Chapter Thirteen - Days of Rain
Rainy felt so alone out here on the trail, more than she ever thought she could. It wasn’t like the feeling hit her all at once. It had started small, like a tiny shadow in the back of her mind. But now, it was everywhere, filling her thoughts. She couldn’t stop going over everything she’d done to end up here.
Was it all her fault? Had she been selfish for wanting something different, for needing to be different? Maybe if she were more like everyone else, things wouldn’t be this hard. Why couldn’t she just go along with what people expected? She hated the thought, but maybe it really was selfishness that got her here.
The rain started lightly at first, just a few drops. She pulled up her hood, thinking it wouldn’t last long. But it didn’t stop. It got heavier and heavier until it was pouring. The path turned into thick mud that sucked at her boots, and every step felt harder than the last. Soon, she was drenched. Her clothes clung to her skin, and her hair stuck to her face. The cold seeped in, making her shiver so hard her teeth chattered.
By the time she finally stopped to set up camp, Rainy was exhausted. She fumbled with her gear, her fingers numb from the cold, and tried to make a shelter. Without a fire, though, it was impossible to get warm. She sat under her tarp, hugging her knees to her chest, but the chill wouldn’t leave her.
The longer she sat there, the heavier her thoughts became. It wasn’t just the rain or the cold anymore. It was everything—the loneliness, the doubt, the fear that she’d made a huge mistake coming out here alone. The thoughts pressed down on her like the rain pounding on her tarp. Her chest felt tight, and before she could stop herself, tears started spilling down her face. She wiped them away quickly, but they kept coming.
Rainy wrapped her arms around herself, wishing the warmth would come back, wishing the doubt would go away. But all she could do was sit there, shivering and feeling like maybe, just maybe, she was breaking apart.
She camped now at the base of the mountains, The Reach, her gaze fixed on the path that stretched endlessly before her, winding its way upward through the night toward a place so vertical she could not yet comprehend it. Her heart raced, her breath shallow, the weight of what lay ahead pressing down on her chest. She had come so far, but now, standing here at the giant barrier, she felt as though the journey had never yet truly begun—and she was terrified.
The voice of the past days had fallen silent. Yet the words echoed in her mind, relentless and unyielding. "Now, let us go. The path awaits us once more at the top of the Wall."
His voice had been calm, steady, a quiet confidence that set her on edge. But as the last syllable faded into the cold night air, the world around her seemed to shrink, leaving only the vast, open chasm of eternity staring her down. The Keystone, heavy in her apron pocket, felt like an anchor. She felt for it there without thought, her hand limp, fingers stiff with the weight of what it represented.
Fear surged within her. It had been there since the beginning, but now, it overwhelmed her, filling every corner of her mind. This is what I’m supposed to understand. This is the truth, the reason for all of it. But she couldn’t grasp it. She couldn’t bear it.
She was too small. Too insignificant. She was not worthy of this. The doubts, the fears, the insecurities—each one carved into her soul, a constant reminder of how flawed she was. She was not ready. She wasn’t even close. The path ahead, the enormity of it, crushed her beneath its weight.
The darkness crept in, a familiar, suffocating presence. I can’t do this. I can’t be who they think I am. I am nothing.
Tears welled up, blurring her vision. She let them fall freely, silent sobs wracking her fragile frame. No one is worthy of this. Not me. Not anyone.
The voice echoed in her mind, but it felt so distant now, as if it belonged to someone else. The distance, she thought. The enormity of this truth is beyond anyone. What if I am wrong? What if I am nothing more than a fraud?
She could see it now clearly, the people; all of them, sleeping beneath the weight of their own mediocrity. They slumbered, unknowing of the truth, unaware of the calling that she had heard. She was different, set apart—but the truth was too much for her. The path, the journey—it wasn’t for her. She was too broken, too flawed.
She sank to her knees, her hands pressed against the cold stone beneath her. Her heart was heavy with shame, and the lie that had wormed its way into her soul seemed truer now than anything else. She could never be worthy. She could never rise above this. I am too weak, too small.
The tears flowed harder now. The shame was unbearable. “I want to hide. I don’t want to face the truth anymore. I don’t want to see, I don’t.”
Her thoughts spiraled, darker and darker, until there was nothing left but the pull of the abyss. She wanted to escape, to flee from this overwhelming truth that threatened to consume her whole. Let death come. Let it cover me. Let it hide me from this light, from this calling. Let it take me away from the weight of it all.
But as the darkness pressed in, there was a flicker of light—faint but undeniable. A memory, a voice, drifting through the storm of her mind, soft but insistent.
"Hold it in your hand."
The voice—so familiar, so gentle—pulled her back. She strained to focus, her mind torn by the endless assault of fear, but there it was again, clearer now, like a thread of warmth reaching through the cold. She knew this voice.
"You wrote on it," the voice continued, warm and encouraging. And then, it all came rushing back—the Keystone, the words she had written on it. The promise she had made to herself, to the world, to the Eternal One. “I love you.” She whispered it tentatively.
Her breath caught in her throat, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, something deep inside her stirred. The fear was still there, yes—but so was something else. Something stronger.
The memory of the words from the dream rang in her mind, steady and clear. “No one is equal to the task of a conversation with their Creator. You can only approach in humility. But in humility, as you draw close on your knees, you will be swept with self-doubt. When you think you may approach, you do so only to feel even greater doubts as you approach closer.”
She shivered, the weight of those words pressing in. How could she ever approach at all when all she saw in herself was weakness, brokenness? How could she be worthy of such an encounter when she was nothing but a liar, a fool?
"The closer you approach, the greater the doubts. The accuser is there in your mind, always." The voice, His voice was calm but filled with a depth of understanding that made her shudder. "When you finally get a view of eternity, you also see the truth of what you are. You will be afraid."
Her chest tightened as the memory flooded her, but then something shifted. I have the Keystone, she realized; the stone that carried the words. “I love you.”
The thought stirred to life inside of her. I wrote on it in my dream, because he asked me to. It was not my love for him. It was His love for me.
The truth was like a balm on her soul, quieting the storm for a moment. It wasn’t about being worthy. It wasn’t about being perfect. It was about surrender. It was about love—His love for her. And that love was the only thing that mattered.
She looked up, wiping the tears from her eyes, her hands shaking but steadying with the realization that she wasn’t alone. Not anymore.
“I love you,” she whispered to the vastness before her. She could feel it, feel the weight of it, but this time, the weight was no longer crushing. It was lifting her up.
His voice was still in her ear, a constant, steady presence. “So remember my words well. Do as I tell you to do.”
Rainy stood, taking a deep breath. She didn’t know if she was ready. She didn’t know if she was strong enough. But the path was before her. And now, she had the courage to take the first step. She was not alone. Not anymore. And that, in itself, was enough.
Rainy was deep in the wilderness, completely alone, when the song began to appear. Days had turned to weeks on the trail, meeting only two passing travelers. They had kept their heads down as they hurriedly past her, and were gone. She had stood and watched them as they disappeared silently around a bend. She had hoped to find something, to be changed, to be more. She needed to become someone who wouldn’t just fade away.
It had been raining for two days straight. It was freezing cold, and Rainy spent most of the time curled up in her tent, waiting for the storm to pass. She was trying to make it over the next pass and into the next valley, but the weather wasn’t letting her. Mama had slipped a note into her pack when she left, and Rainy hadn’t had the heart to read it. Now, in the cold silence of the wilderness, she read it. There was nothing else to fill the void but those words, so she read them over and over again, and wept.
The third day, the rain finally stopped. Rainy sat on a rock, she called it her “Thinking Rock,” and for the first time in days, she saw the trail reappear through the clouds. It was too late to cross the next pass safely, so she spent the rest of the day drying out and reflecting.
She thought a lot about the ancient stories—the ones passed down for generations, the ones that spoke of gods and heroes, of love and loss, of creation and destruction. For the first time, she found herself truly wishing some of the stories were true.
They told of higher powers, forces beyond comprehension, watching over the world with mercy, guiding the fate of souls. That was a beautiful thing to believe in, she thought. She wanted it to be true. She longed for it to be true, the option was that nothing mattered at all. If there really was something, some kind of love out there, something bigger than all of them, watching over them with grace, she would want to be part of that.
And that’s when it hit her: she really did hope it was true. She wanted it to be true. She would stand with anyone who desired mercy and kindness to rule the world. She wanted to feel that kind of love—something so selfless and tender that she could never deserve it. She needed it to be more than what she was capable of. She needed it to carry her, to lift her when she couldn’t stand on her own.
And for the first time, she could see it. She could see that love, she could feel it. She knew that it was real, and that it was bigger than anything she could have ever imagined. She knew, deep in her heart, that she was loved in a way no one else would ever understand. It was the highest, purest hope—a hope that changed everything. It was like a song had begun to ring out in her heart. She knew, in that moment, that living in the light of this love would make her a better person than she could ever be on her own. In her heart, she began to sing. She sang into the emptiness, she sang to the doubt. Rainy sang a new song, one that only she could hear. “I love you,” she said it sincerely to the Eternal One, and she meant it with every fiber of her being.
She dreamed because deep down, she knew what was true. Both the highest, most beautiful dreams and the darkest nightmares—they existed together. Life, at times, may have seemed pointless or empty, but it wasn’t. Every thought, every action, had a purpose. Her life, everyone’s life—it was filled with more meaning than she could comprehend. She was valued beyond measure, more than she could ever know. Some things, though, needed to be hidden from her for now. She was still learning, still growing, and she wasn’t ready.
She knew what it was like to be foolish. She knew shame. If she hadn’t cared about the light, she wouldn’t have felt it at all. But she was thankful for that light because it showed her where she fell short, where she needed to grow. She was thankful for the moments when she saw the truth about herself, even if it was hard. She was grateful for the chance to change. And in growing out of the darkness and weakness, she knew the value of this song in the way that only someone given an inconceivable gift could.
And as scary as it sounded, she knew that, even if she were left out of the great plan of life, she would still be glad for what was to come. Because she knew she wouldn’t be left out. She knew the kind of people who would be in charge of a world like that, and she had felt the love they had. It was the kind of love that made her believe—if she were in their shoes, she would do exactly what had been done for her: keep the door open for as long as it took, until every lost soul had found their way home. The door would stay open for all of them who wanted to come in, until every last traveler had come through. It would never close until they were all safe, where they belonged.
Was it all her fault? Had she been selfish for wanting something different, for needing to be different? Maybe if she were more like everyone else, things wouldn’t be this hard. Why couldn’t she just go along with what people expected? She hated the thought, but maybe it really was selfishness that got her here.
The rain started lightly at first, just a few drops. She pulled up her hood, thinking it wouldn’t last long. But it didn’t stop. It got heavier and heavier until it was pouring. The path turned into thick mud that sucked at her boots, and every step felt harder than the last. Soon, she was drenched. Her clothes clung to her skin, and her hair stuck to her face. The cold seeped in, making her shiver so hard her teeth chattered.
By the time she finally stopped to set up camp, Rainy was exhausted. She fumbled with her gear, her fingers numb from the cold, and tried to make a shelter. Without a fire, though, it was impossible to get warm. She sat under her tarp, hugging her knees to her chest, but the chill wouldn’t leave her.
The longer she sat there, the heavier her thoughts became. It wasn’t just the rain or the cold anymore. It was everything—the loneliness, the doubt, the fear that she’d made a huge mistake coming out here alone. The thoughts pressed down on her like the rain pounding on her tarp. Her chest felt tight, and before she could stop herself, tears started spilling down her face. She wiped them away quickly, but they kept coming.
Rainy wrapped her arms around herself, wishing the warmth would come back, wishing the doubt would go away. But all she could do was sit there, shivering and feeling like maybe, just maybe, she was breaking apart.
She camped now at the base of the mountains, The Reach, her gaze fixed on the path that stretched endlessly before her, winding its way upward through the night toward a place so vertical she could not yet comprehend it. Her heart raced, her breath shallow, the weight of what lay ahead pressing down on her chest. She had come so far, but now, standing here at the giant barrier, she felt as though the journey had never yet truly begun—and she was terrified.
The voice of the past days had fallen silent. Yet the words echoed in her mind, relentless and unyielding. "Now, let us go. The path awaits us once more at the top of the Wall."
His voice had been calm, steady, a quiet confidence that set her on edge. But as the last syllable faded into the cold night air, the world around her seemed to shrink, leaving only the vast, open chasm of eternity staring her down. The Keystone, heavy in her apron pocket, felt like an anchor. She felt for it there without thought, her hand limp, fingers stiff with the weight of what it represented.
Fear surged within her. It had been there since the beginning, but now, it overwhelmed her, filling every corner of her mind. This is what I’m supposed to understand. This is the truth, the reason for all of it. But she couldn’t grasp it. She couldn’t bear it.
She was too small. Too insignificant. She was not worthy of this. The doubts, the fears, the insecurities—each one carved into her soul, a constant reminder of how flawed she was. She was not ready. She wasn’t even close. The path ahead, the enormity of it, crushed her beneath its weight.
The darkness crept in, a familiar, suffocating presence. I can’t do this. I can’t be who they think I am. I am nothing.
Tears welled up, blurring her vision. She let them fall freely, silent sobs wracking her fragile frame. No one is worthy of this. Not me. Not anyone.
The voice echoed in her mind, but it felt so distant now, as if it belonged to someone else. The distance, she thought. The enormity of this truth is beyond anyone. What if I am wrong? What if I am nothing more than a fraud?
She could see it now clearly, the people; all of them, sleeping beneath the weight of their own mediocrity. They slumbered, unknowing of the truth, unaware of the calling that she had heard. She was different, set apart—but the truth was too much for her. The path, the journey—it wasn’t for her. She was too broken, too flawed.
She sank to her knees, her hands pressed against the cold stone beneath her. Her heart was heavy with shame, and the lie that had wormed its way into her soul seemed truer now than anything else. She could never be worthy. She could never rise above this. I am too weak, too small.
The tears flowed harder now. The shame was unbearable. “I want to hide. I don’t want to face the truth anymore. I don’t want to see, I don’t.”
Her thoughts spiraled, darker and darker, until there was nothing left but the pull of the abyss. She wanted to escape, to flee from this overwhelming truth that threatened to consume her whole. Let death come. Let it cover me. Let it hide me from this light, from this calling. Let it take me away from the weight of it all.
But as the darkness pressed in, there was a flicker of light—faint but undeniable. A memory, a voice, drifting through the storm of her mind, soft but insistent.
"Hold it in your hand."
The voice—so familiar, so gentle—pulled her back. She strained to focus, her mind torn by the endless assault of fear, but there it was again, clearer now, like a thread of warmth reaching through the cold. She knew this voice.
"You wrote on it," the voice continued, warm and encouraging. And then, it all came rushing back—the Keystone, the words she had written on it. The promise she had made to herself, to the world, to the Eternal One. “I love you.” She whispered it tentatively.
Her breath caught in her throat, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, something deep inside her stirred. The fear was still there, yes—but so was something else. Something stronger.
The memory of the words from the dream rang in her mind, steady and clear. “No one is equal to the task of a conversation with their Creator. You can only approach in humility. But in humility, as you draw close on your knees, you will be swept with self-doubt. When you think you may approach, you do so only to feel even greater doubts as you approach closer.”
She shivered, the weight of those words pressing in. How could she ever approach at all when all she saw in herself was weakness, brokenness? How could she be worthy of such an encounter when she was nothing but a liar, a fool?
"The closer you approach, the greater the doubts. The accuser is there in your mind, always." The voice, His voice was calm but filled with a depth of understanding that made her shudder. "When you finally get a view of eternity, you also see the truth of what you are. You will be afraid."
Her chest tightened as the memory flooded her, but then something shifted. I have the Keystone, she realized; the stone that carried the words. “I love you.”
The thought stirred to life inside of her. I wrote on it in my dream, because he asked me to. It was not my love for him. It was His love for me.
The truth was like a balm on her soul, quieting the storm for a moment. It wasn’t about being worthy. It wasn’t about being perfect. It was about surrender. It was about love—His love for her. And that love was the only thing that mattered.
She looked up, wiping the tears from her eyes, her hands shaking but steadying with the realization that she wasn’t alone. Not anymore.
“I love you,” she whispered to the vastness before her. She could feel it, feel the weight of it, but this time, the weight was no longer crushing. It was lifting her up.
His voice was still in her ear, a constant, steady presence. “So remember my words well. Do as I tell you to do.”
Rainy stood, taking a deep breath. She didn’t know if she was ready. She didn’t know if she was strong enough. But the path was before her. And now, she had the courage to take the first step. She was not alone. Not anymore. And that, in itself, was enough.
Rainy was deep in the wilderness, completely alone, when the song began to appear. Days had turned to weeks on the trail, meeting only two passing travelers. They had kept their heads down as they hurriedly past her, and were gone. She had stood and watched them as they disappeared silently around a bend. She had hoped to find something, to be changed, to be more. She needed to become someone who wouldn’t just fade away.
It had been raining for two days straight. It was freezing cold, and Rainy spent most of the time curled up in her tent, waiting for the storm to pass. She was trying to make it over the next pass and into the next valley, but the weather wasn’t letting her. Mama had slipped a note into her pack when she left, and Rainy hadn’t had the heart to read it. Now, in the cold silence of the wilderness, she read it. There was nothing else to fill the void but those words, so she read them over and over again, and wept.
The third day, the rain finally stopped. Rainy sat on a rock, she called it her “Thinking Rock,” and for the first time in days, she saw the trail reappear through the clouds. It was too late to cross the next pass safely, so she spent the rest of the day drying out and reflecting.
She thought a lot about the ancient stories—the ones passed down for generations, the ones that spoke of gods and heroes, of love and loss, of creation and destruction. For the first time, she found herself truly wishing some of the stories were true.
They told of higher powers, forces beyond comprehension, watching over the world with mercy, guiding the fate of souls. That was a beautiful thing to believe in, she thought. She wanted it to be true. She longed for it to be true, the option was that nothing mattered at all. If there really was something, some kind of love out there, something bigger than all of them, watching over them with grace, she would want to be part of that.
And that’s when it hit her: she really did hope it was true. She wanted it to be true. She would stand with anyone who desired mercy and kindness to rule the world. She wanted to feel that kind of love—something so selfless and tender that she could never deserve it. She needed it to be more than what she was capable of. She needed it to carry her, to lift her when she couldn’t stand on her own.
And for the first time, she could see it. She could see that love, she could feel it. She knew that it was real, and that it was bigger than anything she could have ever imagined. She knew, deep in her heart, that she was loved in a way no one else would ever understand. It was the highest, purest hope—a hope that changed everything. It was like a song had begun to ring out in her heart. She knew, in that moment, that living in the light of this love would make her a better person than she could ever be on her own. In her heart, she began to sing. She sang into the emptiness, she sang to the doubt. Rainy sang a new song, one that only she could hear. “I love you,” she said it sincerely to the Eternal One, and she meant it with every fiber of her being.
She dreamed because deep down, she knew what was true. Both the highest, most beautiful dreams and the darkest nightmares—they existed together. Life, at times, may have seemed pointless or empty, but it wasn’t. Every thought, every action, had a purpose. Her life, everyone’s life—it was filled with more meaning than she could comprehend. She was valued beyond measure, more than she could ever know. Some things, though, needed to be hidden from her for now. She was still learning, still growing, and she wasn’t ready.
She knew what it was like to be foolish. She knew shame. If she hadn’t cared about the light, she wouldn’t have felt it at all. But she was thankful for that light because it showed her where she fell short, where she needed to grow. She was thankful for the moments when she saw the truth about herself, even if it was hard. She was grateful for the chance to change. And in growing out of the darkness and weakness, she knew the value of this song in the way that only someone given an inconceivable gift could.
And as scary as it sounded, she knew that, even if she were left out of the great plan of life, she would still be glad for what was to come. Because she knew she wouldn’t be left out. She knew the kind of people who would be in charge of a world like that, and she had felt the love they had. It was the kind of love that made her believe—if she were in their shoes, she would do exactly what had been done for her: keep the door open for as long as it took, until every lost soul had found their way home. The door would stay open for all of them who wanted to come in, until every last traveler had come through. It would never close until they were all safe, where they belonged.