Yicarus, part 1

The door opened smoothly without sound. He was out, finally. After years of being trapped in the walls of reality, he had managed to break the borders and soar out into the world. He would be the first to ever see the true world. He would be the first one to get out the walls of reality, the first to embrace all parts of the world.

Yicarus inhaled the air. It was a fierce one, the air. Unlike the air he had felt inside the walls of reality, the air was not as subtle and gentle in the true world. He would have to get used to inhaling such air. It would be a hard process, he knew, especially because he had been living in the deepest parts of reality, where the air was most gentle and careful. But he didn’t care. Having to learn how to breath a new sort of air did not degrade the values of coming out to the real world.

He carefully trod upon the ground of the true world. It was soft and, what had it been called, oh yes, white. He looked up towards the sky. The night’s eyes were lighting up one by one, showering the world with a cascade of white. But the white did not hurt his eyes like they had back inside the borders. This white was a much gentle one, softened and molded due to the fierceness of the air. Although the ground reflected the light of the stars, the luminous glow was just like what the white ground felt like.

Yicarus started to walk. A step forward. Then another step. And another. Faster and faster. Swift and fluid. Just like he had learned and practiced so many times before coming out to this world, when he was no longer just a child roaming about in the deepest parts of reality, without nothing to do, but wandering just for the sake of realizing that he could at least do something, whether it was meaningless or not.

The ground passed below his feet swiftly. He ran even faster to keep the queer feeling of feet leaving the soft ground constant. One, two, one two. The rhythmical movement of his legs gave him a sense of living, the thumping of his heart against his chest, a sense of belonging in this world. One, two, one, two. The feeling was nearly consistent now, the vibration of his bodily mechanisms stronger than ever. He felt like a god, with the power radiating off his body as he pushed himself forward, upwards to the eyes of night. No, he was God now, as he was the one to come through the doors of reality into the true world. He alone knew the way night opened its eyes, or how soft and gentle snow was, or how fierce air was. He was the lone knower.

Except the former God. He had forgotten. He was not alone in this true world until the former God had died.

“The first thing you should do,” his mentor had always told him “is not to run towards the stars but to find the former God and kill it.”

But how? His mentor could not teach him the how, as he had not experienced the true world and did not know enough to give directions. Yicarus was utterly isolated, clueless, and directionless in the mass of information and being. He no longer felt like a god. A god was supposed to know all. He was lost, a substance that did not belong to a god.

He would have to walk. That was what the life inside the deepest parts of reality had taught him. When there was no direction, but a purpose, random walking would lead one to any sort of clue. This time, he did not run like before. He was careful, soaking up every aspect of the world around him that he could hold, lest he miss the former God. But he still kept a portion of his attention to his feet, because he didn’t want to lose the queer feeling that gave a tingling sensation at the back of his mind, like guilty pleasure.

Suddenly, the feeling in the back of his mind stopped. What he saw around him was still white and snow, but his feet did not feel sense the soft ground anymore. Rather, it was now hard as a rock and freezing like ice. Snow was a gentle substance that did not freeze. What he was stepping on was something other than snow, a property that did not belong in this place. Only a god could displace a substance from its place and alter the arrangements of the world. This must be the work of the former God.

Carefully, Yicarus lifted his feet off the hard ground and stepped backwards. What he saw was not ice, but a face. And it was the most beautiful one that one could ever imagine.

The colors were so vivid, that for a moment, Yicarus thought the face itself was alive, not the owner of that face. Red lips were breathing in the nocturnal air, white face merging in with the clear snow around it. The dramatic contrast gave life to the whole thing. He couldn’t see the eyes as the eyelids kept the pupil to itself, but he was pretty sure that the eyes would be as mesmerizing and dark as sin. He wasn’t just sure, he knew.

He knelt down and crept towards the face, wanting to investigate a little more.

That moment, the face opened its eyes.

#stellakim #fiction