Myth by Terri Todosey

Author:Terri Todosey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Terri Todosey
Published: 2017-06-08T16:07:03+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Lockhart at Last

I don’t know how long I had been sleeping, but I woke early, before the others. Glowing embers were all that remained of the fire and the dim light of dawn had begun to slip through the fissures in the broken stone gate, creating an ethereal glow inside the soaring cathedral.

Then I heard it. It was faint and indistinct, but it sounded as if someone was humming far off in the deep recesses of the temple. I sat up and looked towards the far wall of hieroglyphs, where the soft morning light had trouble reaching, but another light flickered dimly against the wall. Standing up, I moved closer and saw it was a single lit candle resting in a holder on the floor and someone was sitting beside it. At first glance I thought it was a human girl facing the wall with her back towards me, but as I approached I realized she was much different than a human. Even as she sat, I could tell she was at least twice my height with a long neck and an abnormally large head. Her long dark hair glistened in the warm light of the candle as she swayed from side to side. One of her hands moved along the wall in slow rhythmic waves that seemed to correspond with the song she was singing. Her voice was soft and serene, but I didn’t recognize the melody and I couldn’t understand any of the words. It was as though she was singing in a different language, or perhaps there weren’t words at all, just a combination of vowels and sounds. It reminded me of the song I had heard back in Lily Palus, only this song was peaceful and reverent rather than sad. I wondered if she was one of the Syreni scribes that Prospexi had spoken of, but I thought they were no longer allowed in the temple. The song swelled up around me, filling the temple and resonating off the stone walls and arched rafters. It was beautiful.

“Hello?” I called out as I drew closer, almost afraid to interrupt her heavenly voice, but the singer didn’t acknowledge me. She seemed preoccupied in what she was doing, and I realized that she was painting.

Using her long finger as a brush, she moved it effortlessly between a small bowl of gold paint and the smooth stone wall. She had created a scene of swirling strokes of gold rising from two figures that stood within a crowd of faeries, elves and other creatures.

“What are you drawing?” I asked, standing beside her. She stopped singing and turned to look at me. Her face was pale and smooth and her wide set eyes searched mine.

“Open your eyes and see,” she said softly.

I looked back at the wall, studying the swirls she had drawn but I couldn’t see any definable shape.

“I can’t tell,” I replied. “What is all the gold?”

“It’s glory,” she replied.

“Glory?” I asked, not knowing what she meant by it.

“Yes, open your eyes,” she said again.

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