Prafalu Pae

Allow me to tell you of the forgotten, a story that has escaped me for many years.

It all begins… with fire.

In the conflagration that ensnared the world, distinctions blurred and discernment faltered, as the ashes of one’s own mixed with that of their enemies interminably. Deserts, hot with the burning sands of creation lost, permeated the horizon for as far as one could stand to look, the sun warmly greeting the land as kin.

The seasons evaporated, and the day, unmoored from the cadence of nature, unfolded for a year’s journey in an uncharted timeline.

This was the dawn of an era, an aeon of retribution: a punishment borne by those who knew it not, yet destined to be inherited by those who’d witness its final chapter. Yet, from its ashes, a time of renewal emerged.

As the flames quelled and the perpetual day succumbed to night, at last, the stars, long dormant, stirred from their slumber to see what remained.

Amidst the wasteland, a nameless boy traversed the desolation like a specter in a frigid dream, a child of the apocalypse now, twice turned orphan. As his steps echoed in the bleak expanse, he looked up to the sky, amazed and afraid by the canvas of its speckled darkness. Entranced, the boy stopped and stood still, following them with his eyes like a leaf to the wind. He watched the stars move and drift in the distance, a celestial ocean of spectators washed in by the call of a new era.

The boy’s gaze lingered for so long that, when he closed his eyes, he could see them still, their ethereal glow burned into his mind. And when he reopened them, the sun had reclaimed the sky. The dream had ended, but the land was still free of its fiery torment.

Thus, the boy waited, hoping to see the night sky once more. And as the hours passed by and the sun arced across the sky, daylight waned, casting its warm glow into the limbs of twilight. As the stars re-emerged, the boy welcomed them once more with open arms. And when the sun reasserted its dominance, he yielded to the soothing embrace of sleep.

As the boy grew up, he embraced the nocturnal realm, choosing to spend his days swathed in slumber, imagining the nights to come. And upon waking, he would venture the world under the undying guidance of the stars. He spoke to them, his voice echoing into the cosmic void, and in time he would hear them speak back, their voices clearer to him than the water he drank.

And as the world started to rebuild itself from the turmoil, rain began to cleanse the air, flora began to sprout from the ashes, fauna began to repopulate their dwindled numbers, and people, once fragmented, began to work together in unity.

Years cascaded like a river, and as the boy observed the world around him flourish and heal, an inexplicable vacancy gnawed at his soul. An image lingered in his mind, and though he could not find the words to describe it, he longed for its presence. Sharing this yearning with the stars, he received an unexpected response— a gift of fire.

In an instant, the dark sky turned to day as a blazing star descended, waking the creatures of the light. Tracking it with an unbroken gaze, the boy followed it as it streaked through the boundless air, eager to see what awaited. When it finally crashed into the earth, its power reverberated throughout the area, trembling the terrain and its inhabitants alike.

Finally reaching the site of its landing, the boy discovered a seed, unlike any he had encountered before. An energy emanated from it, the will of the aether pulsing from within like a redolent heartbeat. Larger than his head, it was enormous. And when he tried to move it, he found the task impossible. So, he resolved to bury it there, and he would care for it, so that he could witness what it would eventually become.

Time echoed on, and night after night, season after season, year after year, the boy tended to the seed, and it burgeoned. Its roots dug deep down into the ashen soil, deeper than any creature could burrow; and its arms stretched far up into the wondrous abyss, taller than any person could reach.

It was a tree, the first and only of its kind.

The boy felt it appropriate to give this gift a name, but he didn’t know how. And so, he sat down beside it and started to think. He contemplated the thought for what seemed like an eternity, enveloped in the serene essence of his life’s tranquility.

Yet, not everyone shared his sentiments.

On that fateful night many years ago, when the celestial seed tore through the night sky, the boy understood it as a gift. Yet, others who bore witness to its ferocity interpreted it as a portent of history’s calamitous recrudescence.

They pursued in the direction of the burning scion, felt its impact shake their feet, and watched from a distance as the boy nurtured it. Ignorant of its purpose or nature, fear gripped them. As the tree expanded beyond their wildest expectations, they believed that it would come to consume the world, so large that nothing else could live under the eternal darkness it would beget.

Convinced of the impending peril, they determined that it needed to be destroyed.

As the boy sat in quiet repose underneath the tree’s canopy, shielded from the light of day by its innumerable leaves, the people arrived, carrying a hefty stone. Swiftly, and without warning, they crushed the boy’s head, so that he could not interfere.

Then, an instant later, they ignited a fire.

This fire engulfed the magnificent tree, devouring each leaf and weaving a solitary cloud of flame. When all of the leaves had melted to ash, the fire extinguished itself, leaving the tree a scorched shadow of its former glory. In the ensuing darkness, the people fled as night fell upon their crimes.

The stars awoke to witness the aftermath, and they wept. Their tears rained down on the tree, washing off the soot that blackened its branches, draining away the ashes that entombed its trunk, and quenching the thirst that plagued its roots.

But as the stars’ lament continued, they heard a voice pleading with them to cease their tears. They searched for the boy, but could not find him walking the earth below. The voice persisted, and to their astonishment, they realized it was coming from the tree. And when they looked at it again, they saw all of its leaves had regrown.

The boy’s soul, severed from his body, melded seamlessly with the tree, assimilating like a gentle warmth coursing through a body, infusing new life into its very essence.

And when the stars dried their tears, the boy addressed them with a humble request. Having failed to come up with a name for the tree, and because he had no name himself, he asked if they would give them one.

In response, the stars bestowed upon them the name Pae.

When the people returned the following day to inspect the tree and found it fully regrown, they set it ablaze once more. And over the next night, Pae was fully restored. This cycle continued for several days, and each time, Pae persisted the onslaught.

Finally, a revelation dawned upon the onlookers when they discovered a fallen fruit at the tree’s base one day. Initially hesitant, their wariness yielded to acceptance, recognizing Pae as a bountiful resource. They began spreading its seeds far and wide, blanketing every corner of the land with the promise of new life.

And although many ages have passed since the burning days and the ashes that followed, Pae remains still, somewhere where the stars can watch over him. He holds the earth together with his roots and holds the sky up with his branches, binding them together for all eternity.