I
Roam through countless worlds. Become the self I like. One place is really far too boring.
I open my eyes.
Sunlight slowly falls from high above. Pale-violet towers stand in the distance. Orange-red hot-air balloons loom faintly in the mist. Cotton-candy clouds shimmer beneath my feet.
Welcome to Iste.
I have heard of it. A country famed for its faith.
Please follow me.
The scent is pink. The colors are warm. Sitting on a cloud is very comfortable. This is probably my first impression.
My cheeks flush slightly.
A wondrous melody is mixed into the clouds. The orange-red sky keeps sending out notes. Most are eighth notes. A kind of crispness without any chords.
Is this magic.
Yes, it is.
II
A very, very long time ago there were no clouds here.
Mm.
So our ancestors made many, many clouds.
And then it became the way it is now.
Yes. Yes, indeed.
Gazing into the distance. Feeling my thoughts keep drifting away.
Do you like it here.
Mm.
If one day it.
It.
They all disappear.
They.
The clouds. The magic. And our faith.
Your faith.
The appearance of the pale-violet tower gradually becomes clear. The retreating thoughts are drawn by strings of sound. They lead one to reminisce. As if unwilling to lose the beauty already possessed. There is a touch more sorrow in the strings of sound.
If one day they all disappear. What would you do.
III
Compared with a building. The tower is more like a work of art. Refracted light passes through slits into the interior. Its interior is hollow. It seems to have the texture of a light metal.
Chant is the most beautiful language in the world. In the backdrop of the chant, the dark-purple environment appears especially enchanting. The displayed objects are ones I have not seen.
They come from the Iste of the past. The former capital of faith.
The people of the capital of faith believed in their own nation. Faith brought the chance for magic.
The objects began to move. The objects took human form.
The originally cramped space now had breath.
Is this the magic of objects becoming people.
You need to purchase a wand. This one is holly. This one is poplar. This one is.
You need a broom. It can improve your flying experience. It can.
You also need.
I pick up the holly wand with great interest.
Out of the corner of my eye I see the objects’ eyes signaling.
You do not need to pay. This wand is a gift for you.
Oh. I did not expect that.
I have been warmly treated, have I not.
Coming to the top of the tower. Night has already arrived.
Fireflies surround me. The surrounding colors are fading.
It seems the objects like you.
Is that so.
They usually do not turn into people.
Why is that.
They do not have much magic left.
IV
The capital of faith prospered for a very, very long time bathed in light.
Hot-air balloons rose easily into the sky because of magic.
Clouds became multicolored because of magic.
Rain and dew could automatically adjust because of magic.
People did not need to sell goods. Because objects could take human form through magic.
People did not need to prepare food. Because ingredients could generate dishes through magic.
The tower under the starry sky is romantic. Its colors faded a few shades more. Just like the quiet world’s heart confiding to the heights.
All the beautiful things made people feel that faith was not as important as before.
So much so that they forgot they were subjects of the capital of faith.
Magic began to wane.
By the time people noticed.
The remaining magic was already insufficient to support the country’s operation.
This is probably why I did not see people along the way.
People left their homes one after another.
Do you like it here.
Mm.
If one day it.
It.
They all disappear.
They.
The clouds. The magic. And our faith.
Your faith.
If one day they all disappear. Please do not forget.
V
A starry sky beneath a stretch of seawater. The sea breeze gently blows past the rocks on the shore.
I open my eyes. I see a sky full of stars.
Such is the life of a traveler. Nestling to sleep with the tranquil sea is a romantic thing.
Let my feet be casually soaked by the seawater. Under the starry sky my fingers are slender and fair. I look up at the starry sky. Sipping the flowing wind that nature gives me.
I look around.
I see a wand not far away.
The heart-river that had been gently flowing becomes unstable.
I pick up the wand.
The instant I touch the wand. I hear a voice. It does not come from the starry sky. Nor does it come from the sea. It comes from my heart.
Please do not forget.
(End)