For some time, Elinor watched the elder fly in the opposite direction toward Gargan Mount, until its shape merged with the horizon. Carefully she began weaving her way along Zi’s back to take a position closer to the gargan’s head. “Where are you taking me?” asked Elinor.
Zi responded in a short chorus of clicks.
Raven Rock. Zi was taking Elinor to the destination she had been fighting to get to. Land of the Lancians and House Aysgarth. A place her father had instructed her to go. Morbis believed in them. She too wanted desperately to believe in them. But Ma΄Vastor had warned her they were not to be trusted. And what about Aysgarth? His pull on her hadn’t faded. Deep down Elinor felt going to Raven Rock would put her on the right path. Negative emotions however were exerting more influence than any gut feeling or advice she had received from the child, or a vision, or her own father for that matter. She was so tired. Pain and suffering had become her new normal. Elinor’s silent mantra returned. You’ve done enough.
“No. Take me home,” she responded.
Zi tried to explain.
“I don’t care what you were told. I want to go home.” Elinor’s demand sounded childish, but Zi obeyed without further resistance.
She banked right, over the Hollows. On the other side of the peaks Elinor could see a vast sea. Beyond she imagined was Raven Rock. A distant land that she would never see. And where a man named Aysgarth waited for her. Elinor’s guilt lasted but a moment as she focused on her return to the south. Her homeland and a place she hoped would be far from the woman’s wrath. She knew the land well. As before, the network of tunnels would provide an excellent hiding place. No more pain. No more failure. Only her, and a haunted past to live with. She would have fire and light, food and shelter. Everything she needed to survive. Perhaps her new companion would stay to keep her company, she thought. It would be nice to have a friend again. Daydreaming about her new life, Elinor fell asleep to the soft sound of whistling air as Zi snaked across the sky, homeward bound.
She woke to the sound of splashing water. Zi had done precisely as instructed, but it was not the location Elinor had anticipated when she had instructed Zi to take her home. Elinor stood, gazing out over the lake that surrounded her ancestral home, not the caves in the deep south that she had anticipated. The Eternal Tree is what the ancient one had called it. Her tribe’s temple appeared to have been deserted long ago. Lower Lightendom may have been the last to fall, but the war spared none.
Zi sleeked through the water, sending ripples across the surface. She glided to shore. Elinor slid down the side of her neck, aiming for a patch of silt that had collected around one of the tree’s massive roots. A handful of coarse earth was scooped in her unsteady hand. It smelled musky with a hint of nutty sweetness. Elinor’s hand stopped trembling as her courage increased. The unknown became the familiar. She turned to Zi for reassurance, but the gargan had already moved away. Her weighty frame was sprawled across the raised roots with her feathered wings wrapped around her like a blanket. The gargan’s close presence though brought comfort. Elinor decided to make her way inside via a lanky root that wound toward the tree’s hulking base. She had finally returned to her true home.
Inside the hollowed trunk smelled of decay. A musky odor lingered in the air. Petrified scavenger droppings were prevalent. Bloodstains smeared along corridors served as a reminder of the atrocities of war. Elinor suspected many of her kin had perished defending the temple. The space was eerie. It felt like a tomb. Guided by the vision of her birth, Elinor searched for the corridor that led to the birthing pool. She moved cautiously, fearful an aurora-hunter would appear around the next bend or pounce from one of the many overhead shoots. Her polearm remained holstered to keep her hands available for climbing. She was a tree-dweller after all. Regardless of her issue with heights, she was still able to confidently navigate the many twists and turns. There were no steep drop-offs or wide-open spaces. She felt relatively comfortable weaving her way up the trunk.
Elinor dropped down from a side shoot into an antechamber that connected to a larger room. Water flowed through a series of dikes and emerged to form a waterfall. The bathing chamber brought Elinor great joy. A shower was exactly what she needed. She reconnoitered the space and then undressed, ensuring to keep her weapon close at hand. The gentle cascade of water was refreshing, but brisk. She took staggered breaths and shuffled about. Her respiration and movement became more regular as she got accustomed to the frigid temperature. She felt her past washing away.
She jumped when she heard parchment rustling under a swirling breeze. Temple floors were littered with texts that had been left behind. Her large eyes searched about. For a moment she felt as though she was being watched. The sensation faded when the wind subsided. That is when a plan began to take shape. It was simple, almost perfect. The tree was surrounded by water. Aurora-hunters couldn’t swim. They hated water. All Elinor had to do was ask Zi to destroy the bridge. There was plenty of algae available within the temple. And if she absolutely needed to get to the mainland then she could use one of the many boats still moored to the roots. At night she would have fire to keep warm, and light to read by. By the look of things, the temple had an endless supply of knowledge just waiting to be consumed. Her shelter would afford privacy from the outside. If she played it smart, kept a low profile, aurora-hunters and the woman would never find her. She could finally live the life of peace she had always dreamed of. Quickly, Elinor dressed and then sprinted back the way she had come.
Ten, perhaps it was eleven days that had passed since Zi’s destruction of the bridge. Elinor was slowly settling into her new life. The sky had slowly darkened, but Elinor paid it no mind. With each passing moment the slits in the shroud above were vanishing. Her food source was abundant, and Elinor envisioned never having to cross the water again. She had everything she needed. And Zi had apparently decided to stay. They had never discussed it. In fact, they barely communicated at all. Zi spent most of her time sprawled out along the roots. From time to time she would climb high. Elinor suspected the gargan was acting as a lookout. But then she would return and assume her position at the temple’s base. Although their conversations were limited, Elinor appreciated her company.
At night Elinor would sit by the fire, deep inside the temple, reading. She was learning so much about her tribe’s past. Best of all she no longer felt the weight of her pendant. It had gone silent. As did Aysgarth. There were no more visions or gaps in time. Her wish for a simple life had become a reality. Then everything changed.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Once known as the other half, the woman reflected on her former self. From that fateful moment in the tower onward, she would be forever known as the One. The only one. Her sister was gone. She had seen to it. With the child’s demise she could now walk below, freely. Without her sister there was no need for a balance. The laws of nature no longer applied. And now that she was in possession of a light-bearer’s afterglow she could move about in her corporeal form without having her powers weakened. She had won. It was time to remake Kalloire in her own likeness; realms of darkness and shadow.
Her preparations had been arduous, but well worth it. All that remained was getting her hands on the coruscant. And finding where her sister had stashed the survivors. Survivors that she had gathered and allowed to flourish under her care. They would be loyal to her, and her alone. After having spent countless moon frosts at Brim Hall, with many of them born in captivity, the ancient ways had been forgotten, which had been her intent all along. They knew of only one existence. The one she had created for them.
She knelt before the burnt tree, emptying her hand of sun crystals that she had pulverized into dust, taken from the pillars used to drain Elinor. The same crystals that had been used to create her daughter. The woman’s hardened gaze focused on the trunk’s cavity. She mourned her daughter’s loss with further thoughts of vengeance. Recalling the destruction of Brim Hall brought subtle comfort. The Ma΄Ranie home had been the pl
ace of her daughter’s birth and was also responsible for facilitating her death. Her sister had the gargan destroy it so she couldn’t create another offspring. It no longer mattered though. Once she controlled the coruscant, her daughter could be reborn. From behind she felt a slight breeze that distracted her from her diabolical scheming.
“I’ve been here for days,” she mocked. “I wondered when you’d show your face.”
“We are creatures of light,” responded a honeyed voice. “Our coming together was inevitable.”
The woman snickered. “And now I’m the brightest. Poor, poor Elinor. She has lost her glow, along with her darling crow.”
“You are more shadow than light.” The ancient one tried to reason with the woman. “Let the child live in peace. Allow her to pass from these lands, naturally. She no longer poses a threat to you. When she is gone, so too will be the light-bearers. Forever, as you have also intended.”
The woman stood toe to toe with the ancient one. Her olive complexion was an extreme contrast to the ancient one’s bleached skin. “You’re looking old. Perhaps because you’ve become obsolete?” The woman stroked the ancient one’s face. “So beautiful. But a relic I no longer have a need for.”
“Do what you wish. But we will never serve you, Ka΄Phar.”
“Oh, you sweet, sweet thing. So precious. I hear rumblings of my departed sister in your words. ‘Let nature take its course. We cannot interfere. The balance must be maintained.’” She rolled her eyes. “But by interfering in my plans you’ve broken your oath.”
“We only tried to assist the girl with correcting the imbalance. Nothing more.”
Ka΄Phar’s hand shot out. But instead of wrapping around the ancient one’s throat as intended, her fingers were prevented from snapping shut. The ancient one’s eyes radiated in sync with the testalar attached to her staff. Ka΄Phar fought the testalar’s power. Without success she abruptly turned on her heels.
“I have more important matters to attend to,” she grumbled. “You would be wise to stay out of my way. Interfere again, and I’ll destroy you as I did my sister.” She paused. “The light-bearer dies. The coruscant will be mine. And you will serve me as you do all light,” she continued. “If you disobey, not even a testalar will be able to save you, Ancient One.” Ancient One was pronounced with mocking disdain. “Oh, and I suggest you remain here. Your return journey through the pass will not be as pleasant.” Without another word the woman, known as Ka΄Phar after the split with her sister, strolled toward the gathering mist. It darkened the closer she got, then the ancient one watched the woman’s sleek frame vanish into its shadowy clutches.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
It was a frigid night. More so than usual. Elinor added wood to the fire to stave off the bitter cold. Engrossed in her reading, a presence that had been curiously watching Elinor since her arrival continued to go unnoticed. Her warrior instincts were becoming soft. Sprawled out over several wool cushions stuffed with straw, Elinor read about the origin of light-bearers. She was enthralled by every word. Finally, she had answers to questions that not even Morbis had been able to answer.
Like with all stories she knew certain aspects were embellished, especially as time had passed and the origin story was passed from one source to another, retold and transcribed, then handed down to a new generation. But as with all mythical stories and heroic deeds, the truth was woven into the very fabric of its hyperbole. It was for Elinor to choose which elements to believe and which to disregard. At the very least it provided her with an enjoyable experience and a much-needed distraction from reality.
Elinor glanced up when she heard a faint scraping noise, but quickly dismissed it and returned to her reading. She had become desensitized to the many sounds of the ancient temple. In her former state of constant anxiety, the various creeks and groans would have been unsettling, cause for alarm, but that was no longer the case. After scouring every tunnel, shoot, anteroom, and chamber, Elinor was certain she was alone. Cut off from the outside world, she felt secure in her new home.
With another mouthful of algae, washed down by a long swig from her flask, Elinor turned the next page in Asnir’s Journey to Light, a wooden book with gilded edges and angular-shaped runes carved on both covers and along the spine. On the front was a depiction of the Eternal Tree at peak bloom, framed by a black border attached by metal pins. The page Elinor turned to was exactly what she had been searching for. The answer to the great mystery that had plagued her since childhood. Why were certain tree-dwellers chosen over others to become light-bearers? It was an ancient story, but went something like this…
Try as he may, Asnir was unsuccessful in his varied attempts to share his good fortune with others. Every tree-dweller that drank from the tree’s spring failed to obtain the same gift that had been bestowed upon him. Speculating if perhaps he possessed an ability the others didn’t, he tried having them drink directly from his own hands. Still nothing happened. Bowls, pitchers, water flasks, and bladders were used to capture the spring’s water. Whether sipped directly from the spring or from a container, the result was the same. One failure after another. It seemed he would be the only one. His fellow tribespeople lost interest. Some even began to believe the spring wasn’t the source of his power but rather a result of Asnir conjuring darkness. They abandoned Asnir, calling him an abomination. His gift was unnatural, they claimed. So Asnir, first of the light-bearers, was forgotten.
Day after day, one moon frost blended with another. As time passed, instead of obsessing over why no others could share in the spring’s bounty, Asnir chose to focus his efforts on creating a sanctuary. A place to pay homage to the Source Divine, the term he had given the spring. In his heart Asnir knew the tree, along with its water, was special. He held out hope that others would eventually believe as he did.
The tree was strong and had a massive base. Its raised, tentacle-like root system was comparable to no other. Asnir had first stumbled upon the Source Divine by exploring a shallow split at the tree’s base. It wound upward through the trunk until a small opening had appeared where water gurgled to the surface. That space would become the heart of his soon-to-be sanctuary. His ability to create fire by the simple act of just thinking about it, along with his skill as a craftsman, enabled Asnir to make his vision a reality. Controlled burns were used to enlarge the space. But the process was tedious and caused significant smoke, which on more than one occasion resulted in Asnir being forced from the trunk.
One morning his frustration got the better of him. Displeased with his progress and having spent an entire night setting fires and dodging smoke, out of anger Asnir slammed his fist against the trunk. The resulting surge of energy that poured from his hand left a gaping hole and a stunned Asnir. After extensive trial and error and countless time spent in the surrounding forest honing his newfound skill, he learned to control it. Shortly after Asnir realized his ability to project energy could be used to bore passageways. After that he made swift progress.
Room by room, one passage after another, his temple took shape. The most difficult task was removing remnants from the gutted spaces. Asnir possessed no power that could assist in that deed. Therefore, he created debris shoots that emptied outside and eventually after enough pulverized wood had been discarded and compacted, small islands formed around the roots. Those shoots would later serve as ventilation ducts. Every detail had been carefully considered. Through labor-intensive work, Asnir’s body became hard and sculpted. He lost weight and regardless of his smaller stature he appeared more like the warriors that roamed the skies than a meek tree-dweller.
It took Asnir more than ten moon frosts to create his masterpiece that would one day serve as the home to all light-bearers and a symbol of strength and unity for an entire tribe. Asnir never possessed the power of foresight or anticipated how his actions would impact Kalloire’s future. His driving force was not dictated by his ego or a concern for his legacy. He was driven only by his overwhelming passion to help others.
Since his youth, Asnir had the uncanny ability to sense emotion in others. He was a sensitive child. Loud noises and strong odors overwhelmed him. Much of his free time was spent alone, daydreaming about distant lands and the journeys he one day hoped to take. Although humble and quiet, he was fearless. He climbed the highest trees and never faulted when other children dared him to do what they would not. Those challenges made Asnir an expert climber, rope swinger, swimmer, and runner, and so much more. Eventually he became his tribe’s master scout as tree-dwellers began to expand outward from their original lands. His trailblazing skills are what eventually had led him to the Source Divine.
With so many moon frosts spent on his own, toiling on his dream, Asnir settled into a life of isolation. He never felt alone though. Drinking from the spring had enhanced Asnir’s natural-born ability to feel others. Although he had no contact with the outside world, he could sense it all around him. It could be tasted in the fish and roots he ate and smelled in the aroma permeating from the tree’s flowers. Asnir felt it against his skin during bouts of rain and saw it on dew-covered grass as it glistened under a rising sun. He saw firsthand that Kalloire beamed in the same afterglow that covered his own body. Asnir understood he was but a small part of a larger entity. One that flowed through him in an endless tidal wave. It was during a fierce storm when Asnir finally received the clarity he so long sought.
Tucked deep inside the temple, protected from the howling wind and pelting rain, he tried to sleep. The storm was so vicious that the tree groaned under its relentless pounding. Lightning flared and thunder roared. Asnir leapt to his feet when the temple began to tremble. Light surged from the tree’s base, up the trunk, and into the branches. When the process repeated Asnir sprinted outside, fearing the tree—the temple that he had given up everything to build—was about to collapse.
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