Hatheg-Kla at night.
Stacy and Caelwyn climb through the snow.
Then the wind stops.
Music comes from above.
The cloud opens onto an impossible plateau beneath too many stars.
Dozens—perhaps hundreds—of strange beings dance, play and laugh in the snow. One tumbles over. Another pushes it back into the snow.
STACY
They’re celebrating.
CAELWYN
Apparently.
STACY
They’re gods.
CAELWYN
Possibly.
STACY
Gods aren’t supposed to have snowball fights.
CAELWYN
According to whom?
For weeks they have asked why humans celebrate.
Because we survived.
Because everyone we love is here.
Because strangers can share a song.
Because enemies can sometimes share a table.
Stacy watches the dancers.
STACY
Maybe we got it backwards.
CAELWYN
How?
STACY
Maybe celebration isn’t human.
Caelwyn watches one of the beings leap into the circle.
CAELWYN
I think it is.
A pause.
CAELWYN
Perhaps it simply isn’t exclusively ours.
Then the dancers notice them.
The music changes.
A small figure approaches and extends its hand.
The circle opens.
An invitation.
Stacy takes half a step forward.
Caelwyn catches her wrist.
CAELWYN
An invitation doesn’t mean we understand what we’re being invited to.
Then something above them notices.
The stars move.
Not across the sky.
Towards them.
Immense shapes pass between the constellations.
The dancers scatter, laughing.
STACY
Caelwyn—
CAELWYN
I know.
Even gods have gods.
The plateau bends.
The horizon folds.
And suddenly they are falling—
not down—
but up.
Past stars.
Past darkness.
Past directions that should not exist.
Then—
snow.
Stacy crashes beside Caelwyn on the ordinary mountainside.
Her watch still reads 11:30.
On the descent:
STACY
They were happy.
CAELWYN
Yes.
STACY
That’s what bothers me.
A few steps.
STACY
Why would gods celebrate?
CAELWYN
Maybe that’s the wrong question.
STACY
What’s the right one?
Caelwyn looks back towards the summit.
CAELWYN
Why did we assume they wouldn’t?
Something can be alien and still laugh.
Something can be incomprehensible and still dance.
Recognising yourself in it does not make it human.
And it certainly does not make it safe.
But perhaps celebration was never ours alone.
Three faint notes drift down from the mountain.
Then laughter.
Neither of them looks back.
Question for you
If something utterly alien can dance, laugh and invite you to join it, does recognising something familiar in it make the unknown less frightening — or more?
PLAY EPIC. FEEL THE STORY.
Mythveil Chronicles
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