Sand Mountain

Through the cascading and rising of 40 suns and 40 moons, the lone boy in the desert continued walking. The heavy, hot air remained a monotonous breath, occasionally sending a curtain of sand across the sky. He was older now, with a few new years of life etched into his face. He was still on his ongoing, unknowing journey. Yet to any other being who could spy the boy, it was apparent that this was a person with a purpose. His path carried him on a straight line through the barren landscape. Save for the magic carpet, he had paid no heed to any other creature. 

On the dawn of the 41st sun, as the heavens bloomed into swathes of pastels and golds, the boy's foot stepped on something hard and smooth buried halfway in the earth. Between his toes, a diamond the size of a heart sparkled. Amused, the boy picked it up, wondering what magical offers this prized stone held for him. This was the first element in a few moons that had caught his attention. In his fingers, the diamond glittered and pulsed intently, flickering a thousand tiny reflections of his features in return. 

There was no inherent exchange of language, but there washed over him an intense feeling of longing. He was immediately swayed into ephemeral visions of a crystalline cave on the shores of a glass beach, a scene carved within an eternal night. In this vision he then felt a small crack from the moment when the diamond had been taken, then slipped into a soft pouch, by soft hands. A decade of darkness, of sounds, of smells foreign to its home, and then suddenly, tumbling through the air onto this sand. 

'So this diamond is lost,'  he thought. 'What of it, then? Will my fate be tied to this glass here on til I return it?' The diamond sparkled back in agreement. Time suddenly felt still. The boy reached deep within his heart and understood that fate had called upon him to find the diamond. He felt in his future a wave of roaring terror, anger, and elation, sourced from the moment he chose to pick it up. He knew that if he decided to discard it back to the ground, the same fate would fall upon the next person whom it found. He knew that if he left it, his life would continue to be at peace in his path. 

He remembered how he had turned away the carpet. He recalled the conviction he had felt at not needing the carpet's companionship or customs. But the diamond in his hand seemed to plead for protection. It did not implore a promise of benefits, only hope. It was the hope that hooked him. The boy turned it once again in hands, and with a single inhale, threw it high up above him. At its apex height the diamond caught the light of the sun, and a giant flash of light splashed across the air. For a moment, it froze in time. Slowly, it dropped heavily into his palm. A million miles away, across rocks and lakes and ice, a lone waif saw the sky caught a flint of fire.