The black had become a dark blue, the dark blue had become a pale blue, and the pale blue had become a blur of reds, pinks, oranges, and yellows. At any one instant, the sky was static, unchanging, just a picture frozen in the heavens above. Yet the sky did change, although no observer could perceive this change, even if she were to do nothing but watch the sky for hours.
And Sky had done just that.
Sunrise grew nearer, and Sky lay awake in her bed, watching the daybreak through her window. Her memory told her that she hadn’t fallen asleep all night, but it hadn’t felt like ten hours. It felt like it had been four, or maybe five. Perhaps she had drifted in and out of a shallow slumber, with nothing to distinguish the waking moments.
But now she had some continuity. Now she had the sunrise. Sky held still, anticipating the moment the sun would slip over the horizon. In that instant, and only in that one instant, Sky would perceive the change. The sun only moved the tiniest bit at a time, but only the tiniest bit would be necessary for the sun to flood the world with its overpowering light.
She waited a minute, and then another, but still there was no sun. The distant glow grew brighter, but did not reveal its source. More important matters began to nag at her mind. Master Nyah would arrive soon, and Sky would do well to be ready.
She pulled the blankets aside and sat up. She didn’t feel tired, but the light from the window suddenly got to her and she had to turn away. She felt a chill and wrapped her arms around her sides. It would be warmer soon.
Sky made her way over to the refrigerator. She knew she should eat breakfast and she had some bananas leftover from the day before, yet all she did was stare at the little white door handle. Breakfast wasn’t happening.
She eyed the razor on the counter. Sky had forgotten to put it away the night before, but perhaps she could do with a morning touch up. She grabbed the blade and went over to the mirror, scanning herself for any unwanted stubble. She ran her other hand down her side and then over her legs, but she had done a top-notch job the other night. Other than the ceremonial patch left atop the crown of her head, there was not a hair to be found.
There was nothing to do but wait. Sky sat back down on the bed, twitching her tail as she did. After a moment, she reached back and took hold of her tail, bringing it around for a closer look. She flipped it back and forth within her fingers, almost chuckling at how silly it looked. She thought back to when she was a child, to when she would stage puppet shows for her family and use her tail to operate the third puppet.
Still holding her tail, Sky turned back to the window. There was still no sun, yet it was even brighter than before. It could be any moment now. She would witness the change take place.
There was a harsh knock on the door and Sky immediately let go of her tail and stood up. She walked over and opened it to find the face of an elderly monkey staring back at her. Sky bowed.
“Good morning, Master Nyah.”
“Good morning, Sky,” said Master Nyah. “It is time.”
Sky nodded. “I’m ready.”
“Leave everything behind,” said her master. “You will not need your belt or your thermals.”
“I understand.”
As Master Nyah turned around to leave, Sky noticed a thin strip of yellow across the walls and doorframe. She stole a glance back to see that the sun had risen; she had missed it. There was nothing to do now but follow her master.
Nyah awaited her by the front door of the lodge.
“Hurry along now,” she said. “If you arrive too late, the initiator will not proceed with the ceremony.”
“We’re not going to be late, are we?”
“Never has a pupil of mine been late to her own initiation. I don’t intend to sully that record.”
Nyah stepped out the door and Sky followed. It was even chillier outside, but the rays of the sun felt warm, hot even, against her bare skin. The morning had the makings of another beautiful day in Bear country. The priests back home had told her stories of the endless rains of the big island, but Sky’s own visit had been everything to the contrary. All she could see were picturesque grassy hills spotted with bushes and trees. The only clouds were the ones far off on the horizon.
As they hiked through the fields, Sky found herself staring at the tattoo on her master’s right hip. It was a simple design, three lines forming an upward pointing arrow.
“Sky, we need not walk in silence,” said Nyah. “You can talk to me.”
“Forgive me, I’m just a little—” Sky paused. She did not want to say she was nervous. “Preoccupied.”
“Understandable,” said Nyah. “Would it ease your mind to discuss the ritual?”
“We’ve already been over it a dozen times. Is there anything you haven’t already told me?”
Nyah shook her head. “Your part will be quite simple. It’s the initiator who will do all of the talking, and he’ll tell you what to do. Just let him perform the ceremony, and you will walk away with your mark of honor.”
“And what if he deems me unworthy?” asked Sky. “What if he gives me a mark of disgrace? It will all be for nothing. The initiator will see into my spirit. If there is any fear in me, he will know.”
“Sky, you’ve completed your training. You’ve done the difficult part. All that remains now is to focus on what you have learned.”
“I will.”
“Listen to your old master,” said Nyah. “I have no doubt that you will pass this final trial. You are one of the finest students I have ever had the privilege to instruct.”
“And what about Soy?”
“Don’t worry about Soy. This is about you, only you.”
The unmistakable array of stones took form in the distance; the Ancient Circle had come into view.
Master Nyah stopped. “This is as far as I go.”
Sky nodded. “I’m ready.”
“It will go just as we practiced,” said Nyah. “Remember that you’re allowed to talk to the initiator. Ask him a question if you must, though I wouldn’t advise interrupting him.”
“I know,” said Sky. “I think I’d prefer to stay quiet.”
Nyah gave her a smile and put her hand on Sky’s shoulder. “May the Celestial Monkeys watch over you, Sky. I’ll be back at the lodge when you’re finished. Don’t keep the initiator waiting.”
With that, they parted ways. Sky continued forward with a moderate pace, not too slow as to make her late, yet not too quick as to begin the ritual earlier than she had to. She did this even as she knew it wouldn’t make a difference; the ceremony would begin when the shadows reached their mark, whether she was early or right on time.
She couldn’t see the initiator yet, but she could see a cloud of smoke rising from the center. There was a flicker of orange between the pillars, a flicker that disappeared and reappeared as though a distant someone had walked by.
In spite of herself, Sky’s mind turned back to the ritual and the verdict. Anxious thoughts exploded in her mind before she had a chance to snuff them out. Why would anyone base such a crucial decision on whether or not one felt fear? If the Gods really had contrived this ceremony, the Gods had a sadistic sense of humor. No, she told herself, the Gods were not sadistic. They were fair and kind, mysterious, but fair and kind.
It wasn’t the pain she feared. She could handle pain. They had trained her to handle pain. What really bore into her head was the thought of losing everything, the thought of never becoming a priest, all because of some spark of fear she couldn’t extinguish. The thought of that fear undermining her would itself become a fear, until that spark was no longer a spark but a blaze, a self-fulfilling prophecy that would brand her with a mark of disgrace. Who thought of such trials?
Sky stopped and took a deep breath, fighting to come back to her training. She closed her eyes and exhaled, clearing her mind and calming her heart. The corrosive thoughts quieted until all she heard was the breeze. Her focus was her own. The slip up had never happened. Sky opened her eyes and continued.
One step after the other, she made her way to the Ancient Circle. A blazing bonfire roared in the center, coughing smoke up into the heavens. Beside the fire stood a wooden stump with a sharpened saber resting against its side. Beside the stump stood the initiator.
The initiator was older priest, not nearly as old as Master Nyah, but at least old enough to be Sky’s father. He was one of the biggest monkeys Sky had ever seen, with an enormous belly hanging over his feet and thick, fat arms at his sides. The initiator looked at Sky but said nothing. He was waiting, thought Sky, waiting for the sun to align itself between the stone pillars.
And then he spoke.
“Not even stone is eternal.” His deep voice boomed in Sky’s ears. “Not even stone can withstand the trials of time without crumbling to dust and floating away with the breeze. Yet the Ancient Circle lives on forever. Its primordial pillars have endured all, be it wind or rain or the fires of mortals. The Celestial Monkeys built the Ancient Circle, and in doing so, they blessed it with eternity. Now the Ancient Circle beckons you, Sky, just as the Celestial Monkeys beckon you to enter their service.”
He picked up the saber with one hand, and with the other, a stick from the fire. He turned back to Sky.
“Step into the circle.”
Sky did as she was told. She now stood face to face with the initiator, close enough to the bonfire to feel its searing heat.
“The Celestial Monkeys made the world as it is now,” said the initiator. “They gave the gift of life to many, the gift of wits to some, but only to us did they give the gift of their likeness. A blessed few advance further still to take the image of the Celestial Monkeys, and pledge to serve them for life. That is why you are here.”
The priest pressed the flat end of the saber on Sky’s shoulder and ran it down the side of her arm.
“Though we shave our hair, we cannot stop our hair from growing back. Though we devote our lives to serving the Celestial Monkeys, we cannot stop ourselves from yearning for earthly joys. The Celestial Monkeys do not ask us to stop doing either of these things. They only ask that we continue doing that which is within our power.”
The initiator turned to the cutting block.
“However, the Celestial Monkeys do ask that we leave behind a symbol of our worldly attachment. We our born with our tails, and those of us who choose to enter a life of service must separate from them. Our tails do not grow back, as this is a sacrifice that cannot be undone.”
He turned back to Sky.
“Sky, you have trained in our sacred martial arts. You have studied the history of our people and the teachings of the Celestial Monkeys. Your master has deemed you worthy of the priesthood. All that remains is this final sacrifice.”
He paused for a moment, the wrinkles on his face shimmering in the raw heat of the blaze.
“As you undertake this sacrifice, I will judge your spirit and bestow upon you my mark. Be it a mark of honor, you will become a servant of the Celestial Monkeys, and a warrior, teacher, and leader of your people. Be it a mark of disgrace, you will become a servant of the Celestial Monkeys, and nothing more. Whichever mark it be, to run from your vow carries the punishment of death. Do you, Sky, offer this final sacrifice and swear to serve the Celestial Monkeys in whichever way they see fit?”
“I swear.”
The initiator pointed the saber at the wooden block.
“Proceed.”
As Sky turned her back to the block and laid her tail across it, she heard a faint rumbling sound. At first she figured it was only the bonfire, but then she heard it again, louder, deep and echoing. She looked up to see that the clouds in the distance had grown darker, and flashes of white danced between the shadows. The initiator looked up as well.
“Thunder on the morning of an initiation,” he said. “A bad omen.”
“An omen?” asked Sky. “What do you mean? Can we still go on?”
“You have already sworn your oath,” said the initiator. “We cannot stop the ceremony now.”
He turned back to the wooden block and slowly raised the saber. In that moment, the thoughts broke back into Sky’s mind. What did he mean about it being a bad omen? Why would he even say anything if it were already too late to turn back? How could he expect her to be calm about the trial after knowing something like this?
Sky closed her eyes and took another deep breath. The thoughts were gone, locked somewhere far away from her conscious mind. As she opened her eyes again, the blade fell.
She heard the chop, but felt nothing. Then the pain hit her, a searing, throbbing, unfathomable pain, far worse than she had foreseen. She shut the pain out, locking it away with the anxious thoughts in the back of her head. The pain hammered behind the locked door, begging to be let back it, but Sky wouldn’t let it. The worst was over, she told herself.
The initiator applied the torch to the wound, cauterizing the stump and twisting Sky’s world with a whole new kind of pain. This was not another clean, precise pain, but one where each cell screamed in agony as it turned to charcoal. The worst was over, she told herself, the worst was over. No, the worst was not over. Sky had never feared the pain. Sky feared the judgment, and that was yet to come. The unwanted thoughts had returned.
Sky tried to take another deep breath, but it turned out shaky. The trauma had weakened her, and weakened her ability to control her focus. Her grip on her mind loosened, and one by one the thoughts slipped back through the door. She was shaking visibly by the time the initiator stepped around to look at her.
The initiator stared into her eyes, and somehow, the shaking was gone. The thoughts were gone. The pain was still there, but it didn’t bother her. By some miracle, her mind filled with complete clarity.
“Turn around.”
Again, Sky did as she was told. The initiator held the saber to her hip and whipped it up and down. The motions had been so swift that it took Sky a moment to realize that the priest had made three slashes in her skin, although she could not say whether or not they converged to form an arrow. Finally, the initiator extinguished his flaming branch, crumbled a chunk of charcoal from the tip, and rubbed it over the cuts.
“It is finished.”
Sky turned to him once more.
“I have seen your truth and given you your mark,” said the initiator. “May the blessings of the Celestial Monkeys be upon you, Friar Sky. You are the newest priest of our sacred order.”
James Rosenthal 