The breaking of the Great Stone Way tickled the roots of the grove. A quiet breeze, chilled and brittle swept up through the tops of the trees, as if the martyr himself had sent the Sakjeden his last breath. Umesh stirred. Amid the drops of rain that began to thrum against his highest leaves, he heard the patter of No One running through the bridges of branches it had trained the trees outside the grove to grow.
“Little one.” Umesh rumbled as No One flitted over his roots. Umesh was proud of his roots; they stretched further around than any of the trees for whom he cared. He was the eldest, the wisest, and the saddest of the Sakjeden, the fortune telling trees, oldest and wisest beings in Icaria.
Swinging on the roots that had grown into arcs far away from the earth, No One stopped in front of Umesh’s trunk and hugged him. A slip of a being, and even Umesh was not sure if No One was human or Fae, No One stood no taller than a stalk of wheat, hair shaggy, wispy in some parts and thick in others. Its eyes, colored on its mood or the shape of the breeze, shone a deep bright violet as Umesh gazed down at it.
“It is time.” No One’s voice was the reason Umesh could not distinguish its race; Fae spoke like chimes of wind over flowers, humans like the shuffling mountains, and No One spoke with the wiles of rivers and the depth of the sea. Perhaps, Umesh had thought to himself, No One crawled out of the bottom of the Ocean, just to see what was causing Icaria’s noise.
“It’s time for what?” Umesh asked.
“It is time for a new age.”
Umesh noticed belatedly that No One had not blinked since it had swung onto his roots. Little caused the Sakjeden consternation, for they grew old, and had moved away from the fires of man. No One rattled their sap from their bark in ways that made Umesh feel uncomfortably youthful.
“What does that mean?” Though practiced in telling the future, Umesh had never learned to look through time at the present, like No One.
“It means a great hope,” No One sniffed the air, reminding Umesh irresistibly of a rabbit, “and a terrible sadness.” Suddenly donning a frightened expression, No One scampered up Umesh’s trunk, using his bark as handholds.
“I will send her some of the sun and some of the moon and we too, will have hope and sadness.” No One squatted on one of Umesh’s closest branches and peered at him, owlish. How quickly No One could mirror different beings.
As the cold wind rose from the ground once more, No One stood and gracefully spun once around, small tunic like a white lily in the gloom. Out of its tiny mouth, it breathed a collection of small golden lights, like bubbles, that began to float north.
“What did you give?” Umesh asked. His grove began to shake, trees who witnessed the light-giving, their branches clacking comfortingly against each other.
“I gave her stars.” No One smiled and padded to the edge of Umesh’s branch before swinging to another tree in the grove. Silently, No One’s tiny body seemed to fly into the night, as the clouds above converged and the grey air gave way to rain.
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