Chapter Seventeen: Sacred Ground
The climb was unforgiving, demanding all of her strength, all of her resolve. But Rainy welcomed it. She had come here seeking something—answers, clarity, perhaps redemption. The mountain offered no words, only silence, but in that silence, she hoped to find what she could not articulate.
A jagged bolt of lightning cracked the sky, illuminating the cliff face in stark relief. Rainy paused, staring out across the expanse as the momentary flash revealed the world in startling clarity. The storm was closing in, relentless and alive, its thunder rumbling like a growl from the depths of the earth.
The Reach, they called it. The place where the sky met the earth; a wall that separated the world, splitting it in half. Rainy had climbed before, but this was different. The Reach wasn’t just a mountain; it was a mirror, reflecting back the truths she had long avoided. It was the gate keeper at the end of the world she knew. Everything she knew about this path stopped there. That was where she had seen him for the first time; long ago when she was just a little girl.
Her mind wandered as she climbed, the rhythm of her movements lulling her into memory. His voice came unbidden, a whisper carried on the wind:
“You don’t see it yet, Rainy. You’re upside down.”
She had laughed when he said it, brushing off his cryptic words. He had spoken in a riddle, weaving mysteries into the simplest moments. But now, his voice haunted her, echoing in the spaces between her thoughts. She remembered the day she saw him—a perfect summer morning, the air alive with the scent of wildflowers and possibility.
Now, she couldn’t tell if it was real; it didn’t feel like the other dreams. He had paused there waiting at the top of a precipice, waiting for her to look. She had seen him leap—or thought she had. He had dove from the cliff face in a graceful leap into the air, and his figure had vanished against the bright blue sky, his final words lingered like a riddle she couldn’t solve.
“You’re upside down.”
Rainy gritted her teeth and pulled herself higher. The wind picked up, biting at her cheeks and tugging at her loose strands of hair. The mountain demanded her focus, yet His words refused to leave her. They were a thread she couldn’t stop unraveling, leading her back to questions she was afraid to ask. It felt as though he had sacrificed himself, just to get her to listen, to understand.
How was she upside down? How could that be worth dying for?
She stopped on a small outcropping, her body pressed flat against the rock as she caught her breath. The storm was closer now, the air thick with electricity, and the horizon seemed to blur into an endless gray. She looked out over the valley, her heart aching with the weight of memory. The truth she carried now was a burden, one she could never share. The Tellers believed in the sacredness of truth, yet Rainy knew how fragile that belief was. She had seen the cracks in their faith, the lies they told themselves to keep the shadows at bay.
Another flash of lightning split the sky, and for a moment, Rainy saw the summit, sharp and close. The Reach wasn’t just a climb—it was a reckoning.
His voice came again, softer this time: “You’re upside down, Rainy. Stop looking at the ground.”
Her breath caught. She tilted her head back, letting her eyes follow the line of the cliff upward. The storm churned above, a furious whirl of light and shadow, but beyond it, she glimpsed something else. The sky wasn’t just a sky, it was also an abyss—it was a mirror.
Rainy blinked, her heart pounding as realization washed over her. The Reach wasn’t about conquering the mountain; it was about seeing it for what it was. He hadn’t fallen—he had flown.
In that moment reality and vision blurred, and Rainy could no longer see what was real any longer. The only thing real was his voice. She had to trust.
Tears stung her eyes, mingling with the rain as she clung to the rock. The storm raged around her, but she felt a strange stillness settle within. The summit was no longer her goal. The climb itself was the answer, the act of reaching, of believing that there was something more beyond the storm. The struggle, the climb was the answer.
Now, with every other soul she had ever cared for; all the vast see of souls in locked tightly in her grip, she reached for a hand hold. She knew she would never stop, for as long as it took.
With renewed strength, Rainy began to climb again, her movements steady and sure. The mountain still demanded everything she had, but she gave it willingly. She was beginning to understand; The Reach wasn’t a place—it was a wall, separating her from the truth.
And suddenly Rainy wasn’t upside down anymore.
Her fingers found the final hold.
It was not a dramatic moment—no triumphant cry, no thunderous chord from the heavens. Just skin against stone. A simple pull upward. The last stretch of aching muscle, scraped knuckles, and breath held in trembling lungs.
Then--
She was there.
Rainy crested the summit of the Reach, her body rising into the sky like a prayer whispered in exhaustion. Her knees met the stone, then her hands. She pressed her forehead to the ancient, weather-smoothed granite, breathing it in, as if the mountain itself might bless her.
And when she finally lifted her eyes--
The world unfolded.
Ribbons of rain streamed down from the broken clouds, not in lines but in curves, sweeping arcs that shimmered like silver silk falling through light. They danced across the open air, caught in unseen wind currents, tracing hidden patterns as if the sky were remembering how to weep in beauty.
Shards of sunlight burst through the roiling clouds—fierce and sudden, gilding the rain with fire. They struck the stones, the mist, her own damp skin, and for a heartbeat, Rainy felt seen by the light itself. Known.
Beneath her, the valley stretched in all directions. Forests rippled in the wind like dark seas, and rivers caught the light like living mirrors. Peaks layered in the distance, some veiled in storm, others serene and golden.
She could see it all now—the storm and the peace, the fury and the grace—woven into one single, breathtaking tapestry.
The grandeur of life.
It overwhelmed her.
Tears came, but not from grief. Not this time. They were tears of recognition—of something ancient stirring inside her, some memory deeper than thought, older than her bones.
This world was harsh. Terrible, even. But it was also magnificent.
She saw how it had all conspired to shape her. The loss, the longing, the broken pieces of self she had once tried to bury. The dark Rainy who still clung to her hand—yes, even her. Especially her.
“I brought you,” Rainy whispered aloud, barely audible above the wind. “You didn’t fall behind. You climbed too.”
A hawk screamed overhead, banking into the wind with fearless grace. The sound echoed across the stones, wild and alive.
Rainy stood.
Her limbs trembled, her hair plastered to her face. But her eyes were fierce. Open. Her gaze followed the high ridge ahead, where ancient trees and massive carved stones loomed in the mist—the edge of the valley of the Elder Children.
Somewhere beyond that veil of storm and time—he was waiting.
She began to walk with the steady, reverent steps of someone entering sacred ground.
At the peak of the Reach, a round dome crowned the world. Rainy’s heart was racing and her body slick with sweat, as the first cool drops of rain kissed her skin. She turned her gaze toward the horizon, where thunderclouds churned in inky chaos, their edges fringed with gold and blue light.
Rainy could feel it in her soul—this place was sacred, ancient. Someone had stood here before her, and others would follow, drawn by the same inexplicable pull. Her eyes lingered on the flat stone that jutted out, a makeshift altar perched on it carved from a stone the size of a workbench, as if it had always belonged to the heavens, but placed there long ago by human hands.
Lightning fractured the sky, its brilliance igniting the craggy faces of the surrounding cliffs and reaching deep into the darkness below. It was silent but for the chorus of rainfall.
She stepped closer, the vastness of the place swallowing her whole. The world felt impossibly large, achingly beautiful, and she, so small. Yet within her chest, there stirred something timeless—a deep yearning, an unspoken connection, an ache she couldn’t explain.
The wind curled around her as she climbed up to the ancient stone altar. She felt the rain on her skin, the hum of the earth beneath her feet, and the weight of her heart overflowing with words she hadn’t realized she carried.
Lightning struck across the sky in a brilliant arc.
"Thank you," Rainy whispered, her voice trembling but steady, carried on the wind to whoever—or no one—might be listening.
"Thank you for the little girl they named Rainy Ohrey Gea. Thank you for her, for this moment, for these eyes that can see this now."
She closed her eyes and let the rain mingle with her tears, now lost in the rain. Standing there, on the edge of the world, she felt seen. She felt infinite. She knew she was not alone.
Then, a rumble echoed through the air. It started low, a soft tremor that vibrated through her bones, before building into a thunderous crescendo. The earth beneath her seemed to pulse in time with the sound, as if the very fabric of the world—and all the endless reaches of time and space—paused in the space between lightning and thunder, to acknowledge the heart of a solitary little girl.
In that moment, Rainy felt it. The vastness of everything, the weight of all that had come before, and the brilliance of what she was becoming. Time itself held its breath, and for just an instant, everything aligned—her soul, the sky, the rain, the mountains.
Everything was as it should be, and her purpose was near.
A jagged bolt of lightning cracked the sky, illuminating the cliff face in stark relief. Rainy paused, staring out across the expanse as the momentary flash revealed the world in startling clarity. The storm was closing in, relentless and alive, its thunder rumbling like a growl from the depths of the earth.
The Reach, they called it. The place where the sky met the earth; a wall that separated the world, splitting it in half. Rainy had climbed before, but this was different. The Reach wasn’t just a mountain; it was a mirror, reflecting back the truths she had long avoided. It was the gate keeper at the end of the world she knew. Everything she knew about this path stopped there. That was where she had seen him for the first time; long ago when she was just a little girl.
Her mind wandered as she climbed, the rhythm of her movements lulling her into memory. His voice came unbidden, a whisper carried on the wind:
“You don’t see it yet, Rainy. You’re upside down.”
She had laughed when he said it, brushing off his cryptic words. He had spoken in a riddle, weaving mysteries into the simplest moments. But now, his voice haunted her, echoing in the spaces between her thoughts. She remembered the day she saw him—a perfect summer morning, the air alive with the scent of wildflowers and possibility.
Now, she couldn’t tell if it was real; it didn’t feel like the other dreams. He had paused there waiting at the top of a precipice, waiting for her to look. She had seen him leap—or thought she had. He had dove from the cliff face in a graceful leap into the air, and his figure had vanished against the bright blue sky, his final words lingered like a riddle she couldn’t solve.
“You’re upside down.”
Rainy gritted her teeth and pulled herself higher. The wind picked up, biting at her cheeks and tugging at her loose strands of hair. The mountain demanded her focus, yet His words refused to leave her. They were a thread she couldn’t stop unraveling, leading her back to questions she was afraid to ask. It felt as though he had sacrificed himself, just to get her to listen, to understand.
How was she upside down? How could that be worth dying for?
She stopped on a small outcropping, her body pressed flat against the rock as she caught her breath. The storm was closer now, the air thick with electricity, and the horizon seemed to blur into an endless gray. She looked out over the valley, her heart aching with the weight of memory. The truth she carried now was a burden, one she could never share. The Tellers believed in the sacredness of truth, yet Rainy knew how fragile that belief was. She had seen the cracks in their faith, the lies they told themselves to keep the shadows at bay.
Another flash of lightning split the sky, and for a moment, Rainy saw the summit, sharp and close. The Reach wasn’t just a climb—it was a reckoning.
His voice came again, softer this time: “You’re upside down, Rainy. Stop looking at the ground.”
Her breath caught. She tilted her head back, letting her eyes follow the line of the cliff upward. The storm churned above, a furious whirl of light and shadow, but beyond it, she glimpsed something else. The sky wasn’t just a sky, it was also an abyss—it was a mirror.
Rainy blinked, her heart pounding as realization washed over her. The Reach wasn’t about conquering the mountain; it was about seeing it for what it was. He hadn’t fallen—he had flown.
In that moment reality and vision blurred, and Rainy could no longer see what was real any longer. The only thing real was his voice. She had to trust.
Tears stung her eyes, mingling with the rain as she clung to the rock. The storm raged around her, but she felt a strange stillness settle within. The summit was no longer her goal. The climb itself was the answer, the act of reaching, of believing that there was something more beyond the storm. The struggle, the climb was the answer.
Now, with every other soul she had ever cared for; all the vast see of souls in locked tightly in her grip, she reached for a hand hold. She knew she would never stop, for as long as it took.
With renewed strength, Rainy began to climb again, her movements steady and sure. The mountain still demanded everything she had, but she gave it willingly. She was beginning to understand; The Reach wasn’t a place—it was a wall, separating her from the truth.
And suddenly Rainy wasn’t upside down anymore.
Her fingers found the final hold.
It was not a dramatic moment—no triumphant cry, no thunderous chord from the heavens. Just skin against stone. A simple pull upward. The last stretch of aching muscle, scraped knuckles, and breath held in trembling lungs.
Then--
She was there.
Rainy crested the summit of the Reach, her body rising into the sky like a prayer whispered in exhaustion. Her knees met the stone, then her hands. She pressed her forehead to the ancient, weather-smoothed granite, breathing it in, as if the mountain itself might bless her.
And when she finally lifted her eyes--
The world unfolded.
Ribbons of rain streamed down from the broken clouds, not in lines but in curves, sweeping arcs that shimmered like silver silk falling through light. They danced across the open air, caught in unseen wind currents, tracing hidden patterns as if the sky were remembering how to weep in beauty.
Shards of sunlight burst through the roiling clouds—fierce and sudden, gilding the rain with fire. They struck the stones, the mist, her own damp skin, and for a heartbeat, Rainy felt seen by the light itself. Known.
Beneath her, the valley stretched in all directions. Forests rippled in the wind like dark seas, and rivers caught the light like living mirrors. Peaks layered in the distance, some veiled in storm, others serene and golden.
She could see it all now—the storm and the peace, the fury and the grace—woven into one single, breathtaking tapestry.
The grandeur of life.
It overwhelmed her.
Tears came, but not from grief. Not this time. They were tears of recognition—of something ancient stirring inside her, some memory deeper than thought, older than her bones.
This world was harsh. Terrible, even. But it was also magnificent.
She saw how it had all conspired to shape her. The loss, the longing, the broken pieces of self she had once tried to bury. The dark Rainy who still clung to her hand—yes, even her. Especially her.
“I brought you,” Rainy whispered aloud, barely audible above the wind. “You didn’t fall behind. You climbed too.”
A hawk screamed overhead, banking into the wind with fearless grace. The sound echoed across the stones, wild and alive.
Rainy stood.
Her limbs trembled, her hair plastered to her face. But her eyes were fierce. Open. Her gaze followed the high ridge ahead, where ancient trees and massive carved stones loomed in the mist—the edge of the valley of the Elder Children.
Somewhere beyond that veil of storm and time—he was waiting.
She began to walk with the steady, reverent steps of someone entering sacred ground.
At the peak of the Reach, a round dome crowned the world. Rainy’s heart was racing and her body slick with sweat, as the first cool drops of rain kissed her skin. She turned her gaze toward the horizon, where thunderclouds churned in inky chaos, their edges fringed with gold and blue light.
Rainy could feel it in her soul—this place was sacred, ancient. Someone had stood here before her, and others would follow, drawn by the same inexplicable pull. Her eyes lingered on the flat stone that jutted out, a makeshift altar perched on it carved from a stone the size of a workbench, as if it had always belonged to the heavens, but placed there long ago by human hands.
Lightning fractured the sky, its brilliance igniting the craggy faces of the surrounding cliffs and reaching deep into the darkness below. It was silent but for the chorus of rainfall.
She stepped closer, the vastness of the place swallowing her whole. The world felt impossibly large, achingly beautiful, and she, so small. Yet within her chest, there stirred something timeless—a deep yearning, an unspoken connection, an ache she couldn’t explain.
The wind curled around her as she climbed up to the ancient stone altar. She felt the rain on her skin, the hum of the earth beneath her feet, and the weight of her heart overflowing with words she hadn’t realized she carried.
Lightning struck across the sky in a brilliant arc.
"Thank you," Rainy whispered, her voice trembling but steady, carried on the wind to whoever—or no one—might be listening.
"Thank you for the little girl they named Rainy Ohrey Gea. Thank you for her, for this moment, for these eyes that can see this now."
She closed her eyes and let the rain mingle with her tears, now lost in the rain. Standing there, on the edge of the world, she felt seen. She felt infinite. She knew she was not alone.
Then, a rumble echoed through the air. It started low, a soft tremor that vibrated through her bones, before building into a thunderous crescendo. The earth beneath her seemed to pulse in time with the sound, as if the very fabric of the world—and all the endless reaches of time and space—paused in the space between lightning and thunder, to acknowledge the heart of a solitary little girl.
In that moment, Rainy felt it. The vastness of everything, the weight of all that had come before, and the brilliance of what she was becoming. Time itself held its breath, and for just an instant, everything aligned—her soul, the sky, the rain, the mountains.
Everything was as it should be, and her purpose was near.