Clouds engulf us, black at first. Then gray. White.

Untouchable. Intangible. Cold air against my skin, hand hot against my arm.

Below us are clouds. To the side, clouds. Just us, clouds. Only us. White.

So high, so high. Specks of my family are far from me and the mountains below are mere topography on a map. Terrain pushing high and jagged, covered in a mass of dark green. Talis’s hand is still tight around my arm. Colors, I see them all in my mind while I watch the incredible view of the earth below like I’m sitting window-seat on an airplane at thirty-thousand feet.

My skin is cool but not cold and when I breathe deep, my lungs fill with fresh air. I thought being up so high, I would’ve passed out from lack of oxygen or maybe hyperthermia would be a problem. But it’s not. It’s refreshing and light.

Clouds begin to speckle the landscape below and then with a whoosh, we pass through a thick cumulous cloud, rising high above it and above it, is an expanse of clear sky, ombre blue until it turns black to outer space above us and kissing the circular horizon far from us. And clouds, they blanket below our feet. flat lands of orange and pink and brilliant white clouds. One straight path cuts through the clouds, a white sidewalk which winds through the tufts and puffs.

And at my feet, firmness forms. It’s cloud below my shoes and below Talis’ moccasins. And with this moment, fear finds me.

“Vouruskasha,” Talis says. “She is has answered our call today. Come.”

Talis drops his hand from my arm, though I’d like it back as my lips tremble, considering whether or not I will be able to walk on a solid cloud like Talis can.

He turns and walks backwards, clearly thrilled at my fear of heights in the sky and cloud walking.

“Come, Lyla. The deity of Zoroastrian belief, she has answered my call. You must not disappoint by staying still for eternity.”

“Oh my, oh my.”

Eyes closed. Belief suspended for a moment. It’s just a sidewalk. A concrete sidewalk in front of my house. No big deal. Just take a step. Just do it. Mom dancing in the kitchen, yellow dress flowing. On the stoop, down the steps, and solid against the walkway. Ungrounded against the ground.

An eye open. And then another. Another step too and there we go. “Alright, alright.” I wipe my hands against my shirt and a tentative smile moves across my mouth. “Okay. Cloud walking. Somehow scarier than the Hiyulahs but way more,” I say, taking in the sight before me. “Way more pleasant.”

Talis smirks but it grows wider as he eyes my footsteps. “Look at you, walking better than a new babe.”

Talis chuckles and gestures for me to go from a toddling walk to a normal adult pace.

“Do you know of Vouruskasha?” Talis asks.

“If I didn’t know Adam was a creepy weirdo, do you think I know of Vrushkashka?”

He eyes me, brow arched, smirk on his lips. “She is the spirit of the seas though she resides here, in the center of the heavens.”

“Neat.” I dip my toe in the puff of clouds on the side of the cloud walkway.

Talis grabs my elbow. “Careful.”

My heart skips, death a toe dip away. But Talis smirks then steps off the smooth path, totally. Not. Falling.

“I literally thought I was going to die.” I say through gritted teeth, though a smile plays on my lips. “Not funny.”

“It was humorous, I must say.” He laughs. A hearty laugh. The furs on his shoulders dance and move in the dispersed light. He adjust his hood so it lays flat on his back.

Oh my, oh my.

A wall of clouds forms to the side of us, but our path is ahead. Talis pulls at a bracelet and mutters a few words. He sighs to no one in particular then he pulls me by my hand, taking me right off the path we were walking on. We step through a wall of clouds and on the other side, is more clouds below our feet and a wall of clouds stretching to both sides of us. In front is a pristine mountain side. Sharp cliff faces, mountain peaks with snow on the top. Green, luscious grass growing on the hill sides and valley and the clearest river flowing, weaving in and out of trees, hills, mountains. Our feet rise and lift with gentle rolling waves of clouds which lap at the shores of the island.

“Is this where Vronunshka lives?”

“Vouruskasha. And yes, she lives here, in the Otherworld but we must stop and visit with another first.”

We head towards the coast line, a mix of white clouds and blue sky lapping at the shores. White tufts cover my feet and recede, revealing an endless crystalline blue beneath me.

“Why? If we only have two weeks to do the Sewing Tree thing, we should probably just go to it right? Instead of stopping for a chat with those things.”

As we approach the land, tall beings, crystalline, prismatic, and slender walk around. Smaller ones run and play, their laughter like dew dangling from grass blades in the morning. It’s like these beings are in a state of dispersion. Like water not quite condensing into clouds and not quite heavy enough to pour from the sky.

“Those things, these beings, these peoples, are called Dispersion of Diaspora.”

Ah, Latin and a perfect description of this place. How creative.

“You will like them, Lyla, for they love Latin. They are the creators of the languages that resound against you.”

We take a step, which happens to be in perfect unison, onto land. The shapes of beings start for us, collating into one mass of iridescent light, shimmering throughout.

“So who called you on your bracelet phone?” I ask under my breath.

“Bracelet phone?” He scoffs. “We must meet with a god before continuing on our way.” Talis adjusts his furs around his shoulders. “And Dispersion of Diaspora is a land we must come through before we do so.”

The beings are memorizing, like plastic wrap held to the sun. Like those clear jellyfishes which was up on shore. “What’re they known for?”

The mass comes closer, a mix of voices ring through the air.

Talis’s tone changes to the one he reserves for Tessa. Nearly a low growl emanates from him. “Connections, answers, libraries, languages.”

He bows his head slightly and nudges me. I do the same as him. When I look back up, the mass is dispersed back into other forms. Adults, children, animals maybe. And our path is clear. We walk down a dirt path through hills with delicately structured yet overwhelmingly massive cabins and buildings to each side. Iridescence shines through each one. The buildings break way to farmland. Grapevines grow on trellis’ and lime tree leaves shake back in forth with the perpetual light breeze.

There’s a well in the middle of the path. Stone bottom and wooden roof. Talis pulls a coin from his pocket. He flips it between his fingers, the yellow and green sheen on it glints with light. He presses it to his lips and holds it in front of me.

“No thanks,” I say.

He sighs and in a fraction of a second, he touches my lips with the coin.

“Dang it, Talis.” I wipe my lips on my shirt. “That thing looks like it was buried next to a mummy with its dead hand clenched around it.”

He flips the coin in the air and it falls down the well.

“It was.” One brow raises and the corner of his lip tugs into something reminiscent of a smirk.

“What?”

He lets his lips relax into a soft smile. “It is a coin from Wisdom to be placed in the Wisdom Well in Diaspora. It needs a breath of Her life every thousand years. And now, what we need to do is this.” He tucks his hand inside his furs and brings out a single piece of sand.

He drops it in and a swoosh of air rushes up. Whispers, murmurs, voices explode from the well and the light dispersion beings appear all around us but defined compared to the ones on the coast. Old men and women with silky translucent cloaks cover their shoulders.

“Ancient Diasporas,” Talis says. “Tell me why the god demands we must speak with you.”

Murmurs and words exchange. “The Sewing Tree,” one of them whispers. I can make out bits of other words that chime above the others but a man speaks for them all, quieting the chatter. “Only she can find it.”

“Seriously?” I ask. “Where is it?”

The man speaks low, vibration of his voice makes the hair on my arm move. “We are bound by law to not say. That is why we live in the Inbetween, where we can abide our laws safely unless we are inappropriately conjured.”

Talis clenches his fists a few times. “You were conjured appropriately by request of Zeus, god of the skies.”

My brows raise, mouth agape. I guess it makes sense Zeus is real if these beings are real and if I flew into a storm earlier and cloud walked alongside Talis. Why wouldn’t Greek or roman mythology be real? But Talis’s knuckles turning red and hot white, and his jaw tensing - I wonder why these creatures frustrate him immediately. These beings.

I whisper to him. “What’s the Inbetween?”

Before he can answer, a woman pipes up. “The Inbetween is the state of solid and the opposite, and we live in between.”

Literal. Very literal people. I like poems, like the ones Priya and Mangha exchange somewhere far, far away from me but their voices play like a soothing, quiet song. I like solid colors. My red shirt, for example. I like things like Talis’ bracelets and the smell of Sassafras which is quickly becoming my favorite smell in the entire world. But I’m not a big literal fan. I like the in between of lines and lyrics and what it means when the corners of Talis’ eyes soften at the words Mother Earth.

Literal. I do not like. And maybe that’s why Talis doesn’t like them either.

“You must figure it out yourself, dear.” Another man speaks.

“Me? How?” I ask, pointing to my chest.

“If you took your plastic shoes off, we could find it faster,” Talis offers, flat and louder than he’s talked since we arrived to Diaspora.

The glistening people around us murmur more.

A grumbly old being says, “Per angusta ad augusta, Terra.”

This Latin, I haven’t learned but the words dance through my mind and give me words to speak but I don’t think I’m right.

“Through difficulties to honors,” the man says. “We cannot share this information. If you do not know it in this life then it must indicate you have to face challenges before receiving your reward.”

More murmurs. Talking fast. Bouncing ideas off one and the other and anyone but me and Talis.

“Have you heard the phrase of resistance?” a man says. “Flectere si nequeo superos, Archeronta movebo?”

A bellowing voice answers, “Yes, if I can’t move Heaven, I will raise Hell?”

“Yes, should we help her?” a soft voice asks.

“Alis propriss volat,” another says. “She must fly with her own wings.”

“It’s the way, the truth because she must seize the night herself,” the high-pitched words pierce though the crowd. “Carpe Noctem.”

“Enough,” Talis says. “Enough, this is nonsense. This is of no help, only the ramblings of deranged creatures from long ago.” He waves his hand through the air which silence the voices beginning again. “It is not our choice to arrive in Diaspora. We were summoned by Zeus to speak with you so speak it. Speak what is needed for us to enter the realm of the gods for we have no time for such drivel.”

The high-pitched voice says, “You must humanize. You know this Talis. You must learn. Nature is not saddened but now she is. She has learnt, she has humanized. Natura non constristatur. Earth, you must care of human affairs.”

Talis says low, “Aquila non capit muscas.”

The fishbowl bag warms in my pocket and the moment I reach for it, my imagination takes over. The translation, it appears in my mind’s eye as a picture of an eagle, proud on its perch, not bothering to catch prey like flies, just waiting for the big prize.

The words from these beings, frustrate me. Stop talking in circles and just help us. The words, Latin words conjure in my mind, I’m not sure how or from where but most definitely not from the fishbowl.

“Acta non verba,” I say. “You all talk so much but have done nothing, have said nothing. And you know why ‘nature’ is sad? Because you are ridiculous living in the Inbetween, the ultimate creatures of indecision. So make a freaking decision.”

Talis, the edges of his lips upturn in a mischievous grin. He adjusts a bracelet and his eyes, they meet mine.

A voice pips, “Sapere aude, Terra. Continue to learn, dare to know the truths, the truth you need to humanize on this mission and we will not help you find the Sewing Tree as it is your path to find it yourself.”

Talis sighs. “Dare to know? You are not bound by much.” He pulls another grain of sand out and drops it in the well. The beings around us materialize. Dressed in white togas and golden crowns of leaves - men, women, old and young. Beautiful, tall, all annoyed and frustrated just as much as Talis and I are.

“What do we need to know to enter the realm of the gods?” Talis says. “If you want to stay in the Inbetween instead of being ‘humanized’, answer us.” It’s the absolute first time Talis has used finger quotes which confirms what he said before – he’s most definitely been around me for a long time.

Without hesitation, the entire group points behind us, down a path that disappears between green foothills. The commanding voice answers for the group. “You must climb the mountain of Zaro and bring him the key of sanctity to enter the realm for he needs to leave his dominion and mingle amongst the humans.”

“For Zeus holds the map to the Sewing Tree,” a quiet voice whispers. “You must obtain this.”

Talis motions his hand upwards and the sand comes with it. The people glimmer again, going back to the Inbetween.

He grabs my arm and we head off on our way, people murmuring in Latin behind us. The sun shines off the hills though it’s not in the sky. The grassy hillsides are perfectly green, blades of grass between my fingers are smooth. We divert from the path the ancient Diasporas pointed to and head left of it. A path which looks exactly as the one to Zaro Mountain.

“Are we going to meet an actual god and go on some side quest?” I ask.

Talis sighs. “No, we will not perform his petty tasks for we only have two weeks.”

“So what’re we going to do?”

He stops, his hand sliding down my arm and to my hand but I pull it away gently. Not quite ready to have my hand held intimately by some bear man, my soulmate, in the sky, while we head to the realm of the gods.

“Lyla,” he says, “are you willing to fight a god?”

The pause between us grows and he finally turns and I follow him. And though we’ve only walked a few minutes, the path ends abruptly, giving way to a cliff drop off. Below is a sprawl of a jungle but above it, touching the lip of the cliff we stand on, is fog. It zigzags through the sky like a continuation of the path we’re on.

“Take a step,” he says.

There’s no way. But here I am, alongside my Talisman. I take a step of faith, foot touching nothing, to the side of the fog. And I fall. A brief moment of suspension in the air, then Talis’ hand grips my arm, yanking me back.

“Woah, I thought-” I stutter.

“Next time step on the cloud, not nothing.” Stress is in his voice but a smirk is on his lips.

This time, I hold onto Talis’ hand and step on the fog, right beside him. We zig and zag through the sky, hundreds of feet above the jungle. Specks of animals and tree tops decorate the ground. The sun, it shines and I see her on the horizon below us. The moon, it rises on the opposite.

I guess, mom, this is where I’ll spend the night tonight between the sun and the moon. Their poems, their odes to love, to their love, they play quietly in the back of my mind while my hand holds tight to Talis’ and my mind fills with all the colors I know and all the colors I don’t know.