Willow lived in a small, damp cottage on the fringe of Village #97. Its outer appearance resembled a shack more than a house. Daks openly questioned the building’s structural integrity. Yet, he and the others entered with little concern. After sleeping on the ground under the stars (and rain clouds), they developed a new perspective. The cottage’s interior appeared as depressed as the outside. The walls leaned in differing directions, and the doors failed to latch because the sagging door frames. Only a few specks of paints clung to the crumbling wooden walls. It seemed a slight breeze might collapse the shanty, but the three travelers felt comfort that if such wind did blow, at least the walls provide protection against the brisk springtime air – even if the walls were atop them rather than around them.
By early evening, they finally settled into the residence. The day’s events left all four extremely tired. They ate a few bites of food from the stash Willow collected; they said nothing save a few table pleasantries. Too fatigued to do much else, the four collapsed on the floor and quickly drifted into sleep. Even Willow slept on the floor, as she always did. The single-room cottage had one small bed, which belonged to her mother. Even after her mother’s departure, Willow refused to sleep on the soft bed. Mom will be home soon, she told herself, and she needed her bed. With the arrival of these three travelers, for the first time in many months, Willow felt reason to hope
The next morning each woke within a few minutes of one another. After eating a small breakfast, they circled around an undersized round table that sat in the middle of the room. Needing another chair, Willow pulled an empty storage trunk to the table to serve as a makeshift seat. Gathering around the table, Talon spoke of the need to develop a plan before leaving the village. He wanted the others to share his conviction, particularly Daks, who preferred returning to their own village and hoping for the best. After much conversation, Daks tentatively agreed not to return to their village. Rose, conversely, suggested departing Village #97 without a prescribed destination. She believed their immediate safety trumped other concerns, and given the possibility of the Protectorate’s return, she wanted to leave. Talon eventually swayed Rose toward his preference. The group would devise a plan before leaving the village. Willow listened throughout the long conversation but said nothing.
After they reached a consensus, Willow asked, “That weapon I saw, the one with a soft yellow glow that slashed through the villager, was that the kind of thing you make? I am just wondering because from what you have said, it seems like that your sister and you make those awful weapons.”
Talon and Rose invisibly cringed at her question. Once she described the weapon, they knew she referred to a glowing blade. Both hoped to avoid this question. Talon fumbled for the correct words to navigate his answer. He wanted to mitigate his family’s level of involvement without admitting they were duped by fabricated pretenses. While Talon mulled, Rose pursued a different plan. She no longer wanted to mislead Willow. Rose simply could not look into Willow’s deep blue eyes and deceive her with half-truths. Accordingly, the longhaired sun-sculptor answered with her customary straightforward approach, “Yes, I am confident you saw a glowing blade, and yes, we made such weapons for the Protectorate. I cannot say, however, whether we made the weapon that you saw.”
“So there are others?” asked Daks.
“I assume so, although I never met another sun-sculptor. I guess there must be more somewhere else,” said Rose.
“But,” Daks asked rhetorically, “You saw the empty lot in this village in the spot where your father’s shop resides? All that was there was that tree and strange sign. If this village does not have a sun-sculptor, what makes you think there are others?”
Stunned by a question that inherently doubted her unverified belief, Rose looked to her brother for help. Talon offered no help, apparently still trying to process Daks’ questions. Rose looked back at red-haired boys and shrugged.
Talon emerged from his thoughts, “If this village has as plot of land where the workshop sits, I wonder if there are such plots in our village. It might tell us something. Can either of you think of any similar plots in our village?”
Daks shrugged, “Probably, but I can’t think of any. Can either of you remember what lies in the same spot as this shack – I mean house? I think it might be unused land.”
“I can’t remember,” said Talon. “I never come in this direction.”
Rose, however, did remember, but she said nothing. As a seven-year old girl, she visited a friend who lived on the village edge. During a game of hide-and-find, Rose wandered into the wooded area where this building stood. A seemingly long forgotten wooden fence cordoned a small rectangular portion of land. Inside the fence, about thirty stone slabs rose from ground. The thin slabs were just about her height. They were neatly organized into rows and lines. Rose, thinking it a great place to hide, sneaked quietly behind one the stones. She rejoiced when none of her playmates could find her. Rose thought about leaving her hiding spot, but she had never stayed hidden for so long so she continued to hunker and wait. Finally, after what seemed like hours, she heard a friend screaming from behind the wooden fence, “What are you doing? What are you doing in there? Get out of there.” Rose, thinking she had been “found,” casually exited through the gate. Her disgusted friend screamed, “How could hide among those dead bodies? What is wrong with you?” Rose returned her friends rebuke with a puzzled expression. The playmate continued, “You know that is a graveyard. They put dead people in wooden boxes and bury them in the ground. You see those stone markers, each one of those marks a dead body.” The flummoxed Rose gagged. Before that moment, she never heard of storing dead bodies. When people died, they were burned in a pyre outside of the village. While a sad event, the practice seemed normal to the villagers. The notion of keeping a body frightened the eight-year old Rose. On that day when she played hide-and-find, she discovered the one place she feared most -, a graveyard. She never set foot inside the wooden fence again, and for good measure, she only visited that portion of the village by necessity. Rose never told her brother or father about this experience, and she never played hide-and-find again.
Rose, however, kept these thoughts from seven year ago to herself. As the four gathered in Willow’s small abode, Rose remained mute in response to Daks’ inquiry about their own village. Much to the gifted sun-sculpting apprentice’s delight, the discussion quickly progressed to the many vials, jars, and bottles lining the walls of this tiny house. The containers looked old and the once clear glass was now stained by a brown opaque color. And, so the morning continued, small talk and curious questions guided the ambling conversation.
The late morning sun peered noticeably through the cottage’s cracked window. The sun’s warmth reminded everyone that little was being accomplished. After a morning of small talk, they talked much but said little. As a result, they accomplished nothing. The group’s most pressing issue – a unifying purpose – remained unmentioned. Finally, Daks wearied with the aimless conversations and opted to press the issue, “I do not mean to rude, and all this conversation is very nice, but we said nothing of the matter that brings us to this place. We came to this village expecting to find our purpose, whatever that may be. Instead, we found this girl.” Daks motioned politely to Willow as he spoke but then proceeded to ignore her as he continued talking, “She seems a nice girl, but what should we do? We cannot stroll around this village wishing for a plan to fall from the sky. We need to a make a decision. We need to decide a place to go and a reason for going there …”
“Yes, we do, Daks,” agreed Talon. “We need to make some clarifying decisions.”
Even before Daks began his mini-diatribe, Talon perused the same questions in his mind. He continually returned to two possibilities: the need to destroy the many glowing weapons his family made for the Protectorate and the possibility of opening the double-bound book in his bag. He wondered, was there a way to destroy the weapons? Was this the time to
open the book? He mentally repeated the phrase from book’s cover, especially the last four lines:
When the Weapons of Light Are Again Revealed
Then the Contents of This Book Cannot Be Concealed
Open Before That Time to Your Demise
Open Too Late and Witness History’s Reprise
Talon questioned, was this the time to open the book? Had this book been passed through countless generations for his sister and him to open it? That, to Talon, seemed preposterous, but he could not deny the present truth of those words. Further, the stated warning on the cover directly addressed the issue of timing: neither too soon nor too late. The declaration added a measure of culpability to his decision. Returning to the conversation and hoping to diffuse some of Daks’ frustration, Talon asked the group, “What is it that we need to do? And how are we going to do it? And how do we know that is really the right thing?’
“Didn’t I just ask the same thing?” said Daks.
The increasingly terser tone of the conversation prompted Willow to step away from the table to refill her almost full drink. Sipping her black tea and retaking her seat, she ventured a response. “You cannot answer all of those questions at one time. First, decide what you hope to accomplish. It seems, at least from what you said, your efforts, thus far, were about survival. The Protectorate wants you, and you ran away. Upon arriving here and finding my village a safe place, you discovered a temporary haven from the Protectorate. This place offers the thing you pursued – safety. Now that you are safe, I suggest you make a deliberate plan. I have a question for you: what do you hope to accomplish? If you desire safety, then you have found it in this village. Find land, live and be happy. Maybe in another village with more vibrancy, but I suspect, you could spend a long happy life beyond the reaches of the Protectorate. Or, does your safety offers a new beginning? If so, pick a new purpose and plan from there.”
Rose looked to Willow in amazement, “You are how old? Twelve … thirteen and you talk like that?”
“I’m eleven.” Willow’s pale, grayish skin blushed; her faced turned a raspberry color. She answered in a defensive tone, “I had this exact conversation with my mother before the Protectorate arrived.”
Willow paused for a moment as tears trickled from her eyes. Speaking of her mother reminded Willow of her absence. Still tearing, she continued, “My mother and I had a similar conversation. She explained how the purpose of life is more than safety. Another words, don’t just live, do something worthwhile. She often repeated, ‘We are saved to do; we are not saved to be.’ Whatever that means, but enough about my mother, what are you going to do?”
Rose looked away, fearing eye-contact might unwittingly unmask her thoughts. Like Talon, Rose remembered the Book of Epiphany. Should they open the book? The message on the book’s cover nagged her: When the Weapons of Light Are Again Revealed. Most certainly, their glowing weapons now harmed others was this the time? Could this be the moment?
As Talon and Rose silently struggled with the same question, Daks interrupted the thought-filled silence, “May I make a suggestion? Maybe we should just go back to our village. Was it really so bad there? At least we had food to eat and a place to live. I did not realize until we started on this little voyage how much I treasure the simple things.”
Talon answered in a tone of disbelief, “You mean go back to Lupier and the Protectorate? Aren’t those the people from whom we are trying to get away? Why would we go back there?”
Daks answered defensively, “Because at least there, we do not worry about surviving. There, we can live our lives; do normal things; and be normal people. Besides, I am still not sure why everyone hates the Protectorate. What exactly have they done to any of us? Perhaps they are there to help. Maybe they will make life better. Whatever they offer, it must be better than our current situation. ”
Looking out the open window but talking to the group, Willow answered his question, “If you had seen the way they marched everyone out this village, you would know the problem with the Protectorate. I do not know their motivation, but they are evil. If you saw how their weapons sliced through innocent people and how they laughed afterwards, you would know they are evil. How could anyone want to live in a place where they are in charge?”
“I’m sorry. I guess I did not really understand,” answered Daks, who now trying to backpedal from his previous suggestion but unsure how to proceed. “I guess what I am really trying to say is that … well … you know … I mean … they are just …”
“Destroy the glowing weapons, all of them. We must destroy them – destroy every weapon we crafted.” Talon spoke boldly, with declarations rather than questions. “That is my purpose. I must destroy the weapons. Who is with me?” He looked to the other not knowing what to expect. He wondered, do they think I am ludicrous? Will they join me in this quest? Talon even questioned his own certainty. He typically made deliberate decisions rather than hasty declarations. Yet, as the words escaped his mouth, he finally acknowledged his heart’s desire since his father first confessed their unknowing complicity with the Protectorate.
Daks spoke first, “How are we going to do that? Glowing blades are impossible to defeat. Shall we just ask for the weapons to be returned?”
Talon looked away from Daks’ gaze to contemplate the question. The answer likely resided in the book tucked deep within his pack. He thought, is this the time to open the ancient text? How many others should know about its content or even that it existed? Can I trust Daks? Talon did trust his friend, but he lacked confidence in Willow. He met her yesterday. How could he trust someone whom he just met? A loud thud on the small table interrupted his thoughts. Talon jerked his head toward the sound. There, on the table, sat the Book of Epiphany.
“That is how,” answered Rose. “It is called the Book of Epiphany. It has information we need.”
“How do you know that?” questioned Daks as he inspected the book. “The book cannot even be opened. Look, it is bound on both ends to keep the pages hidden.” He examined the book more closely and struggled unsuccessfully to open it.
“Hold it still for a moment, will you?” requested Willow. “It says something on the cover.” Daks handed the book to her, and she read the cover aloud:
Light is the Tool of Life’s Longevity
Never Is Light a Tool to Exacerbate Life’s Brevity
Knowledge Laments That Ignorance is Bliss
To Ignore the Reappearing Past is Great Remiss
Forged Weapons of Light Caused Much Slaughter
It Brought the Premature Death of Sons and Daughters
When the Weapons of Light Are Again Revealed
Then the Contents of This Book Cannot Be Concealed
Open Before That Time to Your Demise
Open Too Late and Witness History’s Reprise
Then, in a hushed tone, Willow soliloquized, “the Book of Epiphany.”
“What did you just say?” asked the curly-haired Talon.
Willow responded, “Nothing. I was just talking to myself.”
Daks then spoke, “How do we open this thing?”
Talon felt unsure now was the right time to reveal the secrets, but he felt overwhelmed by a wave of momentum toward opening the book. A measure of frustration buffeted his thoughts as he questioned Rose’s willingness to let others see this book. He acted with forethought. At times, she seemed impulsive, inexperienced, and shortsighted. Talon fretted this moment exemplified all three attributes, but they could not undo her actions. The group now knew of the book, and it needed to be opened. He feared the consequences of splaying its secrets before everyone.
“Can someone get a knife?” asked Daks. “I will try to open this thing.” Willow shuffled through some drawers in the room in an effort to find a knife. It took just a moment, and once she found one, she handed it to Daks. He looked at the book in an effort to cut open one end of the book. Assuming the book must open normally, he examined the right binding of t
he book in effort to ascertain how to cut it open. As Daks looked along the binding, he noticed a slightly discolored line that ran the length of the book. It appeared someone opened the text and then re-sealed it. Daks stared uselessly at the text trying to discover how another person re-sealed the leather-covered book. As a leather worker, Daks knew a great amount concerning such matters. The only evidence of the new sealant was the slightly discolored line, which was unusual because such repairs left more telltale marks. Reporting his finding to the others, Daks explained, “This book was opened before. Look right there. Do you see that line? Someone else opened this book and then resealed it. Given its appearance, I expect it was long ago. Where did you get this book anyway?”
Talon answered his question, “From our father.”
“Oh,” said Daks. He took the knife he received from Willow and carefully began slicing open the cover. The leather cover, however, remained unscathed. The knife did not even scratch the book. He tried continuously to slice through the binding but the impotent knife failed to split the leather.
With each increasing moment, the leatherworker became more strident in his effort to split the binding. Fearing he may hurt himself from brandishing the knife in such a reckless manner, Rose called out, “Stop, Daks! I have an idea.” Daks paused from his fruitless efforts and gazed at Rose.
“So what is your plan?”
Rose did not answer. Instead, she looked into her bag. She sifted through some items and retrieved a small glowing dagger. It was still in its small leather sheath. Rose pulled the dagger from the sheath to reveal the soft glowing blaze. Willow gasped in terror; the sight of the weapon triggered her memory of the Protectorate. Daks looked at the small blade in astonishment. He discovered a newfound appreciation for the formidable glowing weapons.
“I didn’t know you brought that,” said Talon with obvious disapproval.
Ignoring her brother’s remarks, she took the Book of Epiphany from Daks’ hands and placed the tip of the glowing dagger’s blade along the book’s right binding. With childlike ease, she slid the blade down the binding. It sliced through the cover with only the slightest of pressure. The dagger left a smooth, perfectly cut line.
Rose opened the Book of Epiphany.
7 ENCODED