Two Eyes Cenote APHELION

Trailing nebet Racharra quietly is Eset, her wonder abiding over every engraving, the sole marks and their contribution to larger narratives of Nwt. They are timeless. Her eyes lower from the artwork to their lavender creator.

“It is beautiful, Nazli,” she whispers into the fragrant air between them. Each spoken word on these holy grounds seemed a hymn.

To the young sapling she brings a crow’s feather; a token from the raven’s modest cousin, but pristine in its shape and distinctly colorless as the night. She lays the plume upon the new undulating growth, where it will take root in the vault beneath the eyes of the gods.