A Compendium of Sh’Varanism Myths: Mirab’s Milky Way.
In the time before mortals had reached the stars, there were three friends. The demi-god Mirab was the son of a known warrior-god and was therefore destined to join the Great War of the Titans. But Mirab had spent his youth with two dear others, Narcissus and Psyche, and so when it came time for the demi-god to travel to the Veil to join the battle, the three of them went together.
They trekked over miles of road, climbed a mountain or two, then passed through the forbidden forest before finally arriving at the edge of a great river. Unlike normal rivers, this one’s currents were completely still and when one gazed into its waters, there was nothing reflected back.
“This is where we part,” Mirab said as he turned away from the water’s edge to regard his friends sadly.
“Will you return?” Psyche asked tentatively, fearful of the answer.
“I intend to,” was all Mirab could say.
The three said their goodbyes and then Mirab stepped up to the water’s edge. He took a deep breath then, with no hesitation, dove gracefully into the still surface. The water parted to accept him and the darkness swallowed him whole. Narcissus and Psyche were silent as the river’s surface calmed once again.
“He will return,” Narcissus responded with confidence, his eyes never leaving the still surface of the water.
“Even if he does, he may be so changed that things will never return to the way they were,” Psyche responded, wringing her hands.
“He will be enough the same that when he returns, we will be able to find ourselves again,” Narcissus retorted.
“Perhaps,” Psyche answered. She stood indecisively on the riverbank, while Narcissus indolently sat at the water’s edge. The two waited and waited, though Mirab had never indicated he would return soon. So intent on staring into the depths, Narcissus did not notice as the time passed and sun disappeared beyond the horizon, leaving them surrounded by darkness. Nor did he notice Psyche quietly slipping away into the forest or he might have cursed her for her capriciousness, for her lack of faith that their friend would return.
An inexorable time later, Narcissus knew not how long had passed, a hot and flaring pinprick on his bare shoulder made him yelp in pain. He looked up to see Psyche standing over him, with an oil lantern hanging from a pole in her hands and an apologetic look on her face.
“Sorry!” Psyche exclaimed, retreating a step. The lantern swayed in its cradle. Narcissus glared reproachfully as he rubbed the burning sensation out of his skin. Then he eyed the lamp with skepticism.
“What is that for?”
“For Mirab,” she explained quietly. “So he can see the way back.”
Narcissus stared at the lantern, then into the dark water below. Indeed, perhaps the lantern would be useful in guiding their friend home, he thought as Psyche carefully planted the pole into the ground, so the lantern stood freely, casting its light out onto the water’s surface. But would it be enough?
“That’s a good idea,” he said and he gathered a large, flat leaf on the ground to him. With a few swift manipulations, he had folded the bit of greenery into the shape of a boat. Psyche watched as he stole a bit of oil and flame from the lantern, barely enough for a candle, and set it boldly on his creation.
Then he set the little boat on the surface of the river and gave it a gentle push to cast it off. The leaf-boat drifted outward, a small flickering beacon in a river of darkness.
“We will light a path for him,” Narcissus spoke with reassurance as he began to fold another boat. Psyche eventually sat and joined him, and the two friends began casting boat after boat onto the river, filling it with little points of light.
To this day, the two continue to cast boats of candlelight out onto the river of the Veil, waiting for Mirab to return.
–
She quietly drifted awake as warmth tickled her feet. Fairy had wound her way up onto the chaise lounge and had been unsuccessfully attempting to settle herself on the betazoid’s outstretched legs. Katriel took stock of her surroundings, a PADD resting on her stomach where it had tilted over when she had prematurely fallen asleep. She turned the device on to examine what she had been reading just before, before setting it to the side and creakily rising from her languor. The little black feline verbalized a complaint at being displaced again, but the counselor just scooped up the creature and headed quietly into her bedroom. To sleep for real, this time.
“Computer, lights, please.”
be-boop.
