“This all seems so very strange.” Said Siouxsie “I feel like an imposter who has stepped into someone else’s clothes.”
“Vickiri seems to think you’re the right person,” said Ignatius. “And you seem to have endeared yourself to the people with your singing and dancing. What say you, brother?”
“I think that something is very wrong.” Robert fidgeted. “We are in a Spellvale that shouldn’t exist, or we shouldn’t exist within. We are in a painting of the past and I know that past is meant to be destroyed. We all know the story of what’s coming.”
“But when?” asked Siouxsie. “We know the dark harvest takes place on the night of a great festival, but which one? Should we tell Vickiri what we know?”
“Do we dare tell them that our arrival started a fire that is likely the catalyst for it all?” asked Ignatius. “So much is happening.”
“And what of the others?” asked Siouxsie. “What of Hoxley, Morell, the prince, Atticus and the jackass? Are they here somewhere in these lands as well or scattered throughout time where me might never find them?”
“I cannot say.” Answered Ignatius. “Once we are situated and the people are calmer, I will begin searching in earnest for them. In the meantime, let us accept our hosts’ gracious hospitality. I see no reason for the reincarnated lightning witch not to give the people of Spellvale hope but it’s important not to any promises we can’t keep.”
“What about me?” asked Robert “What am I going to do?”
“You… are going to be on your best behavior as not to say or do anything our hosts may find antagonizing.” Said Ignatius as he ran his fingers though his brother’s hair and patted his head. “And you’ll stay close to Siouxsie. If these people truly believe that she is some form of deity then its possible someone might not be okay with that and try something foolish, perhaps to test her. We’ll keep a watchful eye over her. Should anything that is not in her best interests we will act swiftly but prudently. If I can get away to search for the others, then you’ll act in my stead.”
“I always watch over her.”
“Yes, you do. You’re very good at it and now is the time to put that honed skill to good use. For now, everyone seems overjoyed to have us, so we’ll all mind our manners and be accepting of their hospitality.”
“Did the lightning witch tell you any secrets?” asked Robert
“Not that I can remember. She said a phrase. It was something magical, something like a spell but the lightning fell upon us as she spoke it and it was lost in the sound if it all. If I can recall it, I will tell you.” She said squeezing his fingers with hers. Another huge yawn forced itself past her mouth.
“That’s our cue to sleep.” Said Ignatius
“Would you put out the candle?” asked Siouxsie. Ignatius responded by lifting the arm he had round Robert and snapping the long fingers at the end of it. Each of the twins watched as a miniature whirlwind, no bigger than a buckle, appeared from his hand and drifted across the room mid-air to find the candle and snuff the flame.
Several warm summer days passed around the home of the cyclops. In the hours that made up those days Bohga set to the task of scavenging the area for the dead remains of gels. After everything he learned from conversations with Hoxley, he put all his effort into securing the vital component needed to create the lyythium that amazed him. No easy task. It took feverish digging and mining and searching to find even the smallest amounts at a time. The remains of gels that expire are a durable but seemingly useless clear goo that never seems to deteriorate. Any spirit that may reside within the gel merely ceases to be and leaves an inanimate body behind. Many would view the remains as an “icky” residue to be scraped off the bottom of one’s shoe or hoof. But for Bohga, now reinvigorated by the force of the calling that had found him in these unexpected visitors, there was a true satisfaction in the work he put his hands to.
“Ho Ho!” The big creature exclaimed as he pulled a small tree from the ground, roots and all. “I’ve found more!” Prince Damron rushed to his side to find a clump of gel remains pooled in the hole where the trees’ root system had been. “Quickly now, quickly! Gather it all up and put it with the rest!” The prince jumped into the indentation and scooped up the gloop. It was disgusting work to plop the jelly into a basket, but he did it just the same. Once he stepped out, he looked around to survey the area surrounding the cyclops cave. In the past two days they’d uprooted dozens of trees and overturned almost every foot of the land. It was tiresome work that lasted from sunrise to sundown stopping only for a few water breaks between breakfast and dinner. Covered from the waist down in dirt and mud he felt exhausted before the sun was even high in the sky. But still he labored. His muscles fought him the first day or so, but when his body realized there was still much work to do and that he would have to adapt, the struggle became less of a physical one and more of a mental one. He accepted it, welcomed it, if it would put him even a step closer to reclaiming his kingdom. Muscles ached, sweat poured down his brow to sting the eyes. Prince Damron would not relent. The cyclops commanded him into insect infested burrows and into holes to find the dead gel goo or “gelicate” Bohga called it. Phantom whispers of his parents and Idris echoed in his ears to keep going, not give up no matter how hard it got. Every time he emerged from a hollow or crevice with even the tiniest handful of gelicate he felt a little less lost and confused about what his life had become.
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He found a new joy in serving others. Hoxley continued to lay most of the time as she recovered from the lingering pains of her wound. Bringing her meals and fresh water to care for her fulfilled him in a way he hadn’t felt before. It was by seeing to the needs of another before his own that he found a new contentment. At night before bed, he sat on the floor of a cave turning the gem encrusted gold grown in his hands. But the more he sat and watched the gold bauble in the dim firelight the more he grew to dislike the gaudy thing. The act of serving gave him satisfaction and peace in equal proportions. And in these grueling days of heat and labor, he found a greater treasure than gold waiting in the gift of charity. No price could be laid upon the crown for what it symbolized. In those quiet minutes after Bohga and Hoxley had turned in for the night, when Prince Damron was truly alone with his thoughts and the reality of his situation, his thoughts went not to things of gold and royalty. They turned instead to his missing friends, the people of the kingdoms, his dear missing sister. “I will make this right.” He swore to himself in the late hours of the night. “Even if it should mean my bones are crushed and blood stains the grasses of this land, I will right this wrong. I swear it.” Under the cover of darkness, he ventured out to the small river to bathe and wash his clothes. They reeked of sweat. A bit of soap borrowed from the cyclops’ stores and some rigorous scrubbing got the garments clean. On the way back, he walked naked across the field underneath a starry night and looked upon it with wonder and longing. The outline of the canopies and placement of the stars created an illusion of Princess Cassandra standing over him. He thought of her voice and the way she whispered to him whilst hiding in his pockets. There was an allure in the way she spoke; a soft and soothing coo that lifted his spirits when he had every reason to feel low. He had to find her again; know what her loves were, her favorite flower. His heart swelled at the mere thought of the princess being near to him. What little moonlight slipped through the clouds found him looking upon the glistening of his own skin. His limbs, chest and arms were bigger than they were before. Not from labor but sizably more mature as though several summers had passed since he crossed the threshold of Ignatius’ magical portal. He marveled at the unexpected build of his muscles; pronounced development of groups he never knew possible. His legs swelled and tightened when he walked. What might’ve been thirteen summers old when he started the adventure had advanced three more in the blink of an eye. Up the hill he climbed. Once there, he found a bit of string and used it to tie loops through his clothes so that they could hang and dry in the night breeze.
