31. ELOWAN
Elowan tumbled through the portal, landing in a crouch in the oracles’ tent.
Zala was on her knees, watching Relicuus and Praesens hover over their long-lost sibling. They chanted feverishly in another language as their hands waved all about. Smoke and shadows danced around Praeteritus, its body lying flat on a bed of cushions.
Elowan stood from her crouch and rested a gentle hand on Zala’s shoulder. The wraith looked up at Elowan but said nothing.
They both watched in silence as the two oracles revived the third.
It was far more intimate than Elowan felt comfortable with. The world around her quietened, and perhaps Faery itself was waiting to see what happened.
In a blink, the oracles before them disappeared in a plume of black smoke.
“I’m going to take that as a sign to leave . . .” Elowan had no idea what just happened. The oracles were working like madmen and then they weren’t there at all.
Zala nodded, standing swiftly on silent feet.
As they moved out of the tent, soft murmurs from outside the tent sounded. It was the villagers. They were stirring.
Elowan moved swiftly through the flaps of the tent to see what the commotion was.
Children squealed in excitement. Others chattered, while others gasped. They all congregated to the centre of the village, where the three oracles stood.
Standing together like that, with their backs to one another, painted a holy divine image that would be burned into Elowan’s memory for all time.
Together the past, present and future stood.
The secret village of peace that they wrought in the fires of despair and uncertainty, crowded around them. Hugging them. Crying.
It sparked a morsel of envy in Elowan. She thought back to the peace she’d found in Regin and his family, and she longed to feel that peace again.
“Now what?” Zala asked watching the village, now whole.
“Once two become three, the future of Faery will see . . . I don’t know what the oracle meant but perhaps it’s just a matter of waiting.”
Once two become three, the future of Faery will see. Closer to the end perhaps for some, but close to the sun a war will be won.
Elowan tried to make sense of it, but nothing came to mind. It stirred the anxious beast inside her that baulked at the thought of uncertainty.
A female wrapped in tan linen approached them, her eyes soft with a smile. “Come join us. We will gather by the fire and share a meal tonight.”
The female did not give them a chance to object.
Elowan turned to Zala.
The wraith shrugged her shoulders and followed the female through the tall grass.
“This is my daughter Sayuri, and my husband Enda,” the female that approached them earlier picked her daughter up, holding her on her hip, and placed a loving hand on her husband’s shoulder. The female introduced herself as Anya.
They were all wrapped up in warm-coloured linen, with just their eyes on show.
“How long has your family been living here in the Untold Valley?” Elowan asked, grabbing a potato from the sack of vegetables, peeling it.
Zala stood just a few paces away, standing above a cauldron and stirring it occasionally. The fire underneath it crackled and popped. Embers flew into the cool night air.
“Many generations. My great grandparents were the first to move here from the mainland,” Anya relayed as she moved about the camp, setting her daughter down into a cot just outside her tent. “Is this the first time you’ve been to the Western Wastes?”
It felt like a loaded question.
“It’s our first time,” Elowan pointed between Zala and herself.
“And how are you finding it?”
Elowan thought on it for a moment, and landed on, “Peaceful.”
Anya laughed.
Her husband Enda had moved to the cauldron to assist Zala in loading all the vegetables they had been peeling.
Anya pulled up next to Elowan, sitting upon a wooden stool. She pushed up the sleeves of her linen blouse, revealing golden tan skin. She picked up a knife and began to peel the remaining potatoes.
“You’ll find that some people here are not overly welcoming of strangers. As a village, we’ve been deeply hurt. It’s why we hide. To protect ourselves and our way of life.”
“It seems like a way of life worth protecting.”
“The oracles do not seek power, they seek balance and understanding. It’s why our forebears moved to the Western Wastes. If that is what you seek then there’s a home for you here among us. Only if you wish.” Anya smiled, the corners of her brown eyes lifting with warmth.
Elowan paused for a moment. “I’d like that.”
Together, they carried the final peeled vegetables to the cauldron.
“So this is what peace feels like.” Zala sighed as she lay on the grass, watching the Faery stars above as they danced to a happy song.
Elowan finished the final dredges of the rich vegetable soup they had shared with the villagers of the Untold Valley. The beautiful voice of a young female sounded throughout the camp, supported by the melodious plucks of a lyre. She sang a song of hope.
“Once this shitshow is over, I’m moving here. I don’t care what you say.” Elowan laughed.
Zala laughed too. “Take me with you.”
This sliver of quiet and serenity was a breath they needed to take. Between finding allies and fighting former allies, they hadn’t had a chance to recharge.
Sitting under the moon with the fresh night air felt like they were back in Faery before the whole ordeal with Queen Calliea came to light. Back when they were a family who trained and ate together. There was no threat of looming war. It was a time of peace.
A low, soft whisper carried through the air. It wasn’t the young female that sang a hopeful song for everyone. The voice was feminine still, but older.
Elowan sat up fully and looked around.
Zala didn’t seem fazed at all. She even had her eyes closed, with her hands braced behind her head.
The low, softer whisper sounded again.
This time, Zala jolted up from where she lay. She looked around, searching for the source.
“Did you hear that?” Elowan asked.
Zala nodded and moved swiftly to her feet. Elowan followed. They skirted around the villagers who ate and shared hushed conversations by the fire.
Together, Elowan and Zala followed the soft whispers. It led them to the oracles’ tent, the flaps of its entrance billowing in welcome. They walked inside and like before, the room was shrouded in thick smoke. Elowan shielded her face and felt for a cushion to kneel upon.
With a hiss and a click, the black smoke receded to reveal the three oracles. Relicuus sat on the left, Praesens sat in the middle, and sitting on the right was Praeteritus – restored to perfectly good health. Its skin was less paper-like, and its green eyes were full of life.
“We are grateful . . .”—Praesens paused—“our two has at last, become three,” its voice croaked.
“Our word is all you will have. We have no blood to spill and bind,” Relicuus explained.
“As a token of appreciation and a symbol of our word, we give you an opportunity,” Praeteritus continued, its voice sounding weathered and oldest of the three oracles.
They all spoke one after another, as if they finished each other’s thoughts and sentences.
Without warning, the oracles threw back their heads, possessed, their green eyes rolled back to show only the whites of their eyes. The room began to spin, turning black and dark. The interior of the tent disappeared completely and now they hovered in a black and empty space. Elowan recognised the glittery particles that floated in the air. They were in the Between.
Elowan’s heart began to race and her breath echoed into the nothingness. She turned to Zala who looked equally confused.
The three oracles before them intertwined their hands and lifted them in the air.
A violent wind picked up through the confines of the black space, whipping Elowan’s red hair all around.
Together, the oracles spoke. It was a melody of voices; young, mature and old. “The war will spill beyond two realms, as the pot of power overwhelms. The connections you seek, they can be won. Find the flaming purple heart, who lays with the sun.”
As the last word left their blackened lips, the oracles craned their necks in strange angles, like they did before. With a breath of relief, their eyes turned green again.
It was a sight Elowan didn’t think she’d ever get used to.
With a wave of their hands, they conjured a plume of black smoke in the centre of the dark room. The light that shone directly above them was the only source of illumination.
The glittery plume of smoke dissipated to reveal a relic of ancient Faery.
Elowan and Zala gasped.
It was a Wayfinder. An ancient bridge that connected Faery to the Godlands. Its rainbow, iridescent centre, glittered and glowed against the intense light above them.
“The answers you seek are not here. But as a sign of trust, we give you this,” Relicuus broke the silence.
“The Wayfinder,” Praesens followed.
“An opportunity,” Praeteritus rounded them off.
“What do we do?” Elowan asked from where she knelt, no longer on a cushion but on the cold, dark flooring of whatever pocket of space they were in.
“Place your hands upon the Wayfinder and hear the call of the Godlands. The Wayfinder will take you there,” Relicuus explained.
It sounded simple enough.
Never in her immortal life did she imagine travelling to the Godlands upon a Wayfinder. They were rumoured to have been destroyed, yet right in front of them, stood the ancient gateway, tucked away into the gaps of reality.
“Find the flaming purple heart, who lays with the sun,” Praesens reminded them.
“How will I know when I find them?” Elowan asked, but her mind snagged at the word purple. Then her mana snagged at the words “flaming heart”, just like the golden necklace that Sophie always wore around her neck.
Praeteritus stole the words out of her mouth. “You already know her.” It smiled.
Elowan turned to Zala, who observed in reverence. Her face schooled into a cool mask, no doubt calculating their next best steps.
Zala nodded.
That was all Elowan needed.
Together they rose from the cool ground and approached the glittering Wayfinder.
Together they laid a hand upon the glassy surface of it, the sounds of a harp-filled melody rushing through their ears. Elowan closed her eyes, heeding the call of the Godlands.
Then she felt it.
A force so strong pulled them from the ground.
For a moment, all she felt was weightlessness and all she could see was light.