Maaave and the Phantom Writer: Vol. 2

A fabric of the People of the Springs, telling the legend of the young dragon Ma'awi creating hot springs. Different passages seem to come from poets of different ages.

Thus lonely Ma'awi set out toward the boundless red wasteland.

Like a true dragon, it must undergo the trials of fierce sun and desolation,

seek noble ambition and rage, cultivate proud disposition and virtue.

The Iktomisaurus spirit that once shared innocent dreamscapes with it also followed after,

and with not-lonely Ma'awi set out together on the road seeking rage.

Ma'awi trekked east toward high mountains veiled in sulfurous smoke-clouds;

Ma'awi came into canyons, Ma'awi came before that pitch-black mine mouth.

Ma'awi loudly greeted kin who sought glittering crystal in the mountains—

from that pitch-black mine mouth came only Ma'awi's own echo.

It turned out kin living here had long grown used to silence and stillness;

they had now degenerated into beings that crawl among hard rock and mountain stone.

Mountain rock is not rage—so Ma'awi shrugged and left this place.

Ma'awi went west toward that long-dead gray forest;

it passed ancestral bones and saluted them like a true great dragon.

Ma'awi came before the grand palace woven of countless branches;

Ma'awi loudly greeted kin freely soaring in the forest—

Ma'awi heard only the desolate wind and the rustle of swaying boughs.

It turned out kin living here had long grown used to silence and stillness;

they had now degenerated into beings that slip through the woods and quietly forage.

Forest boar is not rage—so Ma'awi shrugged and left this place.

Ma'awi went south toward brown grasslands where rivers had dried;

it passed old dreams left in the present world, passed broken tender wishes,

and also those oldest hopes faded by age and decay.

Ma'awi crossed dead land veiled in mist and came before its kin;

Ma'awi loudly greeted kin sunk in distant sleep within the fog—

they warmly answered and invited it to sink together into lovely dreams.

"Please stay here, honored guest from afar, our brother.

Stay in our dreamscapes; create yesterday and today with us;

stay in our dreamscapes; fantasize a lovely tomorrow with us."

Dreams presented a miraculous halo—the glorious past and future of the dragon race.

Ma'awi was almost captivated, but its companion's song woke it.

Dreamscape is not rage—so Ma'awi shrugged and left this place.

Ma'awi wandered north toward the untrampled ultimate of the earth.

It passed deltas of magma rivers and hot, silent wastelands,

passed where burning spirits whirled in dance, forced through cold black-stone gates—

Ma'awi and companion together came before the wise dragon high on its throne.

"Young child, you come before me—to what end?"

The mild wise dragon thus asked Ma'awi, heart full of wonder.

"I had thought war with the sky had already hardened my kin's hearts,

filled them with enmity so they could no longer accept the advice I give—

yet unexpectedly today so young a kin has come here.

Please tell me what you wish; I may make an exception and grant it."

So Ma'awi shared its experiences original and complete with the wise dragon;

Ma'awi spoke of the dreamscapes it once treasured, cool moonlit nights in dreams;

Ma'awi spoke of the warm shade of red cliffs, and the Iktomisaurus spirit's song;

Ma'awi spoke of being cast from the tribe by the clan mother, seeking hard-to-find rage.

"Young child—you are so innocent, yet so arrogant;

you come before me yet wish to take what even I cannot obtain.

Leave this place. The rage you try to seek—I do not have it here."

The wise dragon shut its obsidian gates and answered Ma'awi no more.