Iris is sitting there, waiting. Waiting for the skies to burst relentlessly upon her, to drown her. Waiting for the wind spirits to engulf her, to take her along with them. She can feel their presence; almost see them through the opal mist. There’s silver thunder pounding upon the onyx mountains.
The time is nearly there, the wait is almost over. Iris is floating in a rhythmic manner, chanting, pleading the wind spirits to take her above the ka'ajal skies, up to the golden skies.
Unfolding her legs beneath her she stands up, gliding across the sand to the glazed sea. The wind has stopped, resting it seems, the clouds have quieted, the only sound that of the wind chime in her hand and the hollow whispers of the sea.
She changes her direction suddenly, and starts towards the mountains. The tinkling wind chime in her hand, the hum of her voice creating an almost haunting melody. The wind is picking up again, her wine hair flying about her face, framing her pale face. She is unaware of the emerald eyes following her, watching her come closer. She reaches the mountains, stares up at them for a second, and then starts climbing up, clawing at the rocks with her hands.
She stops, turns around and looks down at the picturesque landscape beneath her, shaking her head, disregarding it. Her eyes make contact with the emerald eyes but she can’t see who they belong to. Black against black. She sees the sleek body of a black panther, standing still as if it’s been carved out of black marble. It snarls at her, but she doesn't flinch; it belongs to the wind spirits. She soothes it in a whispery language. The panther nods in respond to her, and beckons her to climb onto its back. The rain has started pouring steadily and together they make it to the top of the marbled mountains.
There, the panther leaves her and once again she’s alone. The wind is picking up, and the clouds are thundering again. It is time, she tells herself. She raises her hands above her head, and the wind spirits wrap themselves about her; a whirlpool of ghostly clouds. They take her towards the sea, and gently set her upon the waves. Her last thought is of the golden skies, and there’s a serene smile on her face; she finally has met the wind spirits.
*Ka'ajal is a Hindi word and it basically means black. It is also a makeup item, used as eyeliner.
