1.07

The end of the month could not have arrived any slow­er for Car­nelia.

After spend­ing days bedrid­den and sore from the knocks and burns that the name­stone chal­lenge had inflict­ed on her, all that remained was to count down the days to her free­dom… and endure con­stant moth­er­ing from Jeorr.

“You’re going to take a taxi? Tell me your exact trav­el plans! All of them!” he demand­ed, after catch­ing her idly play­ing with a child­hood toy.

“Keep emer­gency mon­ey in your shoe! Oth­er­wise, if you lose your wal­let, you’ll be strand­ed!” he declared, when he found her putting on her shoes for a walk.

“Don’t accept any drinks from strangers! You can’t trust any­one when it comes to the Chal­lenge!” he said, with­out prompt­ing, as he brought her their morn­ing tea.

Now that he had accept­ed what was hap­pen­ing, the man had sud­den­ly found a mil­lion rea­sons to poke and prod at her plans, and it was more than a lit­tle exhaust­ing.

To assuage his wor­ries, Car­nelia began spend­ing time walk­ing her guardian through all the prepa­ra­tion for the Can­di­date’s Chal­lenge she’d been doing behind his back. She start­ed with her itin­er­ary, page by page show­ing him her main trav­el plans, all her back-up routes, even a few emer­gency lodg­ing options in case things went side­ways. Then she showed him what she’d secret­ly assem­bled in her trav­el bag over the last few years. A first-aid kit for if she got hurt, an emer­gency heat shroud and water­proof match­sticks for if she got stuck out­doors, high-calo­rie bars and a lit­tle cook­ing set for if she got hun­gry, and any­thing else a girl like her could need on the road. She even walked him through half a notebook’s worth of research on the Chal­lenge; the rumors and records of past ones, as well as the clues and hints for the cur­rent one.

And yet, all that did was make her grand­fa­ther fret more. All while she explained, he kept pac­ing around, wring­ing his hands, and insist­ing she pack more trav­el snacks.

Unfor­tu­nate­ly for the Jeorr, no amount of old-man wor­ry­ing ever slowed down time. Even­tu­al­ly, as it always did, the future arrived at their doorstep. 

On the morn­ing of her depar­ture, the two of them stood togeth­er in the entry­way to their home, next to a small stone gar­den with too many stat­ues. Their place was on the long end of a curved street, placed inten­tion­al­ly apart and behind walls to pro­tect neigh­bors from any ham­mer­ing and chis­el­ing nois­es. As Car­nelia shoul­dered a back­pack they had filled to burst­ing togeth­er, Jeorr clutched the door frame like he was teth­ered to it. Her eyes were bright with a long-ambered excite­ment.

“Ok, Gramps, I think I’m ready!”

Jeorr nod­ded reluc­tant­ly. He knew what his role was sup­posed to be in this moment. The books said that as her father-fig­ure, he was sup­posed to encour­age her; give her a firm hand­shake, tell her he believed in her, and send her on her way. Like he had with Diamme.

But he couldn’t. Not this time.

He dropped and grasped his ward’s arms, search­ing for any sign of waver­ing in Carnelia’s eyes. She had to be absolute­ly sure about this. Or else the noto­ri­ous­ly unfor­giv­ing Can­di­date’s Chal­lenge would sure­ly crush her and her bud­ding hopes alike.

“You’re sure about this, right?” he asked. “The Chal­lenge is risky busi­ness! Most adults can’t han­dle it, let alone a child!”

She nod­ded.

“I know.”

“And you’ll be alone up there, with no one to help you. I won’t be able to help you.”

She nod­ded again.

“I know. I’m still going.”

Carnelia’s gaze was steady, with­out a hint of doubt. Faced with such res­olute­ness, Jeorr could only ask.

“Why?” he plead­ed. “Why do you want to run off and become a Chal­lenger so bad­ly? It’s a dan­ger­ous life.”

To the risk-averse Jeorr, only a fool would pur­sue the path of a Chal­lenger. It was like cleav­ing into stone, blind. Yet Diamme, no fool her­self, had pur­sued it. As well as count­less oth­er great men and women. Now Car­nelia did too, except… was she actu­al­ly think­ing it through?

The ques­tion caught Car­nelia off guard. She glanced off into the dis­tance, at the light stream­ing down from the Chute in the dis­tance. She thought of Corun, her res­cuer, whom she had only met once. Of Diamme, a par­ent she had seen only in pho­tos. Of all the oth­er Chal­lengers that she knew only by name and rep­u­ta­tion.

They were all strangers. But also, exact­ly who she want­ed to be.

“Everyone’s out there, climb­ing moun­tains, sail­ing oceans, doing and dis­cov­er­ing any­thing and every­thing worth­while in this world…”

She took a deep, long­ing breath.

“…I feel like if I don’t go now, I’ll nev­er catch up!”

A famil­iar song of dreams ran in her voice, and for a moment, Jeorr saw Diamme from twen­ty years ago, a per­fect mir­ror of Car­nelia. Their faces were dif­fer­ent, their words too, but they shared an inex­plic­a­ble, unde­ni­able kin­ship. To explore the world and devour all that it had to offer.

The vision left the bit­ter­sweet taste of fate in his mouth. He sighed in res­ig­na­tion as he real­ized some­thing.

“I nev­er had a chance of stop­ping you, did I?”

Car­nelia shook her head with a smile.

“No. You didn’t.”

Car­nelia watched as, with a sad smile of his own, her grand­fa­ther slipped his hands around hers. His tough hands--the same ones that had taught her to iden­ti­fy stones with a scratch of a fin­ger­nail, to sense frac­tures and fis­sures with a rap of the knuck­les, to crack crys­tals with a right strike of a palm--had nev­er felt so soft.

“Well, if you real­ly have to go, a--at least promise me you’ll come back.”

He almost sound­ed like he thought she gen­uine­ly wouldn’t. And when her gaze drift­ed past him, to the qui­et, stone house loom­ing behind him, she real­ized why. It was a frame too large for its pic­ture; an old man alone. The last time some­one had left him in this place, they’d nev­er prop­er­ly returned. Until she’d arrived, he’d had noth­ing but post­cards and stat­ues to keep him com­pa­ny inside its cold and emp­ty rooms.

She would be send­ing him back to sim­i­lar times. For the first and only moment in the past ten years of her life, Car­nelia felt doubt about leav­ing.

And yet, her heart still picked her dream. It dragged her off towards the sun­set, cheer­ing and scream­ing. At least, this time, when she set her jaw and squeezed Jeorr’s hands, she knew she meant it.

“I promise I’ll come back. May a thou­sand rocks fall on my head if I don’t.”

A chil­dren’s promise, but Car­nelia whis­pered it with real fer­ven­cy. Jeorr nod­ded and wrapped her up in a tight hug, tears welling in his eyes.

Though the two shared no name, today a par­ent lost their child.