*

Chapter Five

Her golden fur did not match her purple eyes. She had a specific beauty and charm about her that fascinated him instantly. One of the legs on the small wooden chair she sat on was shorter than the rest, and Stratus frowned at the thought that she might fall. She was older than most, but not an elder, and Stratus felt somewhat superior, but since he came seeking her counsel, he decided to be respectful. She looked young in the dim candlelight as
her hands traced patterns in the air, weaving human destinies. Her golden wings
opened, distracting him for a moment, and as they started to glow, they revealed
several polished horns on top of her head, shaped like a crown. The hut darkened
as she closed her wings, allowing him to see a golden mist descending from the ceiling
that was gathered by her hands, falling between her feet and vanishing into the
floor like a stream of light.

"Stratus, come in," she said, her eyes not moving from the foggy glow between her fingertips. "My apologies for not attending the festival; there's much work to be dealt with on the mortal realm. How was it?" she asked, giving him a quick smile.

As he stepped inside, a rush of heat overwhelmed him, along with the smell of musty air that held hints of dry herbs and smoke. He needed a moment before he was able to look around.

The tiny window in his left didn't give enough light, making everything seem mysterious. Under the window were a bunch of wildflowers abandoned on a small wooden table, next to a pile of books covered with dust and burned-out candles. The wall in the right was covered in roots and moss, and he could distinguish an image of a younger Decima that was painted behind them, probably from the days when she had time for hobbies.

"The festival was great," he replied, realizing he was staring at the wall. He wanted to ask about the painting, but decided against it. He paced around the tiny space and took in all the small details.

"Please sit and rest. You must have had a long journey. I'll take a break soon so we can discuss properly," she said and pointed to a bed across from the window.

Stratus walked toward it and cringed, noticing that he didn't fit on the tiny bed, but eased his weight onto it. Lying on his back, with his feet hanging out of the bed, he placed his hands under his head. His eyes followed the pattern she created with her hands, and before he knew it he was sound asleep.

A cold chill awoke Stratus, leaving him surprised when he found himself resting against the tree with golden leaves. The whole meadow was covered with snow, and after he looked up, he noticed that the tree's crown was also covered in snow. The tree was neither disproportionate
nor tall; it looked like a normal tree, but as he touched the trunk that felt cold
as ice, he heard the tree's raspy voice talking to him.

"I appreciate that you share your warmth with me."

Stratus looked at the tree and embraced it, giving it all of his body heat as the blizzard came faster and harder on both of them.

"I will not let you die, tree," said Stratus with a selflessness he never knew he had.

"Your wings are majestic," said the tree, and Stratus looked behind him only to find his wings more beautiful than he'd ever imagined. He let go of the embrace that he was giving the tree and flew above it to clear the snow that was freezing his golden leaves. After he finished,
he flew down once more looking at the snow around the tree and the few leaves that
fell. He took a leaf in his hand and surrounded both his arms and his wings around
the tree's trunk again, warming it.

"You are my only friend," said the tree, and Stratus held him tighter.

He woke up in the dark. The candle had burned out, and the light from the crescent moon was barely enough to show him the location of the window and door, but his attention was drawn to Decima, who seemed surrounded by threads of light. Her arms moved the same as before, but now he could see the strings of light that she was weaving, reminding him of Myra's harp playing. He opened his hand looking for the golden leaf, but he was left disappointed when he
found nothing.

"I didn't disturb you. You seemed to need the rest," she said with a smile.

"Thank you," he said in a low voice, considering discussing the dream he had.

"How was Myra's performance?" she asked.

"Everyone cheered."

"She's gifted. Make sure you send her my best. I miss her dearly."

He got up and stretched to ease his back. His mouth was dry and his hair was plastered to the sides of his face with sweat. The heat of the volcano was the opposite of the frozen meadow in his dream.

A small fountain caught his eye, and he approached it with curiosity. The roots that surrounded it blended into the wooden design of the pillar in an unnatural way. The moon reflected into the water, giving it an eerie glow.

"It reveals what has yet to happen," she said, standing from the small stool. Her purple eyes got darker as she approached him. Stratus leaned over and kneeled, placing his hands on the sides of the short artifact. His hair touched the water, making it restless.

"Allow me," she said, pulling his hair back. She took his hand in hers and swept his fingers through the shallow pool. Stratus was surprised by how cold the water was, considering the warmth of the place. He waited for an image in the water to appear and meanwhile stared at his reflection, realizing how tired he looked.

Decima approached it, and her eyes widened while her lips let out a small gasp.

"What do you see?" Stratus asked eagerly. She hesitated for a moment, looking first at Stratus, then at the fountain.

"I see nothing," she said as she looked away. "The water is unclear, I can't make anything out."

"Why is this happening?" asked Stratus desperately.

"I'm not allowed to see." She shrugged and handed him a piece of cloth to dry his hands. "I think we both need a breath of fresh air," she said. He nodded and followed her outside.

They sat in the grass discussing the festival and the weather, Stratus looking for the right moment to bring up the reason for his visit. He gathered his courage and began.

"You must wonder why I'm here. I find myself in need of your help, and I feel like you're the only one who could help me. As you know, my destiny is to care for the sky, an interaction with the environment for which wings are not required. I wish to help the humans on earth and interact
with them, and for that I need wings. I need you to change my destiny," Stratus said, letting out a breath he didn't know he was carrying.

She raised her perfect eyebrow at him and replied,
"I must disappoint you; I don't have the power to do what you ask of me."

"I came here hoping you can release me from my duties and shape a new destiny for me, and in this moment of great despair, when I need you the most, you turn me away?" A shadow of anger crossed Stratus' face.

Decima felt offended by his comment and closed her eyes annoyed.

"You misunderstand my work. I don't change destinies; I only set them on track. Everyone has their life thread from birth to death. We leave from a certain point and finish in a certain point, but only the endpoints are predetermined, and if the end is predetermined, all roads will lead
them there. If a mortal is stuck in a place or goes on the wrong road, I put them on track, helping them. With our kind it's different. Our thread is endless, and so if you're heading toward a destination, I couldn't say if it is the wrong or right way, thus I can't direct you."

"What does this mean?" Stratus wanted to know more with hope that maybe he could find a solution.

"It means that our destiny can't be predetermined nor can it be altered by me."

"Could it be altered by me?"

Decima turned her back at him and rolled her eyes.

"I do not have all the answers; I suppose it could be possible."

"I love this world more than I can understand it. I can see it, I can see how broken it is. I can see how perfect it is. My heart beats as one with the earth's vibration. I feel connected to the humans through an energy thread. I feel their happiness, I feel their pain, and I feel their loneliness and their needs. The fact that I don't know what to do, and that my powers have
limits hurts me in ways I can't describe. I just want to reach out and be a part
of the change. I want to matter and heal the world. Who I am is so far from whom
I want to be, and it's tearing me apart, and the worst part is that I feel alone.
The others don't see nor understand. There's no worse feeling that feeling powerless
about something, when you have so much power over something else. And here I am
in front of you, pouring my heart out, talking about destiny and the thread of life.
If this is who I'm meant to be, why doesn't my heart agree? Why does my heart feel
empty and incomplete?" Stratus tried to explain.

"Perhaps the world isn't broken, and you just see it that way. What if your need to feel important is so big that you create in your head situations or people who need your help? Is your existence so questioned by yourself that you need not only to have a purpose, but this purpose needs to
be out of your reach? The way the world is created, the people, nature, us, everything
is in balance. The world has everything it needs, so when you're talking about the
world needing you, is it really that it needs you, or is it your need to matter?
Do you need the world to need you? I can't see your destiny, nor can I influence
it, but I can tell you something about destinies. Your road will reach its destination
no matter what route you take. Flying is only a way of transport; it doesn't change
the destination, and if along the way your destiny is to fly, then you will. You
say you see beauty in everything around you, but you don't see it in yourself. Your
perspective is distorted; you'll never see the world unbroken if you yourself are
broken on the inside. If you're not at peace with your own existence, you will not
see peace around you. You are a mirror of the world. If you are scared, you see
that the world is scared. If you are not satisfied with your destiny, you see the
world incomplete."

"You couldn't possibly understand. Coming here was a mistake." Stratus turned around and took step after step, falling into his thoughts.

"Only the idea of not touching anything else except the air, the idea that I would be separated from everything else, is making me feel anxious. That is the only freedom that I could ever aspire to. I would not be a part of something anymore; I would be connected only to myself,"
he mumbled. He didn't look back, but even if he did, he wouldn't see the hut anymore,
or the trail, or the volcano.

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