A call sounded from far ahead. A moment later, a slender figure emerged from around the bend in the mountain road, waiting patiently for the first elements of the long caravan to reach him. As the first wagon came to a stop, a youthful face peeked out from behind dusty curtains to regard the scout. As she peered out from the shade of the wagon canopy, her eyes took in the surroundings, quickly adjusting to the bright day beyond. The rough, rocky slope of the ridge they had followed rose steeply upward to the right of the roadway, falling away on the left to reveal a panorama of densely wooded valleys snaking through the previously arid range. Ahead, just behind the scout, the road turned sharply to the right where she knew it would descend into the forest. After close to five miles, it would level out before a massive stone bridge that cut across a wide, deep, and swiftly flowing river that marked the northern boundary of her people’s lands. Nodding briefly to the scout, she disappeared into the shade and relative cool of the wagon, letting out a long sigh as she lay back on her cushions. She was almost home.

As she reclined, the wagon moved forward again and a long absent serenity gently began to infuse itself through her body. The young woman closed her eyes, tears silently rolling down her beautiful face. It has been so long, she thought to herself. She opened her eyes at the soft touch of another woman riding in the wagon with her. Turning her head, she regarded the other as she unconsciously rested an arm across her greatly rounded belly.

“We are finally here,” she said, her voice hoarse from many days of crying. “I wish that my husband could be with us.”

“I know, Solayia,” the other replied softly. “His spirit will be soon. Take comfort that you are here safely and that your unborn son is well inside you. Let him be the One’s blessing.”

“I will, Evayia,” Solayia replied, affecting a slight smile. “I will be glad to birth him in our own land.” She paused, her eyes seeming to gaze through the heavy curtains making up the side of the enclosure. “It will be soon, my sister.”

Evayia nodded and reached up to stroke back a stray wisp of her sister’s lush, dark hair, slipping it over the top of one graceful, upswept ear. Her own hair was just as unruly and her eyes were red-rimmed from crying and lack of sleep as she tended to Solayia on the long journey, her sister’s needs above her own until they were home. As Solayia closed her eyes again, Evayia relaxed and exhaled deeply. One day, she too would know the strain of child bearing and hoped that she would endure the Year of Pain in the comfort of home. When she was certain her sister was asleep, she lay back and closed her eyes as well. Soon, they would cross the river and enter the lands called the Sacred Place.

The ragged caravan wended its way through the soft, lush green of the forest, following the river road until it opened out into a gigantic clearing surrounded by colossal trees unseen anywhere else in the world. Many were gathered in the clearing to welcome those returning from afar. In the fore of the gathering, one wearing pale golden robes stood apart, his strangely silver-white hair neatly held back by a simple circlet woven of three strands of a glowing silvery metal. When all the wagons were arrayed in the clearing, the man in the robes stepped forward, aiding the very pregnant Solayia as she descended. A moment later, she was in his arms, weeping as he held her close. Soon, those in the other wagons emerged, and were embraced by those waiting in the clearing, all with tears of joy mixed with grief.

“You are home, my child,” the man said gently, his words wrapping around the grieving woman like a blanket of peace.

“I am home, Grandfather,” Solayia said as she lifted her head to look into his pale amber eyes. “My child is well and will come soon. I am just grateful the One has allowed me to birth him here.”

“We share your gratitude and your grief, Solayia,” he said softly. “I have wept many nights and prayed the One would bring you all safely home. Now you are here and the time for grieving may come to an end, at last.” He looked deeply into her eyes a moment as he stroked her cheek. “I think the morning will bring celebration. Let tonight be a time of rest. Your father will call Aryien’s spirit home that he may enter Yia Meshava Bea’anah in peace.”

Solayia smiled, her face brightening as the sky after a storm. She said nothing as she lay her head on her grandfather’s shoulder, reveling in the warmth and love she felt as he held her. After ten months of continuous travel through the great wilderness between the land of their sojourn and home, Solayia and those who traveled with her, could finally know peace. All grief was washed away to be replaced by renewed hope for the days to come and the promise of eternal rest for her husband’s spirit. With a soft sigh, she stepped away so that her sister could embrace their grandfather and watched as her mother and father crossed the clearing to welcome her home as well.

“It is good to see you well, my daughter,” her mother said as she hugged Solayia.

“It is good to be well and home again,” she said, kissing her cheek. “I have missed you much on our sojourn.” She turned and hugged her father, smiling as he kissed her forehead.

“And we have missed you and your sister much in your absence,” her father said as Evayia wrapped her arms around him. “We are glad to have you home. Now,” he said after a brief pause, “I think you two need to go with your mother.” The sisters smiled and took their mother’s hands as she led them away. When they had parted, their father turned to their grandfather.

“When should I call him home, Father?” he asked.

“When all have settled, we’ll go to the spring and call his soul,” the older man said. “Then, I will let him know they are safe and bless him in his passing.”

“That will be good,” the younger man said, smiling. “I miss his presence but I am glad he will be leaving from home.”

“As am I, Neryien,” he replied. “I fear, though, this is only a beginning of something else.”

“What else?” Neryien asked. “Those who wish harm upon us cannot enter here, let alone find it.”

“I’m not sure, my son,” Yianachavyiar said quietly, his eyes distant. “I feel a shadow growing in the lands beyond our borders. An evil from ages past has come into the world but I do not know what purpose it has made for itself in our time. I only know that it’s presence in the world heralds the dawn of darker times ahead.” Shaking his head to clear it, the older man smiled at his son. “Come, let us finish welcoming our people home.”

Neryien returned the smile and nodded. Whatever might be occurring in the distant realms, here there was peace and loved ones who had traveled far to return to their true home in this world. As they turned to greet others, the sense of dark foreboding was pushed aside. He knew his father and was content to wait until he had dealt with whatever it was that concerned him. He was just grateful that no one else had been taken from them and he focused his thoughts on the needs of his people. There would be time enough to sort out what was happening in the world after tonight.

Yianachavyiar and Neryien stood together beside the silvery calm waters of the sacred spring. Quietly, they bowed their heads, drawing Power from the small glade around them. At first, the only sounds were those of the woodland night and all appeared restful. Then, a slight northern breeze ruffled the leaves of the trees and caused the waters of the spring to ripple, sending little shimmers of moonlight about the glade. As the two continued their wordless call, the breeze grew steadily until it had become a modest wind that billowed around the patriarch and his son, silencing even the hardy avli from their echoing hoots. The waters of the spring began to swirl, trapping the moonlight until a glowing vortex appeared in its center. Slowly, it began to rise, forming a slender column of silvery white water the height of a man. All around the spring, the wind whirled as the column in the pool resolved into Aryien’s likeness. After a moment, the figure raised its head and looked toward Yianachavyiar.

“Grandfather, I am here,” it said in a gentle voice.

Yianachavyiar and Neryien looked up and smiled as they saw the likeness.

“Now you may go in peace from your own homeland, beloved son,” Yianachavyiar said
gently. “You will be remembered always.”

“Thank you, Grandfather. Thank you also, Neryien,” the figure said, looking toward Neryien. “Care for my wife and child.” Looking back at Yianachavyiar, Aryien’s likeness spoke again. “They who murdered me were deceived by another. Forgive them their act for they believed they acted in righteousness. Pray they learn the truth before their lives, too, are ended.”

“Who is it that began this deception, my son?” Yianachavyiar asked, unfazed by the information.

“One whose name I may not speak but whose presence you have felt,” the figure replied. “The shadow of death has returned to Bak Shanai.”

For a moment, no one spoke as the meanings of all that was said were considered. After a few minutes, Yianachavyiar nodded silently.

“The One will reveal to me what I must know and do in time,” the patriarch smiled. “For now, it is a foreboding threat, but a threat nonetheless. In this moment, we send you onward to enter Light forever. May the One receive you kindly, my Aryien.”

“Thank you, Grandfather,” the figure smiled. “I will see you again in the next Age. The One bless you both and keep you well.”

Neryien simply nodded and smiled at the words of blessing. He knew his son-in-law’s spirit was aware of all he thought and felt and it was time for Aryien to depart. As the two men stood watching, the swirling column of water and moonlight suddenly stopped and the likeness of Aryien became blurred. The light softened and expanded into a gently pulsing sphere that began to dissipate as the waters of the sacred spring began to calm. After a few moments, the glade was once more as it had been when the two men first arrived. Smiling to himself, Yianachavyiar turned toward the small path and left the glade, followed closely by Neryien.

When they returned to the habitation, Yianachavyiar bid his son goodnight then went to his own sleeping place. As he lay down upon his bed, the patriarch knew a new child had been brought into the world and that Neryien was very pleased to play the role of grandfather. He yawned. Sleep was not something the elder did often, preferring to spend his time alone in prayer and meditation. As his eyelids grew heavier, he knew this was of the One and allowed himself to drift off into slumber.

Yianachavyiar awoke in his sleeping place. All around him lit by a golden light he was certain was not sunlight. The air, too, was warmer and smelled of flowers which did not grow in Ka’alad Avayiadi, this land he knew as home. Rising, he felt more youthful and stronger, his eluyia more sensitive to his surroundings. As he stepped outside his alcove, the patriarch knew at once he was in a dream directed by the One for before him was a beautiful woman of his own people lying upon a large bed with three others in attendance, all descended from his people. Beside her on the right was a very large man, her husband, he knew, and in the woman’s arms was an infant, freshly cleaned after birthing and wrapped in soft white linen. As he watched, he knew it was just past the rising of the sun and the place he was seeing was one which had not yet come to be. Focusing his awareness, Yianachavyiar more closely examined the infant. It was a girl with pale amber eyes that seemed almost golden and he sensed in her a strength unlike any he had ever known amongst his people, let alone in a newborn child. As he watched the joy of those present, he was aware that one of the women was already known to him and directed his eluyia to expand his understanding of her presence there. A moment later, he smiled broadly as the knowledge of what was taking place in his dream came to completion, yet he sensed there was more and allowed himself to be swept away beyond.

Next, Yianachavyiar was aware of the same place some time in the future. It was different. Where before there had been a sense of joy and peace, there was a feeling of great anguish and pain. Where the beautiful bed had been, there was only rubble, like most of the surrounding environs. The woman and those with her were gone and very little remained that echoed their once having been. He pushed his awareness beyond the ruins and found a great expanse of desert so void of life that not even insects crawled through the sands.

She is not here, now, a voice within him said.

Nodding absently, he expanded his eluyia to seek the child’s location. Suddenly, he stood in a place similar to the other but far away in a distant land. There, he found a people much like those who had lived before them but somehow different. They lived in a great city hewn from a mountain far to the West in a land unknown to him. There, in a great hall of the finest craftsmanship, a woman sat upon a crystal throne dressed in flowing white robes and wearing the circlet of one who rules with great authority. Her features were familiar to him as she was a descendant of those who were descended of his people. She was not the child he had witnessed before but was one who came from her line. There, the sense of joy and serenity was present as it had been in the other place, as it was in his own home. Smiling to himself, Yianachavyiar closed his eyes. He knew that though a darkness was present in the world, it would be overcome and his people, through those who came from them, would continue on to share Truth with all who would listen.

All will come to pass in its own time, the voice said within him. I will not destroy your people for they are also my people. From her will come a new people, descended from those who were descended from you. She will overcome the darkness of the coming age. Now, rest, beloved servant, for tomorrow will be a day of joy and celebration. Tell none what you have seen but write it down and seal it then give the scroll to your youngest child that she may keep it as a remembrance. Return, now, and sleep...

Yianachavyiar awoke as the first golden rays of sunlight dappled the floor of his alcove where he slept. The air was fresh with a morning breeze scented by honey flowers, rosemary, and baking bread. As he rose and walked out, he saw Neryien walking toward him with a great smile illuminating his face.

“She has born a son, father,” the younger man said, his voice filled with pride. “She has named him Tethyiel, Light from Sorrow.”

“Yes, that he is,” the patriarch smiled. “That he is. Now, let me see this child that I may bless him. Today is a day of celebration! Tomorrow will sort itself out.”

As the two men made their way to where Solayia had given birth, Yianachavyiar smiled. This was the beginning of a wondrous miracle and despite the present coming of the Darkness, all would be well. He only hoped he could have known the child he saw in his dream, the one given the old name of Daughter of the Dawn.