to this riddle than meets the ears. When I was standing at your door, before you told me to get inside, I felt something like a thousand hands reaching out to grab me. That’s why I jumped inside so quickly.”
Lythina was watching the Innkeepers response; she looked relatively unsurprised, and Lythina noticed it. “You’ve felt that too, haven’t you?”
Hildabrand sighed. “Every time I leave my home, I feel the pull of those hands, as you say. I’ve ignored them for these many years, without a desire to investigate them.” Suddenly, her voice turned cold, “and so can you, dear,” she snapped, guessing Lythina’s thoughts.
But Lythina wasted no time. “Hildabrand, I think those people who sought the light aren’t dead. In fact, I have a feeling that they’re alive and well!” The old woman looked rightfully skeptical. “At first, I thought those hands were part of the deserted village, like the remnants of the fear that supposedly affected the people. But that’s not it at all; they’re the essence of whatever that light is out at sea. And I’ll bet the people who left to seek the light those many years ago felt it too!”
“All the more reason to stay away from it then,” Hildabrand argued. “No need to go and leave your life here forever.” Her passion for dissuading Lythina was immense, her eyes glowering at the young lady from above tightened lips.
Although Lythina’s thoughts were distracted by the mysterious sea light, her intuition suddenly spoke something different. It was about Hildabrand; she was hiding something.
“I can’t help but marvel at how adamant you are against me searching out that light,” Lythina began. “Thank you for being so concerned for me.” Patiently, she waited for Hildabrand’s response.
“Well, of course I’m concerned for your safety, love,” she squeaked, “someone needs to look out for you.” Immediately, the little innkeeper knew she had divulged too much.
Lythina stared at Hildabrand, confident she knew her secret. “I wonder if you’re this protective of all your guests?”
Hildabrand gazed into the fire, contemplating her confession. “Do you know your father’s last name?”
Lythina tossed the question around for a moment, not really knowing the answer. But if her hunch was right, there was only one possible correct response. She decided to try it.
“McCloud,” she said, holding her breath.
Hildabrand grew a smile and started to nod. “And that makes you my granddaughter!”
Lythina flew off the recliner and into her grandmother’s open arms, and for what seemed like a small eternity, they embraced each other for the sake of both Kari and Marcus, weeping over the joy of finally meeting long lost family.
Eventually, Lythina returned to her own chair, but did so without taking her eyes off of her new Grandmother, as if she would disappear if she looked away. An intimate warmth was building inside her spirit, and she didn’t want to lose any part of that moment. For a short time, both ladies marveled at each other, surrendering themselves to that familiarity.
But the smile began to fade from Lythina’s lips, and she broke her stare away from Hildabrand. Out of all of the images and feelings flashing across her mind, she always found them winding their way back to the light at sea. Why did it just show up one day? Why didn’t anyone return from seeking it? She had to find out what that light was, but how could she gain her grandmothers support.
Again, Hildabrand answered her as if she had read her thoughts. “Why do you feel so inclined to seek that light, Lythina?”
For a moment, Lythina was shocked by how much consternation her grandmother could weave into her squeaky voice. “Maybe there’s a reason those hands are pulling us toward the light. I feel like it’s a force that I have no control over, like gravity after you jump. I’m excited because I know that I’d find that light, but I’m nervous to make the leap.”
Hildabrand sat quietly in her recliner contemplating Lythina’s words. Her desire to protect Lythina from disappearing at sea while seeking the sealight, as well as wondering herself just what that light was, created a dissonance within her. Plus, she was acutely aware that she could not stop Lythina from going; the young lady had too much of her mother’s curiosity inside of her, and far too much of her father’s unbridled determination. She raised her eyes to meet her granddaughter’s.
Hildabrand marveled at how Lythina’s emerald eyes glistened from the flickering light of the fire, how her exquisite features were pronounced by the playful shadows that danced on her skin. To the old innkeeper, she really looked like a McCloud. She gave a deep, surrendered sigh.
“You’re going to need some supplies,” Hildabrand smiled.
Lythina burst into a grin, “thank you for believing in me. I need your support more than you can imagine.”
“I know, dear. That’s why I’ll help the best I can.”
The night passed with more mugs of tea and laughter as Hildabrand and Lythina hammered out the details of how she was going to travel across the sea. They decided that the best course of action was to pack enough food and fresh water to last a few days. By Hildabrand’s conjecture, the light wasn’t more than a day’s journey out, so Lythina would have enough stores to find it, or not, and still return with ample supplies. Afterward, Hildabrand calculated the moon cycles, concluding that the next full moon would be in two days. This would give them enough time to prepare and gather all of the necessary provisions.
Hildabrand also shared with her granddaughter some of the most remarkable, intimate moments of Marcus and Kari’s relationship. The innkeeper answered all of Lythina’s questions as fast as the young lady thought them up. And for a long while, the two women sat in front of that exquisite mantle bathed in the warmth of the fire, enjoying each other’s presence. Ultimately, the night began to sink in, and a yawn passed between them.
“Bedtime,” the little innkeeper spoke, “we have a big day tomorrow.”
Lythina looked at her with admiration. “Grandmother, thank you so much for everything. Truly, I owe you.”
“You owe me absolutely nothing, love,” Hildabrand responded. “We are so very blessed to have met, I think. And that is enough for me!”
Lythina and Hildabrand exchanged their hearts that night. After she helped her grandmother clean the dishes and settle down the fire, Lythina bathed herself and went to her room. She laid her weapons at the foot of the bed, reveling in the security she felt at this odd little Inn; not for a great while had she had the opportunity to rest without a blade at her side.
Her thoughts raced as she tried to sort out all the events of the night. Her visit with the Oracle was, at least, profitable, as she was given a gift for nothing in return. But the prophecy of her friends dying was more than a little disturbing.
“And who is Mathias?” she whispered again. Dismissing the question, she sighed and remembered her long talk with Hildabr… her grandmother, wow, and all those stories about her parents. Tonight, she decided, was dedicated to her family.
As she slipped into bed, her mind began to quiet down, and as soon as her head nestled into the pillow, she was fast asleep. While her unconsciousness swam in the depths of the Universe, Lythina’s mind clouded over with a white, swirling mist. Images of fire, and people on a hillside, and a blindingly bright light flashed inside the fog before darkness swept her quietly into the night.
3. The King’s Decree
At the northern most edge of Hyrendell Island, upon a mountainous plateau that looked as if eons of erosion had cast and carved the crest of a hill into an earthen throne, Hyrendell Castle was built from the foundation of the Earth itself. Commissioned approximately 500 years after the island was discovered, it has been fortified and renovated with every succeeding ruler since. Ageless Earthstone was excavated from a quarry near the Eastern rim of the island to construct its timeless walls, and it has been reinforced over the ages with new