The ingredients were all there in perfect proportions: sage, wheat, rock, a singular feather, and Zuhgora’s totem. It was all perfectly placed. Make a circle with the rock, wheat on the left, sage on the right, feather at the top, and totem in the middle. “Ugh. I don’t understand!” I exclaimed, holding my hands open to the sky like claws. “I did everything perfectly. I spent an hour perfecting the ingredients and years practicing the form. What else is there?” I glanced at my dad for an answer.

  He stood only a few feet away. He challenged me and said he’d be hands-off this time. This was the first time doing it completely alone. I had felt his presence throughout the process of my ritual. Whether the whispered grunts of displeasure were him, the wind, or my thoughts, I was not sure.

  “Ezra, Shamanism isn’t a matter of perfection,” he said. “It’s about spirit. It’s about purpose. Remember: you’re making an offering to Zuhgora, and in return, he’ll bless you how he can.” That made sense. Being a Shaman and a perfectionist has never been a good combination. Hours worth of perfect piles and aligned ingredients only ended me with the same result as everyone else, sometimes a worse result.

  “Okay, I think I understand now,” I said, exhaling a weight off my shoulders.

  I knelt on the ground and scattered everything out of order until it was a mess of random resources. I placed the rocks back in their circle, with edges in different directions, and sizes in different places. I laid the wheat, sage, and feather in its correct place, but whether it was perfectly aligned or not was of no importance. Finally, I placed the totem facing toward me. The totem only stood a foot tall. It had four engravings of Zuhgora: one on the top and bottom, and one on each of its protruding tusks at its sides. Zuhgora’s spirit animal was a whale, so light blue cloth was wrapped at the ends of the tusks; soft, blue eye sockets were engraved at the center of the wood totem.

  I stood and took in the environment around me: an open field with animals grazing: horses, cows, and sheep all appreciating the land, as the land appreciates them. Zuhgora’s lake lay calmly to the left, Eiteega’s mountains were posted to the right, and my village, named after Zuhgora, awaited behind me. Dad saw this, and I saw his posture slightly relax.

  “There we go,” he whispered.

  I took a strong stance and began the ritual. The motions of the dance encompass the elements of nature: water is faithful and sporadic, earth is sturdy and stubborn, fire is origination and destruction, and air is nimble and aloof. A Shaman’s dance is personal to the individual; no one dance will be the same. I chose to focus more on the movement of my arms and head, while my dad, for example, focuses more on his core and legs.

  As my dance progressed, the totem's eyes began to have a slight blue glow in its eyes. The rocks began slowly trembling in place. The ritual was working. Flowing my arms and head in unison. The strong scent of sage and wheat became more potent. The feather was once curled and now was perfectly straightened. The crackles of the rocks became audible. In one final wave of my arms to a halt, the totem made a loud crashing sound and erupted in a light blue mist.

  “I- I did it,” I muttered, looking down at my hands and boots.

  “Well done, Ezra. That was the best form I’ve seen from you,” Dad said. “You looked free, unbound by your conscience.” Dad had always been supportive of me and my younger brother's journeys. He keeps us moving when we need direction and supports us when we succeed. He has been a Shaman for most of his life, and is one of the best within The Horizon; so hearing his words meant a lot.

  “And Ezra,” he said.

  “Yeah?” I responded.

  “Look,” he gestured, pointing to the totem.

  Looking back at the totem, all of the materials used were gone from the ritual. In front of the totem lay a knife. Its blade curved at the edge, and the hilt was made of ebony wood. I picked it up and turned it over. It had a whale engraved on the left side of the knife, the side the palm of my right hand would hold.

  “Now, you can officially do rituals on your own, son,” Dad said with pride. “Just remember, rituals are used for learning and important use. Think of it as a form of prayer, not as a way to get free things. Because if you abuse it, you’ll no longer benefit.”

  “Understood, and thank you, Dad,” I said.

  “No problem, son,” he said. “Now, let’s gather some berries for your Mom and get back home before nightfall. I’ll also get you a sheath for that knife.”

  The walk home was about half an hour. Despite the distance, Dad had always suggested that this open field would be a much better place to try practicing my rituals rather than in town. He also mentioned that this was where he would commonly practice when he was learning. Dad is even starting to bring eleven-year-old Leif out here, he’s always so excited to talk about it when he gets home.

  Approaching my village, I looked to the South to see Zuhgora totem. It towered over any tree and mountain in view. The totems we use in rituals are made in the reflection of the totem we protect. Four totems encompass The Horizon, four gods work in unison to keep us safe from whatever's on the other side. Zuhgora is the god of water. He is our village, our water, our totem. Our village worships Zuhgora and practices his legacy. Eiteega is the god of earth, he lies to the west of us, guarded by his mountains. Gorzhul is the god of fire, he lies to the North of us, and he is that which gives life and takes it. Y’serak is the goddess of air, she lies to the northeast of us, and she is the keeper of enlightenment and truth. She is the last totem our family has yet to take a pilgrimage to.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “Hey Dad,” I asked. “When are we gonna go see Y’serak’s totem? It’s the last of the four totems we need to see.” Dad had always insisted that we visited the four totems. I was uninterested at first, but instantly loved it on our first pilgrimage to Eiteega’s totem. Leif was only three at the time, so his being a bit older will make the journey a little easier, especially for Mom and Dad.

  “I’m not sure, I was hoping to go soon,” Dad responded.

  “Good, I’m excited to go.”

  Rounding the corner, I could see my home. A medium-sized shack with a wood roof stood between four others. Although the wood was starting to rot; that had been something needing to be fixed on Dad’s bucket list. Walking through the door, I placed my new knife on the table. Mom could be seen through the gap in the wall mixing ingredients for a stew. Leif sat with a small blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He was playing with the doll he’d had since he was a kid. One of its eyes had never been stitched back on from him chewing on it.

  “Ezra!” He exclaimed. “How did your ritual go? Did you finally get it this time? What did it do? Did you-”

  “Okay, okay.” Mom said, quieting his excitement as she walked into the room. “Ezra, how did your practice go?”

  “It went well, guys,” I said. “I struggled at first because I focused on the ritual being perfect.”

  Mom nodded, “mmhmm.”

  “But I let go of that, I allowed it to be messy. Passion isn’t seen through perfection, it’s seen through diligence and ambition.” Dad walked toward me with my knife, a new leather sheath had been placed on it.

  “And in return, Zuhgora blessed me with a knife with his engraving on it.” I unsheathed the knife, its blade was well-sharpened and bore no blemishes.

  “Can I hold it?” Leif asked.

  “No,” everyone said in unison.

  “But you can see the engraving on the handle,” I said. I turned the knife around, holding the blade, and allowed Leif to see the whale on the handle. He felt the engraving and smiled. He had a pretty mature appreciation for beautiful things, especially compared to other boys his age. Though, he has also made mud paintings and called them modern art.

  “Alright, I suggest we get some shut-eye,” Dad said. “We’ll be leaving early tomorrow for Y’serak totem.”

  “Wait, we’re leaving tomorrow?” I exclaimed, immediately turning my head towards Dad.

  “Yup. It’ll be the longest journey we’ve done, about a two-day trip, so make sure you have all of your necessities. That goes for you too, Leif.”

  “Got it, Dad,” Leif responded.

  After supper, I went to my room and started packing my things for the morning trip. My bed sat furthest from the bedroom door. I always missed my bed on trips like this, so I’d make sure to appreciate it while I could. Necessities, Dad had said. I’d always been a light packer, so I assumed a little heavier than light would do, whatever that meant. With my satchel packed, I was ready for the morning. The sheath Dad had given me had a clip for my pants as well, making for an easy carry.

  I unsheathed the knife and looked at the whale's engravings. Four legendary Shamans were powerful enough to combine their powers and create a barrier strong enough to keep whatever is on the outside, out. Those Shamans’ spirits were strong enough to take on a god-like form, one we haven’t seen since before the Shamans fell to near extinction. Without Shamans’ worship of an assigned totem, the totem would be dull, and the spirit would be lost. All that remained was the four we protected.

  There are stories of our people prospering long ago. Tales of ever-reaching land. There was peace and comfort. Little worries of population, little worries of famine or declining resources. Our people were faithful and strong. It has been said that we didn’t use to be assigned to specific totems; It didn’t used to be a matter of keeping them alive. The first generation of Shamans within The Horizon swore to never talk of what they fought on the outside. They stayed true to their oath.

  And what did that leave for us? They left us in the dark. Any interest I had in the outside of The Horizon was instantly shut down by everyone. Was I the only one who wanted to know what was on the other side? Was I the only one willing to take the chance? Am I the only one with the guts to do i-"

  “Hey, Ezra,” Leif said, walking into the room, his blanket still over his shoulders. “Dad requested that you feed the dogs before bed. Also, can I come with you?”

  “Okay, and sure you can come with me. Let’s get going, we don’t have much daylight left.” I said.

  Leif and I ran out of the house in bounding strides. Kids could be seen fighting with sticks two times their size at neighboring houses across the field. There had never really been kids my age growing up, mostly kids either much older or younger. My time growing up was filled with questions and a passion to try and find the answers. I was happy Leif had some friends his age he could grow up with at least.

  Approaching the small shack made for the dogs, I saw Zuhgora’s totem in the distance again. The faint, blue light emanating from the totem made a wall, arching left and right beyond view. One step beyond that line and you’re on the other side for good; there’s no going back. There had been a pup that hadn’t been fully trained and ran across the line before. The owner said he saw the dog shiver like he was in danger like he knew he’d made a mistake. The owner refuses to speak anymore past that point, he’s a first-generation Shaman.

  “Did you bring the leftovers for the dogs, Leif?” I said.

  “Yup, did you bring the water, Mr. Ezra?” Leif responded. He liked adding “Mr.” to my name sometimes.

  “I did, Mr. Leif.” I mimicked.

  After leaving the food and water with the dogs, and giving some well-deserved belly rubs, we started on our way back to the house. I wondered, what are Mom and Dad’s true thoughts on what lies on the other side? They weren’t first-generation Shamans, they were second, but they might as well have been first-generation; they never gave any attention to my questions about the outside.

  “Hey Leif,” I asked. “What do you think is on the outside of The Horizon? Do you think it’s as dangerous as people say?”

  “I don’t know.” He responded. “Dad says it doesn’t matter to our people, so why worry about it? Also, Dad said to call you dumb if you asked me about the outside, so, you’re dumb.”

  “Fair enough, Leif,” I said, opening the door to the house. “Now get to bed, we have a big day ahead of us.”

  I crawled into bed and slung my arms over my head. Even Leif isn’t curious about the outside, I thought. Maybe I really am the only one who wants to know. I felt caught in the middle of past and future generations, no one was interested in the answer.

  “I have to know what’s on the other side,” I whispered. The weight of my eyelids overpowered me.