ISSA awoke in the dead of night. The white light of Doon fell through the gap in the curtains. The fire was out, and it was cold. Edarna was gone, as was the cat, and the house was silent. After living through a lifetime trapped upon an island in her dreams, she awoke with a desperate need to get off this one.
Now wide awake, she got up wincing against the stiffness, pulled on her clean clothes, and tried to stretch out her sore arms, back and legs. On the small kitchen table behind her makeshift bed, was a bowl of apples and more sweetbread. Her stomach rumbled at the sight of them, and she stuffed one in her mouth.
The house was very small. The kitchen adjoining the sitting room was just big enough for the table, two chairs, and an oven which was a third the size of the one she and Ma had, and with only one hot plate whereas theirs had four. At the far end of the sitting room was an old bent door, which she assumed led into Edarna’s bedroom. At the back of the kitchen was another door made of thick wood.
She headed toward the kitchen door. There she found her galoshes and fisherman’s coat hanging on a hook. She pulled them on and shivered under the cold heavy material. She needed to get out, she wanted to see her boat as if seeing it would give her hope that she could get to the mainland.
She stepped outside, and quietly closed the door behind her. The air was still and moist, and it seemed warmer outside than in. The pale moon of Doon sat just above the stubby tree-line and looked to be setting soon. Only a few of the brightest stars were visible, for the air was misty and bouts of thick fog rolled slowly in the still air. The sound of the sea came from close by.
She made her way along a path, her boots crunching on the pebbles as she walked. She ducked through the trees and gorse, and emerged by the water’s edge. Thoughts of the White Beast and wraiths made her freeze, but there were only the waves rolling onto the shore. A heavy mist moving upon the ocean. To her right, she could just make out the shape of her boat. She let out a sigh of relief and tiptoed towards it, fearful that any noise would alert monsters.
The boat seemed somehow smaller. If a great merchant ship could not sail through the tides that swept towards the Shadowlands, how could she row against it in a tiny boat? She sank down onto the pebbles, hugged her knees to her chest, and stared hopelessly out to sea.
Either Doon was lower in the sky than she had first thought, or she had taken longer to get here, for the white moon was setting. Her heart beat faster, and she stood up, thinking it wise to be gone from the shore. The mist thickened around her, or perhaps it only seemed that way in the dimming light.
She remembered the lantern and reached into the boat to grab it. It was still heavy with oil. After some hesitation, she decided against lighting it, it would surely draw attention to her. She looked out to sea, and her pulse quickened. Was it her imagination or were shapes forming in the fog? She reached back into the boat and grabbed the axe as well.
The mist was definitely changing. It drew together into thicker clumps and formed tall figures twice the height of a man, but half as thin. Their clothes swirled about them like white ribbons, and they seemed to glow with their own light.
‘Wraiths,’ her breath sent the mist into whirling eddies. Now the light was gone the dead were free to roam.
She tiptoed back a few paces to stand just in front of the trees, mesmerised by the figures that flowed as much as they walked above the surface of the water. They moved aimlessly in all directions, some stopping as if to think, then moving in a different direction. The dead that have no place to go, the thought made her sad. Their heads were bent down but in some, she could just make out downcast eyes. A pang of pity struck within her and she understood why Edarna was here, why she tried to help these lost souls.
The mist drew closer, and their numbers grew. She swallowed, it was time to go. She took a step and grimaced at the noise of grinding pebbles. Holding her breath, she glanced back at the wraiths. They moved as before, seemingly not having heard her, if indeed wraiths could hear at all. But their numbers were definitely growing and they were nearing the shore.
Emboldened by their lack of reaction, she took another careful step and another, doing her best to tread as lightly as possible. But as fast as she walked the night grew darker and the wraiths swarmed less than thirty paces from the shore. Surely they could see her by now. Had she lit the lantern she still gripped, they probably would have.
With the deepening dark, it was getting harder to see where to place her feet in her clumsy galoshes. Her heart beat faster, the start of the path back to the house was only a few paces away, but so were the wraiths. She tried not to look at them, but when she did her body trembled.
Some were as beautiful as fairies, with pale sorrowful faces and youthful expressions as if their ghosts in death had taken on the person’s perfected form. Others were far more harrowing as if the ghost had taken its form from their decaying dead body, for their faces were sunken and their hands clawed in rigor mortis, bones clearly visible through the rotting flesh.
Her galoshes caught a root and she stumbled, her left hand shot out to catch herself on a branch. Unfortunately, it was the hand that held the lantern. Metal clanged noisily against wood, and her heart skipped a beat. All the wraiths stopped wandering and stood there unmoving above the ocean, their ribbon clothes swirling. Slowly they turned to stare at the place from where the noise had come.
Issa barely breathed, but her heart thundered so loudly, she was sure they would hear it. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and her eyes flickered from the wraiths to the dark patch in the trees that marked the path. The wraiths did not move. Please, please look away, she silently pleaded as sweat rolled down her back. As if in response to her prayers they did look away, and began to wander as before.
Carefully she slipped her foot from under the root and took another step forwards. Five more steps, she fathomed. Four more steps. She came to the path and almost leapt for joy, but as she turned the corner mist seeped in front of her, filling the path with a carpet of dull light.
She glanced behind. The wraiths were virtually upon the shore. She turned back to the path, and jumped back with a yelp when a wraith twice her height formed there. She stumbled again as her heel caught a rock, and fell heavily on the ground. The wind was knocked from her lungs, and the lantern clanged against the pebbles.
All the dead eyes looked in her direction. The wraith before her scowled, its face contorting into a hideous mask of hatred. It howled like nothing she had heard before, it clawed right at her soul. The other wraiths howled in response. She cowered from the unholy din. The wraith lunged towards her. She scrambled up only to fall again in her struggle to get away, and landed in sea water.
The wraith was upon her before she could get further. She swiped at it with her axe, but it passed harmlessly through the wraith. Long fingers reached for her throat, and cold waves splashed over her as she struggled to find her footing. The fingers closed upon her throat, and deathly cold spread through her neck and torso. She gasped as her chest constricted, throat tightened, and warmth flooded from her body into the wraith. She could not breathe in, only out, and out and out, as the wraith breathed in, drawing upon her living breath.
She screamed a strange gasping wail. Other wraiths crowded around her, their fingers greedily reaching for her throat. She dragged the lantern out of the water, but her fingers were so cold she could barely spark it. It was soaked with water and wouldn’t spark, but still she tried.
‘Spark you bastard,’ she cried. At her words, a blue light flared from her hands shattering the glass, but igniting the lantern into a blaze of indigo.
The wraiths all cried out at once and fell back from her. She held the blue flaming lantern high like a weapon, and staggered to her feet, her heart shuddering after the drain of her life force. The wraiths crowded around her still but stayed just beyond the light, their faces a picture of terrible loss.
‘You will not have my life,’ she cried, her voice hoarse. ‘You have had your time.’
There came a noise, but she barely noticed it as she trembled before the wraiths. All at once they turned to look in one direction, away from her out to sea, their faces filled with fear. Then she heard what they must have heard - a long moaning wail that came from no creature of the dead, but of the living. A sharp pain struck inside her head, and she doubled over with a cry. It was the White Beast, she was sure of it. The wraiths all fled in a great wave of rolling mist.
She clawed her way back to the shore, grabbed the axe, and whirled to face the ocean. A white bulk crested the water, and its great mass followed, endlessly rolling above the surface as it dived. She stared at the size of it. A whining howl whistled on the wind, filling her with pity and a strange desire.
‘Come to me,’ a voice sighed.
Her left foot stepped forwards. It took all of her effort to drag her foot back and turn towards the path. The crying howl intensified, sending her to her knees. The noise itself seemed to wrap around her body and try to drag her back into the ocean. Her mind wobbled, and thoughts became jumbled and incoherent. She had to get to the path, but couldn’t remember how to get there. She had to find Edarna, but couldn’t remember who Edarna was.
‘Come to me,’ the luring voice breathed. ‘Come to me.’
She was dimly aware of her body responding to the seduction and turned involuntarily towards the ocean.
‘No,’ she screamed, but her voice was just a murmur on her lips as her feet touched the water.
A blast of wind struck her face, momentarily breaking the trance. The raven landed beside her. It was bald in patches, and one wing hung lower than the other. Her eyes filled with tears. ‘I thought you were dead,’ she said to her old companion.
A howl came once more, and she sobbed against the pain and the allure of the sound. But something else was happening. It felt like calm spreading around her as if a gale had been blowing, but was now ceasing. A blue light grew and the White Beast’s grip on her slipped. The light seemed to come from all around at first, casting the ocean, the trees, and the raven in its soothing light. She could feel the energy of her life force, stolen by the wraiths, flowing back into her. The ache in her muscles and bones from so many days of hardship was disappearing.
Keteth’s grip on her mind released fully and clear thoughts returned. She heard a howl in the distance then silence. The White Beast was gone. Peace flowed through her as the blue light grew. The raven stood calmly watching the horizon as the light flowed over him. She blinked in surprise. His wing no longer hung so low and soft down was forming where the bald patches had been. She turned to face the ocean.
The tip of a blue moon crested the horizon. Its pure unobstructed rays struck her in a wave of physical energy, and she stumbled onto her back stunned. The moon’s energy flooded through her mind, body and soul in a tide of cleansing waters until her whole being was filled with indigo light and bliss.
A succession of images filled her mind, whether coming from the moon or the moon’s power unlocking it in her memory she could not be sure. She saw the sacred mound as she had before, then it became the entrance to a beautiful crystal dome that shone with light. The image was replaced by the trilithon in the desert, but as she watched, the trilithon became the doorway to a pyramid that reached hundreds of feet into the sky. Giant trees now spread across where the desert had been, birds filled the sky, and clear rivers flowed.
There were people too, but they were not human. They were tall, graceful beings with long arm and legs, and there was nothing but peace and joy about them. They smiled at her, their faces beautiful, but otherworldly with large slanted eyes, no hair, and silver or gold shimmering skin. She could feel the power of magic exuding from them. More images came, but she struggled to see them clearly because they became too bright to look at and she found herself drifting in that blissful cleansing light.
There came a definite knock at the door, instantly waking Asaph and Coronos. The two men blinked at each other in confusion. Asaph stared out of the half-open window. It was deep in the night and everyone was surely sleeping. The knock came again.
‘I’ll get it,’ he mumbled and swung his legs out of bed. Coronos got up anyway.
Asaph opened the door and saw Gurapoha standing there. He didn’t seem distressed in any way.
‘Gurapoha, is everything all right?’ Coronos asked, pulling on his shirt and coming to stand behind Asaph.
‘Come, there is something you must see,’ he beckoned and turned without waiting.
Coronos and Asaph looked at each other, both still bleary-eyed and dishevelled from sleep. They shrugged and followed the old shaman along the walkways to the stairs that led up the tallest tree. Gurapoha would not have woken them in the dead of night about something unimportant, but he didn’t seem to be anxious or in a hurry.
They reached the top of the highest lookout panting for breath. Gurapoha stared out across the canopy of trees and the others followed his gaze. There was no moon, only thousands of stars blinking down upon them. Even at this height, there was no breeze tonight.
‘Gurapoha, it is always amazing up here, and I love to come at night when the sky is clear, but I’m tired, and what is special about tonight?’ Coronos asked, Asaph nodded.
‘Look,’ the shaman nodded eastward. ‘Look there, and be silent,’ he stared to the east at the dark ribbon of ocean.
Coronos and Asaph looked at each other quizzically but did as the shaman asked. Minutes passed and Asaph stifled a yawn, but then he felt it; butterflies in his stomach and his heart beating faster. He caught Coronos’ gaze and knew the older man was experiencing the same thing. Gurapoha stood unmoving, but every now and then closed his eyes and breathed deeply.
‘Look,’ he breathed, and just as he spoke brilliant blue rays broke across the ocean. Asaph and Coronos gawped in disbelief at the rising indigo orb the size of the sun.
‘Behold the dark moon rising,’ Gurapoha said.
‘The moon of Zanufey. The prophecies are true,’ Coronos gasped.
Asaph stared open-mouthed from Coronos to the shaman, to the blue moon, and back again.
‘A time of great change is now upon us,’ the shaman said, ‘though what has yet to be revealed.’
In silence, the three men watched the blue moon move low upon the horizon before it swiftly sunk back into the sea as if it had risen only briefly to show its coming. No one spoke as the last rays of the moon disappeared. Then they walked back home in reverent silence, feeling its strange power moving within them, wondering what had just happened.