To Live Again

8. Sanctuary

Ardan chooses to speak very little on our way to wherever home is for Oisín. He seems uncomfortable, on edge. His eyes flit from objects, to floors, to ceilings and he keeps one hand braced on the hilt of a long knife just visible where it pokes out from the leather of his faded and beaten-up jacket which he has loosened. In one way it's an odd image—a solider in the midst of a palace loosening his armour, but not his anxiety. It doesn't quite instil any confidence and I try vainly to focus on Oisín's endless energy and vague direction as he pulls me further and deeper into this strange and cavernous Palace.

The white rock walls are polished to near glistening. The floors flecked marble, thin veins of gold and silver branch out through the wide slabs like young tree roots, which is fitting considering every supporting column is a grand tree—carved of stone—but the craftsmanship so perfect it's almost deceptive. I have to look twice to convince my brain that the structures are stone and not real trees. Great chandeliers hang from gigantic domed ceilings with burning lights that I can't quite decide as living flame or trapped starlight. Art work decorates the ceilings and the walls; dawn, day, twilight, night-scapes swirl on the rock canvas above our heads. Trees, valleys, and rivers come alive on the walls around us. It's an artist's dream and the beauty of it brings tears to my eyes. Maybe this is heaven? Or, at least my version though I don't even believe my mind could ever touch the mastery of this place ... this dream.

"Nearly there!" Oisín cries, his little chest puffing with exertion from practically running the whole way. "You can see my room first."

I giggle at this enthusiasm as he skids to a halt by a set of marble staircases. He points dramatically and I follow the direction of his finger to the open expanse below. I need to blink once ... twice ... thrice ... my breath all but gone.

If a world could be captured within a world this would be it. My mind can't quite understand or make sense of the logic or the mechanics that brought any of this place to life, but this ... this is the masterful pinnacle of design.

A garden—as beautiful as the one outside the palace—grows in a small pavilion that opens onto a cliff that overlooks the entire city and the forest beyond. I realised we'd climbed a lot of stairs and had felt the slow incline from entering the city, but this ... my mind can't quite figure it and I sway, reeling at the dramatic shift in place. The journey here seemed so subtle, so easy, and yet here we are high up in the mountain. I must audibly gasp for Ardan puts a gentle hand on my shoulder. He offers a small smile and nods to the view.

"Our kingdom's are intricate, they defy a lot of your people's natural laws," he says trying, I think, to offer some context to my already boggled mind. He guides me toward the steps, mercifully only a few this time, and we descend together, Oisín already several feet ahead. "I can only sympathise with you. This is a lot to digest."

I merely nod in agreement. There's nothing to say. I don't have any words and even if I did they would all fall short. So, I just keep walking, mentally reminding myself that I'll take one minute at a time, no need to freak out just yet, I can deal with anything if I just stay in the present and don't think too much. Ardan gives my shoulder a little squeeze again and I remember to breathe.

We follow a winding path to the foot of a home. Quaint, in some ways, compared to the grandeur of some of the stately dwellings I saw on the way in. But, it's impressiveness isn't in the design or the artistry, it's the position. A porch, if one might call it that, runs along the garden then sweeps out onto the cliff, and every storey above it has a balcony that does the same. There's only about four stories that I can count, each have a warm glow emanating from the open archways and doorways. Gossamer drapes billow from those doors cracked open, and the light dances off panes of stained glass. The smell of fir, florals, and moss mingles with the scent of cinnamon, peppermint, sage, and even the muskier tang of sandalwood? Maybe frankincense?