Disclaimer: I don't own Neopets. I am a loyal player, though!
The Origin of the Rainbow Swirly Thing
The Lost Desert, 3,000 years ago...
Kaera the Kyrii sat in front of her canvas, frowning.
"This painting," she muttered to herself, looking at it with distaste, "is so bad, it's a disgrace."
Sighing, Kaera grabbed the canvas and lay it face down on the ground to hide what she had painted on it. The picture was indeed ugly; it looked like nothing more than a murky, runny puddle of yuckiness.
The problem was not that Kaera didn't have any good ideas; she had those in spades. In fact, her mind was a wonderland of fantastic visions and magical scenes. It was just that she couldn't seem to express them well.
It also wasn't from lack of trying or practice that Kaera's work didn't turn out well. Every week, after getting her allowance, the Kyrii would rush out and buy supplies (yes, they did have art supplies back then). She would then paint feverishly all weekend, concentrating on the images in her head. But no matter what she did, every painting looked exactly the same as the one she had just finished.
Trying to forget her latest failure, Kaera stood up and left her room. Padding across the dirt floor, she wondered, as she did after every disappointment of this kind, if her ideas were meant to be shared at all. Maybe, she thought, as she did every week, painting just wasn't her destiny. Maybe her destiny was to be a simple shopkeeper, like her mother, who had raised her since her father died long ago.
"Well, even if I do follow my mother's path," said Kaera optimistically, "at least I'll have my imagination to keep me entertained when there's no customers around."
Kaera's mother, Kaya, poked her head out of the door to the kitchen, looking at her daughter quizzically. "Did you say something, honey?" she asked.
Kaera blushed. She hadn't realized that someone had been listening in the next room. "Um, I was just muttering to myself..."
Kaya looked somewhat worried. "Kaera, I'm starting to get a bit concerned," she said carefully. "You always seem so quiet and introverted. And now you're talking to yourself."
The younger Kyrii rolled her eyes. Why did her mother insist on bothering her? She always wanted to talk, was always trying to bring Kaera out of her shell. It was starting to get to the point where Kaera felt like she had a stalker. Sure, she had used to do things with Kaya all the time, but that was when she was little. Lately, she felt like she was constantly avoiding her own mother. She felt a bit bad about it; but she had to cut the apron strings somehow.
"Mo-om! There's nothing wrong with me. I like being quiet and introverted. And I don't 'talk to myself' on a regular basis or anything." The last part was a bit of a lie; Kaera did talk to herself quite often, but only because it helped her organize her thoughts, not because she was crazy.
"I didn't say there was anything wrong with you," Kaya continued calmly. "I'm just thinking that maybe you should try something new. For example, you could take a nice walk this afternoon. It's perfect weather outside."
Kaera had no interest in taking a walk. No matter what her mother said, weather in the Lost Desert could never be perfect. It was always too hot, and plus, besides the handful of shops and houses scattered across the sand, there was nowhere to walk to. She opened her mouth to point these things out, to try and get her endlessly pestering mother off her back, but Kaya was too far ahead of her.
"I've just been to the market, and I got a fresh Ptolymelon," the mother Kyrii said excitedly. "You could take that with you. Those things go bad so quickly, I won't be able to serve it for dinner."
That was it. Kaera knew that there was no way out. She nodded her head, feeling defeated and very irritated. "Fine, mom. Go ahead and pack the Ptolymelon."
Twenty minutes later, Kaera was trudging across the desert that was her home, lugging her heavy "snack" in a knapsack. Along her way, she saw the everyday goings-on of her village. In a small tent, a hooded Blumaroo was playing a flute, charming a pack of Wadjets. A small Chia was standing over a Tchea Fruit, reading aloud from a scroll; he looked annoyed as the fruit stubbornly remained the same, despite his spells. A young Kougra was playing with a toy Arrow Launcher; he was chased away by an angry Pteri when one of his arrows went through the open window of her little mud-brick house.
Still, despite her bored outlook on them, the Desert Kyrii liked to imagine the events of her homeland as fantasy scenes. With the power of her mind, she could turn just about anything into an exciting, magical moment. As she watched the everyday occurences, her imagination transformed the dancing Wadgets into a mighty snake-army, commanded by a lone mage. The growing Tchea Fruit became a sentient being, complete with snarling teeth, that terrorized the villagers. And the spat between the Kougra and Pteri exploded into an epic duel, with the fate of the world at stake.
As her mind ran wild, Kaera's body carried her to the top of a sand dune. She wished that she had brought her paints and a canvas. Here, she could see the entirety of her small world; and perhaps real-life models, rather than just mental pictures, would allow her inner artist to finally break free.
For a few seconds, Kaera was content to just stand and smile at her home. But then she turned around, facing the other side of the hill. It was completely empty; for no particular reason, the small gathering of people that was her town had never expanded past its own little valley. Kaera stared. She had been around this area many times on various errands; surely she had to have seen this place before. Yet, this felt like a new discovery, this blank stretch of sand. And it was one that she wanted to be a part of.
Stepping carefully to avoid tripping in the soft sand, she hurried down the dune-side, her footprints disappearing before they were even fully formed. She hadn't wanted to take this walk, but now that she was here, surrounded by sand on all sides, she was enjoying herself. It seemed like the kind of thing a sensitive artist would do, and she would do anything to be known as a sensitive artist.
Coming to the end of the slope, Kaera plopped down on some flat, hard sand. She was amazed. It was the first time in her life that she had not felt hot. It dawned on her that the heat of the desert was not from the environment, but from the hustle and bustle of people.
In addition, it was quiet. Of course, Kaera had known quiet before; late at night, for instance, when everyone else was asleep. But at those times, the quiet had been diluted by the presence of others, even if they were unconscious. Here, there was nobody.
Once she got used to the new sensations, Kaera began to feel overwhelmingly excited. She knew, just knew, that this place was magical. It was like there was something in the air, something that unleashed her imagination and freed her mind. It wasn't just the quiet that let her think more clearly here. It felt like a place where anything could happen, even though it was nothing but a small valley between sand dunes.
Kaera stayed all afternoon. She didn't eat; she didn't need to. She just thought, sometimes pacing the perimeter of the special little place, others just sitting and staring at the sky. When at last she decided that she had to leave for home, to avoid worrying her already-paranoid mother even more, she heard a strange noise behind her. Shocked by the breaking of her precious silence, she turned around immediately.
What she saw made her gasp. The sound had come from a Faerie--a being common to pets today, but completely unknown to anyone back then. Faerieland, after all, was still a well-kept secret. This particular Faerie was of the Light element. She was beautiful; Kaera marvelled at her petite features, from her gossamer wings to her smooth yellow gown. The Faerie was only about the size of the pet's paw, and yet Kaera felt that she was a thing to be greatly respected.
"Wh-wh-who are you?" stuttered Kaera.
"Excuse me if I frightened you," apologized the Faerie, her voice as perfect as her appearance. "I am a Faerie--a guardian of elemental magic. My name is Aidia."
"I'm Kaera," Kaera managed to say calmly, even though her heart was beating like mad. "Um, I beg your pardon, but why are you here?"
Aidia's eyes sparkled. "I have a gift for you."
Kaera knew it wasn't polite to be greedy, but she could barely contain her excitement. A gift from a strange, magical being--she had no idea what it could be, let alone why Aidia would want to give it to her. "For me? But why?"
"Because we Faeries believe that it's important to nurture those like you." Aidia's voice remained smooth and melodious, but she looked pleased that Kaera was excited. "Those with strong minds and hearts. You have a gift, Kaera, it just needs to be drawn out."
A bit confused, the Kyrii only nodded, waiting for more information.
"So I want you to use this," the Light Faerie continued, pulling something from the folds of her dress and offering it to Kaera.
Kaera took the object, trying not to snatch it too quickly. It was a large pendant, small enough to hold in her palm but too heavy to wear around her neck. In the middle was a multicolored swirl of paint. Its odd look made identification difficult, but after careful examination, Kaera had an insight.
"It's an artist's pallette!" she cried. "But it's...different."
"You are correct." Aidia smiled. "This pallette's paints obey not the hand, but the mind. With this, unleash your imagination."
The last part of Aidia's sentence faded out. The Faerie was alread disappearing, shrinking from a small human into a speck of yellow light, and then vanishing altogether. Kaera was left dumbfounded, holding the strange pallette and trying to make sense of Aidia's words.
It didn't take long before Kaera jumped to an exciting conclusion. Could this be the key to getting her thoughts, her dreams, and everything else in her head to take phsyical form? Would painting with this odd swirl of colors transform her work from puddles of paint to amazing masterpieces? The Kyrii couldn't wait to find out. Of course, sensitive artists always walked and never rushed, but today, Kaera dashed all the way home.
"Kaera, where have you been??" Kaya demanded of her daughter the moment she walked in the door.
"Mom, have you forgotten already? You told me to take a walk. So I took one." Kaera was impatient to try out her new paints. Besides, she was tired from walking through the heavy sand, and didn't feel much like talking.
A muscle jumped in Kaya's face. "Don't be sarcastic with me. You were gone for hours! Your father and I have been worried sick!"
Kaera, realizing she wasn't going to get off easy, searched around for a lie. "I was at that Wadjet tamer's house," she said quickly. "He was showing me how he charms them, and he kind of droned on. I wanted to come home earlier, but the time got away from me." The Kyrii watched her mother carefully. It was a lame lie to cover up such a long absence, but it would do in a pinch.
Much to Kaera's relief, Kaya's face went from enraged to merely annoyed. "Well, you're home safe now, so I guess that's fine," she sighed. "But I'm afraid you won't be able to eat your supper." Kaera followed her mother's gaze to their small stone dinner table, where a plate of browning fruit sat at Kaera's place. There was no way to keep things fresh back in those times; the meal had probably been sitting there for hours.
"I'm sorry," said Kaera, looking at her feet. She knew how her parents hated to waste food, especially good fruit like this; and was starting to feel guilty for the trouble she had caused. "I guess I'll go to my room now." She tried to get around her mother, eager to get to her room, where she could finally sit down in front of her canvas again. There would be time tomorrow to make it up to Kaya, after all.
"Kaera..." Kaya started, but then trailed off. "Never mind. Go ahead." But if Kaera had turned around before making a beeline for her bedroom door, she would have seen a sad, troubled look on Kaya's face.
Kaera sat in front of her easel, trembling.
Her brush, dipped in yellow paint from the strange pallette, was poised just above the plain white paper. It felt strange to be sitting here, in such familiar surroundings, and yet holding something that was obviously magical. Shortly after the young Kyrii had gotten some time alone, the shock of all that had happened hit her like a ton of bricks. Now she was both practically dying to try out her gift, but also afraid that the painting would turn out badly like all the others, and the encounter with Aidia would turn out to be just a funny dream she had while sitting in the desert.
Trying to control her shaking hand, Kaera closed her eyes and called up yet another image of her seemingly boundless mind. It was one of those that she'd imagined while in the city. She envisioned the battle of the Kougra and Pteri, the glaring sun beating on their backs, the sand flying up around them. Remembering Aidia's words about the paints obeying the mind, she concentrated on her vision, rather than her hands.
So intense was her focus, that she didn't even realize her hand was moving. Whe she noticed, her eyes opened in surprise; what she saw then stunned her even more.
Her paws flew to her mouth. "I can't believe it--it worked..." she gasped as she stared at the gorgeous masterpiece that had somehow made it to her paper.
That night, the Kyrii stayed up late, her brush in her hand and her eyes out of focus, untouched by the effects of sleep deprivation. How could anyone sleep when the most important thing in their life was happening right before their eyes? After she finished the painting of the Kougra and Pteri, she did another, and another. The work that had once been frustrating became effortless.
Best of all, no matter how much paint Kaera used, the pallette never changed. The magical paints never dried up or ran out. Her room was dark without the aid of electrical light that would be invented thousands of years later; but she only laughed at this, knowing that she didn't need light to create things anymore. As she tuned out the world around, it felt almost as if she was in her special place in the desert again, and that brought her even more joy.
But even the greatest happiness cannot override the need for sleep, and Kaera succumbed to it long before she was ready to rest. She dozed off, surrounded by several new paintings, ideas for yet more art dancing in her dreams.
"Wake up, girl!!! And hurry!!"
Kaera's eyes sprung open. Something was wrong. First of all, the voice that had woken her did not belong to either of her parents; it was a Kacheek she didn't recognize. Secondly, the sun was much too hot and bright, and in the Lost Desert, that was saying a lot. It was more red-orange than golden yellow, and it wasn't so much streaming into the room than drenching it with a tidal wave. Finally, although the Kacheek was clearly yelling loudly, Kaera could barely make out the words over an unknown and deafening roar in her ears.
"Didn't you hear me, girl!? The village is on fire! We have to run!" The Kacheek grabbed Kaera and started pulling her to her feet.
The village was on fire. The words resonated in her head, bouncing around and around in an endless echo. Now that she knew what was happening, it made sense. The bright, hot light wasn't the sun at all; in fact, it was still dark out. The thunderous roar was the fire too, the sound that it made as it fed on the home of so many people. And now that Kaera could focus, her senses also detected the screams of the villagers and the smell of things burning. Fear consumed her; but with the Kacheek's insistent tugging on her arm, she managed to get to her feet.
"What--how--why--" Kaera tried to speak, but her rescuer only shook his head and pulled her toward the door. She only just managed to grab her magic pallette off her bedside table before fleeing. Together, they dashed down the hall and into the open air.
If the Kyrii had felt that the heat was uncomfortable before, it was unbearable now. Inside the house, the sturdy mud-bricks had shielded most of its contents from the flames; the only way for the fire to get in was through the windows, slowing the path of destruction. Outside, however, the freely circulating air made the blaze a thousand times worse. And the screaming was much louder now, the screamers' fleeing shapes sillouhetted against the wall of red.
"Where do we go??? cried Kaera.
"Up there!" The Kacheek pointed to the top of one of the many dunes. It was the only place where the sky was black, not red. There were other shapes up there; they were moving more slowly than those caught in the blaze. The two pets fled, each using one paw to hold on to each other, and the other paw to cover their faces from the sparks.
As they closed in on the hill, Kaera spotted the young Chia who had been trying to transform the Tchea fruit earlier in the day. He was wrapped inside the canvas of a burning tent, his desperate kicking only making the fire worse. She turned around and tried to run to him. How could she just leave him there? But her newfound Kacheek friend wouldn't allow it. Without a word, he yanked her back towards safety.
"We can't just leave him, surely we can--"
"There's no time!"
Kaera took one last look at the Chia. She would remember the look on his face, the look of terror and pain all mingled together, for the rest of her life.
But the hill with the survivors on it was just up ahead. As Kyrii and Kacheek climbed, their fight-or-flight instincts slowly abated, and by the time they reached the top, they realized that they were both completely exhausted. Collapsing onto the grass, the Kacheek wiped the sweat from his brow. Kaera panted hard, every so often shaking a stray spark from her clothes. Once she caught her breath, she didn't thank the unknown Kacheek or even ask his name, but simply stared down at the burning wreckage. Her house was on the side of the village closest to the hill; she had been lucky. Others, she could see, were caught in a miasma of flames. Trying to reach safety from their homes on the far side, where the fire was the worst, they didn't even have a chance. Tears flowed down her cheeks, slowly at first, then faster and faster until she was sobbing.
"It's okay," said her companion, putting his arm around her. It made Kaera feel somewhat better, even though it wasn't true. "I don't know if this is the time for introductions, but my name's Saneek."
"I'm Kaera," she replied, gulping.
"Some other survivors are coming over," said Saneek, squinting into the darkness. "Do you know any of them?"
Kaera stared hard. Indeed, there was a small group moving toward them. At its head, she recognized Paesek, an Aisha and a friend of her mother. "Yes. That Aisha is a family friend."
"Oh, good." Saneek sounded relieved. "Look, please don't think I'm trying to ditch you or anything, but I need to find my family. Is it okay if I leave you with her for a while?"
She smiled at him, realizing that he was very kind, to rescue her when he had others to worry about. "Of course. I'll be just fine." Obviously, nobody could be "just fine" after such a disaster, but Kaera reasoned that if Paesek was here, then Kaya must be around somewhere. And having her mother around, even if they had grown apart recently, would make the whole thing much more bearable.
Saneek nodded and hurried away. Kaera got up off the sandy hilltop and ran up to Paesek, who, like everyone else, looked sad and scared. The Aisha's face brightened a little, though, when she saw Kaera.
"Oh, Kaera. Thank goodness you're safe. Where is your mother?"
Kaera was confused. "I don't know. I thought she would be with you."
Paesek shook her head. "She's not. I've been looking. I assumed she'd be with you. After all, she'd never leave without helping you escape, too."
Kaera's confusion began to turn to worry. Why didn't her mother wake her up? Why had it been Saneek, and not Kaya, who had led her to the safety of the sand dune? If Kaya had left the house, wouldn't she have made sure to take her only daughter with her?
"Don't worry," said Paesek quickly, sensing Kaera's mounting fear. "I'm sure she's around. Let's just wait here for now."
Kaera nodded and sat down again. By now, the flames were naturally dying down, having burnt everything flamable to the ground. Most of what could be seen of the village was black, both from the dark night and the pitch-black ashes that remained. Even the mud-brick houses, which had managed to stay standing, had been charred, changing their light brown color to the hue of meat left over the spit far too long.
As the night wore on, Kaera met many other survivors. She rejoiced many times during that night, for friends that had made it; and she cried many times too, when she heard the news of friends who had not. And for Kaya, of whom she heard no news at all, she had only strong faith that her mother would not, could not, ever leave her. Even though it was odd that she had not found Kaya yet, this faith kept her going. So although the next surprise in a nearly endless chain of them weighed heavy on Kaera, she allowed sleep to overtake her for the second time.
In the morning, reality was as harsh as the cold, clear light of day.
It's first blow came the second Kaera woke up, when she finally understood that many of the people she had known her whole life were gone. In the confusion of the night, fatigue had numbed the pain of loss. Now, that force field was gone, and the full force of the truth's blows made the Kyrii barely want to get up.
And when she did force herself to arise, her only reward was a second wave of reality, in the form of the village's burned remains. They had blended into the darkness just hours before; but now, the sun revealed every last scorched square inch.
These sights ripped Kaera's heart in two. It made her feel as if she had been robbed by one of the nomadic desert thieves, only it was her entire world, not just a few belongings, that had been taken. Yet, any feelings of helplessness or pain that she might have felt before were dwarfed when she was struck, and finally knocked down, by reality's final attack.
It came when she was sitting by one of the numerous fires that had been built on the flat top of the dune, huddled together with two friends. They weren't speaking, just crying quietly. Since the sun had rose, that was all that anyone had done. It seemed that everyone, no matter how young or old, had lost someone or something. And so, when Kaera sensed someone standing over her, she looked up, startled. It was Saneek. His face was difficult to read.
"Oh, it's you," she said. It wasn't a very friendly greeting, but she was too drained for pleasantries.
"Kaera," he said carefully, "we have the final list of survivors. The last group struggled up here a few hours after you went to sleep last night."
"Oh!" She stood up quickly. "That must mean that you saw my mother, then. Where is she? Is she hurt?"
"Actually, Kaera," Saneek continued, his voice quiet, "your mother, Kaya, is not on the list."
Something deep inside Kaera was shaken. "What? What do you mean!?"
Saneek looked like he would rather be anywhere else. "I hate to be the one to tell you this. But it is apparent that Kaya did not survive the blaze..."
"No!!!" Kaera stepped closer to the timid Kacheek, her face inches from his. "That can't be right! She wouldn't leave me!!"
Even as she denied it, though, Kaera knew that what Saneek was saying was true. Her mother, the only one she had left, was gone.
Saneek stepped back, then put his hand on Kaera's shoulder. "Please, Kaera, try to understand what I'm saying--"
"Just leave me alone!" The Kyrii screamed, shoving the smaller pet to the ground. Not even caring if he was okay, she took off running. She didn't know where she was going; she didn't care. She fled down the dune, her sandals falling off; she sprinted across the smoking remains of the village, not feeling the fiery embers beneath her feet or hearing her friends calling after her. She struggled up yet another hill, going so fast that the deep sand couldn't suck her in. And all the time she was running, memories of her mother flashed through her mind, along with the inevitable "if only"s. If only she had spent more time with her mother. If only she had had the patience to talk to Kaya for a while the night before, instead of staying up all night painting. If only she had told Saneek, when he was rescuing her from her house, that Kaya might still be inside.
These ruminations might have gone on forever if Kaera hadn't tripped. But trip she did, taking a flying tumble and rolling down the other side of the dune she had been climbing, her limbs flailing wildly and sand flying everywhere. When she finally landed, with bruises on her body and sand in her mouth, she felt like she had just been physically and emotionally tortured.
Throughout everything that had happened in the night, all the death, all the pain, Kaera had kept the thought of seeing her mother again soon, and it had helped her through her ordeal. Now that this, her last hope, was shattered, she wanted to die herself. It wasn't fair. None of it was fair.
She didn't know how long she lie there, sobbing, swallowing sand as she did so. Even when her wailing stopped, it was from exhaustion, not from calming down. But as she was catching her breath, she noticed something familiar in the cool, lonely quiet of the place she was in.
When she looked up, she would have laughed if she hadn't been so heartbroken. Here she was, back in the place where she had met Aidia. That wasn't even a full day ago, and yet enough big events had happened to fill a decade. In the time since she had last been here, she had created the paintings of her dreams, had her home razed to the ground, watched a person burn before her eyes, and lost her mother. She wept again at the thought of it, but this time they were bitter tears, not frantic sobs. As she tried to wipe them away, she heard a familiar, melodic voice behind her.
"Oh, Kaera...I knew I'd find you here."
Kaera turned around. "Aidia? Wh-what are you doing here?"
The Light Faerie sighed. There were tears in her eyes, too. "I came to warn the villagers. But it was already too late..."
The Kyrii's eyes widened. "You mean...you knew?"
Aidia shook her head. "Not when I first spoke to you, no. But when I returned home, I recieved news from our queen of a horrible catastrophe coming this way. I flew straight back, but as you can see...I wasn't fast enough."
Kaera sniffled at the hopelessness of it all. "Aidia...the fire...I..I lost my mother..."
The young Faerie looked at her Kyrii friend with pity. "I know. When I didn't see either her or you at the survivor's camp, I came to find you. I have an offer to make you."
"What is it?" At this point, Kaera was willing to accept anything.
"I want to bring you back to my home, in Faerieland above the clouds. You could live in the Faerie Castle, and paint or do whatever you wanted all day long. What do you think?"
Kaera thought. She thought of all that she had lost; her belongings, her entire family, and many of her friends. But this desert was her home, and she still had so much here: many people that she knew were still alive, and they would miss her if she went away. And she still had her art. She still had the magic pallette that Aidia herself and given, having grabbed it just in time as Saneek pulled her from her house. She found it funny that, before the fire, she had always wanted to leave this place forever; but now, even after all that had happened, she found herself wanting to stay.
"No," she said quietly. "I want to stay here."
Aidia looked very surprised. "Are you sure? I won't ask again."
"Yes," said Kaera again, feeling more sure with every moment. "Aidia, you've already given me far more than I could have asked for. You made my dream come true! I don't need anything else."
"But wouldn't you rather live in Faerieland, then down here, where there are so many bad memories?" Aidia coaxed.
"No," Kaera replied immediately. "The good memories I have of this place far outweigh the bad. I don't want to forget them."
Aidia smiled. "I can tell that I won't be able to convince you. If there's nothing else, then I suppose it's time for me to go."
"One more thing." Kaera smiled. "Thank you for the gift."
"You're very welcome, Kaera. And good luck."
As Kaera's Faerie friend disappeared once again, and for good this time, the young pet didn't regret her choice at all. The pain of her loss might weigh on her a long time; it may even last forever. But she couldn't let that make her run away from her problems. What she'd told Aidia was true: Whether they were good or bad, her memories were a part of her.
Turning to face back toward the camp, back to the friends who were worried, back to Saneek, who deserved an apology, Kaera took her magic pallette from her pocket and looked down at it, smiling.
"Now come on, you rainbow swirly thing," she said to it, her inner speck of hope shining through the sadness. "Let's go make some history."