Eilonwy stood in the Great Hall of Caer Colur. The voices were whispering so loudly she could almost make out the words—but not quite. Now she was ready to remedy that problem. She looked down at the most powerful necromantic spell in the spellbook: Commune with the Elders of Llyr.
The Golden Pelydryn blazed with light as she chanted the words. They were sharp and tingling on her tongue. All the whispers—except one—died to inaudibility.
Oh, my little darling. You made it.
"Mo—mother?" Eilonwy collapsed to her knees as sobs rocked her body.
I'm so, so proud of you. You're so strong and brave. I love you so, so much.