"They have no eyes!"

“They have no eyes! And I must fly, lest you have led me here to die.”

“To self not lie, for love is blind. And truth and beauty - don’t deny.
I do not jest, for they are blessed. Oh hear the truth unlike the rest!”

Naivan stared into his eyes, glowing fierce and gold beneath the blood moon. There was conviction in that gaze, passion, and something he couldn’t read. His friend had never steered him wrong before. Yet the end was close, he was sure – and this another sign of it – those creatures such as he had never seen before. How could Sicharan not see? For a moment, he dropped his guard, staring back at the darkened thicket. Such darkness… He’d half a mind to run and leave Sicharan to his fate, but here was trust, faith, friendship…

“Fates help us if you’re wrong.”

“My sight is strong. My ears, they hear.”

He turned back to the field, picking carefully through the brambles until he reached the tree line and the inky black that swallowed in the Dark Queen’s rays completely.

“May Song Soudain weep lest we not leave this place.”

Behind him, Sicharan’s breaths and feet fell heavy. Into the darkness.
Shadows danced upon the skin and water rose – ankle, knee, chest deep. They waded through the muck until they reached the other shore. There! It came. Shrill wind and creaking branches. At first they seemed as tiny specks of light sailing through the air, growing larger; then bobbing in place like jellyfish. They were as tiny men: arms, legs, bodies all in order but the eyes. The eyes weren’t there. One such creature drew close, suffused in purple light.

“Is this the one you bring?” Its lips moved not.
“He is.”
“It hears?”
“He does.”
“It will perhaps suffice. You may leave this place.”

Naivan whirled, furiously reaching out to grab the scoundrel before he’d chance to retreat. But Sicharan was gone. And the creatures.

Terror. Rage. The darkness closed around him, frigid wind setting his flesh aflame. He tried to run but something had taken hold – a strange warmth that soothed him from within; smoothed his limbs and buckled his knees in supplication. It occurred to Naivan, not as a sudden thought but as some ascendance that grew and gradually filled his head, his chest, with consequence, that he’d never seen the sky so clearly as he did right now; its strange hues of wispy light dancing with the dark throughout the depth and breadth of the stratosphere. The stars, so far beyond his reach: billions of burning lamps inhabiting the heavens. Even the strange night sounds grew sweet and wrapped his ears in melody. Swaying gently in the cool night breeze, his voice, as on its own, began to hum.

An eternity passed before the thicket grew light again with tiny figures. The one who’d come before appeared again, this time perched upon Naivan’s shoulder. Its honey leaden voice flowed sweetly into his ear.

“It hears…”
                    “I do.”
“It sees?”
                  “As well.”

It smiled.

“Come.”