The Master Shaman had a unique appearance, which was fearsome to many, especially the children. He was commonly known as Brown Eagle, after his astounding robe, adorned with uncountable feathers. Brown Eagle was a wanderer; it was known that he had been to many parts of the world, and had visited many settlements. Some called him Stone Eyes, and his grey pupils lived to that title. I call him Master.

His right hand was entirely black, and scarred over; he must have suffered a severe burn at some point. In this hand, my Master gripped his long walking stick, made of a twisted wood I did not recognise. Boar’s tusks were inset at certain points around the staff. It was topped with a pair of antlers; strange symbols were etched into these.

I, Ahan, had been his Shaman Apprentice for several months. One morning, I approached him as he woke from his meditation. We talked for several minutes; we were acquainted with one another. I felt comfortable enough to ask him a personal question.

“How did you get that scar? It has been a curiosity of mine for some time now.” I gestured toward his blackened, bony hand.

“You are not ready to learn that yet.”

“I am ready!” I protested. His eyes slowly narrowed, as he raised his eyebrows; he had an expression of contemplation. 

“You really wish to know?” he asked.

“Yes, Master.”

“Alas, I cannot tell you. I must show you. Follow, my apprentice.” This answer intrigued me; I was merely expecting to hear a tale. He led me through yellow, rolling hills, bringing me to a small walled-off area behind a mound. We entered the enclosed rock shelter. A weathered stone altar stood across from the entrance.

The Master reached his black, withered, almost clawed hand into his satchel and pulled out a stone. It had unknown engravings on it. He set this in the centre of the altar. The Master then pulled from his satchel the materials to make fire. A small fire was soon burning on the altar, with the stone at its center. It grew rapidly; the shaman was a master at firecrafting. The air warped from the heat in the coldening eve. “Lay your hand upon the stone,” he said. “This is a Stone of the Sun-God. When you touch the stone, inside the fire, while gazing into the flames, you will see a wonderful vision. But heed this- do not gaze into the fire for too long.”

My heart skipped a beat, even though his voice was low and calm. Extending the stretch of my arm, I reached my already sweaty hand toward the fire.  Instantly, on reflex, I pulled my hand away. I tried once more, with my natural instinct forbidding it again. My hand was reddened and stung miserably. “I… I can’t... “ I said. “It’s too painful.” I shook my hand about in attempt to cool the burn.

“Pain?” said the Master. “Pain is nothing! Try again.”

I stuck my hand forth again, managing to keep it in the flame for a few seconds. Still, it withdrew. “It hurts!” I said.

“Pain can be endured! Pain can be overcome! Place your hand upon the stone, Ahan!” 

I gazed into the fire, letting it entrance me, losing myself in it. By willpower alone, I reached my hand into the flames, grimacing and gasping heavily through my clenched teeth. I could smell burning flesh, I could hear my skin sizzling. My head was bowed in anguish.

I grasped the Stone, and a world of ecstasy came before me. I had a ghostly, floating form, but no body; I was rising vertically, and gaining speed. I was a mere observer, and could take no action except merely witness what was to happen.

Suddenly, I felt myself stop, and hang suspended in the sky. A bright white surrounded me; I was seeing through the eyes of the Sun! 

My perspective was higher than I had ever hoped to imagine. I looked beneath me. I could see mountains; after having seen them from below the peaks, from where they towered over us, this was a strange sensation. They seemed so small from this height. I could see over vast deserts, deep forests, and open plains; I could see the great canyons, and the many winding rivers. These rivers lead to the ocean; across the seas I could see small islands, many miles from the coastland. It was a stunning vision, that I could have watched forever. 

I could feel a space, a weight almost, in the back of my consciousness; I knew that by focusing on this, I would return to bodily form. I remembered the Master’s warning. “Do not gaze into the fire for too long,” 

“Just a few minutes longer,” I thought. “I must find my tribe.” I gazed down from the top of the sky, searching for the spot that my tribe was located. I focused on the mountains, on the western edge of the great peaks. The range was far larger than I could have comprehended before this vision. Humbled nonetheless, I stayed a few moments longer. “I must find the plains, nearby the great mountains.”

I spied a small valley, in between two mountains, on the eastern edge of the range. I was sure that this valley was the place that the tribe was currently camped. There was a river to the south. To travel too far south of the river, would only bring us to a barren, rocky desert. I saw that the rivers flowed west; to travel upstream would likewise bring us to harsh terrain. I concluded that we would follow the nearest river downstream to an area more rich with plant life. 

Almost having forgotten about my body, I finally retreated to the back of my consciousness, where my bodily perspective still remained. I was there again, the Master before me, my hand in the fire. Immediately, I fell backward; my eyes were nearly blinded from staring at the fire; the flesh of my hand and wrist was burning, melted, and senseless. I did not know how long had truly passed while I was in that state; Judging by the burns on my right hand, it could have been several minutes.

“You have done well, Ahan,” said the Master. “I am proud of you. You have seen what many could not bear to see. A man less brave would fear the flame; a man less wise would lose himself in the light. Of all who I have tried to teach my ways, you have shown the most promise.”  

“Master…” I gasped, on my back, breathing heavily. “Thank you.” 

“Now you know why my hand is blackened.” said the old man. “I have used the Sun-God’s eyes many times. Anymore, I don’t even feel it.” I lay there in recovery, while the Master smothered the fire with a piece of tanned hide. He then took the Stone, still searing, and returned it to its pocket inside his elegant feathered robe. “Perhaps, my student, when one day, my hand is bare bone, your hands shall sequester this power.”