Child of Light, Chapter 8
The Heart of Sul'dahlr
Greetings, dear curious souls,
I hope this reaches you in good spirits, with a warm cup of something comforting in hand. The year is already well underway, and I hope it’s been kind to you so far—though I know we’re all navigating uncertain times in one way or another. May you find moments of peace and joy where you can, no matter how small.
After taking some time to recharge and recenter in the new year, I’m happy to finally return with Chapter 8. Stepping back into Elswyth’s journey after a little distance has given me a fresh perspective, and I’m excited to share this next piece of the story with you.
As always, thank you for being here. Your time, your curiosity, and your support mean more than I can say. I hope you enjoy this next chapter, and I’d love to hear your thoughts if you feel inclined to share.
Wishing you warmth and wonder,
Diana
Previously in Chapter 7: An Unexpected Welcome
Elswyth steps beyond the Great Gate into the sunlit valley of Suldahlr, where remnants of the Old World endure. As she takes in the farmsteads and lingering magic, Sarah hints at all she has yet to learn.
Their journey is interrupted by Finnick, a mischievous pixie whose rivalry with Sarah leads to playful bickering—until Samwise puts a swift end to it. With the Elders awaiting them and her missing guardians still unaccounted for, Elswyth’s path is only just beginning.
Finnick strutted ahead of us, his steps light and nimble as he led the way down what seemed to be the town’s main thoroughfare. The cobblestone road stretched ahead in a gentle curve, its stones worn smooth by countless footsteps and painted in earthy hues of gray and warm brown. From the crevices between them, tufts of moss and clover spilled out like nature’s embroidery, adding a touch of quiet, living magic to the path.
Lining either side of the road were charming storefronts of stone brick , their windows brimming with intrigue. Some looked almost ordinary—a bakery with its windows fogged from the warmth inside, a butcher with meats displayed behind glass, and a bookshop that stirred a pang of familiarity in me. Yet others were anything but typical. One shop had a window filled with polished stones, crystals, and carved pieces of wood adorned with intricate runes that seemed to hum with hidden power. In another, peculiar plants and flowers pressed against the glass, their colors vibrant and strange, unlike anything I’d seen in the botanical guides back home. These blooms seemed to shimmer subtly, as though alive with some quiet magic.
As I gazed around, each sight more enchanting than the last, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was strolling through a place both timeless and otherworldly, where the ordinary and extraordinary blended seamlessly together.
The villagers parted as we passed, their eyes alight with curiosity and voices humming with intrigue. Snippets of hushed conversations reached my ears, fragments laced with both excitement and awe. More dwarves appeared along the road, each one unique in build and dress yet sharing the proud hallmark of their people—a beard so full and intricate that it seemed a point of honor. Among them, I noticed several women, stout and strong, their hair styled with such precision and care that I couldn’t help but wonder if it carried some deeper meaning. Braids cascaded over their shoulders like woven rivers, while others favored elegant buns secured by wooden pins adorned with beads and polished stones, their beauty reflecting the same artistry woven into the town’s carved doorways and arching eaves.
There were gnomes, too, bustling about with a quiet purpose, each donning pointed hats in earthy tones of russet, moss green, and slate. The gnome women wore flowing skirts or dresses decorated with delicate, knotted embroidery, while the men wore practical slacks and tunics not unlike Mimble's. They moved with a spry energy, offering warm nods and cheerful greetings as they went about their tasks.
Now and then, a faint popping sound interrupted the ambient chatter, followed by a glimmer of light as a pixie appeared firmly on the ground, only to vanish just as quickly. They must not actually walk anywhere. Then again, I wouldn’t either. A soft chuckle broke my thoughts, and I glanced back at Sarah, who was seated on Samwise’s back, her grin mischievous.
“Of course we don’t walk!” she said, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Why would we? It’s so much easier to blink.”
“Blink?” I echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Is that what you call your teleporting?”
She nodded, looking positively delighted. “Uh-huh! We’re the only ones who can do it,” she said proudly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Just a little talent we pixies have.”
I couldn’t help but smile, picturing the town full of pixies popping in and out of sight like mischievous little sparks.
“Now, now. Don’t fib!” Finnick called over his shoulder, glancing back with a sly grin. “It’s not as natural as you’d like her to think! I remember a certain someone blinking straight into Farmer Goodfellow’s pigsty!” He threw his head back, his laughter ringing through the street.
“You hush!” Sarah snapped, though a giggle escaped her as she stuck her tongue out at him. “It just takes practice, that’s all. We’re all born with it, even if some of us had a few… missteps along the way.”
Finnick smirked, undeterred. “Missteps, indeed. I’d say the piglets were quite taken with you!”
“Why you—” Sarah began, but her words trailed off as we rounded a corner, and our path opened to a breathtaking sight. Before us stood an enormous living archway, as if two ancient trees had sprouted on either side of the road, their trunks twisting and entwining in the center to form a natural arch. The wood seemed to pulse faintly with life, the bark textured and knotted in patterns that hinted at age-old magic woven into its very roots.
Through the archway lay a wide stone staircase, each step worn smooth by the tread of countless generations. Flanking the steps, statues stood sentinel—chiseled figures of creatures both familiar and foreign to me. Tall, noble forms with elongated ears loomed beside stocky figures bearing hammers and shields, while smaller, impish shapes seemed frozen mid-prank, their stone faces forever grinning. The craftsmanship was mesmerizing; their eyes, carved to catch the light, shimmered faintly, as though some spark of life lingered within.
I stood in awe, my gaze flitting from one statue to the next, each more intricate than the last. But then, at the top of the stairway, a figure emerged—a tall, stoic presence framed by the light behind them, their features obscured in shadow.
Beside me, Sarah let out a sudden gasp. “El—Elder Rowan!” she squeaked, leaping to her feet on Samwise’s back. With a quick, practiced motion, she dipped into a curtsey, her expression earnest as she addressed the figure at the top of the stairs.
Finnick, usually brimming with mischief, fell silent. He stepped forward and gave a deep bow, his grin replaced by a rare moment of solemnity. The sight of both pixies showing such deference sent a shiver through me, as though the very air around the figure carried a weight I couldn’t yet comprehend.
A deep voice rumbled down the stairway, resonant and commanding. “Welcome home, young ones. I see you have returned with your charge, Saerwynna. Master Finnick, how gracious of you to step away from your… ongoing assignments to assist in escorting the a’mun sul.”
Finnick straightened abruptly, his usual composure faltering. “Ah, yes, well… I should get back to those, sir!” he sputtered, his voice unusually high-pitched. In a flash, he blinked away, leaving only the faint shimmer of his departure in his wake.
My eyes drifted back to the darkened figure at the top of the stairs. Slowly, his arm extended, and the faint outline of a tall gnarled staff appeared in his grasp. With two quiet thumps against the stone, light sparked to life at its tip, revealing a crystal that flared like a newborn star, casting warm, golden light over the figure and banishing the shadows that had cloaked him.
A man with a head of dark curls and a short, well-kept beard stood before us. His skin carried the warm hue of sunlit sand, smooth and radiant, as though kissed by endless summers. As he began his descent down the stairs, his embroidered blue robes rippled with his movements, the same sunburst symbol from the archway stitched where the collar met, gleaming softly in the light. Despite the aura of great wisdom that surrounded him—something earned through years far beyond my own—he appeared only slightly older than me. Each step he took was measured and effortless, the staff clearly a symbol of authority rather than a tool for support.
As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he paused before me and bowed deeply. “Greetings, Lady Elswyth. It is an honor to have you here with us this day.” When he looked up, a welcoming smile graced his face, and his amber eyes twinkled with a brilliance that seemed to hold an entire universe of stars within their depths.
Sarah cleared her throat beside me, jolting me from the spell his presence had cast over me. “It… It’s nice to meet you, sir… Elder Rowan?” I stammered, struggling to steady my voice as my thoughts wrestled free from the depth of his gaze.
“You must be tired after your journey through the Old Wood and the Great Gate. Come, let us rest and get acquainted in my study before we address the Council.” He stepped aside, gesturing up the stairs with a graceful sweep of his hand.
He led the way back up the stone stairway, the sound of our steps muted by the worn, time-smoothed surfaces. The sentinels flanking the stairs seemed to watch our ascent, their chiseled features casting long shadows in the golden light. Each figure, intricate in design, seemed to tell its own silent story, a testament to the hands that had shaped them long ago.
Before us stood a breathtaking stone temple, its façade carved directly into the hillside. Massive roots from the towering trees above coiled around the structure, intertwining with the stone as if the temple had grown alongside the forest. The trees themselves seemed eternal, their gnarled trunks reaching skyward, while their canopies cast dappled light over the temple’s weathered surface. Intricate carvings adorned the stone walls, depicting scenes of life, light, and the passage of time.
The temple exuded a quiet reverence, a perfect balance between nature’s wild beauty and the meticulous craftsmanship of the Old World.
He guided us through the temple archway and up a spiraling staircase of intricately carved stone, passing one landing before stopping at the second. The air grew still as we entered a short hallway, the dim light casting faint shadows on the smooth stone walls. At the end of the hall stood an arched wooden door, its surface adorned with what appeared to be a bronzed goblin face, its exaggerated features framing a door knocker cleverly attached to its ears. A heavy lock sat below the knocker, yet he made no move to retrieve a key. Instead, with a single tap of his staff on the floor, the latch clicked open softly, the sound barely breaking the silence.
He pushed the door open and invited us in with a welcoming motion. Before us stood a circular room lined with wooden walls that housed floor-to-ceiling bookcases, each shelf crammed with weathered tomes and ancient scrolls. At the center of the room stood an old desk piled high with large books, vials of mysterious substances, and haphazard stacks of papers. To one side, a gentle fire crackled in a stonework fireplace, its warm light spilling over a cluster of cozy armchairs. On the opposite side of the room, another door waited, its purpose unknown.
“Please, rest your legs and let us get acquainted.” Elder Rowan gestured warmly toward the cushioned chairs by the hearth, his embroidered robes catching the light with subtle brilliance. He set his staff against the wall, its crystal tip glinting faintly, before taking a seat himself.
My gaze wandered around the room, drawn to the rows of leather-bound tomes lining the shelves. The spines bore intricate lettering in a language I couldn’t decipher, their presence both mysterious and imposing. The air carried a faint aroma of incense, earthy and soothing, mingled with the subtle tang of aged wood and parchment. It felt as though the room itself was steeped in wisdom, the kind that lingered long after words were spoken.
I traced the faint scent as my attention inevitably returned to our host. He was watching me, his expression kind yet unreadable, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Heat rose to my cheeks, and I quickly averted my eyes.
Breaking the silence, he spoke with a measured tone. “Allow me to introduce myself properly. I am A’ro Dan, the Elder Rowan of the Council of Elders here in Sul’dahlr. It has been my honor to oversee the preparation of our Saerwynna—”
Sarah, perched on the arm of my chair, shifted with an audible huff, folding her arms in clear disapproval.
Elder Rowan glanced at her, his expression unchanging, and smoothly corrected himself. “My apologies—of Sarah, as your spirit guide.”
Sarah gave a small nod and muttered something under her breath, too quiet for me to catch.
Elder Rowan’s amber gaze drifted toward Sarah, his expression shifting to something both knowing and gentle. “Indeed, I should remember and honor the name bestowed upon you by the a’mun sul.”
Sarah let out a startled squeak, her tiny frame stiffening in surprise. It was clear she hadn’t expected the Elder to catch her muttered remark.
I bit my lip to stifle a chuckle, but the humor evaporated as his words sank in. Wait… I didn’t name her. I only just met her today.
Sarah turned toward me, her voice calm but tinged with a hint of pride. “The moment you were born, you gave me this name.”
Elder Rowan nodded, his tone steady and thoughtful. “Quite right. However, it is my understanding that your guardians have delayed your education of the Old World.” His demeanor shifted, a faint sigh escaping him. “And we have lost contact with them. Unsure of what has become of your guardians, I will be stepping in as your instructor and guardian.”
Sarah’s voice wavered with a rare blend of reverence and disbelief. “But Elder! Truly? You will be going with us?” She nearly fell off the chair’s arm, her wide eyes fixed on him as though he’d just declared the moon would descend from the heavens.
Elder Rowan’s expression softened, his eyes gleaming with quiet wisdom. “I will. The road ahead is fraught with challenges, and the light demands that she,” his gaze settled on me, “be prepared to meet them. If that requires me to leave Sul’dahlr, so be it.”
Sarah blinked, her small frame trembling slightly. “But… you’ve never left. Not in my lifetime, nor in the memories of any who live here.” She hesitated, as though saying it aloud might make it less believable. “You’ve always been the heart of Sul’dahlr, its protector.”
Elder Rowan nodded, his voice calm but firm. “And so I remain. But the heart must beat beyond the confines of these walls if it is to guide the light where it is needed most.” His tone softened, and the crystal atop his staff flared briefly, casting warm light across the room. “The Child of Light deserves no less than the best guidance we can offer.”
I swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling over me. Child of Light. It sounded so grand, so alien. Yet he spoke as though it was me—me—he was referring to. My stomach twisted, caught between awe and unease.
“I know you must have many questions, and time is of the essence,” Elder Rowan began, his voice carrying the weight of ages, “but we must also recognize and heed tradition. The a’mun sul has returned to the Old World. Even now, word spreads beyond Sul’dahlr, and there are many who journey from far and wide to honor her.”
He paused, his gaze distant for a moment as though sensing the shifting tides of the world. “The A’darin Court has already arrived, their presence a testament to the gravity of this moment. I suspect the Great Grove will not be far behind. These are some of the oldest and most esteemed beings of the Old World, their wisdom and presence unparalleled.”
The room seemed to still, the weight of his words settling over us. Sarah’s usual confidence gave way to a quiet reverence, and I felt a lump form in my throat. The enormity of it all was staggering.
“Today,” Elder Rowan continued, his tone softening just slightly, “we will greet them and feast together in your honor. Tomorrow, we begin your lessons.”
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