Eir Hunts For Shining Eves

My dad is my hero. He goes all over the world, visiting places across oceans and over different continents. He meets so many people everywhere, makes friends, and brings me back toys from all over the world. I love my dad so much, but he is away a lot. Mom is a powerhouse, but she misses dad, too. We wait for him to return when he has a bit of time. Most of the time, he only sleeps and leaves before I wake up, but recently he brought me a present from a distant country, translated to English from a very strange language.

The book’s name was “The Shining Eves: Magical Flowers of Legend”. I had never heard of Shining Eves, but they were said to be important, and the way seasons changed. The more I read, lost in the magical world of four flowers only depicted by the season they welcomed, it became clear that these flowers blossomed in secret. The few who have seen the flowers bloom got sick with four very different things.

The person who saw the Weeping Silversea could not stop crying, and had to drink a lot of water since the encounter. Understandably, he wanted to forget the encounter and refused to describe what he saw. The woman who saw the Tendering Rainlotus brought rain wherever she went, finding it a blessing that allowed her to visit the most drought-stricken regions and bring with her much needed water. She refused to describe the way the flower looked because she considered it a curse, but then also because she considered it a blessing.

The old man who saw the Flaming Goldester in bloom became obsessed with bright lights, threw away thirty years spent working as a chef to learn how to make fireworks, often launching new creations in the area where he lived and worked. He said nothing of what the flower looked like, but at last revealed that it was bright. Those seeking answers decided that the flower had to look like a firework to cause this.

With that knowledge, the flowers got their names, the Shining Eves, the flowers that bloomed anywhere in the world on the eve of seasons, glowing for that brief moment of magic. The fourth flower’s sighting was unconfirmed, because of what happened to the person who saw it.

The boy who saw it swore that he was forty-six years old. He explained the circumstances of seeing the Fleeting Crownblossom underneath a weeping willow where he fell asleep. The dream he saw had him recollect his past in longing, to a pain-free young body. He said that when he woke up, a green glow enveloped him coming from a flower in the distance. He certified the flower’s brightness, and even gave a description of what it looked like.

Understandably, nobody believed the boy, having no living relatives that could certify that he was older just a few months before. The mention of him was a possibility of a sighting, due to the magical nature of the flowers. As to how the flower looked, the Fleeting Crownblossom was a crown of straight spear petals, linked by a central disc almost at the bottom of the green petals. Patterns of gold wove around them, with curls and spikes, appearing like an actual crown.

After I read the whole book, I read it over again. I did not want to miss a single thing. I identified the writing in the book thanks to the internet as Sanskrit, the language of the gods. From that moment I was focused on anything related to the flowers of legend, scouring the internet for every detail. It took me years, but it helped me cope with dad being away. Mom was supportive of my new passion, writing it off as an interest that I would soon abandon as I had done before. If only she knew what I was planning to do.

Dad promised to be there for my eleventh birthday, my hero. I was so happy to have him home for a bit longer than just an evening of recounting his adventures in other parts of the world. He could write a whole book on the things he saw along the way if he ever stopped flying. The day passed slowly, hoping for him to make it, but weather had other plans. He was grounded on the other side of the county because of a thunderstorm.

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” Mom consoled me. “He really wanted to be here for your birthday. This isn’t easy on him either.” My dad was my hero, but a bit of hope wavered away as we cut the cake of a wish that could not come true. Mom sat at my bedside as I tried to sleep when he arrived. I cried when he hugged me, soaked in the rain and visibly exhausted from the efforts it had to take to get back home for me. With just a few minutes to midnight, I held my hero with my fists clenched in fear.

“I promised I’d make it, starlight,” he said, before slumping forward. I shifted him onto my bed with mom’s help and let him rest. Meanwhile, I slept in bed with mom. By the time I woke up, Mom was already up. The scent of breakfast cooking dragged me out of bed to find this tall guy at the stove I did not know. It took me a minute to realize that it was Dad, rarely seeing him like that. He was in his own world, almost giddy, bouncing to no music at all.

“Dad?” I asked. He turned with a goofy look with a piece of bacon in his mouth. I burst out laughing. My hero was home.

“Saddle up, Eir,” he said. “I’m making pancakes with bacon grease. Uncle Tim’s recipe.” Mom sat at the table with a mug full of coffee. She looked a lot happier than she did last night. It had to be because they got to spend time together, my hero and the queen of the house. That made me the princess. I liked that.

“Heads up,” he said a few minutes later, readying a pancake from the pan on a spatula. I readied a plate to catch it. His aim was terrible, which made it more of a game, but also a serious matter because Uncle Tim’s pancakes were the greatest. The pancake flew gracefully, right at mom. I put my plate out, and aimed to catch it, but mom bounced the hot disc from the air directly onto her plate. She smirked while meeting my eyes, and licked the finger which parried the pancake.

“That was so cool!” I said. “Another!”

“Here it comes!” Dad said, flinging another pancake that this time lost momentum by hitting the ceiling, but mom took the plate from me, and held it right under as it fell. “The queen is a retired master of the martial arts, starlight.” Mom put the plate right in front of me and walked over to hug dad. They kissed, and I turned away, but smiled. I wanted more of this. I wanted him at home more. He was the greatest when he was at home.

“How long are you staying?” I asked after consuming the pancake that bounced off the ceiling. They shared a look in silence, which often meant that it was not long. I grimaced, but smiled through it, asking for another pancake. Dad jumped to it, acting peppy. My dad is my hero, but he was with us so rarely. I kept smiling. I had to make him proud of me so he would stick around more. I was going to find all the Shining Eves for him, and depict them as an homage to the hero I saw every time he was next to me.

That night we played a board game we had not played in years. Mom and dad gave me the present I have been asking about for the past few months, a global language translator. Mom made popcorn and set out some snacks, while dad demonstrated his skills on the guitar. I wanted it to stay like that, this family happiness. There was a saying that came up a lot in the writing that related to the Shining Eves.

“For the calm is earned by pressure, just as diamonds are forged, so must the greatest moments in life be brought forth by uncertainty.” I was deeper down the rabbit hole of the Shining Eves than the children’s book where it started. While three of the sightings did not explain the way the flowers looked like, they did explain what the conditions were to allow them. The funny thing was that the flowers did not differentiate between seasons at all.

This one scientist who chose to disprove the possibility of magical flowers of legend explained the concept. There were no seasons for the whole world. Because the planet was on a spinning daily axis in comparison to the sun standing still as the whole thing orbited the glowing star, the season was different for each half of the world. While the top half was in winter, the bottom was in summer, all because of how much sun exposure they got. The folks living at the equator, the belt of the planet, experienced no real seasons save for how much rain fell, the dry and wet seasons.

The Shining Eves were magical, and even though the scientist thought he was disproving their existence, he simply surmised that each of the four could bloom at different times in the year depending on where they do so in the world. I wondered how it felt to know all the science of plants and still hold out hope for such a thing as magical flowers. None of it ever stopped me believing.

Dad was gone in the morning. I did not even get to say goodbye as he rushed back to work. Mom sat at the table in the kitchen, sipping coffee in silence. I would fix it. I would bring my hero back to us. I just needed to get a first person account of the shining eves to show that magic existed in the world. Dad would help me with that. I started making plans to explore parts of the world by sneaking onto different planes going to different places. The last thing I needed was my birthday present.

By way of the internet, the believers of the Shining Eves narrowed down places where they might bloom. While the Tendering Rainlotus was impossible to nail down, and the Flaming Goldester was equally difficult to find, the flower signifying the end of winter, the Weeping Silversea in any region was limited to the end of wintry weather, perhaps arriving alongside the first budding flowers from under the snow.

The end of winter was still a giant undertaking, and there was no shortage of places in the world where the first day of spring would create the perfect conditions for the Shining Eve to blossom. The Fleeting Crownblossom was a tricky one as well, because the amount of weeping willows in the world was large. Even if it only bloomed underneath them, which was not confirmed, it would produce an impossible amount of places to search on the first day of summer.

The beauty of having a dad who worked as an airline pilot was knowing all the ins and outs of the airport system. All I had to do was ask one of the days he was around. He even sounded excited that I was interested, detailing all the inner workings of the airport under the influence of some wine. I knew exactly what to say and to whom to get on any flight without a ticket.

When the days of winter started drawing to a close, the internet community of driven individuals narrowed down the possibilities of where the Weeping Silversea might appear. All I could do from that point was pick a spot and venture out with bravery in mind. The end of winter I decided was for the northern hemisphere where I lived. Meanwhile, it could have been the Flaming Goldester that would bloom on the opposite side of the world. Maybe even at the same time.

Much like the community of travelers in belief of those magical flowers, all I could do was go with hope. The next time dad was home I asked if I could see him off at the airport when he leaves.

“I leave very early in the day,” he said. “You’re not going to be awake at the time, starlight.”

“I can be,” I argued. Dad met mom’s eyes, then nodded.

“Alright,” he said. “We will venture out in the morning together.” I ran to get my bag packed for the trip, remembering to have a piece of clothing for every sort of weather. When I came back down again, they were arguing.

“You were supposed to take a vacation, Phil,” Mom said. “You’re spending too much time away from her life. She holds out hoping, and it hurts to see. When she hits puberty, the changes will turn her against us, and you will be the focal point of that anger.”

“Come on, Van,” Dad replied. “I’m doing this FOR us. With this kind of support, we’ll be able to send her to a good college and still have our dream home. Just hold on a little longer.”

“You need to balance work and life,” she replied. “You’re throwing all your time into work by choice. Don’t burn through the first years of her life by sacrificing them to work. You can’t get those years back. My dad wasn’t around in my childhood either.”

“And look how amazing you turned out,” Dad argued. I winced at the mistake he made. The silence following felt heavy.

“It took me a long time to overcome the trauma,” Mom said with an angry tone.

“I’m sorry,” he replied. “I’ll- I’ll think about it. Ok?”

Since tensions were heavy at that moment, I slunk off upstairs to catch an early nap before I had to get up. The excitement of putting my plan into action kept me up. In the end, I slept only a few hours, but with an energy boost snack I was up when dad came around to wake me up.

“What’s with the backpack?” He asked.

“For the trip to the airport,” I said. He shrugged. Mom would check the contents to find the plan out, but she was not very put-together in the morning. The three of us rushed out into the dark before dawn. It was still winter in the northern hemisphere after all, for a few more days. The ride to the airport took a few hours, as I felt the energy boost fading. I ate another sugary snack, telling myself that I would sleep on the plane.

When we got to the airport, mom dropped me and dad off and went to park the car. We stopped over at the airport cafe where he bought me a chocolate croissant while getting coffee for mom and himself. The pastry was so freshly baked that the chocolate was still warm and runny. The crisp outside was amazing and delicious. Mom kissed dad when getting the coffee, then took a big gulp from the cup.

We passed through security without much effort thanks to dad. When it came time to say goodbye at the gate, I hugged dad and waved with mom as he walked off with his cabin crew down the parked corridor. It was time to make my move to get to Minneapolis, Minnesota. I already looked up the flight that was leaving in a few hours. Now I just needed to become a lost child at the airport, and the main way of doing that was distracting Mom with some shopping.

“Look, mom,” I said, pointing out an outlet store that she loved to visit in malls. It had various clothing and accessories that could be bought as presents. Mom looked off toward the store for a moment. “Wanna take a look?” She shrugged.

“Maybe they have it in my size here,” she said, half to herself. We walked over, and she disappeared into the racks of clothes and bags. When she was good and distracted, I slipped out of the store. I only looked back for a moment realizing that my plan would put pressure on her. I was sorry for that, but some things were more important.

Through a mix of plans, I boarded the plane. That was when I first felt it in my stomach. It was an almost telepathic feeling that my mom was worried and looking for me. I did leave a note for her inside her purse. She would find it eventually and know where I went. Right at that thought, a text message arrived on my phone. I slapped my forehead in realization that I forgot to turn it off.

:WHERE ARE YOU?: The text read. I hesitated before replying.

:I’m going to find the Weeping Silversea. Don’t worry.: I replied, then went into the setting to turn off phone tracking before powering the device down. A stewardess stopped by with an apple juice box.

“Are you doing ok?” She asked. I was flying unaccompanied, so the cabin crew became my temporary family. Dad said that it’s not always like that, but the crew was often made up of kind people, only made unkind by entitled passengers.

“Yes, thank you, Ms. Haler,” I replied.

“Oh, please, just call me Kim,” she said. I nodded.

When the plane landed, I felt a deep anger from a part of the world. It had to be mom. I had to do my best and bring home an experience that nobody else in the world could. I refocused myself and slipped my caretaker at the airport. The announcement of a fake name I used played over the airport intercom while I exited the terminal in Minneapolis.

For travel and spending, I’ve borrowed my dad’s credit card. They would track me through it eventually, but dad was at work right now, and mom had to get in contact with him first. I had a day or two of their scrambling to find me, which felt like a really bad thing to think, but I was on a mission. The taxi took me to a hotel I booked online. I had to make it look as thought I was traveling with my dad, so I had two beds in my room.

At the reception I checked in and told them my dad was parking the car, while slipping off to the room. This freedom was fun, but I had to focus. The realistic time of the Shining Eve’s bloom was midnight between the days. Even if they did not give accurate descriptions of the flowers, each of the people who saw the flowers assured that they were glowing, or shining as the namesake appeared.

It had to be at night. As soon as it got dark, I went off to walk around near the hotel. It was a small enough of an establishment, with greenery everywhere in vicinity. The parking lot was the largest part of the whole place. I had to go somewhere that felt more natural, even if the Shining Eve could bloom anywhere. I wondered how long it took from appearing to blooming and wilting. The scope of looking for something so small, at night, in the random location in the world suspected of being in the correct climate for it, was ridiculous, but I did find some other people around as well.

“You think it’s true about the crying?” I overheard one person saying.

“It’s called ‘Weeping’ after all,” the other replied. They were older than me, about twenty. I had to wonder if I would look for the flowers that long. It would certainly be easier to get around as an adult. I could travel and look for the Shining Eves while meeting fun new people and experiencing new cultures. It sounded like paradise, something my hero did for work. Unfortunately, dad did not get to vacation in the places he visited.

If I ever had a chance of finding it on time, I needed to get off the main roads. It would not be anywhere easily found. Otherwise, all sorts of people would see it and describe the whole experience, tears or no tears. I brought out a flashlight from my backpack and went off the side of the road into the darkness of the forest. I would be scared if I was not too excited to be looking for the flowers of legend.

About half an hour later of walking in the wilds, I stopped to drink some water, leaving the flashlight hanging from a branch nearby. When I looked back, the device was gone. I looked around, but did not see it on the ground if it fell off or in the distance if someone took it. Did the thing run out of power? I checked the nearby branch, moving my hand in the air until I found the bouncy piece of tree. That was not a bouncy tree.

“What are you doing out here in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night, stupid girl?” A voice said in the dark. I yelped in surprise, and fell backward to the ground. The flashlight lit up again, turning to illuminate a hooded figure. “Do you have any sense? That’s how people get killed.”

I felt a shiver of dread in my back. I dug in my back pocket for a pocket knife I bought at the airport. I held it at the ready to defend myself when the guy threw his hood back. He was just a teen himself, maybe about sixteen. His matted black hair vanished into the night except for the waxy parts casting shine. The hoodie was black too, save for the strings, which were refractive to the lights, showing up as yellow. He was tall for his age, but maybe he just had a growth spurt.

“I’m looking for the Shining Eve Weeping Silversea,” I replied, forgetting not everyone knew what that was. I would say about eighty percent of people in the world had no idea what the Shining Eves were. Eighteen percent knew it as a story book. The remaining two percent was the community searching for a glimpse at the impossible magic of flowers that grew possibly twice per year somewhere around the world. “What are you doing here in the dark, without any light, stupid boy?”

“I know this forest like the back of my hand,” he replied. “I don’t need light anymore, except when someone is blazing light in the darkness. You ruined my darkness eye adjustment for the whole night. As for what I’m doing, that’s none of your business. You should go home.” He tossed over the glowing flashlight. I caught it, and pointed it at him, but he was already gone. I could hear his footsteps, but when I pointed my light, he disappeared from the beam. I shifted the beam a few more times, but he was too far to see walking away.

“Wait!” I called out.

“Go home!” A voice called out from the distance behind me. I rushed to point the light that way, but found nothing in the cast beam of light.

I set off into the direction he went. It was as good a direction as any, seeing as I had lost my way in the whole incident. I knew where I was before he stole my light, but now every direction felt wrong. I had to follow him, in hopes that he could help me get to a main road where I would be able to use my phone’s GPS.The ground had a layers of snow, with a cold breeze coming through the trees.

“I told you to go home!” A voice called out on my right.

“Well, you made me lose my way, dummy!” I screamed back. “I’m going to follow you to a main road or something!”

“No!” He said from behind me. He had to be toying with me. I walked toward his voice, backtracking in the dark until I tripped on a branch and took a small tumble. “You ok?” This time the voice was in front of me. I said nothing. I could hear his footsteps again, getting closer.

“Boo!” I said when he got closer, pointing the flashlight at him. Only what I found in the light was not the boy in a hoodie. What I found in the light was in fact a smallish bear. His nose twitched as the little legs came closer. My jaw shook at the encounter, shivers sending me alarms of panic that my body was numbed to. Not moving was the best option, but I did just shout at the little bear.

The beam of light shook from fear as a hooded figure jumped into it facing the bear. It was him, standing tall in the light, hands high into the air to appear bigger. He roared out with a guttural growl of humanity. The smallish bear gave off a low growl and scampered off into the darkness. My hand fell from numbness, cutting out the beam of light. Next thing I knew, I was being carried on a shoulder.

“Ahh! Put me down!” I shouted while hitting my fists on the back of what I hoped was the boy I met. He stopped walking, and set me down on the ground, but my legs crumpled under my weight.

“Yeah, that would happen after losing your shit,” he said. “I’m Kris, by the way, with a K not CH. You fainted, so I was carrying you back to a main road like you wanted.”

“I’m Eir,” I said, to which he chortled.

“That’s not a name,” he said. “That’s what you say to get someone’s attention. Eir, you! Eir! Eir there!”

“My mom picked it out,” I replied. “And I like it.”

“Let’s get you back on my shoulder, ok?” He asked. “We’re almost on the main road.”

“I can walk,” I said, and tried getting up, but my legs felt as stable as a newborn horse calf. “Or maybe not.” I felt myself fall down, but his hand caught my arm and held me up. With a motion, he lifted me, and held me in place at about his neck. I understood, and took a seat on his neck like I once did with dad. I was a few years younger back then, lighter. The added weight did not seem to bother Kris at all.

“To tell you the truth, I was looking for Weeping Silversea, too,” he said a few minutes later. “I’ve been looking for it for a while now. This is the perfect climate for it and the right time of the year, but through countless years I haven’t seen it. I’d advise you to not get lost in this pursuit. You’ll see your life pass you by while searching. You’re a bit young to be giving up that much.”

“What about you?” I asked. “You’re like four years older than me, so that’s ok for you?”

“Things change after twelve,” he said. “It’s weird, and it’s annoying, and it fills you with anger. From that point, your life tends to feel better spent away from people, but the world just loves forcing you to interact.”

“I’m not looking forward to being thirteen then,” I said. “But I am looking forward to being an adult. I’ll have the freedom to go all over the world to look for the Shining Eves.” Kris scoffed.

“If you can get money to travel,” he said. “Most people dream of that when they are kids, and then find themselves working in one little office their whole lives, taking vacations to small destinations rather than all over the world like they once wanted. Travelling costs a lot, a lot more than most people make. Sorry to burst that bubble early on.”

“Not burst,” I assured him. “I’ll find a way to fund it. I’ll make a living from traveling, by traveling, and love traveling, like my hero. I mean, my dad. He flies all over the place. He’s a pilot.”

“Ah, that sucks,” Kris said. “Must be away a lot.” I said nothing in response. He had to be away. It was his job. I enjoyed the stories he brought, the gifts he got me, and the time spent with him, however little. “Turn off the flashlight, Eir, I don’t need it.” I looked at my hand where the flashlight was, but it was not on. I looked up to where the light was coming from.

“It’s not me,” I said, tugging onto the hoodie at my right thigh to turn his whole body to the right were a glow was emanating pleasingly white. “You don’t think…”

“No way,” he said. “It’s probably more people looking in the woods for the flower.” He turned away from the glow, and continued walking. The direction of the main road.

“Shouldn’t we check anyway?” I asked.

“Why?”

“Hope,” I said. “You wouldn’t be in the forest if you didn’t hope to see the flower. Let’s just go check it out.” He was silent. “If you don’t want to go, I’m going by myself.” I punched off his neck and landed on the ground, this time pointing the flashlight at the ground to see where I was going. The glow in the distance felt far too scattered to be other people, unless someone camped out there in the thaw of the coming spring.

Kris caught up to me, and held onto my wrist while the glow was still obstructed by trees and branches. The source was just beyond visible range. He looked worried.

“What?” I asked, pulling to go toward the light.

“What if it’s true?”

“The crying?”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” I said. “I don’t know. I just need to see it. If it’s there, I need to see it. I want to describe it to the community. I want to be known as the person who saw it. Out of the billions off people, this could be a chance to be recognized.”

“At the cost of always crying for the rest of your life?” Kris asked. The silence held us locked in place. The glow mingled, almost shifting like a living being in the night sky. The excitement wanted me to move, to witness this, but fear had me rooted, snared in the soil of the forest. “I’ll do it.”

“What?”

“I’ll do it,” he said. “I’ll look, and describe everything I’m seeing in the best detail I can so you have your description. If the curse is real, or the magic spell, I’ll take the hit.”

“That’s reckless!” I exclaimed.

“That’s necessary,” he replied. “And don’t tell me you don’t think so. If this is real, if this is the Shining Eve Weeping Silversea, this opportunity is one that cannot be wasted.” I wanted to talk him out of it, but the pull of excitement got the best of me.

“O-Ok,” I said.

“Here,” he said, pulling off his hoodie. He had a white shirt underneath, with a stylized “Shining Eves” written in gold sparkly lettering. I wanted a shirt like that, but it looked custom made. I wondered how much he paid for it. “Wear it in reverse with the hood covering the face.” I put the baggy hoodie on, finding it very warm and comfortable. I looked off at the light for a few more seconds before he pulled the hood up over my face.

“I can’t see now,” I said.

“Good,” Kris said. “Hold onto my shirt as we get closer.” I held onto his shirt, stuffing the flashlight into the kangaroo pocket now on the back of the hoodie, probably still shining. I could not tell, or find the button to shut it off. He walked off, and I tugged behind him along his shirt. After a few steps, he walked off faster and I almost tripped on something while rushing to keep up.

“It’s- It’s it,” He said, stunned. “It’s the Weeping Silversea. It’s still just a bud. I’m getting closer. Come on.” He walked away and tugged me forward with the shirt. I could feel the light on my exposed skin, and a small fraction of the light made it through the fabric of the hoodie, but not enough to make sense of shapes. We stopped in a hush of night, bathed in magical light.

“Well?” I asked.

“Oh, god,” he said. “It looks so… fragile. The bud is so tiny, white flower on a gray stem. The light around us is white and yellow, mingling with sparkle flashes of white. It looks like stars are dancing around in water. Ahh! It stirred. It’s going to bloom.” I fought the urge to throw the hood down and see it myself. My heart beat loudly in my chest as tingles ran all over my skin. Kris was too silent too long, though it was likely just seconds.

“Don’t stop talking!” I exclaimed. “Describe everything, every second.”

“Right, I’m sorry,” Kris said. “The bud is stirring, shaking slightly as the stem bends slightly. It feels as if there is something alive inside. Ohhhh, crap.”

“What?”

“We have guests,” Kris said.

“Someone else found it?” I asked. He was silent. “Kris!”

“Shh!” He said. “It’s… They’re creatures of the forest. Bears, deer, rabbits, birds, and the like. They’re in the forest around us. They are transfixed on the flower bud. It feels like they were drawn here for some reason.”

“I really wish I could see this,” I said, trying to picture a bunch of wild animals gathering in the light of the Weeping Silversea at night.

“It’s… It’s nothing special,” Kris said, with an obvious lie. The sight had to be awe-inspiring. “Oh! The bud is opening. White petals, shifting apart into a bowl-like shape. Inside is… a ball of silver? It’s glowing in the light, shining in every direction. It’s like a pearl, or a bubble of mercury. Ohh. Water. Water’s coming out from inside the enclosure. It’s filling to the brim, but it’s not spilling over the spaces between the petals.

“The inside is like an ocean. I can’t explain it. The waves of an open ocean crest and crash over the surface, as the water fills higher, to the tips of the petals. Oh, god, it’s amazing. The water looks so clear, but the silver bubble makes every wave and crest look like molten silver, living metal. It’s full to the brim. The surface looks calm, silent, glowing a white light. The bubble split, no it spread, to the petals. The insides of the petals are now coated with the silver or mercury substance.

“And they… Oh… Wow.”

“What?”

“The silver tarnished darker until it was black as the night sky,” Kris said. “It’s like the sky now. The inside of every petal is a vista of the night sky under a monochrome style. It’s the sky in black and white, with distant stars twinkling in the seemingly endless darkness of the surface.

“Oh! The water spilled, dripping at the cracks between the petals. It’s pouring out of the cup of petals and down the stem. Oh, the animals are bowing? They’re bowing! The water is draining out onto the forest soil, turning silvery, but running like a tiny stream or vein of silver along the ground. OH! They’re roots. The roots are coming up from the ground to meet the spilling liquid. It’s being absorbed into the roots.

“As the liquid drains, the petals widen, opening the coated petals to the open air. The sparkles in the air are falling like falling stars, homing in on the darkness of the petals and touching down as the petals unfurl. It’s like the inside of the petals is absorbing the glowing air around us, like a vacuum for magical light and stars. I- I can’t even fathom what is going on.

“The silver stream and roots are gone, sunk into the ground. The petals are now laying on the ground, open to the night sky with their own version of it. They are growing dimmer and dimmer. It’s becoming less tangible, less visible. The glow is gone, just the petals remain. The gathering of animals is gone. The petals are gone. They just vanished into the darkness of the forest. I think- I think it’s safe to look.”

I shook in sadness as he described every stage of the bloom. I felt like crying myself from not being able to see everything he described to me. His descriptions were ok, but nothing poetic or beautiful that my own mind could devise to describe the beauty of a Shining Eve in bloom. Now that darkness was around us again, I found the flashlight still shining inside my pocket. I pointed it to where Kris pointed the flower out, but found nothing there.

“I wish I could have seen it,” I said, then pointed the light at Kris. His eyes were shining far more than a human's eyes should. I rushed to his side, and pushed him down to kneel so I could see his eyes up close. “Oh god, your eyes.”

“What about them?” He asked. “Are they crying?”

“They’re shining like glass,” I said, pulling apart his eyelids to look into the space between eye and skin. “It’s like they’ve been polished by something to shine. How’s your sight? Is everything ok?”

“Yeah,” Kris replied. “But could you not point that beam directly at me. It’s way too bright. What do you have on that flashlight like a million lumens?” I looked at my five dollar flashlight glowing weak little yellow light from three AA batteries.

“You mean this?” I asked, shining the light near his face. He winced at the sight.

“Owww!” He exclaimed, putting hands over his eyes. “That’s a heavy beam of light, Eir!” When his hands uncovered his eyes, I could see tears flowing. That was it.

“I think the curse got you,” I said. “It’s like eye polishing or something. It’s not that you’ll cry endlessly, only that everything will be blindingly bright. Something about the light damaged something with your eyes. The flashlight I have is really weak, not a giant beam that you might be seeing.”

“I see you clear as day,” he said without any light in our vicinity. “That’s more like a superpower than a curse.”

“Not if you have to be awake during the day,” I said. “I guess it was real, after all. Thank you for protecting me. I still wish I could have seen it.”

“About that,” he said. “I’m going to sketch it for you.”

“You can draw?”

“I learned so that I could depict the sights if I ever saw the Shining Eves,” Kris said. “Now it will come in handy.”

“OH!” I exclaimed. “Can you make me a shirt like yours? I love that design.”

“That’ll cost you,” he said.

“Do you take credit cards?”

“You do NOT have a credit card at your age,” he said. “Oh.”

“Yeah, about that,” I said, then explained how I got to Minneapolis.

“Your parents must be pulling their hair out looking for you,” Kris said. “I bet they involved the police and the whole airport.”

“It’s only been a few days,” I said, realizing how stupid that sounded. Mom was always protective of me. I worried for what she would do when I came back. I took my phone out to find no bars. “We should get back. Can you help me get back to my hotel?”

“Obviously,” he said. “You wouldn’t happen to have sunglasses in your backpack, would you?”

“Just these,” I said, holding out pink rim heart shaped sunglasses. Kris took them and put them on. I stifled a laugh. The shirt and glasses fit so well together. He looked fabulous. I realized I still had his hoodie on, and took it off to hand it over. Now with his hoodie on, he looked a bit more serious, but the pink glasses took the edge off.

“Let me see that phone,” he said, turning the screen on and wincing as the light traveled through the sunglasses to his eyes. “Painful, but not unbearable. That should do for now. I’m going to need some heavy darkening sunglasses from now on, but I’ll figure it out. Lets go, Eir, your folks must be questioning their life choices because of your excursion.”

“Life choices?” I asked, following behind Kris while putting on my backpack.

“You said you dad’s a pilot, right?” He asked. “Well, if he was doing a flight, it must have been quite nerve-wracking for him to have to wait it out before taking another flight back to be with your already panicking mom that you left behind. So, yeah, I think you’re in for some changes. Possibly grounding for the rest of your life. Definitely a scheduled out life for a few years, and absolutely no freedom in a time you really value that resource.”

“Huh,” I said. “I don’t exactly understand, but maybe a change is good. Here, put your number in.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean?” I asked. “Of course I want to stay in touch with the person who’s going to draw me the Weeping Silversea, and make me a sparkly shirt with Shining Eves on it.”

“We should probably keep the fact that I saw it a secret.”

“I wanted to share with the community,” I said.

“That’s fine, as long as you don’t drop names or locations,” Kris said. “As for staying in contact, I think you’re going to have a bit of trouble with that. I can put my number in your phone, but you’re probably going to be strictly monitored for a while, so contact with me would be ill-advised. Here, though.”

“You think it’s going to be that bad?”

“You stole your dad’s credit card, took a flight to a different state, got a hotel, and went looking for a flower from a fantasy book at night in the middle of a wilderness. Yeah, I think it’s going to be pretty bad. So bad that I feel bad for you, because you don’t even understand the value of privacy yet.”

We walked to a main road, that we followed to my motel. Kris waved as I went up to my room and turned on my phone to a cascade of messages and missed calls from mom, dad, and other numbers. I felt a great deal of fear at having to face the anger, but I texted Mom back.

:I’m coming home.: I sent, then turned my phone off to get some rest. In the morning, I checked out pretending that my dad was getting breakfast and told me to do it, and took a taxi to the airport. I held the description that Kris made for me in my mind like a reel of imagination to how the Weeping Silversea looked like. It bloomed in my head that night before bed, and in the morning when I woke up.

When I landed in my hometown, I turned the phone on again, and called Mom, ignoring the new messages and missed calls since the text I sent the night before.

“I’m sorry,” I said as the line connected.

“OH god!” Mom burst out crying on the other end. There was a bunch of noise, and the phone was handed off to another person.

“Where are you, Eir?” Dad asked.

“I’m at the airport, dad,” I said. “Can you come pick me up? I’m sorry.”

“We’re coming right now!” The line cut out. I could feel the anger and sadness in their voices. It hurt to think about, but I had to take a leap and look for the Shining Eves, at least the one that I could look for without going to other countries. I waited alone with my backpack outside the arrivals terminal until I saw the car drive up in a rush. Mom burst out from the door before the car even stopped and ran at me. I expected anger, but instead her body held me up in a tight hug. I felt the arms on my back tighten in desperation and happiness.

Dad ran up just after and hugged both of us, scruffing his beard hair on my forehead. I smiled, but my happiness lasted but a moment before anger mounted above the relief and joy. I tried to withstand the barrage of emotion spilling out, but found myself crying from the hurt I caused them. By the end of it, everyone was cold from the betrayal of my excursion.

I heard Mom and Dad fighting that night, planning to put locks on my door, and schedule my life out. It did not bother me and I did not understand why it would bother me like Kris said it would. Did that much change in two years? I dreamed of how the other three Shining Eves could look like. Was the fact that the man thought of explosions after seeing the Flaiming Goldester because the flower looked like that as it bloomed? Was the Tendering Rainlotus somehow related to water? Was there any truth to the Fleeting Crownblossom description?

No matter how I looked at it, my future of looking for the Shining Eves looked bright, but only as an adult with freedom, which would not be for several years. I held off on posting the description of the Weeping Silversea until Kris could draw me a picture of it. The bad thing about the whole thing was the restricted internet use. They blamed my whole adventure on it, and using my dad’s credit card. My computer was confiscated, and I could only use my phone when going outside with my parents.

It took me a few months of this treatment until they lifted some restrictions, and by my twelfth birthday I had small bits of freedom back. Kris sent me a detailed drawing of the moment that the silvery water started flowing from the Weeping Silversea petal cup, with the silver orb still on the bottom of the flower bud. He did add the way the inside of the petals looked after the orb melted and expanded to look like monochrome stars on the surface of each petal. In that way, the picture was not realistic, but boy was it pretty.

I detailed the explanation from my little adventure seen through the eyes of a teenager, trying to put more flavor in place of some parts that he described too quickly. In that way, my description became unrealistic. The whole encounter felt like a silly game of telephone, with every next person creating their own design that they liked, or the description that suited their style more.

Mom and Dad did not believe me that I saw a magical flower in that forest, of course. Instead, they worried for the boy I met that was five years older than me, thinking my interest was something it was not. Kris told me I would hate them butting into everything I was doing after twelve, but I was already getting annoyed with their babying.

:How are the eyes?: I asked in a text that I knew for certain was being monitored.

:Better since I got these custom shades made for looking at the sun.: He responded as a picture arrived after. They were black and large, covering a lot of vision. Inside their enclosure was a light, dimmed to just the filament by the darkness of them. :Saw your post about the Weeping Silversea. You put a lot of poetry into my description. It was cool, but you did stretch the truth out a bit, didn’t you?:

:Yeah, I was thinking that, too.: I replied. :You think I should take it down?:

:Nah.: He texted. :It’s the internet. Some ppl will believe it, others will mock it. That’s the way of the world.:

:Are you planning to look for the other Shining Eves?:

:Probably not.:

:How come?:

:The eyes thing is pretty limiting for travel, for one.: Kris texted. :Besides that, I could spend the whole rest of my life looking, and find nothing. As long as others are looking, we will eventually have a semi-accurate portrayal of all four of them, or more if they exist.:

:Speaking of accurate portrayals.: I texted. :Your drawing has the inside of the petals dark, but the silver pearl is still in the cup. Didn’t you say that the silver ball melted and expanded onto the insides of the petals? That would mean you did the same thing I did with the description.:

:That’s why I said semi-accurate. I made an artistic choice with that one, so that I didn’t have to draw it twice. White paper is really painful to look at lately.:

:Ah.:

I put my phone down to remember the conversation between Mom and Dad the other day. They were talking about him being away creating the opportunity for my adventure to happen. Mom made hard-hitting points, and my hero tried to counter with money possibilities, but the arguments were favoring mom’s side. In the end, Dad decided to teach technical courses on flying in a school for a bit, or until I went off to college. My hero who flew all over the world, was now my neighborhood house hero who helped his neighbors. I loved having him around more often.

When time came for my thirteenth birthday, I was starting to feel watched no matter where I went. I found ways to fake out my parents, now both present and focused on keeping me safe, so that I could have a semblance of freedom. Kris designed a simplified Weeping Silversea logo, with three others gathered from the forums on possible descriptions. Soon enough those logos became the standard for the Shining Eves, the magical flowers of legend that bloomed once or twice a year on precipices of seasons. The books were republished with the logos, granting Kris a piece of the pie to sales, as more people learned of the secret glowing flowers. I, too, became a part of that story at one point further down the line.