In the world outside, birds returned to human form—or had they ever been otherwise? The Qalif came forth from the temple and was greeted with cries of exultation, for in this qalifate he was a man well-loved and his death was deemed a thing of regret and sorrow. Now, his resurrection was a thing of wonder.
Khoiram and Lealla, protected by their father’s mercy, made their way unhindered through the angry crowds, compelled somehow to keep walking west in the direction of the setting sun. A curious punishment was upon them, for they were driven by no one yet they were in exile. Those who saw them pass later, in other places, other lands, claimed that it always happened at sunset. It was as though they were rushing to catch the sun at the end of its journey across the vault of heaven; indeed, the grim shadow-forms of trudging brother and sister became the stuff of hearsay and legend.
As for Ruogo, he was favored by the Qalif, feasted for a day and then—since the Qalif was grieving the loss of his son and daughter, and would grieve for the rest of his days—allowed to go on his own way in the world.
Before Ruogo left this land, he made one last stroll across the dry mud of the former lake into the silent temple of the Hidden God that now sat unattended by all but a few devout priests. Ruogo carried with him an old box of carved wood, with an ancient thing inside it, a desiccated body of a tiny hatchling that he had kept all these years. At the altar in the shadowy cavern within the temple, he placed the dead thing of bones, and he implored the Hidden God one last time.
And in his mind, the God answered. What’s this? You bring me a tiny lost bit of my heart. And for that reason I grant you a tiny bit in return.
There was a breath of fire, a wash of air and power, and the tiny creature came alive. A fragile running pulse, and it beat its newborn wings, and then, as Ruogo watched in awe, it managed to take flight, and sped forth into the daylight outside.
You give it a second chance—the greatest gift. And the chance to have made such a gift was my gift to you, so many years ago. For you found a small worthless thing yet recognized significance while most others in your place would not. And it opened the spaces within you for other things to come. Now, be on your way, go reap these things, all the infinity of things that you will find.
“But I have so many questions left!” Ruogo said. “Why did this poor creature die so young before it even had a chance to live? Why do any of us die? What of the symbols upon the gates of your temple? What of my own place and the burden of knowing your three names? What must I do now?”
May you spend the rest of your life finding these answers. From this moment onward you begin to know. And it is what makes you.
Ruogo bowed with his soul before the invisible Hidden God, and left the temple with a fevered mind but an easy heart.
Hours later, long after he had clambered out of the lakebed and resumed the caravan route on his own life’s journey, the waters of Lake Veil returned.
It was said they came rushing out of nowhere, allowing the priests and worshippers of the temple only moments to escape with their lives before they closed in and flooded the place, covering once again the ancient temple under a smooth mirror surface.