Lilith’s legion disappeared back into their deep hollows. All that remained of their presence were the footprints of marching paths dug deep into the soft mud.
Birds chirped gleefully in the open fields.
“You’ve done it,” Billy said, limping over to him.
It still came as a surprise to see his freckled face. If there was anyone he’d truly miss in Woolbury, it was him. And here he was. Joined at his side like the brother he’d always been. Suddenly never returning to Woolbury did not seem so bad. At least there was one person from his previous life to share the mystery of this new world.
Billy eagerly said, “I hope you can forgive me for my stunt back home with Violet. It was selfish and I feel horrible.”
“Already forgotten,” Abbott said and they hugged. “Just glad you’re here. I promised I’d take you with me wherever I ventured off to, and so I have. Indirectly. We have a country beyond our imaginations and waiting to be explored.”
“I can hardly wait,” he agreed.
“What do we do with her?” Quinn asked, her eyes darting to Lilith. Her head was tucked between her thighs, disappointed.
“She will answer for her crimes when she is meant to. Lilith.” He dropped to her level to look directly into her defeated eyes. “Leave this place for your sake. Crawl deep into a cave and live out the rest of your days in silence.” He held what remained of Inedal over her shoulder. It was damaged and powerless much like herself.
Her bloodshot eyes ran over the victors before her with disgust. She’d been bested— beaten. But she was not willing to concede. “And that is why you are a fool!” Lilith withdrew a knife from underneath her belt and grabbed hold of Billy’s arm. “I’ll be taking him with me then.”
“NO!” Abbott cried, but it was too late. In a flutter of smoke, they’d vanished from the spot they stood. Billy’s bloody bandages were all that remained.
40
Abbott watched as the sun rose from the Sea of the Serpent. A canvas, it birthed the sun, the mark of a new dawn.
Frostbite stretched his feathery wings and flew over the ocean once more before taking a victory dive. He bathed in the sun’s rays and swam like the coined sea serpent.
Inedal lie at Abbott’s boots weathered. The broadsword of the legendary Zane was nothing more than an ancient relic. The precise shimmering edge and runes carved into the crossguard were dull and hidden beneath a soot coating. He was surprised it withstood the destruction of the Archway, but it had taken a toll.
Quinn slowly approached him, placing a hand over his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” was what she wanted to say, but she found herself muted by the circumstances. He’d lost a lot more than he could withstand. She saw it with the hard lines on his forehead.
“I’m going to find him,” he said sharply. “I’m going to find him and set things right.”
She nodded her head in acknowledgment. Quinn had every intention to join him.
“I believe I have something that belongs to you,” voiced Martin as he spoke in a fatherly tone. “I managed to save it before I headed back. It’s a bit charred on the cover, but the papers are intact.” He graciously handed Abbott his beloved copy of Through the Sea and Sky. If there was anything from Woolbury he could not dare part with, it was this book.
He held it in his hands. It smelled like home. Fond memories ran through his head as he held it close to his chest. He thumbed through the cream colored pages, remembering what they stood for. They were Martin’s words, but they held a special place in his heart.
When he reached the back before the end cover, a small folded piece of parchment fell to the ground between his feet. Martin grinned as Abbott observed the intricately folded piece of paper lying by a newly blossomed flower. He picked it up and slowly began to unfold it. Each layer revealed a pen scratch familiar to his eyes. He didn’t have to think. He knew whose handwriting it was.
His eyes began to uncontrollably well up.
Abbott,
You may be reading this long after I have passed. I hope it brings you the necessary closure. It was not easy to sit here and write my final goodbye. I have thought about what I would say for many days and did not know just how I wanted it to be said. But I feel there’s no other way to say goodbye than to fill you with fatherly words. I am so incredibly proud of the man you have become. You have honored this family since your very first breath. Your mother would have been so proud of how kind and compassionate you are. From the moment I saw your little green eyes, I knew you would be a stronger man than I ever could be. You get that from her.
The timing of this letter may bring you sadness, but it is the last emotion I want you to endure. I am at peace with your mother. It is a longing that I have yearned for many years. This body has been a prison to my soul since growing ill, and I know you did everything you could to conserve me, but sometimes we cannot save the ones we love. You bear none of the burdens yourself. I am gracious for the care you have given me, but it is time for you to see the world outside these four bedroom walls. You have yet to explore what lies beyond these borders, and I request you do so for me. I will look down in fondness as you accomplish your life’s desires.
So I do not wish for you to cry any longer. Rather, celebrate the days we had together and cherish them dearly. But above all things, remain brave just like the character of this book. A little bird told me who wrote it long ago and I think you would be please to meet him one day.
Your loving Father, always.
P.S. If you do not let the past go, it will never let you live.
Tears streamed down his weathered cheekbones.
The parchment was dotted with sadness. Abbott could barely bring himself to finish reading, and in turn, part of him never wanted to. The idea of leaving his father’s final goodbye open ended seemed like a far better idea. But he could not bring himself to it. The words meant more to him known than they did unknown. His father knew how much words impacted his heart.
And that's what they had done.
Abbott brought the folded bit of parchment to his thumping chest. The words bled through his fingers into something deeper. It was like they came alive from beneath the ink they were written and lived next to him in this moment. They were sacred to him.
He sniffled his nose and tucked the note into his pocket.
“What’s it say?” Quinn asked, growing closer to support him.
He could barely speak. The words were stuck in his throat. They were bared inside him.
Once he could speak, he said, “He’s... he’s proud of me. And he wishes me to carry on. I— I miss him so much, but he wants that for me.”
Quinn embraced her crying friend. And they wept one final time together.
When he could no longer produce any more tears, he thought he’d start to follow his father’s request and cry no more. The sun was high in the sky supplemented by the stars encompassing it. One out of the many blinked in the blue as he looked up. He was at peace, and that was all that mattered.
“I want to help you find your friend,” Elise said. Her blond hair was covered in dirt and waved in the wind. “He saved my life. I owe it to him. And I know parts of this country like no other.”
“I as well,” Frostbite said proudly with a flick of his tail feathers. “I believe my journey to the Far Country can wait a little bit longer.”
“It seems there’s another thing we must do for the greater good,” Martin chuckled happily, relishing the victory. “When shall we begin this hunt?”
Abbott looked up in the eyes of all his friends and spoke. “Right away.”
THE END
Author’s Note
The Shadow of Our Stars was never intended to see a proper audience. It has been steeping in a Scrivener file for the last couple of years, collecting a fair amount of dust. I initially meant for it to be kept there or sunken in a deep ocean with an anchor. But after writing it, I figured stories do not deserve the isolation humans are subject to. 2020 has come with many c
hallenges, but it has provided me with the time to finish this tale. For that, I am grateful.
You see, it’s a writer’s responsibility to share stories, fictitious or not because they transform us. Well-written stories can move stationary people and perhaps influence change in cold bitter hearts. We've seen enough of those while looking into our bathroom mirrors. Myself, included. I felt an inching for escapism in these strange times. Maybe that was the fire underneath me. Or perhaps some way of God telling me to finish what I had set out to write many years ago.
I identify some of the themes in this story will not sit well with all members of the audience. They were inked during the dark times of my life, making them fiercely accurate. But with all the darkness, there is always the light to battle with you. No less, I planned to be truthful as a writer in the same way I wish readers to be with me. So, I challenge you. Take out your knives and sharpen your pickaxes. I will be waiting for it.
Honorably, I could not be any more eager to have your eyes be among the first to read what I’ve kept internal for so long. This daydream can finally see a different shade of eyes for once, thus ending my circus of thoughts. But I would like to thank a few individuals first.
*Raising a glass of something...possibly whiskey, maybe wine, but certainly not water.*
To the small circle of friends who have encouraged me through eerie lands, I thank you. You know who you are because you have given me a swell time with my blog posts and Instagram campaigns. To the members of my family who have had a direct impact on my character. My brother and my sister. Our bonds will be solidified in the stones of the Archway for millennia.
I owe a tremendous thank you to my mother and my father for piecing me together throughout my life and not yielding when I was far from pleasant. It was through their lectures and speeches that a moral compass was crafted of iron and ivory. Although my father has passed, there is so much of him stitched in the seams of this story. I love letter to you, writing The Shadow, has given me more time to say goodbye.
Typing the final word still does not seem like enough time.
I want to expend a gigantic thank you to my devoted wife, who had the burden to read this story multiple times at various stages. This includes the disgusting ones with more spelling errors than humanly possible. She’s the steady voice inside my ear providing confidence to carry forward. I would have quit this journey so many times if it were not for you. You are a blessing from God.
There are others I want to thank but cannot for the life of me recall. I could acknowledge the people who brewed coffee for me in all the cafés I toured, but that would be a long list. Coffee Revolution for one, although now closed, was the battlefield this novel came into fruition. Your mochas and deli sandwiches were suitable fuel sources to heave forward in battle. I thank Barnes and Nobles for being a writer’s refuge during a turbulent workweek. It was their cafe I sequentially put pen to paper for the first time and met Abbott Bradbury in the hills of Woolbury.
*This is a long toast. My arm is tiring*
Conclusively, I want to thank the libraries for providing free wifi and a naturally good place to hunker down. Also, the fragrance of old books with black coffee. And God, I thank You most of all.
*Cheers!*
About the Author
Alexander Von Richter is a Christian author who also writes under the alias, The Tea Cup Writer. He lives in Battle Ground, Washington joined by his wife and golden retriever. When Alexander is not typing vigorously away at his newest novel, you can find him roaming through the whimsical Pacific Northwest or combing the forest's undergrowth for a mythical four-leaf clover. He's yet to find one.
www.teacupwriter.com
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