Chapter 27: Final Wake Up Call

     Epifany's death had long been coming, but those who loved her were stunned nonetheless to see her eyes closed for the last time. She was dearly attached to the home of her childhood, and her children couldn't think of a more fitting resting place for her than the backyard. So together, Viggo, Drea, Ajnin, and Alethes dug a grave and buried her that day in early June with the lily she'd picked, then scattered several more lilies over the mound of dirt that covered her. And they stood quietly around her grave, mourning in silence, until Drea wiped the tears from her eyes and welcomed her reliable anger, like an old friend. "I hope Dad's happy," she muttered. "Here's his proof." And she nudged a stray clod of dirt onto the mound.
     "He won't be happy," Viggo said. "But there's nothing he or any of us can do about it now. I'm just glad she's at peace anyway. She needed that. I only wish it could've been with us."
     Drea turned and stomped off toward the house. Ajnin put his hand on Viggo's shoulder, giving it a firm but gentle squeeze, then left his side to follow Drea. The sun was falling below the horizon now, as all that digging was long, hard work. A couple of stars were already showing themselves through the blue canvas of the slowly darkening sky as Viggo and Alethes stood alone. Soon he slumped to the ground and said, "I don't know why this happened." He paused, then continued in a strained voice, "I know there's a reason for everything, but I just can't seem to understand why this."
     Alethes sat down in the grass beside him, struggling to keep herself composed. It was for Viggo that her heart hurt the most. She couldn't understand how someone so gentle and kind and compassionate and loyal could be made to suffer so much. It wasn't fair.
     "Yeah," Alethes sighed.
     Silence settled for a moment before he spoke again. "Drea and I used to climb out the sky room window at night and sit out on the roof when we were younger. We would look at the stars, talk, laugh, sing. Sometimes I would play my sahnis out there in the night air. Drea would be so in awe," he looked down with a laugh and sniffled, resting his elbows on his knees and holding a lily in one of his hands. "But she was like, ten and I was thirteen and she thought I was amazing. She said she wanted to learn to play it herself. But I could never teach her because she didn't have the patience to try to learn for more than two and a half minutes at a time."
     "Why doesn't that surprise me?" Alethes chuckled.
     "Beats me," he said. "Well one of those nights, Ma climbed out the window after us and we all sat on the roof together. She pointed to the stars and told us we were all Gadriel's children, little lights in the night, represented by the innumerable stars in the universe. She pointed out the fact that during the day, the sky is so bright that we can't see past our own little world, and likewise, when life is easy, sometimes we don't see past our own ideas and desires. She said sometimes we only see the bigger picture in dark times. Only in darkness is the universe unveiled."
     The concept sounded familiar to Alethes. "I feel like I've read that before," she said. "Is it in the Legends or Narsil?"
     "Not exactly," he said. "I only ever heard it said that way by my ma. But the Legends do say,

'We gaze into the night sky,

Allowing it to lift us high,

In spirit, dwelling far away

From that which blinds us day by day.'"

     "I remember that," Alethes said. "It's one of my favorites."

     "Yeah," Viggo said. "I just wish I knew what this was supposed to help me see. Or maybe it's to open my dad's eyes. But if that's the case, why should someone so loving and strong have to die to wake up someone who can only think of himself?"

     "I wish I knew what to tell you, Viggo," she said. "I really do. There's got to be some reason, but I truly don't understand and I'm so sorry you have to bear this and I wish there was something I could do."

     "It's not like it's your doing," he said, rising to his feet. "Regardless, she died overnight and we've had all day to mourn here, and the fact is Dad needs to be informed. I'm going to see if I can find Drea and Ajnin."

     The two went into the house and found Ajnin sitting on the couch and Drea pacing in front of him, seething with bitterness. "Dad needs to know she's gone," Viggo said. "I can leave in the morn--"

     "Why would he need to know?" Drea spat. "He didn't care before! Why should it matter now? Let him stay on his lonely mountain! Let him rot! It should've been him anyway! He should've died when that stupid snake bit him! Then I never would've had to meet him and we could've been happy without him. But no, Ma was so determined to save his worthless life. I wish she would've saved herself!" And she kicked someone's boot across the room.

     "Don't worry about it, Viggo," Ajnin said calmly. "I'll go. You guys should try to take it easy. I can only imagine how painful this must be for you and I wish there was more I could do to help."

     "If he has to know, I'll tell him!" Drea said angrily. "I have a few things to say to him anyway! And my fist has a thing or two to tell him!"

     "Drea, you're staying here with your brother," Ajnin said firmly. "I know your dad's said and done some things he shouldn't have, but I can give him the news without flying off the handle. He's going to be devastated enough. I'll leave in the morning. You two look after each other."

     With that, Drea plopped onto the couch beside Ajnin and collapsed into his arms, sobbing, "It's not fair! She shouldn't be dead!" Ajnin caught her and was stunned as she buried her face in his tunic. He'd never seen her so vulnerable, but with nothing else to do, he simply held her there, stroking the back of her head as she drenched him in tears like a small child. Having settled that Ajnin would leave in the morning, Viggo and Alethes each went to bed. But Drea remained in Ajnin's embrace until she fell asleep, exhausted, and he gently slipped out from under her and laid her head on the couch and covered her with a blanket. Then he laid down on the floor below her and fell asleep himself.
     But Alethes couldn't sleep. She tossed and turned for hours until she finally gave up and fled the house, running out to the road where she dropped to her knees and began to sob, "Why, Gadriel? Why? None of this makes sense! No one deserves any of this! It wasn't supposed to happen!"
     She looked at the stars, which reminded her of the story Viggo told her. Spiritually and emotionally, he was the strongest man she'd ever known. Yet somehow, she kept feeling like he was an innocent child and she wanted to shelter him from all suffering. Somehow, she felt like he wasn't meant to be in this cold, cruel world. And as much as she needed the strength and support he offered so freely in order to follow through with her task, she felt like she couldn't accept it. Something felt terribly wrong. Establishing the Kingdom of Light was her burden, not his. And if she could only succeed, then darkness would be overcome, suffering would be at an end, and the next generation would live in a world without evil. And why could Viggo not have been born at that time instead?
     Alethes wasn't sure why she wanted to protect him so desperately that she would go so far as to consider such things. She just knew that he deserved better in life. "Really, why has this happened?" she implored.
     The answer came to her mind in a simple thought: For your learning.
     "Really?" she asked angrily. "For our learning?! You think it's a good idea to hurt your children and then just explain yourself by saying it's for our learning?! I would never treat my children that way!"
     No, the thought was firm and clear. For your learning. You need to wake up.
     "For my learning?" Dumbfounded, she rose to her feet. "Maybe you haven't noticed, but I'm not the one suffering the most here! That's kind of my point! If you really want me to fix this messed-up kingdom and establish your Kingdom of Light, if you want me to lead people who don't want to be led and change the way things are done and turn the world around - fine! I won't give up! I'll do whatever it takes! But spare him from this suffering," she sobbed. "I'm begging you." And she bowed on the ground in broken submission.
     "I'm sorry I tried to run away," she whispered into the dirt, remembering how she ended up in the woods in the first place. "I know what you've called me to do, and I know you'll enable me to do it. Just show me the way, and I will follow."
     That's all I needed to hear. The words sounded like the voice of her own thoughts in her head, but she recognized Gadriel's way of speaking to her. Now get some rest. It's almost time. She wasn't sure exactly what it was almost time for, but she was tired and didn't feel the need to find out.
     In the morning, she rose early and prepared breakfast. After they all ate, Ajnin was ready to go, and he and Viggo loaded his horse while Alethes stood by ready to say goodbye to her new friend and Drea was nowhere to be seen. But soon she came out of the house with her things and called her horse.
     "What are you doing?" Ajnin asked warily.
     "I'm coming with you," Drea announced.
     "I told you, you need to stay here," he said.
     "And just you try and stop me," she countered, loading her horse.
     "Look," Ajnin said, "I know you're mad at your dad--"
     "This isn't about him!" she said. "You're not leaving me. I'm going with you wherever you're going."
     Understanding dawned on him that she actually wished for his company, as he wished for hers. That was all he needed to hear.
     After Ajnin and Drea said their goodbyes and left, Alethes asked, "What now?"
     "I want to see my ma," Viggo said. "And that can only happen in the Kingdom of Light, where the dead can live again. So," he said determinedly, "we have a kingdom to build."
     He was going to help her whether she asked for it or not, and she realized she couldn't deny his reasoning. "Oh," she sniffled, reaching into her pocket, "I was going to show you this the other day when we were reading the prophecy of Zahn." And she put the silver key in his hand.
     "The seal of Narsil," he said, turning it slowly in his hands. "Did you inherit it?"
     "From my biological father," she said, "the only time I saw him."
     "Then you're heir to the crown," he said. "As if we didn't have enough evidence of your calling as a seer."
     Alethes nodded. He smiled faintly as he handed it back to her, quoting, "And she shall hold the key to the Kingdom of Light."
     "I don't know yet what it opens," she said.
     "Then we'd best go on a trip," he said. She looked at him questioningly, and he continued, "The answer's bound to be at the castle. Unless you don't want to find it."
     "No, it's time," she said. "Let's get started, and we'll make it before nightfall."

     It was with an anxious heart that the middle-aged man rode through Dauryl, around the woods, over the creek, and up toward the house on the hill that sunny afternoon. The familiar scenery everywhere he turned took him back to similar trips in his younger days, when he was determined to woo the humble girl who'd accidentally won his heart and lost her own. Hailing him on either side of the road were her favorite flowers. And since the sweetest things in life never get old, he slipped off his horse as he had done when he was a kid and picked a few to take with him. Back then, she was an aspiring healer of the sick. Now, she was sick, and, he supposed, would like some flowers to cheer her up.
     He remembered what she used to tell him in their years together in Kharma, about the creative uses she'd discovered for the simple flower and its leaves. "But the best thing about them," she'd said, "is that they remind me of home, where they grew freely and without any help from anyone. They were always there, from the time they budded until they withered away, giving and asking nothing in return." With difficulty, she'd brought some of the wild lilies with her to transplant in their new home together. Only one survived the tedious trip, but it managed to thrive in its new soil and was all too happy to continue giving. Like his cheerful woman.
     In a few minutes, he reached the familiar plot of land and the humble home that stood on it. His son's herd of goats could be seen in the background, grazing and butting heads, but there were no horses anywhere to be seen. They were either out of sight or their riders had gone somewhere with them. Regardless, he slipped off his horse and made his way to the front door of the house, remembering the things he intended to say. "Pif!" he called, walking through the door. Hearing no answer, he went to the room he expected her to sleep in and found it empty. "Epifany?" he called again. No one answered, so he wandered through the house with his handful of lilies, checking every room and calling every name, from Viggo to Ajnin to Drea. But, eerily like his own, the house was empty and answered only in echoes of his own calls.
     Finally he went out the backdoor to see if the horses were anywhere to be found, or if he might find any of the people. Soon some orange lilies out of place caught his eye, and he saw that they were lying on a mound of fresh dirt. His heart stopped and an awful pain gripped his chest as he hurried to examine the spot. It was large enough to be a person's grave. But it couldn't be. "Epifany!" he yelled frantically. "Epifany where are you! Viggo!"
     "Hey!"
     He turned around to see an unfamiliar young woman approaching him on a horse. He hurried to meet her and asked, "Who are you? Do you know the people who live here?"
     "My name's Tether," she said, sliding off her horse. "I'm a neighbor. You must be Hapak?"
     "Yes," he said. "Where is everybody? Where's my woman?"
     Stunned and unsure how to explain, Tether looked past this frantic man at the fresh grave behind him, opening her mouth, but nothing came out. She looked back at him and he said, "No. Please tell me it's not that." He pointed to the grave with the bunch of lilies that were still gripped firmly in his hand.
     She tilted her head and swallowed, then stammered, "I... I'm sorry."
     "Oh... no," he moaned, reeling around and staggering back to the grave, gripping the lilies in one hand and gripping his chest with the other. "No." He quaked, falling to his knees in helplessness. "What am I going to do without her?" he whimpered.
     Tether approached him slowly and asked gently, "Is there anything I can do?"
     "No," he said. "It's too late."