Before life even had a chance to begin, there was always Desect, the all-encompassing being who, from his corpse, everything would be borne. Before the his dismemberment however, there were no valleys or mountains: Desect was smooth and unblemished. There were also no rivers and lakes: Desect was whole and complete. There were no animals or plants either; the only thing seperate and different from Desect was the little Astran, the negative voice present in everything’s thoughts. Desect looked down upon himself, and Astran began to whisper her slick words to him, pointing out how flat he was. Desect heard this and said nothing, for he didn’t know why he should be concerned about his appearance. Desect stared up at the sky, and Astran once again began to strike him with her words, mocking that he should fill it with his tears. Desect heard this and said nothing, for he didn’t know why he should cry when he has no emotions. Desect closed his eyes to looked inward, and Astran began to mumble to him with her belittling tone, asking why he was being so stoic. Desect heard this and answered, for she had finally asked him a question. He answered that he just was, for he had no values. The frusterated Astran heard this, and in a bid to finally demoralize him, she tossed away her sly words in favor of showing him a dream.

Desect saw his blank body and imagined those all beautiful things, and with his eyes opened to the ideal compared to the ugly, wept. He would never be those things, and as the sky became dotted with his tears and in a fit of despair, he tore off his limbs. As his limbs split apart into the five continents, he died, decaying, and what was once featureless became mountains made of bone and valleys made from flesh. His blood poured into the corners and cervices of the world, creating the five oceans. In the same manner of maggots appearing upon dead flesh, various animals and plants dug their way out of his body, flourishing.

The “mighty warrior”, defender of the weak and innocent, but is he really? He travels town to town, through all the “underdeveloped” areas supposedly helping the people. Really though he is just satisfying his ego. The townspeople despise him, they see him as omen of destruction and despair, while he thinks himself a god. The only god they might think of rqusting him to is the god of death. The man believed the people cannot care for themselves so he “helps” them, by implementing laws and structure that goes against their society. He kills them for disobeying, trying to teach them the difference between ‘good’ and ‘bad’, but where are his morals. He sees them like savages, and constantly infabtalizes them. Sound familiar at all, no? Pick up a history book then. Tell me does it ring a bell now?

Keiko’s breath was heavy as he gripped the hilt of his sword. Stepping back before getting another run at the cliff. His feet’s skidding to a hault at the beginning of the bridge.

“Damn it. I don’t think I can do it..”

His companion sighed, remaining at her spot in the tree. “You’re telling me, the famous hero can’t conquer his fear of heights. I saw you kill ten demons yesterday!” she scoffed at his terrified expression.

“That’s different, demons are easy. Did you know 65 percent of people are more likely to die from falling than demons?”

He shuddered, peering over the edge to the drop below. The young elf mage jumped down, her pointy ears poked from her long hair. The sun glinting off its pale surface, joining him by the edge.

“If you can’t handle this how will we fight the dragon?” she said. She stepped onto the bridge.

“You just cut its wings. No flying, no heights and no problem.” His knees buckled as he took a step onto the swaying bridge. “Oh why did it have to be this?”

They slowly walked reaching the center of the wooden bridge. The famous hero’s eyes locked on his two feet as his companion rolled her eyes.

“First it was spiders, the dark, and germs? This is why people say never to meet your heroes.” He responded with a shaky breath.

“Those are very legitimate fears I’ll have you know!” He huffed gripping the ropes tighter as the wind blew. One hand securing his hat to his head.

“Ok well, I’ll be at the door when you finally make it. I’m an elf and I think I’ll be old by the time you get up there.” She laughed, her run up the bridge making it shake even more.

The hero quickly kneeling and closing his eyes until the wooden boards settled. “Very funny. I’m supposed to be retired y’know.” He grumbled as he continued his sluggish crawl along the bridge.

Two hours later they begrudgingly made it to the castle, killing the dragon and freeing its captives. Only to face the recurs bridge again on the way back.

Ahead of me was the air temple so close yet so far. Finally after all my toils, all the paths tread and kingdoms crossed I had made it.

The final obstacle was a bridge barely held together with rope. I tried it tentatively and felt the wood buckle but hold. It didn’t seem promising but I had no other option and so I continued walking. Grabbing the cords I used them to support the majority of my weight and carefully tried out each wooden beam as I crossed. The track in front of me spiralled up into the mountain and below me, very far below me, was a river trailing into the ravine. I ignored my fear, and tried to think ahead to what I would say when I arrived. It had been years in the making and so I had to get it right.

Panting I made it to the other side and was about to celebrate when I remembered I still had the hill to climb.

The Bridge to Freedom It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Need to go over!

                   Beautiful blue lake,
        Amazing, tall, green mountains!
                   A heaven on Earth

              Trees and plants all well
         With lots of soft, fluffy clouds
                  Journey full of awe

                   But this is the end
              Appreciating this scene,
                  Make it over now!!

                 I’m over the bridge 
           And my journey is fulfilled 
                     I’m finally free!

“It smells like...” Ingrid stops and breathes in the misty air, closes her eyes, and takes in all that mingles with it: the sound of the river below, the leaves chattering in the trees, the vocalists amid the high-altitude flock of birds. She opens her eyes, feels the cool breeze prickling her skin, and suddenly she’s seeing it all as she had once seen it. “… Home.” She whispers.

A breeze pushes against her back, runs through her hair, and pulls her along, one step forward—a step closer to the bridge, a step back in time. But she turns back instead and calls out, “Doesn’t it smell like home, Korinna?” But her memory suddenly slaps her mid-sentence, and by the time she finishes asking the question, she’s wincing. Embarrassed.

Ingrid straightens as she faces Korinna and restates her question. This time, she's concentrating on using her hands, as she has been training to do. “Korinna, does it still smell like home?”

Korinna smiles, and looks past Ingrid. She too closes her eyes and breathes in the morning air. “It smells a bit like sweat and long days on the road. I think the wind has changed direction.” Korinna signs, smiling as she puts emphasis on the wind's direction.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ingrid signs back, turning back to face the everlasting greenery. “I'll be sure to bathe once I'm back in my old room.” The clouds shift, and suddenly there it is, in all its glory. Snug amid two steep mountainous rock formations, a stone castle, clinging like an epiphyte to the cliffside.

“The bridge really needs tending too.” Korinna moves to stand beside Ingrid. “It looks as if they haven’t touched it in years.” Korinna signs. Emphasizing caution, as she scans the area for anything out of place.

It amazes Ingrid how quickly Korinna reverts to her training and rank. As if she were once again leading a group near enemy lines. Well, imagined lines; they say peace has been a constant here in Javari for over a hundred years. Their entire military career consisted mostly of parade displays, monitoring important places, and training. Consistent and constant training. So much so, you would think Javari was on the precipice of war.

Even so, this was why she was so happy to be home. She’d put in her name and served, as everyone must. Now, finally, she was at the end of her term and could actually return home! Korinna, on the other hand, was less enthusiastic about being here. Where Ingrid had done her duty for the sake of duty, Korinna embraced the lifestyle almost immediately; it was duty, but it was also something more; it was somehow part of her.

Ingrid looked over the bridge; it had not aged well, and she questioned its remaining strength. Though she could not match the concern Korinna was projecting.

“Let’s go!” Ingrid gestured and stepped onto the bridge. But a second later, Korinna caught her by the shoulder and pulled her back.

“Something isn’t right, Ingrid.” Korinna signed, signalling for her to look out past the bridge towards the tunnel that leads to a series of stairs. “Where are the guards? We should find somewhere safe to watch for a few hours. I’m having one of those feelings again." Ingrid saw that Korinna rubbed at a spot in her chest.

There haven’t been many times when her senses have been wrong. But surely, Ingrid thought, this had more to do with Korinna’s fear of facing what she left behind than anything else.

“I’m going.” Ingrid insisted. “My family is here; everything is here.” She said, smiling up at her home, missing the look that crossed Korinna's face, a look she would never see again. “Please stay here; keep an eye out if you must.” Ingrid genuinely meant it, though she knew Korinna would follow her anywhere.

A palpable myriad of emotions swirled between them, and together they crossed the threshold into what lies waiting ahead

I looked at the rickety old bridge that led to my home. Its no longer our home, I reminded myself. The bridge had seen better days, with only travelers and messengers using it. But it was still the only way in and out. I made my way across. It took me a while, but before I could truly regret what I was about to do, I had made it over. I met my partner in crime, Misha when I made it over. She swooped down, landing on my shoulder, her crimsom tail shining in the sun. I turned and faced my old home, the only place I had ever known. As I turned towards the horizon and unknown land, I unsheathed my sword, took a long swipe and the bridge. I had severed my life. I hoped for the better.

The dull ache of my body is a constant companion.

It’s been the only constant on this pilgrimage, so in a sense, it’s a comfort. Everyone in my lineage has made this journey. My mother. Her father. The elders before them.

So shall I.

I am unfit to be one of them if I don’t.

As I settle next to the bridge, I allow myself to fall in sync with the energy around me. Small rings of air pulse away from me, subtly humming as they roll through the grass.

I see the Guide. I see the directions. I see the path.

Relief washes through my soul. The journey is nearly over.

I have nearly closed the distance.

I stood at the edge of the bridge The rickety, old bridge The bridge that was so easily break under the weight of a feather But I was lighter than a feather That’s what I was trained for To be light To move smoothly

The bamboo hat that sat atop my head shifted a little bit in the wind. The long sword at my hip felt heavy But I could do this

With a deap breath I launched myself into the air The castle was within reach
The first time I landed was definitely heavier than anticipated But I came back by bouncing right back up, gaining some more air-time

Dust fell off the bridge, but not a single strand of rope snapped I landed twice more before flipping off the bridge to solid ground Sticking the landing, I turned to watch the bridge, making sure it was still intact

It was. So I cut it I couldn’t have them following me

Dear You,

I know I don’t know as much as I think I do. I know I don’t know what rock bottom is, because things can always get worse. I know I don’t know who you are, or what you’ve been through, or what you’ll face. But I know you are important, you are worth it, and that there is someone out there, whether you know them or not, who needs you. I know you aren’t always okay, and you know what? Thats okay. I know you can offer something amazing, something beautiful, something unique, something no one’s seen before, something the world needs. I know you are special, and that the world never has and never will see someone exactly like you. And I know that if you aren’t doing well right now, it will get better. Because if you’re reading this, you’ve survived yesterday, and all the yesterdays before that. So who gets to say you won’t survive tomorrow?

From, Me