THE FOURTH REALM: GREEN — A shared life

The light changed before the landscape did. Skyblue felt warm air brush her wings. A few more steps, and she found herself in a sunlit meadow.

There were pegasi, dragons, fugaíns, and laces. There were also creatures she was seeing for the first time. Their differences had not disappeared; what was missing were the walls around them. Some shared the work, while others rested together. Every family had a home in a tree, but between the dwellings lay common spaces that reminded her of the dwarves’ village.

No one sent her to a registration office. They offered her water and a place to sit. They welcomed her with a familiarity that didn’t require knowing where she came from.

Skyblue recognized something of Evarista’s presence in them. She was moved to remember that the dragons at the assembly had thought her like the inhabitants of the meadows. Had she changed so much without noticing?

Life there was joyful. Laughter came easily, and someone was always willing to help. Skyblue began asking questions again, the persistent questions that had so troubled the adults of her childhood. No one was alarmed. If someone knew the answer, they shared it; if not, they said so without embarrassment, and sometimes went with her to find someone who could guide her.

She could say what she liked and what she didn’t. She could make mistakes. It reminded her of the misfits’ oasis, though in the meadows she didn’t have to feel strange to belong.

That didn’t mean her heart stopped judging overnight. As soon as she felt accepted, she discovered new forms of her old habit. She compared one creature with another. Sometimes, after helping someone, she secretly hoped others would notice. She even managed to feel superior for being able to recognize her own sense of superiority, and that trick of the mind made her laugh so hard she had to sit down.

“I’m going to need patience,” she told Helio.

The answer came as a peaceful warmth in her chest.

Admitting those feelings brought relief. She kept sharing in the village’s work and listening to others, until one day she discovered that she had helped someone and forgotten to think about herself. Another day, she accepted help without feeling any less capable.

She felt part of a much larger life. Sometimes, as she crossed the meadow, it seemed that the whole community breathed with her. Every flower, every leaf, every stone held the light she had seen on the day her awakening began. Only now, that light was no fleeting apparition. It found a place in everyday things.

For a time, she walked slowly like this, as though she could breathe in the landscape.

Then one afternoon, without warning, she felt something give way in her chest.

She closed her eyes and saw an open lotus flower in her heart. She could feel its petals and even sense its fragrance.

She stood still, her paws deep in the grass. She didn’t know how long it would last. She didn’t try to hold on to it.

She felt close to Helio, Ernesto, her parents, Evarista. Close, too, to the dragons, the dwarves, the laces, and the fugaíns. Her village no longer seemed a distant place. She carried it there, with everything she had loved and everything she was still learning to love.