Hooded and in a shadowed path, Salīa walked with magi-mi Chamba, Chief Raino, and some zazi to the Salazā Spirits.
Both Bazil and Raki joined upon their father's request, though Salīa was certain only one of them was willing in the matter.
While a lot of Salazāhn land was open, the tall trees began to rise the more they walked.
As it closed in, they had been led right into The Sacred Gates facing Salazā. These shrined arches of wood marked with vagarī carvings were a materialized separation from what's flesh to what's sacred.
All stepped forward except Salīa.
The truth was, she had not set foot past The Sacred Gates since she was a young child. So, she closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, and tentatively stepped through.
There was a sensation one always felt when entering. It's almost as if you were free. Despite the light mostly coming from lit torches on the way and the gifts of the stars and moon, there was quite a lot to see.
While it was night, you wouldn't say so. For the blossoming bloom that ran so wild and freely welcomed her just the same.
She had forgotten how many vibrant colors had been painted over this Bloom Realm, which spread all the way out of the Salazā Spirits and into the Unnamed Forest, which she and magi-mi Chamba first returned from.
For every vivid orange, red, and yellow flower sprouting up there were also the calmest of greens, purples, and even blues.
She gently ran her fingers through them as magi-mi Chamba did and inhaled the blend of their mellowing fragrances. Then she saw it.
The Awakened One.
The friend and guardian meant to guide them through many lifetimes. The retainer of wisdom and emanation of sacred energy.
The embodiment of what is true. Salīa had gotten taller since she last saw it, but it seems so had The Awakened One. It was just as she remembered.
Black and gold, with an almost smile, and most rested in the way it was seated. Its hands open together, in a way that is both giving and receiving.
The Salazāhns present prayed to it, or with it. Magi-mi Chamba just stood and watched Salīa.
"My mother took my brother and sister here often. They'd always asked if I'd want to join." Salīa got to her knees and touched her heart. "I'd always say I had other things to do. It's not that it wasn't true, yet it wasn't the true reason as to why I'd never join."
Many would say that this statue could talk on rare occasions, and Salīa had sworn she once heard it speak to her as a child. Yet just as many called her crazy for believing so.
"I could not face the Awakened One after I had brought harm in chipping it. I did not feel myself worthy," she admitted. "One day, my brother and sister, Amandla and Awethu, came up to me and said, 'Sister, have you ever seen the Awakened One? It's so beautiful. All these years and it still looks like it's never been touched or moved.'"
She sighed.
"Of course, I thought, that can't be true. I know better. Yet I soon learned," she studied the immaculate body of the statue. "The Awakened One heals easily with the love of others brushed over with the polish of our sacred plants. It will forever live, whether we decide so or not, as in its hands is an eternal and unreachable earth fruit shaped like a heart."
It was there for all to observe. The multicolored fruit whose taste many desired. It was one of Salazā's greatest prides. To grow the fruit of life.
Running around the Awakened One was a shrine of proteas.
These plants chose their home here because, while it lay resilient and able to handle chaos, it is best suited to be in the light with warmth.
And what better place than here, which shines even in the dark?
Chief Raino led them to what was at the back of the Awakened One, Tama.
That relentless tree, the one taller than any other. The one that rarely sheds its leaves, yet it had been shedding now. As it does around every Pasang.
This tree had been so special for it appeared as two separate trees entwined with one another like lovers embracing. Rumored to have birthed the Awakened One in the process.
Its bark was black-brown on the outside, yet the closer you got, you saw how it became brown-gold on the inside. Its roots lay partially exposed, yet mostly sunk in.
While its soil ran hot as the savanna, it remained unscathed by the low streams of water trailing by.
Tama has had many names, such as The Sacred Baobab and the Eternal Tree. All different names, yet with the same meaning. Tama was a very prominent thread connecting what is life and the afterlife.
Everyone stepped back, trying to see the full length of it, all touching into the rainbow-colored streams passing by.
It barely reached the ankles yet felt like nimble fish racing ahead, brushing through the plants that rest within it. It made mud of the dark sands leading up to the steps, coated in heavy vines.
Yet a small cleft space was made to clear one's feet, the same rainbow-colored water. It had always been a mystery as to why these streams reflected all these colors.
Some say it's an embodiment of Salazā's rainbow nation – a land built upon various intertwined cultures, tongues, and tribes.
"You see the structure at the heart of it," Chief Raino pointed above the well-lit steps, right to the tall stone temple, which held a large, welcoming entrance shaded by just as large, golden eaves, topped off with intricate carvings.
The Temple of Faith.
The doors held a titan-sized black and gold xira each, glazed into it, with its own markings. Two zazi made their way and opened it.
A flush of fragrances, vanilla and sandalwood incense swept over them, and they all inhaled with delight.
Once any mud was cleansed and more incense was lit, they walked up and instantly felt it. A warming glow showered over them, dancing through the glass windows made through the highly tiered roof.
Golden pillars spread throughout the spacious hall, all heavily inscribed with old Salazāhn tongues.
A few birds fluttered by, sending a cooling breeze, and they all watched in amazement. For this temple was also home to so many.
One bird perched over a bowl-like structure in the corner that had a flow of water connected to the bowls in other corners.
A few others were tucked into the plants that hung onto the walls, some bearing fruits.
"Is that earth-fruit?" magi-mi Chamba lit up.
It was.
Such a fruit had become so rare in other lands, and many had stolen its plants from Salazā, yet the temple always kept it somehow, no matter how many times it was plucked.
Chief Raino nodded at Raki and Bazil to cut some, and the fruit was shared. It was one of the few times Salīa had seen magi-mi Chamba revert to his childlike state and indulge in the pleasure of the earth-fruit.
"Care to explain?" Chief Raino nudged Bazil, who instantly nodded and puffed out his chest.
"Magi-mi Chamba, would you like to hear more about the fruit of the earth?"
"I'd love to," he smiled, licking the juice off his fingers.
"As you may know, it's one of the sacred and healing fruits of the realm, and as you can see on the walls here, it's often some of the few drawings made with color.
Like the blue lotus, its flower's petals are a purplish-blue while its core holds fiery reds, oranges, and yellows – radiating a warm glow."
He gestured to the glowing plant.
"From summer to autumn, the petals are more amethyst purple in color, while its core is more like that of a mandarin garnet.
This leads the taste to be likened to that of citrus and stone fruits.
Winter to spring bears more deep blue, lapis lazuli shaded petals while its core has a more luminous blend of blues with tinges of green, gold and others – like labradorite.
Around that time, the taste is similar to more tropical fruits."
Next, Bazil proceeded to pluck a ripened fruit from it. It was shaped like a large pomelo, seeming like a muted purplish-blue on the outside, yet it often just reflected the colors around it.
He then sliced it cleanly through, revealing the soft, juicy flesh like that of an orange.
"As you can see, the fruit itself is like that of the opal, which many call a rainbow gem. As its colors are always shimmering and shifting, dancing through shades. The taste from such a fruit is unlike any other," he lifted to his lips, and his eyes traced to Salīa's.
She felt her cheeks warm as she looked away.
"It's self-feeding, yes?" asked magi-mi Chamba.
"Yes. It's known as a life-giving and life-taking because it appreciates the flow of life.
It gives what it needs so freely because it also accepts what it needs so freely," Bazil answered. "It takes in water when it needs, sometimes more, sometimes less.
It embraces both the sun and the moon to thrive. It can withstand strong winds and storms – because it's a deeply rooted plant. Also, droughts – because it stores its water."
"Quite impressive and reflective of Salazā's unshakeable land."
Many smiled at this.
"You forget to share the most important part, Bazilani," Raki muttered, having squeezed out each drop of his fruit. "The fruit can kill you."
Everyone's smile instantly faded.
"Oh, I might have heard that in passing. But I don't really know much about it," magi-mi Chamba said, still eating his fruit without pause.
"Let me enlighten you."
None stopped him, yet Bazil seemed to want to. Even Salīa felt uneasy about this.
"Some believe the fruit was once forbidden. Because, as described, the fruit is one of many moods. It does as it pleases. And when displeased, it can become poisonous.
Some say it's rare, and while that is true, whoever eats it dies shortly after. Some say it's symbolic of showing that just because something is beautiful, it doesn't mean it won't poison others."
Is he just talking about the fruit? Then why do I suddenly feel so hollow?
"I might not be as much of a respected scholar as you, brother, but I remember there was more to it," Bazil spoke up, gritting his teeth. "The fruit becomes black and juice white when it's out of harmony, because something foreign has infected it. Usually caused by a nearby war, natural devastation, or discord with celestial forces.
Some say it's symbolic of showing that just because something is beautiful, it doesn't mean that others won't poison it."
The air stayed thick with silence while the others finished their fruits.
"Let's continue," said Chief Raino.
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