Child of Light, Chapter 7

An Unexpected Welcome

Previously in Chapter 6: Homecoming

Elswyth arrives in the Old World, welcomed by Sarah and Samwise in a forest pulsing with ancient energy. She crosses a living bridge, performing a ritual of gratitude that deepens her connection to the land. Finally, she reaches a formidable gate guarded by Mimble, a gruff gnome who challenges her worth. With humility and conviction, Elswyth earns his respect, unlocking passage into the hidden heart of this mystical realm.

The towering doors groaned as they swung shut behind me, the final thud echoing through the valley—a heartbeat marking the start of something unknown. For a moment, I hesitated, feeling the air change, as though I’d crossed into a place that breathed differently. Samwise pressed close to my side, his steady warmth grounding me as I stood, wide-eyed, taking in the scene that lay before us.

Back home, I’d left under the cover of night. Here, though, the sun stood high overhead, bathing the rolling fields before us in warm, golden light. A secluded valley stretched out, cradled between two forested hillsides that rose on either side like watchful guardians. The path ahead wound gently, following the land’s natural curves like a brook weaving its way through ancient stones and twisted roots, each turn inviting us deeper into this hidden world.

I stood, almost rooted to the spot, marveling at the sight before me. The valley seemed to open up as if it had been waiting, stretching out in vivid, sunlit hues beneath the midday sky. In the distance, I spotted the faint outlines of quaint, timeworn cottages, their chimneys releasing wisps of smoke that drifted lazily upward, fading into the clear blue above. Small, neat fields of crops intermingled with wildflowers painted the valley floor, creating a patchwork of color and life, as if nature herself had sown the land with purpose and care.

Lost in wonder, I barely noticed the stillness around me, as though even the air held its breath. And then—"Congratulations!"

A familiar, sprightly voice rang out, breaking the quiet. With a soft pop, Sarah appeared perched atop Samwise’s back, her grin wide and triumphant. She clapped her tiny hands together, her eyes sparkling. "I knew you’d manage just fine!"

I raised an eyebrow, but she waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, don’t give me that look! It wasn’t my decision," she continued, planting her hands on her hips with a huff. "I’m not allowed to help you past the Great Gate! Rules are rules."

With an exaggerated sigh, she hopped to her feet, adjusting her dress as though the journey had ruffled her.

“So… what now?” I asked, the words trailing off as I glanced around, my shoulders sagging slightly. She’d made it sound like some grand entrance awaited me. Yet so far, all I’d encountered was a very grumpy gnome who didn’t seem too thrilled about being woken up. Is this it? Farms?

Sarah let out a snort, nearly doubling over as laughter bubbled out. “He really is a grumpy old gnome, isn’t he?” She clutched her sides, her laughter infectious, before she straightened with a mischievous grin. “Those are just the farmsteads, silly! Look again—see how the road curves beyond the fields? Around that bend lies Suldahlr. Home sweet home, and the very heart of the Old World.”

“Sul… dahlr?” I echoed, stumbling over the word, my mouth struggling to shape it.

“Suldahlr,” she repeated, her tone softening as though speaking of something precious. “It means ‘valley of light’ in your tongue. It’s the name of the little village at the center of all that’s left of the Old World. All comings and goings pass through Suldahlr.”

“All that remains…” I murmured, tasting the words as a faint chill passed over me. What happened to the rest of it? Is the Old World disappearing or something?

Sarah sighed deeply, her gaze drifting upward as if searching the sky for answers, a shadow of sorrow darkening her eyes. For a moment, she seemed lost in thoughts she didn’t share, her expression softening with a wistfulness that made her look years older. Slowly, she brought her gaze back to me, and her voice took on a gentle, almost fragile tone, as if she were sharing something precious.

"Yes, a’mun sul. That is exactly what it means.” Her words hung in the air, delicate and fleeting, like the last notes of a song. “There is so much for you to learn,” she murmured, a faint sadness threading through her voice. “But I can’t teach it to you here.”

Her demeanor shifted then, the hint of sorrow replaced by a spark of determination, her hands resting on her hips as a playful smirk crept onto her face. “Besides,” she added, with a hint of sass breaking through, “your guardians are the ones who should be teaching you all this!”

She shook her head, crossing her arms as though gathering herself, a slight huff of frustration escaping her. “Honestly, your guardians have been slacking,” she muttered, her eyes narrowing in exasperation. “They should have been preparing you for this—teaching you about your heritage, the old arts, everything you’re meant to know. And yet here you are,” she sighed, giving me a pointed look, “walking around like a bewildered little sparrow, with no idea what’s in store.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but she cut me off with a pointed look. “Don’t get me wrong; I’m here to guide you,” she emphasized, placing a hand on her chest with a small, dramatic flourish. “But that’s all I’m meant to be—your spirit guide, not your teacher. My job is to nudge you along the path, not to fill in every gap your guardians left empty. They were supposed to prepare you for this.”

She let out a sigh, rubbing her temples as though the thought alone was exhausting. “By now, you should already know the basics. You should know what a’mun sul is, for starters, and why the Old World even matters. And here I am, trying to pick up the pieces.”

Her expression softened as she looked at me, the frustration in her voice giving way to a gentler tone. “It’s not your fault,” she murmured. “But it does make my job a lot harder. How can I guide you like I was trained to, if you don’t even know the basics?”

I blinked, caught off guard. “You were trained to guide me?” The question slipped out before I could stop it. Has she always known who I was?

Sarah nodded, her eyes softening with a warmth that felt almost timeless. “Yes. The light chose me the very moment you were born,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper, as though sharing a sacred truth. “From that instant, I was bound to be your guide. I’ve spent my whole life preparing, watching over you, learning everything I could so I’d be ready.”

A small smile spread across her face, pride evident in her gaze. “I’ve been by your side, even if you never knew it. Every stumble, every triumph—you’ve always had a bit of light looking out for you.”

Sarah held my gaze for a moment longer, her eyes filled with a tenderness I hadn’t noticed before. But then, as quickly as it had come, the look vanished, replaced by her usual brisk determination. She clapped her hands, breaking the stillness. “Enough for now!” she declared, a spark of excitement lighting up her face. “We’ll have plenty of time for lessons later.”

She turned, gesturing toward the winding path ahead. “Come on, we’ve got a journey to make, and Suldahlr isn’t going to come to us. Besides,” she added with a wink, “it’s about time you saw what all the fuss is about.”

With that, she trotted forward, her tiny steps purposeful, leading us along the road that curved through the valley. Samwise padded beside me, his steady presence grounding me as I followed Sarah, my heart pounding with anticipation for what lay just beyond the bend.

We walked along the path as it meandered through a stretch of open wildflower fields, colors scattered across the landscape in vibrant bursts of gold, violet, and blue. The flowers swayed in the breeze, their petals glinting in the soft light like jewels scattered across the valley floor.

Gradually, the wildflowers gave way to the neat rows of farm fields. Small farmsteads lined the road, their modest cottages nestled between vegetable patches and crops. A handful of farmers worked among the crops, though they were unlike any farmers I’d seen before. Some were broad and stout, with muscular builds and full, proud beards that made them unmistakably dwarf-like—the kind I’d read about in countless stories. Others were smaller, about Mimble’s size, yet not as gray or stooped with age—young gnomes, their expressions as bright as the fields they tended. They cast curious glances our way but quickly returned to their work.

The road curved beyond the last farmstead, dipping slightly as it disappeared around a bend. Anticipation quickened my step, sensing something just out of view, waiting beyond the hills.

Then, as we rounded the bend, Suldahlr unfolded before us. Stone cottages and homes built directly into the trunks of towering trees clustered together like a hidden village, long forgotten. Their curved chimneys released soft wisps of smoke that curled up toward the sky. Sunlight pierced through a haze of clouds, casting a warm, golden light over the village, bathing Suldahlr in an aura of quiet, timeless beauty.

We approached the gate of the town, where the path narrowed between towering pillars of stone, each one weathered and softened by moss that clung to the cracks like green velvet. The stones bore the marks of countless seasons, their surfaces worn smooth by time, yet they stood firm, guarding the entrance to Suldahlr.

Set between the stone pillars was an archway of carved wood, its dark surface etched with intricate geometric designs that twisted and knotted into patterns I couldn’t quite follow. The carvings seemed to pulse with a life of their own, as if telling a story in a language I didn’t yet understand. Above the gate, at its center, a larger carving caught my eye: a sun resting just above a flat horizon, its rays stretching outward and mirrored perfectly below, as though the light itself was doubling in reflection. Warm hues surrounded the sun, fading into deeper shades like dawn breaking over still water. The image held a quiet power, like a promise of what lay beyond, something both beautiful and sacred.

Sarah glanced up at the carving, a soft smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “It’s a reminder,” she murmured, “of what once was, and what will always endure. Light, reflected and unbroken.”

Suddenly, a little voice piped up from somewhere above, breaking the stillness. “Well, well, well! Look who’s finally home! I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

With a pop similar to Sarah’s, a tiny male pixie appeared beside her, standing with a mischievous grin. His fiery red hair was a wild, tousled mess, as though he’d just tumbled out of some whirlwind adventure, and his green eyes sparkled with mischief. A rosy button nose and freckled cheeks gave him a look of perpetual impishness, only enhanced by his attire: green overalls over a tan shirt, with bare, dirt-smeared feet planted firmly on the ground.

Sarah blinked, surprise flashing across her face for an instant before it gave way to a look of barely restrained annoyance. “Really, Finnick? Now isn’t exactly the time.”

“Oh, isn’t it?” he teased, crossing his arms and raising a brow. “You left the Elder Council meeting without so much as a word! I think you’ll be the one on cleaning duty after this little escapade.”

Sarah rolled her eyes, folding her arms with a huff. “I had a job to do, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make a spectacle of it. Besides, the Elders know I could get called at any moment. It’s not my fault!”

Finnick chuckled and stood before Sarah with a wide grin. “Well then,” he said, “guess I’ll tag along since you’re back. I can’t wait to see Elder Rowan’s face when you return!”

Sarah sighed deeply, her voice colored by exasperation as she turned to me. “Ignore him, a’mun sul. He’s just a pest, and has nothing to do with anything of real importance.”

At that, Finnick’s emerald eyes went wide as he looked up at me, finally acknowledging my presence with a mix of shock and scrutiny. “You!” He pointed with an exaggerated flourish, his eyes narrowing with mock suspicion. “You’re the a’mun sul?” He crossed his arms, giving me a skeptical look. “Not nearly as tall as I expected.”

Before I could react, he popped onto my shoulder, tugging at a strand of my hair. “And a raven?” He scoffed, vanishing again just as quickly. Reappearing in front of me with a proud grin, he folded his arms. “Gingers are better, if you ask me.”

“That’s enough, Finnick! Don’t make me tell Elder Rowan why his study was suddenly full of bullfrogs!” Sarah’s finger wagged at the other pixie, her voice sharp with a mix of warning and exasperation.

Finnick gasped, his face a picture of wounded innocence. “You’d never! You helped me put them there!” he whined, crossing his arms defiantly.

“I did not!” Sarah shot back, her cheeks flushed. “I only walked in on you and helped you get away so I wouldn’t get blamed!” The two of them launched into a spirited argument, voices growing louder as they volleyed accusations, each one threatening to get the other into even bigger trouble with the Elders.

I looked between them, a bemused smile tugging at my lips, not quite sure whether to intervene or let them sort it out themselves. Their antics, though baffling, were oddly entertaining.

Suddenly, a low growl rumbled through the air, followed by a sharp, commanding bark that cut their bickering short. Startled, they both jumped, spinning around to face Samwise. Beside me, he stood tall, fixing them with a stern gaze, his brow furrowed as he gave them another low growl, his silent reprimand impossible to ignore.

Finnick staggered backward, his eyes widening as he took in Samwise’s imposing figure. Pulling Sarah between him and the wolfhound, he squeaked, “Where’d the werewolf come from?” He peeked out from behind her, darting a nervous glance at Samwise, who stood firm and watchful, his gaze unwavering.

Sarah, too, averted her gaze, clearing her throat and straightening her dress with quick, fidgety motions, clearly chastened under Samwise’s silent scrutiny.

“He’s not a werewolf; he’s just a dog. A valiant canine steed,” she corrected him with a sigh of frustration. “Finn, please.” A note of urgency threaded through her words. “We need to get the a’mun sul to the Elders. Her Guardians are missing, and it’s my hope they’ll meet us in town, but… with all that’s been happening, who knows?” A shadow of worry crept into her tone, her earlier confidence wavering ever so slightly.

The change in Sarah’s demeanor seemed to have a sobering effect on Finnick. His playful expression faded, replaced by a look of quiet resolve. “Right, then,” he replied, his tone suddenly more serious, ready for action. “Let’s get her to them.” He turned, gesturing for us to follow. “They were just gathered, speaking with the A’darin Court.”

With a quick glance over his shoulder, Finnick led the way into town, his earlier mischief fading as we continued toward whatever awaited us in the heart of the Old World.

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