He shudders. A shiver runs from the base of his spine to the tip of his fingers. There it stops. The still air isn't cold, not this close to Uinlolip. The volcano's lava oozes into the deep canals, racing like veins through the city. He stands close to one. But, grand though they are, the magmaducts don't draw his attention. They are but commonplace in this life.
It is the Mulig that pulls his eyes. It draws the attention of dozens, hundreds of onlookers. Shent'lino is her name, the void jumper. It is a rare sight indeed to see such a magnificent goddess grace their humble home. Sitting though she may be, She extends dozens of meters into the dark sky. Above, Mestrel's eyes gaze down from the heavens, their gentle twilight illuminating Shent'lino's beautiful mane. It hangs low, thick cords of hair brushing the street on which she rests. Her one gargantuan eye is half-open, gazing into the woman speaking to her.
He can't hear the words, but he knows the script. The jump will happen soon, and many wish to join. He is among them. The brave travelers that ride the void jumper's mane. Hurtling through space to the next planet. A convergence is coming. It will be but another thirty minutes. Yok, visible only with its glowing green oceans, is closing in, ready to dance its single orbit around his home.
He had seen this happen many times before throughout his life. Not always Yok, each planet in the Turning had its moment to converge with the others. They crossed paths like jilted lovers, dodging each other on an empty street.
Mestrel's eyes always seem to glow brighter during the convergences. He looks into the infinite, grateful for the light shining from the eyes of the dead Mulig. He thinks back to the time of his father's father when the only light came from Uinlolip and her sisters. He never knew such darkness, only the stories of it.
Beyond his sight, in the part of the sky no one dares look into, sits the dark star. Its blackness is so intense that it drives any who stare into mad within minutes. Yet without it, there would be no Turning. The planets would float alone through an infinite void. The dark star is a force without good or evil, only power and attraction. It draws the worlds in, and it will take a human's soul if one lets it.
He doesn't want to think about that any longer.
The minutes pass with shuffling steps and reverent whispers. None speak loudly before the Mulig. None dare. The straps of his bag bite into his shoulder, the heft of his suit strains the muscles. Like the ones held by those around, his helmet is round and dark and fitted to seal. It is all that will protect him from the void.
Then it is time. Shent'lino stands to her full height. She stretches like a feline, her back arching and her powerful legs flexing. Helmet on, he rushes with the crowd, grasping the mane and climbing with the others. His gloves adhere with impossible strength. The leader shouts orders. They echo through the helmet.
It is time to fly.
Yok is in the sky above, blocking the light of Mestrel. It hangs over his planet, so close and so far at the same time.
He holds his breath and clings tight, thinking of the statistics, the number of jumpers that fall each time Shent'lino jumps. She doesn't care for the mortals, only tolerating them.
There is an unimaginable force.
The world fades beneath him.
They have leapt.