Let There Be Light

It was a dark stormy night. Brendan trudged along, his cloak wrapped protectively around the treasure he carried. Suddenly, Pangur Ban dug sharp claws into his shoulder. He flinched and glanced up seeing white fur a small but significant second before he expected.

A white wolf stood before him. It held his gaze for a second, then took off into the forest. He took off after it, chasing a mad hope. He had known a girl once, or a wolf. He wasn't sure what she was, but he knew that without her he wouldn't be the person he was today. But she had died. She had died helping him acquire the tool that allowed him to see the beauty of the world and capture it down to its minutest detail. And all that had been left was a clearing full of white wildflowers.

He was suddenly jarred out of his reverie of regret by the sight of the very same kind of flowers beneath his feet. When he glanced up, he saw the wolf sitting right in front of him. Right in front of the pathway that led out of the forest. He had used that pathway before, a long time ago. He had entered the forest for the first time, alone and afraid. But he had returned with a new friend.

But she couldn't be … "Aisling?" he breathed. The lightning flashed, and there she was. She crouched on the path in front of him. But it's impossible, he thought, "You're dead. I saw you…" Another flash, and she was gone.

* * *

"Aisling." The name brought back memories. The voice too she remembered although it had been younger the last time she had heard it. He had been a good friend, albeit for a short while. But would he recognize her? It had been a long time since she had been able to take human form. She hadn't really missed it, but she wished she could do something to show Brendan that it was really her. She concentrated on that form, remembering every detail that she could. And then, suddenly, there it was. An ability she had inexplicably lost seasons earlier she had now, just as inexplicably, regained.

She had a second to smile about this before another wave of memories hit her. One that made her previous recollections look like a ripple. A quiet ripple on a pleasant pond, shimmering in the sunlight. This was a towering breaker on a dark sea of memory. It washed over her. Everything she had ever felt. It… no, not it, she. She was full of despair. There were happy memories too, but all of them tainted. Lonely memories, or bittersweet recollections of a time when she wasn't alone. She was drowning; being crushed by the weight of her past.

But these memories were part of her. Yet, every time she tried to hang on to one of them, they crumbled into dust. And each one was taking a bit of herself with it. Something was wrong here. Some force tied in with the memories was snuffing out her being as she rediscovered it. And the more she tried to hold on to, the more she lost.

She bolted, straight up a flash of lightning into the sky then diving, a falling raindrop. She hit the ground running, a wolf again. A scent, she needed a scent. The rain continued to fall, washing away the trails left by the creatures of the forest. But there, in the bushes, what was that? A rustle, the crack of a twig. She adjusted her course. She was the hunter, no, the hunt itself. She had no past, for she was eternal. Both predator and prey, she was the fastest and she always won the chase. No matter who surprised her, she always got away.

* * *

Brendan stood in the rain, frozen in confusion. He knew he had seen Aisling, he was sure of it. He felt a drop of rainwater from his soaked cloak trickling down his arm towards the hand where he held the book. He had to get it to the Abbey, where it would be safe and dry. He could try to figure out what had just happened later.

He angled himself toward where the main gate of Kells once stood. Though he knew the secret passage that led into Kells was straight ahead of him, he had no desire to sneak back into his childhood home as a fugitive, as he had left it so many years ago.

When he reached the gate, which had been rebuilt, but not as the grand affair it had once been, he was hailed by the voice of Brother Leonardo. "Weary Traveler, Do you seek sanctuary within the walls of Kells? We are open to all. Come in out of the cold and take rest and refreshment in the warmth of our hall."

"At ease, Brother Leonardo," He called back, "it is I, Brendan of Kells, returned from the tutelage of Brother Aiden of Iona."

"Brendan, you're alive! Come in! Come In!" He vigorously rang the bell that signaled the opening of the gate and then rushed down to meet Brendan. He was full of questions. "How did you survive? Where have you been? What have you been up to?" But then he caught himself. "You should go see the Abbot, he… he isn't doing too well."

modifed version of existing seane. impatient people: start skimming

The Abbot was lying in bed when Brendan entered the top room of the tower. As he saw him come in, he called out, "Not yet, angel of darkness! I need more time!"

Brendan approached and reached out his hand to the Abbot, who huddled, eyes closed, in his bed. As the Abbot opened his eyes, the sun burned its way through the clouds, shining its light on Brendan's face.

"Is this a dream?" the Abbot said, in hushed recognition.

"This is no dream," Brendan reassured the Abbot. "I'm so happy to find you here," He continued, "I thought I had lost you a long time ago."

"Brendan, you were only a boy," the Abbot said. He seemed almost to be speaking to himself. "All those innocents lost, all my fault."

"Please, do not distress yourself. " Brendan urged, taking a seat on the edge of the Abbot's bed.

The Abbot continued, more focused now but undeterred. "You don't understand. I have no time, Brendan. You were right. About Kells. About Aiden. About the book." He paused for a second, unfolding an old, creased piece of parchment. "This is all I have left," he went on as Brendan stared in surprised recognition at the first illumination he had ever made with the Eye of Crom Cruach. "It is the only comfort I have left in this world." "Brother Aiden was right," he sighed, "and I tried to stop him."

"Aiden never paid you much heed," Brendan said, doing his best to comfort the frail old Abbot. Then an idea struck him. Maybe the book could bring him solace.

"Brother Aiden lived to see his work passed on, and completed," he told him, pulling the completed book out of his cloak.

"The Book of Iona," the Abbot breathed in a hushed wonder.

"The Book of Kells," Brendan suggested.

you can stop skimming now

"The Book of Kells then," the Abbot agreed, a smile of pure contentment flitting across his face for the first time in half a lifetime. Though he had failed, the treasure God had sent him to protect had not been destroyed. He only had one more thing to see to and then he could be at peace.

"Brendan," he said, "Promise me one thing."

"What is it?" asked Brendan.

"Be Abbot after me. Much needs to change around here. Brother Assoua will show you what you need to know. Kells… We need a master, someone who can teach us new things.

"But the people," Brendan said, "I am a wandering preacher. I bring them the word of the Lord."

"Promise me, Brendan," the Abbot said his voice weak and desperate.

Brendan sighed, and promised the Abbot that he would take on his responsibilities after he died. And with that assurance, the Abbot slowly closed his eyes for the last time, as the sun burnt the last of the lingering mist from the courtyard of the Kells.