No one seemed to have noticed my grandfather and me. People went about their business as though they didn’t know we existed. My grandfather looked different, not like the Papa I used to know. He looked exactly like he did many years ago, in the pictures I saw in my grandmother’s old album. “Pictures from before the war,” my grandmother had called them. They were taken when my grandfather was fair and limber. As he grew older, his skin had darkened from aging and exposure to the sun, and wrinkles formed around his eyes from years of deep smiles.
We arrived at a corner store near a pristine beach. A large carriage with wheels with a mind of its own stopped in front of us and its antique-style door opened by itself. I glimpsed a magical space, as magical as the world we were about to leave behind. I hesitated for a second and then recalled how my hesitance had deprived me of Luenah for years, so I let go of my doubts and lugged myself inside.
The carriage was larger than it had seemed from the outside. It had luminescent glass for windows and crystals for ceilings. The walls were made of a glossy material that glistened and provided a view of the beauty of the trees, the sky, and the buildings on the path we traveled. It was a moving theatre that displayed all the pleasure and happiness in Luenah, all at once. I realized that my fears had only prevented me from opening up to a place of joy and complete peace.
“C-can I?” I asked, my hands a few inches from the wall. I wanted to feel everything; to find out how real they were.
“Of course you can.”
I walked around, touching different parts as the vehicle moved. The speed in the carriage increased, very much like a roller coaster. We crested the hill and remained suspended for a few moments, only to descend and repeat the process all over again. I was thrilled beyond imagination as I explored all the corners while trying hard not to fall. In the distance, I spotted a huge castle, capped by four towers, blending into the sky behind it to produce an illusion of even greater height.
“That is the shrine,” my grandfather said, as though he’d read my mind.
“I’ve never seen anything this huge,” I replied. “It’s magnificent.”
“It’s the seat of office in Luenah. Everything you can imagine happens there. Laws are made and executed, gory confrontations are settled, and innumerable wars have been won with little interference to the inhabitants.”
I stared at him in awe, pondering which of the many thoughts moving around in my head was the most appropriate to ask at that moment.
“Who lives there?”
“The supreme ruler and members of his cabinet. And visitors, lots of people streaming in and out of Luenah every day.”
“Can we go there?”
“That’s where we’re headed?”
I smiled, my excitement rising as we hit each peak.
We rode the entire day, past many streams, rivers, and mountains. I noticed that for however long we rode, darkness never came. I wanted to ask my grandfather why but decided to sit quietly and observe. Maybe there’s no nighttime in Luenah. Towards the end of the day, we came upon the enigmatic shrine. My grandfather and I dismounted, and he thanked our driver in the language we’d been speaking the whole day.
“What language is that, Papa?”
“The language of Luenah.”
“How come I understand it even though I’m just hearing it for the first time?”
He laughed a little and took my hand. “Because you’re a member. You’re an Eri. Members are born knowing the language in their hearts,” he’d said, pointing gently at the left side of my chest.
“How did I—I mean when did I become an Eri?” I asked wide-eyed.
“It started several millennia ago when Luenah was restricted to its original inhabitants—a handful of people living in utmost serenity and joy, never growing old or dying from diseases. Everything changed when a wily princess, Ani, found her way in through a portal in an ant hole. When she arrived in Luenah, panting from exertion, our ruler had taken pity and accepted her into our fold. With time, she proved to be loyal and imaginative, wildly so, that she found immense favor in his eyes, but she wanted more.”
“What did she want?” I urged.
“For her people on earth to inhabit Luenah. At the time, the earth was plagued with famine and diseases, and she felt Luenah would provide the respite they needed. As noble as the idea was, it wasn’t feasible.”
“Why not? There’s enough space here for everyone,” I claimed, looking around at the beauty and riches in Luenah.
“There’s enough space,” he agreed. “But there is no room in Luenah for conflict and turmoil. Look at Ide and Ntebe. See what has become of them.”
I nodded once, and he continued.
“A few years passed, and Ani presented her plea again. She threatened to expose the ant hole so her people could enter if our ruler failed to grant even a few ‘chosen ones’ access to live here.”
“Did they fall for it?” I asked, my heart beating in anticipation.
“The negotiation was tough, but they later struck a deal. Ani was permitted to select a handful of good earthly humans to visit Luenah. These humans, called Eris, were bestowed gifts to be passed on to chosen ones in their future generations, and they were assigned missions to help the earth regain its balance.”
“So, Eris are born?”
“Yes. Now, instead of an ant hole, each
