The Narrows

"Uncle Theo, what are you doing?" a little boy asked curiously, him no older than seven.
"Ah, well. I'm working on this for a friend of mine" he said, pointing at an old book and a map unfurled on his desk. "Its very important business; I'm sorry. I'll be down and see you in just a while. We'll play then, child."
The little boy smiled, hugged his uncle, and ran downstairs. The old gentleman smiled to himself, then pressed on with his translation. He was so close. But...
He shrugged, a soft smile crossing his face. "You only live once."
Standing up, he closed the old tome - its pages crinkling crisply. He headed to the door, shutting the lights, before he locked the door behind him with a small ornate key.

Eleven years later.

You've always had fond memories of this place, here at your aunt and uncles. But now... It troubled you, to watch your aunt slip away; she was sick for so long. Then your mom and dad were there for your uncle, but he had changed. He wasn't the same jolly old scholar he always was; the death of his wife hit him hard. But you made him smile; you were his favourite and only nephew. He had always taken a liking to you, and you and him had been close friends.

But now he was gone, too. He was found collapsed in his sunroom, a note in his hand. It was a will. It seemed he knew his time was up.

He left to you a small, ornate key...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A book, old and dusty, sits on top of the desk in your great uncle's study. You've never noticed this particular book before, its cover worn and plain. The pages seem to be tattered and quite old. But curiosity gets the best of you, and you decide to peer inside.

The writing is foreign to you. Never before have you seen the likes of it. Or at least, so you thought. Except... haven't you seen it before? In a game somewhere. It was called Riven. Your mom had the game, and you used to watch her play for hours. These words looked just like the text in that game!

You study it further, your finger tracing the lines and swift movements of the letters before deciding to turn the page.

What you see is shocking!

The page on the left is blank, but the one on the right? In the upper half of that page, there seems to be some sort of picture. It's vivid and colorful, and shows what looks to be some sort of windswept, sandstone canyon.

Your fingers are almost drawn to it by some unimaginable force - or perhaps it was just curiosity? Whichever it was, it didn't matter, your fingertips brushed the image. And then, with a quick shock, you felt yourself go light-headed; your vision blurred; body numbed; your hearing silenced. All you could remember is unmoving blackness.

And then, it comes back to you. Your hearing returns; you can feel yourself again. And you open your eyes, and just as quickly rub them. It had to be a dream.

Your first step finds you at the bottom of that windswept gorge, a ceiling of sky barely visible as the upper reaches of the canyon narrow in and, in some places, close entirely. You grasp only a few passing shafts sunlight and clear blue skies. But down in the gorge, there is a faint light all around. It seems to come off from the rock itself: a very dull rosy pink glow, emanating from the rust-colored and striated stone all around you.

On closer inspection, you realize that some sort of mineral residue is the source; it is either fully chemical or perhaps even biological: bacteria are known to colonize and even produce light under certain conditions. Intrigued, you press onwards.

The gorge winds ever on, and still far above you shafts of sunliught trickle down through tiny gaps in the ceiling. This place must've been an underground stream or river, but now it is dry. The land above is probably just as dry, if not more so - but donw here, out of the direct sunlight, it is relatively cooler.

Suddenly, the passage widens out ahead of you, and the ceiling of rock opens up into a sort of glade. There, you find a cool spring pool, water trickling in to fill it from a slit in the rock; the ground is padded and springy with moss, and curious plants rise up from this bedding, and circle the pool.

The sun soon sets, as the sky far above turns purple and red, finally ending with deep blue. The stars begin to poke their way through, their bright and shining figures forming shapes and patterns unrecognizeable to you. The walls glow a brighter tint of rose in the absense of the sun, and you notice from the moss rise up tiny glow flies. They swarm about you, as if to study you and then, seemingly satisfied, they move on, twirling and dancing in the air.

Something catches your eye. Near the spring - the glow flies seem to circle around it. Something crumpled, lying on a rock.

It's was a note, from your great uncle. It reads:

This is the Age of Narrows. It was my life's work. This place is one I'd like to call home someday, but alas I cannot. I'm too old. My time in this world is coming to an end, I can almost feel it. I had hoped to bring you here someday. Together.
Don't be afraid, my child. I've lived a good life, and I do not fear what lies ahead.
I could not enjoy this place as much as I would have liked, and so I leave it to you, child. Treasure it always.

With Love, Uncle Theo.

Tears fall freely, but not of sadness. You finally understand what your late uncle was working on - why he spent so much time alone in his study. You pocket the note, and gaze up into the crisp and endless starry sky knowing and smiling.