beginning to fall, this time it was heavy, in droves, and it woke the sleeping girl. Vera's eyes strained open, revealing their dazzling shade of sage. She too felt it.
"John," she said shaking her sleeping boyfriend awake, "what is that?"
"It's just the rain, go to sleep."
"No, not the rain, the message it carries."
"What?" John asked, his concern for her made him sit straight up.
Vera stood and approached the window and put her hand to the frozen pane.
"What are you trying to say?" she said aloud.
Elsewhere two more had sensed something strange about the rain which dampened their city. One sat in a classroom, listening to a private instructor. This was Alexander Fearson, as he stood on the baseball field. He was the talk of the town, star athlete and all around popular guy. But something had distracted Xander, and it wasn't the usual petty distraction, it was something he could feel deep within him. He'd hardly ever felt his soul so affected by anything, especially such an enigma as now faced him. He stood straight up, his eyes on the rain.
The other, Anselm Uriel was currently standing, looking straight at the produce in the super-market. He hadn't eaten in over a day, and his sticky fingers were suddenly growing a taste for apples, but something drew him away from his five finger discount. Something within him told him that soon it would all be okay, if he just followed his heart.
Solara decided to brave the cold, she walked from the haven she'd called home for seventeen years and into the cool autumn air. No shoes, no home, just a feeling and a hope which refused to be killed. She walked forward towards the feeling, the rain splashed against her skin. But it did not hurt or sting, instead she smiled. She needed feeling, she'd felt so numb in her prison, and now freedom had come with the rain, and she would let the flood wash her away.
Meanwhile Thompson was getting close, he could feel it, the air wasn't just excited, it was shocking him along his path. Down three alley ways, and into the slums, there he found a door built into the ground, more of a vent really. The energy stopped poking him and hummed about inaudibly, he reached down and grasped the metallic handle, wet with rain, and threw the cellar door open. A gentle rush of air, air feeling eons old, drifted out and into his nostrils, and he knew, this was no false hope.
Thompson's expression was one of amazement and anticipation as he energetically leapt into the hole and continued his journey. The ground was moist, and the air was dank and stale, but Thompson's fiery hope refused to be doused by the environment, as the electrified air continued leading him. Solara too felt led by something in the air. As she ambled towards her destination, the rain continually beating down on her, she thought back on her rough life and scarred past, and realized that all her hope now dwelt in the future, and on this feeling she had deep in her soul. Indeed they were all being drawn to the same place by the same unseen celestial hand.
Thompson's eyes grew wide in the dark to aid his sight, in the distance he could detect the faintest glimmer of light at the end of tunnel, this bolstered his hope greatly. His feet grew heavier with each step, and the energy in the air grew stronger and more insistent. He knew he was coming drawing near as the buzzing air suddenly silenced. There he found a massive door. It must have towered over him thirty feet up into the air.
He pressed his hands to it to assess whether it could be open. It felt heavy, dangerously heavy, and seemed to be carved of some type of stone or marble, but none he'd ever encountered before. Even stranger were the odd carvings his hands encountered while feeling about in the blackness. Through the crack in the door a miniscule ray of light managed to pass through, this sparked Thompson's insatiable curiosity. He knew that on the other side there was some type of light source, and therefore there was probably some type of intelligent life or at least a mystery worth delving into. Thompson began to push at the door with all his might, endeavoring to finish the journey, but the door didn't so much as budge. He slid to the ground, his back to the door, in a despondent slump, managing to kick up a fit of dust as he contacted the Earth.
It was at this point that his ears began to pick up a peculiar sound. At first it was only very faint, hardly audible, and all but indefinable. He strained his ears as the sound grew louder; footsteps. Someone was coming. He couldn't tell at first how far they were, or how many, but he knew it was multiple persons, and he knew they had entered the tunnel. Thompson stood, at first a bit scared that he was in trouble, but Solara's friendly voice greeted his ears, and vanquished his fear.
"Hello, anybody down here?"
Thompson strained his eyes, in the distance he swore he could outline several human forms, one of which, he immediately recognized, was the source of the voice he'd heard.
"I am," he answered, once he was satisfied those who approached were friendly enough, "My name's Thompson, I was led here, by this strange…"
"Sensation" the same voice filled in his remaining word.
"Yes, you too?"
"And all of those who are with me, I assume. My name is Solara Phoenix."
Finally they arrived, staring at each other in the dark, not able to greet each other, shake hands, or even make eye contact.
"The door," Thompson spoke softly, "the door is shut. I couldn't open it."
"Then let us try, together." Xander suggested, stepping forward
They all put their hands to the door in unison and pushed.
"It's too heavy!!" Vera yelled, coughing from the dust in the air.
"No, no, it's opening!" Anselm announced, as the door did indeed open, but not by the might of their hands, but by the might of a hand unseen. A rush of air pushed them into the room, and the door was slammed shut behind them. All was silent for a while, then they rose to their feet, and began to look around in the dark. Thompson's eyes searched for the light he'd detected earlier, there in the center of the room was one solitary, oil-lit candle, illuminating the tiniest waft of air about itself. Thompson was mystified, not by the light itself, but by all the mysteries and possibilities this tiny light projected. For surely this light had to have been lit by human hands, by hands at least, and recently.
"What is that god-awful smell?" Xander asked holding his nose.
"That, my new friend, is the stench of illumination," Thompson said throwing a pebble which knocked the candle over, spilling it's flammable contents along a sort of trough carved in the stone, and where the oil went the flame and it's inherent light followed. The carved trench seemed to spiral endlessly, and Thompson feared there would not be enough oil to fill the entire thing, but miraculously enough the whole structure was full in a matter of minutes, and now the whole room was lit by light. They met each others faces for the first time. Immediately Thompson pinpointed Solara from the rest, but he was surprised to see her dressed in rags. Still he thought she was beautiful. He walked over to her and shook her hand with a bright smile.
"Thompson no doubt?" She said, returning a brief smile.
After greetings they decided to get down to business, and examined the room with their eyes intently. The room was circular in shape and had a sort of roof, over all but it's center, that was held up by columns which bore strange carvings like those they'd felt on the opposite side of the door. Stranger still was that the center of the room continued up for hundreds of feet in a cylinder, it seemed to stretch to the surface and beyond, up through into the air, and yet it could not be seen on ground level.
They gathered round and marveled at it, for a moment filled with a child like wonder they all had, for one reason or another, abandoned in their teen years. The stone along it's sides seemed even more ancient than the strange rock the cavern was carved out of. Thompson's curiosity was still unshakable as he peered up into the unknown, his eyes fixed on that untouchable patch of sky which sat just above the vertical tunnel.
"If only there was someway to scale up the wall," Thompson said, the others still running their eyes over the mysteries of the room.
"There has to be a way up, how could they have built it without a way to get up there. If only there were stairs, or a ladder."
Thompson sat for a while and rubbed his chin like some sort of philosopher. Something caught his attention, engraved on the spiraling candelabra were some strange, dust entrenched, hieroglyphs. Thompson bent down and gently blew the dust from them, he ran his fingers over them as he examined them visually for any hints to their meaning. They seemed to be some sort of directions, telling him something, he hoped they could explain a method of ascent. He sat for about five minutes, wracking his mind to decipher the strange symbols. Solara observed him for a moment before approaching to see if she could assist him. Thompson shied away from her help at first, but her smile melted away his anxious nature and they tried to find the answer together.
Solara agreed that the carvings were an ancient guide, but she too had trouble guessing at their meaning, she sat to rest upon a ledge, and the solution presented itself as the ground began to quake. The Earth trembled beneath them and small stones were rattled from the ceiling, everyone looked at Solara for answers but her eyes held the same confusion and fright as their own. Thompson's face contained two emotions, one was worry and the other was wonder, as the miraculous happened. The spiral-candelabra, filled with fire, began to rise up towards the surface, unraveling spiral by spiral into a magnificent stone staircase, which stretched up the tube to the surface.
All was still as the stone chamber and the anxious heart's settled into peace, as the smoke cleared they gathered around marveling at the spiral staircase that had assembled itself before their eyes. The flame which had once danced in the candelabra now lit the way as a fiery banister along the side of the stairs. Thompson looked to Solara, but her smile was gone, and the fire in her eyes was no longer encouraging him to bravery, she simply looked back at him, bewildered and unsure.
"
Well?" Xander asked, impatiently, "I say we go up there and take a look, who's with me?"
"I'm with you," John answered quickly.
"Anybody else??"
"I'm up for it." Anselm said raising his hand.
Solara and Thompson exchanged a look.
"I'll go," Thompson answered loudly.
"Count me in too." Solara responded next.
"You guys aren't going anywhere without me," Vera piped.
"Well, lets get a move on then, umm… Solara, you made the stairs, so, you go first."
"Thank's Xander." Solara remarked sarcastically, making her way up onto the first few stairs, making sure she had good footing and did not touch the flame engulfed railing.
Anselm was next after her, beating Thompson to the stairs by only a moment. Then Xander, Vera, and John brought up the rear. Solara could hardly breath as she climbed the supernatural staircase, the air was changing almost entirely, and she felt as though she would faint as she climbed higher and higher into the column. Finally after what felt like an eternity, she reached the zenith and poked her head into the Digital World. What she saw her eyes scarcely believed, it wasn't anything that impressive by normal standards, but the fact that she'd lived her entire life in the city orphanage made what she saw even more incomprehensible. The ground was flat, a plain stretched into the distance with forested patches of land every two hundred yards or so, the ground looked somewhat wet, and all the grass was dried and brown and bent down as though it'd been trampled. Solara stood, in awe and confusion. How could a field such as this exist in a city, what was going on?
"Hey, what's the hold up?" Xander yelled up to Solara, who promptly grasped hold of the column's rim, which protruded into the Digital World, and hoisted herself over it, smacking hard into the Digital mud. She stood up immediately and brushed herself off and continued examining her strange surroundings. Anselm popped over the edge next, landing on his feet. Years of living on the street had made him agile and quick-footed. He too couldn't believe his eyes, and actually began rubbing them in a futile attempt to remove the mirage he was convinced he had to be seeing. Thompson was next, he slipped over the edge and to the ground, but nearly slipped in the mud upon landing. His mind and heart began to race at unfathomable speeds when he saw where they were.
"Solara," he said, his breathing becoming quick and shallow, "where the… where, what?"
"I don't know Tom, I just don't know. It's like we've traveled miles, out into farmlands or something. I don't know how."
Two questions burned into Thompson's mind; where in heaven's name were they and, why was Solara calling him Tom?