The Longest Journey

By Draic Kin of the Balance


"Be not afraid of greatness: some are born great, some achieve greatness and some have greatness thrust upon them." –William Shakespeare, The Twelfth Night


The room was filled only with the crackle of the wood and comforting glow of the fireplace. An elderly woman sat in a chair, rocking back and forth as the fireplace gave her and her guests warmth, comfort and a sense of serenity. Her guests lounged on the floor before her, a young man and woman in their early teens. She smiled warmly at them; she could remember when she had been like them, young and ready to face the world and eager to learn what there was to know. How I miss it, she thought to herself. Her time was coming to an end, and she wanted nothing more than to pass on her wisdom and spend time with those she cherished.

"So, you've come to hear me tell a story, have you?" she said to them.

"If you please, we would love to hear one of your stories. You have seen so much, you have lived so long," the young girl—Jeyne, her name was—said enthusiastically. The old woman chuckled.

"So good of you to remind me of my age, child," she replied. "No, don't worry—I am an old woman but I've lived a long and fulfilling life. And I do have stories to tell. Which story would you like to hear?"

"A true one," Jeyne said. "A true story."

"All my stories are true, child. There are enough fairy tales in the world already; there is no need for me to make up more, believe me."

"Tell us a story of the Balance, then," suggested Jeyne's friend. Elijah, his name was. The elder smiled at him. Many stories were about the Balance, some of them true, others mere myths.

"You want the story of the Balance? Oh, that's a long story, child and not one I'd venture to tell at this hour. But perhaps I could tell you a story I heard a long time ago ... a story that became the crucial turning point in the history of the Balance and that set in motion the wheels that, to this day, are still turning."

"Very well. This story, like all good stories, begins where it ends, in a tower, in a realm that is no more."


In a tower, a glimmering disc turned. The symbol in the center shimmered red and blue. Two dragons carved on the edge of the rotating disc chased each other, eyes aglow. Suspended in a beam in a chamber atop the tower, a man awakened, his eyes reflecting the eerie glow of the beam before turning into the normal eyes of a human. The beam faded away as he was gently lowered to the ground. As he left the chamber, the symbol darkened and faded to grey. Elsewhere, in another world, streams of hovercrafts flowed sleekly in the sky of an immense modern city. Skyscrapers reached loftily into the sky, casting smaller buildings into insignificance. In her apartment, April Ryan lay asleep in her bed, roaming the subconscious realm of dreams. She stirred, disturbed in her rest, and when she opened her eyes, she found herself looking up into the sky, any and all signs of her bedroom gone.

Why can't I get a decent night's sleep without screaming from a hellish nightmare at four in the morning? She rose to her feet, taking in her surroundings. She was near the edge of a cliff that oversaw the horizon. The land stretched out before her, offering her a taste of a world unlike any she'd ever seen before. Tall spires of rock and crags loomed, turning and twisting formlessly. Stars twinkled and gleamed faintly in the sky as the setting sun on the horizon slowly withdrew. It was beautiful enough to be on a post card, but then again, reality didn't offer such sights. In the distance, a large dark cloud loomed. It looked like a storm was heading her way. Lightning flashed, thunder booming. I'd rather not get struck by lightning, April mused. She cautiously peered over the edge of the cliff; for miles, she could see nothing but clouds. Great, just great. Backing away, she had barely formed another thought when a tremor shook the ground. She stumbled, leaning against a nearby tree for balance. The tree appeared to extend from the precipice. What the hell was going on?

A cry pierced the air, and an egg descended from a pile of nearby stones only to rest dangerously close on the tree roots near the cliff's edge. April approached the egg, kneeling down to get a closer view. It was enormous, too big to be an egg from a natural creature, and looked almost…reptilian. There's no way this is reptilian. It's too big. The cry rang out again, and she tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach. Gingerly, she reached out and touched the egg. The cry echoed once more, and she pulled back her hand quickly as she stood up. Had it come from the egg? April turned, looking around for something so she could retrieve the egg. The tree she'd leaned on earlier was withered to the bone. Perhaps she could use a branch? She broke off a twig protruding from the trunk. As fragile as it was, it was better than nothing. The tree groaned, and a ghostly green visage manifested itself in the withered foliage of the tree.

"Oh…the suffering we must endure," the tree said tiredly.

"…What?" stammered April. What is this? What the hell is happening?

"Why do you take such pleasure in torturing us?" April was reeling. None of this made any sense, but then again, in the dream world, nothing made any sense.

"Torturing you? Who are you?" she asked.

"We are the voice of all trees, the spirit of wood and leaf," the tree said. Wood spirits. I suppose that makes sense.

"You're a talking…tree?" April felt that if the tree was human, it would have shaken its head at her in disdain.

"No. A tree does not talk, at least not in your tongue. The tongue of trees is the language of wood, root and leaf," the wood spirit explained.

"Who are you, then?" April pressed.

"Like we said," the spirit said, "we are the voice of all trees. Whenever an injustice is done, we must speak for the tree if we are present." It was only then that it dawned upon her. The branch. I shouldn't have broken the branch off. As if sensing where her mind was, the wood spirit spoke once more. "Oh, what does it matter anyway? There is nothing more to be done for us. We are simply here to provide comfort in the final passing to earth."

"We?" she asked. "I only see one of you."

"We are one with our host, as we are all one spirit, but legion." April shook her head. Even the wood spirit's words weren't making any sense.

"Yeah, um…thanks for clearing that up," she said shortly.

"We do not expect you to understand," the spirit reassured her. "You are human."

"What happened to the tree?" April couldn't help but ask. She had expected the tree to be lush and green, not withered and dead.

"Oh, the pain! As the battle raged, we—"

Battle? "Battle?"

"Between the Mother and black chaos. She was only protecting her child, but it would not back down and the force of their battle shook the mountain. The brook that fed us was led astray and without water, we began to wither and die." April's mind wandered back to the egg. She still knew nothing about it.

"What's the deal with the egg?" she queried.

"Egg?" the spirit asked. "What—oh, of course. The child. Whenever the Mother was absent, we were entrusted with the safety of the child. But now, withered and without strength, we can do nothing to help. We have failed the Mother and we despair. Our shame knows no bounds."

"What about the egg?" she repeated. Did the tree—no, spirit—expect her to leave the egg until the Mother returned, if she returned?

"Oh, it is too late. Without sustenance, we do not have the strength to bring it safely home. We have failed and the earth will know our shame for all time to come."

"Isn't there anything I can do to help?"

"Oh, we do not expect a human to come to our aid." The spirit spat out the word human like it was the plague.

"Lose the attitude, okay?" snapped April. "Just tell me if there's anything I can do." There was a brief silence before the spirit spoke.

"It is futile. We need water, but there is none. Not after the brook changed course."

"I'll find a way. Don't panic," she assured the wood spirit.

"We do not panic. Unlike you, we accept our destiny. If, however, against all odds, you do succeed, we will carry the child safely back into its nest. Do not make a foolish attempt on your own. It would spell certain misery." With that, the spirit vanished. Something caught her eye in the pile of stones near the tree. She bent down and picked up one of the scales, before heading to the brook. Perhaps she could simply change its course. She combined the scale and wig, forming a funnel, and placed it so the brook was redirected to the withering tree. A rush of blue light suddenly engulfed the tree; there was a sigh as the withered leaves sprang forth blossoming and jade on the branches.

Damn. Talk about instant rehab! April rushed back to the tree, hoping that the wood spirit would do something to let her know if they were okay.

"Hello? Hello!" she exclaimed. The spirit appeared once again, much to her relief.

"Leave us be," it snapped.

"Are you okay?"

"We find our strength returned and so we have no time for idle conversation," it said curtly. "We must drink and rejoice."

"Aren't 'we' forgetting something?" she reminded them pointedly. The spirit made no sign it'd heard her.

"Hush. Listen. The song of ancient wood—is it not sweet?" She nodded slowly, her patience wearing thin. Did the Mother know what she was doing when she appointed the spirit to look after her child?

"Sweet, definitely…the baby's probably ready to boogie down as well," she said, coughing at the mention of the child.

"The baby?" the spirit asked. "The egg! Thank the earth, we almost forgot." The roots shifted, and the egg rolled out of sight.

"Shit!" April rushed forward, but her worries were needless, as the roots lifted the egg safely back into the nest. Another shrilling cry came from the egg, and she was startled when it was answered. She could have sworn she caught a glimpse of a large, glowing, silvery-white creature, but she wasn't sure until the creature landed next to the nest. Unsure what she was facing, she quickly backed away. Standing before her was a white dragon. The dragon, unlike so many myths and folklore claimed, was not a terrifying sight to behold. She did not seem to want to harm her at all, and was strangely beautiful. Beautiful and majestic, while carrying a strong power about with her.

It is you, she said softly. You have come. April's brow furrowed in confusion; how did the dragon know her? Why was she expecting her?

"You know me?" How? Why?

April, daughter. I have been waiting for you, she answered.

"Waiting? Why?" April queried. Just when I thought this couldn't get any weirder…

Because it begins here with you. As it always has.

"What do you mean?" April didn't like the sound of any of this. She just wished she would just wake up so she could forget this happened.

The breach and the mending, the pain and the joy, the end of the old and the dawn of the new. A different world. I am the mother of what is, but you—you are the mother of a future that may yet be.

"How will I know?" she asked, hating the trembling in her voice. "How will I know what to do?"

I will guide you and I will protect you, as much as I can. But in the end, you are on your own.

"I'm…I'm afraid," she admitted.

You always were, my child. My daughter. Her voice was not condescending, but gentle and comforting. April took a step closer to the White Dragon, and a deep howl rang out. The White Dragon lifted her head with a cry of anxiety. She curled herself protectively over the egg as April ran to the edge of the cliff. A black shiny pulsating amorphous cloud with a dark aura and flashes of light hovered into sight. As she backed away, it shot forth a streak of bright light at her. She screamed as she fell off the cliff, and everything went dark.