Chapter 1: A Light in the Darkness

Prologue

Through the stain-glass windows, the moon's silver glow wove into a tapestry of colorful hues, which clothed the otherwise naked stone on which it fell. The Temple was silent, its symbolic silhouette now nothing more than a relic of forgotten history. No furnishing embellished its once handsome halls and entryways. No more did people stand and gawk at its large marble doors, eager for one tentative glance at the hero who'd one day march boldly from the sacred keep, carrying in his left hand the blade of evil's bane. No… Destiny had become history, and no one believed the stories anymore. To them, they were just "child's tales"—imaginative and unrealistic.

Only one person in the town truly remembered and believed the great stories of olden time, and he was nearly as old as time itself. He sat upon a low stool within the temple, his bony fingers quivering above the quiet, ivory keys of an immense pipe organ.

Around his arthritic form, a profound hush pervaded the room. Even in its neglect, the abandoned building evoked in the old man's heart a robust familiarity, connecting the irrevocable days of his youth to the place where his dying soul rested—in this dark, cobweb-infested room, from which even the spiders had departed long ago.

He grieved the day this temple lost its respect. In his mind, it would always be the place it once was—a home, a beacon of light to those lost in the darkness, to those in dire need. This had been the place they had turned. As long as this building stood, they knew they weren't alone. When had this beautiful emblem of patriotism become so disregarded?

He lowered his head forlornly and took in a sour breath. The dusty air filled his lungs and he coughed long and hard. His long white beard swept across the floor, caught in a sudden draft of cold air.

Finally the coughing fit eased, and he raised his head. He placed his left hand on the pipe organ's damaged ivory for support. It felt dead beneath his callused fingertips. In this pose, he remained for some moments. Sluggishly, the minutes, like flower petals, sprung from the bud of time and fluttered into the unreachable abyss of the past, where they'd remain forevermore. He was biding his time, but suddenly—most rashly—he slammed his finger into a key, and a dynamic cord was struck. Its music splayed into the air with force, its deep, teeth-quaking echo seething over the building. Only a short pause separated one cord from the next. This one was deep and somber—a long note the old man held for several seconds. Then a cascade of hollow notes danced off his deft fingertips.

The music quaked through the room, its thundering echo captivating the old man's attending ears. It was a magical tune, one filled with mystery and reflection—one the old man had known all his long life and never would forget. It was a tune that could change time, for it was the Song of Time.

He played the short tune twice over, but could no more. His strength was waning, and his body grew weaker by the moment. He lifted his hand from the keys, though with difficulty, for the song seemed to be calling him to play it again...again. The keys whispered and urged, but he ignored their seductive gravity, leaning back and gasping.

Suddenly, the poor man collapsed. Falling from the bench, he landed heavily beside the large instrument. From his back protruded the handle of a dagger, drenched in blood, and a pool of it was forming around the murdered musician.

The last note of the powerful music—the enchanted song he'd never hear again—resounded in the air, dangling there for a prolonged moment.

A Light in the Darkness

Chapter 1

"I hear you."

The girl paused in her stride and glanced up, her eyes widening. She had thought she was alone—nothing but her, the sunlight, and the ferns swaying in their garb of soft greenery. But evidently she had been mistaken, for as she peeked through the dazzling overlay of foliage, toward the location whence the jolly voice had rippled, her bright crystal eyes caught sight of a young boy sitting idly in the open pastureland nearby. He wore a fresh tunic, the same color as the sun-drenched pasture, making him blend into his surroundings so well, it was no surprise the girl hadn't noticed him beforehand.

"How did you hear me when I was being so quiet?" she inquired, taking a step toward the edge of the forest wherein she was hidden; but not brave enough to venture into the fading sunlight, she shrunk into the shadows of a large maple tree.

The boy didn't respond at first; neither did he turn his head in her direction. As if in some state of deep contemplation, he continued to gaze absentmindedly at the gleaming sun, an exposed red orb lodged in a sky swirling with deep blues and oranges; and the girl thought it strange that its tear-evoking light didn't scald his eyes.

A lively summer breeze swept through the sunlit grass, sending a ray of light rippling over the pasture. The trees lining the open field swooned to the side, breathing in a whirring breath before releasing an aimless chatter, their rubbery leaflets writhing. Each one reflected a star of twilight, twinkling and alive.

"I hear everything…" the boy murmured, and the girl had to crane her head to catch the softly-uttered words before a purr of wind whisked them away.

"Is that so?" she sniped doubtingly, retracting the step she had taken, fading back into the depths of the forest; yet somehow, she couldn't find within herself the ability to turn away from the mysterious figure. Clothed in the alluring glory of the setting sun, its rays blinking off his golden hair and pristine features, he seemed an angel, warranting her full attention.

"Yes." A soft smile crept over the young boy's face as he continued. "If a fish wriggles in a stream, I hear it. If a quiet bird flits overhead, I hear it..." His voice was soft and mystical, and the girl drew closer yet again, though ignorant of her actions, so enthralled was she in the words of this whimsical stranger and the crystal, ethereal pulse of radiance seeming to wisp off his pure-white skin.

"But that's impossible…" she protested dreamily, unsure if she was addressing his words or the unimaginable kaleidoscope of beauty casting a pink and lavender glow over the treetops.

"Is it?" The boy turned his head, and a bluish-gray light swam in his distant eyes. The girl's lips trembled.

"What's wrong with your eyes!" she yelped, a mix of fright and wonder registering in her tone. She dug her fingers into the warm bark of a nearby tree to steady herself.

"I'm blind," the boy explained, misery tainting the happy charm of his speech. "I see nothing but a dark void without end." He lowered his head.

The girl remained quiet and still, shocked and hesitant, gazing at him with an expression she herself couldn't have explained, so new was it to her to feel anything but bruises in skin and sternness in her features.

The boy lifted his head slowly, his lips trembling over the words, "And yet I see more light then those who behold the sun."

For a passive moment, the wind was the only voice to be heard, cascading through the branches as the girl wondered deep within herself. Her initial intent when she discovered the presence of this stranger was to merely gain a laugh from his and her interaction and then slip away into the forest again without bond between them, but now that idea was futile. A quick and unrestrained curiosity was beginning to bloom in her spirit toward this creature abandoned in the brush. Unlike the other young boys she had briefly encountered who had bitter faces twisted into scowls, voices sharp and boisterous, and eyes piercing and lustful, this lad immersed in the ebbing sunbeams had none of those traits, but seemed to be a gentle and quiet spirit, not aged by the wickedness of human nature or marred by the cruelty of others.

As she thought over these things, a deep urge of compassion gripped at her fragmented heart, and she walked out to the child, so defenseless and humble and sweet. This pure youth need never bear the weight she carried or know the brutality she had suffered. Although she didn't understand why or how he was different, or what he meant by the words he so originally uttered, she did know one thing: this child would not harm her.

The boy smiled into the air when he heard her approach. She sat beside him, mimicking his cross-legged position, and shielding her squinting eyes from the drooling sun, she voiced her wonder, "How is it that you see more light than those who see the sun?"

The lad reached his hand down into the twinkling grass and plucked a patch of earth from the soil. "I can feel!" he expounded adamantly, raising the dangling patch strewn with dirt and roots as if demonstrating his words. "And I feel my world just as much, if not more, than any old bloke sees his!"

"So you'd rather be blind?" the girl probed. "And feel your world rather than see it?" she added. A bewildered expression surmounted the young boy's face, his blank eyes widening.

"No!" His voice trembled with feeling, as if he couldn't believe she'd ask such a question. "I'd give up anything to gain my sight!" He pounded his fist into the ground for emphasis.

"Even your hands and feet?" marveled the girl. Her hands were something she valued more than any other of her assets. She couldn't imagine not having them, but then again, she couldn't imagine not seeing.

"Yes! Even my hands and feet!" he exclaimed resolutely, as he dropped the grass and held up his hands as if offering them up to be taken in exchange for his sight.

"But how would you hunt, or eat, or run from danger?" the girl prodded, still not understanding his way of thinking, but it was somehow enchanting.

"Oh, but I don't do any of those things…" replied the lad musingly, after a moment of thinking. "My mom takes care of me, so I don't have to." At the mention of his mother, his decisive scowl bent into a happy grin, but the girl's body tightened.

"You have a mother?" she asked wistfully, but the boy didn't catch her absentmindedness.

"Oh, yes!" His smile widened to such an extent the girl feared that his fragile, doll-like face might crack and fall to pieces. "I have the most beautiful mother in the whole wide world!"

The girl studied his demeanor, boldly leaning closer toward his vague face and noting in her mind the soft petals of his hair and the flawless arch of his brows.

"How do you know she is the most beautiful mother since you never saw her?" she queried, leaning back on her knees.

A pensive expression subdued his radiant countenance, and he was quiet for a long time, staring up into the light. The girl waited patiently until she grew weary and was about to rise to her feet when the boy suddenly cried, "I've seen her heart!" Before the girl could recover from her surprise or ask further of him, the boy continued, "I haven't seen her figure or features, but her touch is always warm and loving, and her voice is always gentle and low. She always smells of cinnamon and roses, and she kisses me when I'm sad, and holds me close when I'm scared, and she sings me to sleep every night. And since her heart is pure and lovely, all of her must be."

The girl listened intently to his words, as if they were some divine ballad. She had never heard a boy talk so about anyone, and she fancied he must surely be a kind, young fellow to have such a sweet outlook on things.

"I think you have your mother's heart," whispered the girl softly, regretting her words closely thereafter, for they sounded much more presumptuous when verbalized than they had in her mind. But the glow of pink flushing across the boy's cheeks did not come since he was embarrassed, but because he was so delighted to think that he had inherited his mother's best quality.

He turned toward his companion, grinning from ear-to-ear. "I like you," he said boldly. "What's your name?"

The smile that had crept onto the girl's face quickly fell. "I haven't got a name!" she shouted.

"But you must have a name," the boy began perplexedly. "What does your mom call you?" The girl slumped forward and dug her fists into the soil.

"I haven't got a mom!" she wailed. The boy's face creased and his mouth fell open, but he was too surprised to know how to answer. "But I don't need one!" the girl continued, lifting her head, a shadow darkening her eyes. "I get everything I need by my own hands and I don't want any mother!"

"What? No!" cried the lad, reaching out toward the girl, but she pulled away and his hand fell into the grass. "Mothers are good," he urged. "I'm sure mine will love you. Just wait and see. She'll be back soon to get me."

"But she won't come and get you!" shrieked the girl. "They never do. They leave you out to fend for yourself and care nothing about your safety. She has abandoned you; can't you see?" The boy stiffened, and anxiety paled his face.

"No, I can't see!" he bawled. "But my mother hasn't left me. She's just gone back to greet father when he gets home from work. I asked if I could stay here, and she left me because she knows how much I love to feel the sun. She'll be back soon, though, and then we'll go home and have dinner. She'd never leave me alone, and even now she knows that the neighbors are watching." Upon hearing this, the girl jumped to her feet, her eyes flashing upon the cabins positioned on the far side of the field. She glanced in their windows, fearing lest someone had spotted her, or was even then watching; but she saw nothing.

The boy was too preoccupied in his words to hear her flighty gasp, and he continued talking, speaking the next words slowly and powerfully. "I fear that you have it worse than I do. I would not give up my mother, even to see. Never, ever, ever! And she would never give me away. We are a family—her, father, and I—and we love each other."

When his statement concluded, silence embedded the air, and the girl quivered with mixed feelings, unsure if she should flee and hide like she always did when she felt unstable, or if she should stay and for once try to understand what was being told to her.

She had never known the kind of love he knew so well, never known the bond of a family. This was all new to her, and she felt afraid and uneasy, as if she were a weed in a garden of roses. Finally the boy broke the stillness.

"I will give you a name," he proposed in an upbeat tone. The girl's eyes rose to his face, now shadowed by the ebbing sun as it bathed in the liquid of twilight before going to its place of rest. No words seemed suitable to give in response, so she remained silent. In her heart rippled a raw ache.

"I will name you…Dawn," whispered the lad.

The girl's eyes flicked upon him, for the moment forgetting her pain.

"Why?" she asked, sitting back down beside him.

The boy smiled joyfully.

"My mother told me that dawn is when the sun wakes up and spreads its beautiful warm light across the world. She said it was created by the goddesses to bring light to us and show us that times of bitter darkness won't last forever, but will be followed by a brighter time of happiness and light. Although I have never seen the dawn, I already love it because it seems to me a message from the Sacred Realms in the heavens, telling me that one day—one blessed day, my eyes will be opened and I shall see clearly the bright light I have longed after all my life. Yes, that is what I hope for, and when I heard you, I saw a bright light flicker in the darkness of my vision. You have brought warmth to my heart and light to my eyes; and therefore, I name you Dawn."

The girl had never heard such a beautiful story, and it brought tears to her eyes. "I don't think I deserve such a beautiful name," she whimpered, dropping her face into her hands.

"Oh, but you do." The boy reached out a silent hand, and the girl looked up. "You're sweet," he added.

Her heart filled to overflowing, she placed her palm into his.

"…Thank you…" she whispered, tears sparkling in her eyes. "…Thank you so much!"

Suddenly, the sound of a twig cracking made her jump, and she retracted her hand, her tears freezing in her eyes.

"Mother is coming!" shrieked the boy excitedly, inching forward.

"I must go!" garbled the girl, jumping to her feet as to flee into the forest, but the blind fellow strung his arms around her legs and held her still, crying, "No! Don't go! Please don't go!"

The girl was torn between the safety of the dark forest and the uncertainty of a friend willing her to do the opposite of her nature. Another twig cracked, and her eyes widened with urgency.

"I must go!" She wrenched the lad's stony fingers from her legs and tumbled into the forest, leaving the mystical boy far behind.

"Dawn! Dawn! …Bring back my light!" he moaned, but she was already gone.