The Bell Tolls

	We ran. Of course we did.

	We ran as far as we possibly could, until our legs just started to give out underneath us. We ran in the summer sun until Vask’s great eye started to crest the horizon and the hazy heat started to drain away. We stopped in a little clearing, panting, out of breath, our faces stained with tears and we just sat there and stared at the night sky. We’d always been taught to treat the forest with caution and respect, but that night we couldn’t find it in us to fear the animals. There just wasn’t room among the rest of the things in our hearts.

	I don’t remember the first word we spoke to each other, but it wasn’t until late that night. Truth be told, I don’t remember a lot of that night. I held that bell in my hand. She told us it was so important, that we could never let it go, that it could never be lost. We took a knife, whatever clothes we could gather, and of course, the bell… and we left. Because what the hell else were we supposed to do? We couldn’t share that little shack in the woods with her ghost, no matter how deeply we buried the body and how many rites we muttered. No matter how many candles we lit to drown the shadows, they’d linger in our heads all the same.

	Darcy looked so… calm. I didn’t get it. Sure, she was crying too, but I was losing it. What the hell were we going to do? She told me again and again, that things would work out. She was as calm as she ever was. She took my hand and she looked at me and we just sat there in the grass for hours.

	I asked her what she thought had happened. We both looked at the bell. She told me she didn’t know.

	…

	On the inside of that silver bell was a little note, and of course the hammer itself. The note was clear. On one side, it said “Don’t ring this bell at home,” and on the other, it said “Don’t strike the fourth band.”

	One night, a kind noble agreed to transport us to Osivyver. I told him to let us off a mile or so from town; both he and Darcy looked confused, but I motioned to the bell and she understood.

	Not far from town, in case we needed to get out of dodge to someplace safe, we carefully handled the bell. We slid it from its casing, and found it to be stuffed as full as could be with cotton. The outside was more pristine than anything we’d ever seen—the silver shine seemed to reflect so much that it would catch the reflections of nothing at all. It swallowed the color of the stars and the golden eye of Vask just as it did the color of the unseen.

	The hammer was this simple thing, in contrast. A little, pale wooden sphere perched atop a dainty bronze rod. In the case with it were schematics, a dizzying mish-mash of hastily scrawled notes and astonishingly detailed diagrams that neither one of us to this day could piece together. We pulled the cotton out, and we just… held it. It felt so delicate, and yet like nothing in the world could warp that mirror-metal, all at once. We had gleaned enough to know how to use the bell correctly. So, as Darcy held it, I lifted the hammer and struck it as gently as I could manage, on the second band.

	The bell’s knoll was scintillating and strange, a warbling cry far from what we expected. As the sound traveled, so too did a wave of light that cast the veil off. Bursting into our awareness was a sea of alien life, glowing and bright as a contrast to its mundane mortal underpinning. A second world, living, breathing, invisible in the folds of the one we know. It was all cool, kind colors; bubbly blues and smooth purples made up the bulk of the foliage, all ethereal and translucent. At first, it was simply too much; I damn near tumbled off that stump, covering my eyes. A second forest woven into the first was overwhelming enough on its own, let alone one not meant to be seen by mortal eyes.

	Just as I had begun to adjust, I witnessed a strange creature of light, somewhat like a deer, passing through a tree just nearby. It had eyes like little white suns burning inside of its triangular red skull, and its limbs were hardly attached to its body, jagged, featureless spikes of that same foggy energy, but it still stood tall and alert.

	We locked eyes with it, surely just as shocked as it was, and before we could really register what it was it bounded off into the forest in a blur. In its absence, more unfolded before us; darting little wisps that glowed like fireflies but smoked like matchheads, the way they seemed to phase through the trees as they dipped and weaved betraying their ghostly nature. Just below the surface of towering pines, we could see the gnarled, ancient spirits within, muted shades of light practically dripping from splits in the bark.

	And perhaps most strikingly of all, I could feel the push and the pull against me. The tide, rising and falling, of the world breathing beneath our feet. It was subtle, nearly imperceptible, but as I quieted down and took it all in… that warm feeling brushed against my feet, and crawled up my limbs, like it was breathing life into me.

	Neither of us could speak. It was like we had stepped into hallowed ground, unruly intruders in a sacred land. What the hell could we say, anyway?

	I saw Darcy stand first, that brave girl. She handed the bell off to me and waded out into the waist-deep spirit foliage, and she… felt it. She reached out, taking one of the flowers gingerly into her fingers and plucking it away. She hefted it in her palm, as if she expected it to have any weight, but almost as soon as it was in her hand it began to decay into little embers. So, she lifted it to her face, and blew, casting a cloud of dancing glitter into the air.

	Lifting the bell, I tapped the second band again. All at once, that second world became unknown to us again, but I could still see its reflection in the metal. I now knew where those strange colors came from.

	“That… was amazing!” she says, almost too loud. I still feel like I’m standing on holy ground, out in the middle of Gods-know-where, silly as it is.

	“Yeah, it was… somethin’…” I mutter. I’m still a shut-in little teenager who doesn’t give a shit about nothin’ but himself, but at least that had knocked all the snark out of me and the best I could muster was faked indifference. “She taught you to read runes… didn’t she?” I asked, the bell’s runes suddenly having taken my interest.

	“Well, I know a little something-something. Let me see…” She practically snatched the bell from my hands, looking hard and long into the runes. She sat down on that stump next to me, and started scribbling in her journal. I almost regretted asking, though—the impatient teenager in me wanted desperately to see what I could reveal with the next strike.

	Within maybe an hour, she had written down her best bet at the meaning of the runes. She didn’t really say anything. That prideful smile was nowhere to be found. She just shoved the journal into my arms. From top to bottom, the bands read as such:

	“THE FIRST STEP; LIFE SHINES; KNOW YOUR OWN WORLD FIRST”

	“THE SECOND STEP; THE VEIL PEELS BACK; HER SOUL AWAITS SURELY”

	“THE THIRD STEP; THE STRINGS THAT BIND US; THE BLIND SPOT OF THE ALL-SEER”

	“NO FURTHER; REALITY UNWINDS; NO BARRIER WILL KEEP US APART”

	We shared a glance.

	Each step was part of a journey. We had already skipped a step, and after nearly having the eyes seared out of my head… “Maybe we should put this thing away,” I said. She didn’t say a word, just nodded. So, we marched back to town, the bell securely nestled in our pack, hidden from prying eyes. We’d come to ring it again, a year down the line.

	We’d had our fill of the things we weren’t ever meant to see. Frankly, we’d had our fill that very first day we found her body. Somehow, even my addled, youthful mind had the wisdom not to follow her down the path she’d taken. We saw where it lead, after all.

	Some day, though, when the time is right, when I’m… satisfied.

	I’ll see what she saw.