by Avi Silver
Sohmeng’s eyes followed the path ahead of her, the thin barrier across the open sky. Behind her was Sodão Dangde, a home turned crypt turned home once more. Ahead of her was Hei and Ahn and whatever came next, whatever lasting change they could bring to Gãepongwei.
Her father’s voice, no longer the stuff of memory: “You ready, little tengmun?”
She glanced back over her shoulder at him, grinning bright as Chehangma. “Been ready my whole life.”
Maybe that was an exaggeration too, but the Sky Bridge didn’t mind. It caught Sohmeng’s foot with practiced ease, the pressure of the rope welcoming against her arch.
Sohmeng had crossed the Sky Bridge seven times in her life, the First Par tradition timed to mark every other birthday. The burst of adrenaline was an old friend, and she gripped the railings with giddy fingers, feeling the trembling vibration in her heart each time she dared look down. She thought of Jinho Tang, swaying peacefully on the side of Fochão Dangde like he’d been plucked out of a nest himself. Crossing didn’t exactly bring her peace, but it certainly brought joy, along with newfound satisfaction with having secured the bridge herself. As a child, she’d always trusted that the adults had known what they were doing when the hmun’s life was put into their hands. This time, she had to put that trust in herself. With every step, she found it easier.
The party paced themselves at Tonão’s recommended distance, and Sohmeng felt little strain on the bridge as a result. Not that it calmed the rest of them—Nona Fahang’s idea of height was measured in treetops alone. Sohmeng tried very hard not to snicker at the sounds coming from behind her. Even in Ateng, there were plenty of people who dreaded facing the mountains’ full height.
“How many—oh, I’m going to be sick—how many times do we do this?” moaned Pangae, who did in fact sound on the verge of retching.
“Three!” called Tonão. “Then a fourth time once the section between the First Finger and Fochão Dangde is repaired.”
Sohmeng wished her father could be closer, but his wooden leg was not designed for crossing rope suspension bridges. Polha Hiwei carried him on her back in the way Ateng carried elderly Grand Ones at the crossing. It was unthinkable to deny someone the full sight of the gods based on mobility alone. Sohmeng was grateful for the woman’s strong back, her steady disposition. In a life where she had been born on time, the two of them would have been phase-mates—the thought made it easier for her to trust the woman with her father’s safety.
Sohmeng peered at Eiji until it made her head start to go fuzzy, then raised her eyes back to the First Finger. Each step brought Ahn and Hei further into focus, and she had to resist the urge to run to meet them. In a moment of mischief, she released the railings, spreading her arms like a bird as she glided across the sky.
Reckless as ever, she thought to herself. But at least there aren’t any rings for you to grab this time.
She ignored what might have been a shout behind her, focusing on what lay ahead. Ahn had one hand to his heart, the other to his ear—she could practically feel the force of his freakout. Hei, on the other hand, stepped forward, spreading their arms to match hers. To catch her a second time.
She called their name in Sãonipa, relishing in the smile that spread across their face, until she finally stepped from rope to stone and crashed into their arms.
“You’re beautiful,” Hei said breathlessly, pressing their forehead into hers. “You’re perfect. I love you.”
The wind sang cool against her skin as Sohmeng sank into the warmth of Hei’s body. She only had a moment to indulge in being held before she turned her attention back to her community on the bridge. That was what Tengmunji was about, after all.
With the help of Ahn and Hei, they guided everyone to the Third Finger. They couldn’t pause for too long if they wanted to maximize what was left of the daylight, but Tonão encouraged the scouts to take a moment to rest before the next two crossings. Thankfully, the gaps between each of the Fingers were slightly shorter than those that led to each of the habitable mountains.
Ahn passed out rounds of rope for each of the scouts to carry. If Sohmeng wasn’t mistaken, she even saw Ahn and Hei say goodbye to each other—a nudge of cheeks, a squeeze on the shoulder. Now that was a development. Before she could get properly nosy, Ahn had turned his attention to Pangae, whose hysterics had returned at the remembrance that he would be crossing with additional weight on his back. Ahn crouched beside him, offering reassurances until the scout was breathing easier. It was hard to believe that just a few phases back, Ahn had been nothing to Nona Fahang but a prisoner, the tsongkar.
The thought was interrupted by the sound of her father’s voice. He was standing by the bridge, talking to Hei. “Are you sure you’ll be alright going back down Sodão Dangde alone?”
They clicked once in affirmation. “I know the mountains.”
“Without the sãoni, the rest of the walk to Eiji can be a little precarious,” Tonão said, reaching into his bag. “Take extra food, in case it takes more time than you think.”
Hei tilted their head, glancing between the man and the offering. Slowly, they repeated themself: “I know the mountains.”
Tonão’s brow was furrowed in a look Sohmeng knew, strangely enough, from her brother. A parental sense of anxiety, a need to nurture regardless of necessity. After a moment, the man sighed, laughing softly as he pressed the food into Hei’s hands. “I trust you do, Hei. But for my sake, would you please take the food?”
Confused though they looked, Hei conceded. Sohmeng bit back a grin at the exchange, the sweet novelty of watching two people she loved behave exactly as themselves with each other.
Hei caught her eye then, chirping a little help! Tonão didn’t speak lizard, but he had a sense of when to make a graceful exit. He smiled as he passed Sohmeng, leaving her to her goodbyes.
“He gave me food,” Hei muttered, holding out the evidence.
Sohmeng smiled, flattening out Hei’s hair where it insisted on sticking up. They were overdue for a trim. “Did you say thank you?” Hei’s eyes widened in such alarm that Sohmeng couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s fine, Hei. Save it for next time.”
“Next time,” they echoed, nodding. For a moment they were quiet, watching the rest of the party prepare. Sohmeng squeezed their shoulders, readying herself for the coming days when she would not be able to touch Hei, or even know what was happening with them.
“I’m so sick of saying goodbye to you,” she said, sighing in frustration. “After this, no more splitting up. I’m not myself when I’m not with you and the sãoni. Humans are great and all, but they’re kind of exhausting, huh?”
Hei laughed at that, louder than she’d heard in a long time. With a final grin, tender and feral, they kissed her, pressing cheeks even as they stepped away.
“Stay safe,” Sohmeng demanded, but they simply waved a hand at her. As if it was so easy.
Hei hesitated for only a moment before stepping onto the Sky Bridge. Sohmeng heard their sharp inhale, and realized that this was the first time they had ever set foot on Ateng’s sacred architecture. Every crossing before had been made in Esteona Nor’s basket, peeking out through whatever tiny hole offered them a sliver of sky. Hei made the journey with fearless wonder, even crouching to try and get a better look at Eiji from this new angle. They looked back at Sohmeng only once, eyes full of childlike wonder, before continuing on.
You’ve always deserved this, Sohmeng thought, the truth of it burning straight through her heart. You, me, every other Minhal. When I’m done with this place, no one will dare speak the word hãokar ever again.
She carried the thought across each section of the Sky Bridge until it became a promise. The world was constantly changing, for better and for worse, and no matter how high Ateng held itself up in the mountains, it could change as well. She could not move the mountain, but she could work with the people inside to make no night feel truly godless.
When they finally reached the First Finger
, the party was met with sound. At first, Sohmeng couldn’t tell what it was; she rubbed her ears as she walked the perimeter of the mountain, peering at the sky for the source of the noise that was both a rumble and a buzz, its faintness growing louder until—
—she faced Fochão Dangde, and the crowd that had gathered at the cave. They had been called by the rekindled lantern upon Sodão Dangde. They were cheering.
Tonão Sol grasped her shoulder for support, his entire body shaking as he looked upon his neighbours. Sohmeng squeezed his hand, took a deep breath, and howled. Her lead was all it took for her party to join in—Eakang hollered greetings in Fahangpa, Polha and the scouts sang trader’s songs across the sky, Ahn whistled so loud and bright Sohmeng thought it could pierce the clouds. Fochão Dangde positively roared.
Eventually, they got ahold of themselves. Tonão passed Ahn a folded note marked with the trader’s written code to explain their situation. Sohmeng had helped him compose the message back in Nona Fahang, trying all the while to remember what each individual symbol meant. Even with the progress they’d made, there was still so much for her to learn.
With a whistle of warning and a whispered prayer in Qiao Sidhur, Ahn let the arrow loose. It landed just on the edge of the cliff, out of the way of the crowd. Sohmeng had never been more grateful for his good aim; if he could keep it up, the bridge would be rebuilt all the easier.
It would take time, of course. But she couldn’t worry about that now. Not when they had made it this far.
A sound. A familiar sound—her name. Sohmeng stepped forward, trying desperately to get a better look at the crowd. She couldn’t see faces, but she saw someone pushing forward. Loud, skinny, just a little too tall. Dressed in the colours of Ateng’s leadership, and behaving most inappropriately.
She burst out laughing, cupping her hands around her mouth. “VIUNWEI!” she shouted. “VIUNWEI SOON!”
Faintly, she heard it back—Sohmeng!
“Viunwei!” she yelled again, waving her arms. She grabbed her father, shaking his shoulder. “Dad, it’s him! It’s Viunwei—look at how tall he is! Say hi!”
For a while, it went on like this. Shouting and cheering, barely intelligible words between distant cousins. Soon Ateng let loose an arrow of their own, the response scrawled down on what precious little parchment remained from their trading stores. After the scramble to retrieve it, Tonão shared it with the party, a new determination in his eyes.
“They’re ready,” he said. “The leaders are making everyone wait inside so they can get the weavers out. We’re starting tonight, for as long as we have the sun. We begin where we left off tomorrow at daybreak.”
Sohmeng’s eyes fell to the horizon, where Chehangma seemed to glow twice as bright, even on its way to splitting back into the moons. She couldn’t help the swell of pride that grew in response. What a sight they had given the godseye today.
Watch closely, she thought. We’re going to fix the world.
Tonão Sol passed Ahn the arrow, its line secured in place. Ahn positioned himself in silence, and the world seemed to stop with his breathing. Sohmeng came to his side, following the trajectory with her eyes, willing the gap to be bridged. She rested her fingers on his arm, feather-light.
“Their watchful eyes upon you, Ahnschen,” she said. He smiled at the contact, the string of the bow brushing his lips.
“Upon us all, Sohmeng Minhal,” he murmured.
With a tender strum of his fingers, the arrow released. Soared. Landed true.
Writing acknowledgements in May 2021 for a book I began in October 2019 is complicated. My heart is full, but my memory’s shot; I’m a different person than I was when this began. Where Two Dark Moons was written in a time of bounty, surrounded by support and energy, creating Three Seeking Stars was often a lonely experience. My NaNoWriMo goal was met the same day my estranged stepfather passed away; the first draft was finished during a week sick in bed with what was likely COVID. So much of this process was marked by grief—but I am still able to look at this book, in its final form, and feel joy. For that, I have these people to thank:
Dad, whose support has allowed Shale to thrive, and whose shouts of “Team Hei!!” were so funny that they ended up in the book (Hei approves of Ahn, Dad. I hope you do too!). Mom, whose care for her LGBTQ+ students makes me less scared for the future, and who has brought the Sãoni Cycle to so many young readers. Grandma Ronnie, who found me the lizard earrings I didn’t know I needed. My siblings, who routinely show such care for my work—special thanks to Ryan for gassing me up every time I get ready to Give Up On Writing Forever, and Natalie who sends impeccable memes. My cousin Cass, who might have accidentally named the third book after themself. Lots to think about.
Carisa Van de Wetering, who gives so freely of her generous heart. Cortni Fernandez, whom I cherish. Natalie Lythe, who bites. Claudie Arsenault, whose championing of this series makes me glow. Brandon Crilly, a fellow reptile parent and believer in this book. Haley Rose, who designed the cover of my dreams yet again! The entire Augur Magazine staff, who make me a better writer, editor, and person. Big shout out to Amy Wang, whose enthusiasm never fails to get me rowdy.
All the readers who have asked for more, especially the young adults. I’m so grateful my words reach you, and I am humbled by your care for this story. Shale’s patrons over at Patreon—your donations kept us afloat for this past year. Thank you. I also need to thank everyone involved in the making of Haikyuu!! The volleyball boys gave me energy and joy when nothing else did.
I have so much love in my life to be thankful for. Irene, who is the funniest person on the planet, proof that the triangle is the strongest shape, and a font of sleepover secret-telling magic. You’re the best night shift I could ask for; let’s keep learning from and with each other for years and years to come. Sienna, whose thoughtful eye and dedicated heart makes this whole thing possible. Again and again my love, you make it all possible. What a gift, to share these words and worlds with you. You turn my ideas into living creatures, and I’m so thankful to hold your hand and watch them run.
And finally, Jevick. Our bad baby, our chunky beardie, our little sãoni, the best thing to come out of 2020. You can’t read this because you’re a lizard, but I’m so glad you’re here.
One more book to go—thanks for sticking around.
With love and a bite,
Avi Silver
May 2021
Hamilton
GÃEPONGWEI
Ama—the small red moon, feminine; ruler of reason and material matters
batengmun—initiates; singular would be “tengmun”
Chehang—the big white moon, masculine; ruler of emotion and spiritual matters
Chehangma—the sun, conceptualized as the combined eyes of the moons Ama and Chehang
damwei—the third party required to make a baby, either a surrogate or sperm donor; affectionately referred to as “damdão”
Fochão Dangde—the mountain that Ateng’s people are currently trapped in; “Brother Mountain”
Gãepongwei—a name for the interconnected hmun network; recently coined
hãokar—the exiled; literally “without family”
hmun—term for a village/community in Gãepongwei
Hosaisi—a hmun far north, one of the first to be contacted by Qiao Sidh
kejangar—“hospitality” in Dulpongpa, the trade language of Eiji; an important organizing principle for the hmun
Kongkempei—a hmun far north, destroyed by Qiao Sidh
Nona Fahang—a hmun surrounded by thick walls formed of living banyan trees; currently hosting refugees of the Qiao Sidhur invasion
Sodão Dangde—the final resting place of Ateng’s batengmun; “Sister Mountain”
Sorwei Chapal—a hmun located on top of the Ãotul river, known for its masterful knotwork
Tengmunji—initiation into adulthood
tsongkar—a Fahangpa word for intruder, invader; “one who did not ask”
QIAO
SIDH
Asgørindad—the university where Ahnschen studied Philosophy after his Six-ing
Gurinn—the last region of the upper continent to fall to the Qiao Sidhur Empire
Haojost—the small town Schenn grew up in before attending Kørno Wan
Hvallánzhou—one of Qiao Sidh’s capitals, where the Winter Palace resides
Jin Fóll—walled city overtaken in The Thousand Hour Siege
Kørno Wan—the academy where young and privileged Qiao Sidhur train in the Path of Conquest
Six-ing—a necessary requirement to achieve sixth ranking in the Path of Conquest; a fight to the death
zhørmozhør—asexual; rarely used outside of a lecture hall
THE NINE PATHS OF MASTERY
Alléndou—Fertility
Hvundpar—Health
Idhren—Discernment
Ødselo—Spirit
Siengung—Philosophy
Søngjudh—Aesthetic
Sølshend—Arts
Qøngem—Conquest
Zhøllong—Advancement
About the Author
Avi Silver is an author (Two Dark Moons, 2019), editor (Augur Magazine), and poet. Find their short fiction in Common Bonds: An Aromantic Speculative Anthology, and their poetry appearing or forthcoming in Strange Horizons and Uncanny Magazine. For lizard pictures, follow them on Twitter @thescreambean.
Read more at Avi Silver’s site.
About the Publisher
The Shale Project (under Molewhale Press) is a multimedia storytelling initiative roughly in the shape of a planet. It’s about three things: top-notch worldbuilding, daring and exploratory fiction, and the philosophy that art is medicine.
You can discover what else it has to offer at www.welcometoshale.com
