I knew she was concerned about my hermit lifestyle, but I cherished island life. I usually choose to observe the bustling town from the comfort of my window, safely tucked away from the heat. And I wasn't about to tell her that I watched hot, sweaty, and shirtless boys through that same window, summer air thick with the scent of sunscreen and sea salt drifting in on the breeze. Never.
As we walked farther and farther from the house, the sidewalk's smoothness began to deteriorate, gradually transforming into a narrow, sun-baked cobblestone street, a stark contrast to the even surface we had started on. Crowds of people, tightly compressed, threaded their way through the walkway, melting into the unmarked storefronts and cozy little cafes nestled along it. The scent of baked bread, spiced tea, and ripe citrus clung to the air.
Couples lingered at small wooden tables, sipping coffee from terracotta cups, their voices drowned out by joyful music. Unfortunately, the breeze was stifled by the large white buildings that lined the village streets, creating pockets of still, hot air. Past the last of the charming cafes, with their lingering aroma of coffee and pastries. The village slowly ended, its edges giving way to paths that led toward the mountain trails and the sound of crashing waves from the beach.
The shouts from the village faded behind us, replaced by the rhythmic crash of waves and the rustling of palm fronds. But even those sounds eventually disappeared as our journey up the mountain path continued. Only the steady crunch of our boots on the trail broke the silence, a quiet beat that mirrored my pulse. We kept climbing, gaining altitude as we pressed onward. My breathing grew increasingly shallow the higher we went.
"Tara, are you feeling well? You look nauseated," she asked, noting how my pace had slowed.
Mama was a few steps ahead of me, showing no signs of slowing down, until she noticed I was falling farther behind.
A strained smile touched my lips as I waved her off, my eyes betraying the fatigue I tried to hide.
"I'm fine. I just need to catch my breath."
She stopped, planting her hands on her hips.
"That's what happens when you don't get out of the house."
She pulled out the map, giving me a moment to rest while tracing our path.
"We've almost made it to the cavern. Do you think you'll be able to make it, or do we need to turn around?"
"Don't worry. I just need a moment to catch my breath." My chest burned as I hunched over, trying to draw in air.
"Stand up straight and put your arms over your head like this," she said, demonstrating. Her expression shifted to concern.
"Are you sure we don't need to turn around? It's pitiful you're like this, Tara."
"Hey! I just need a minute," I complained.
Nodding, she turned her back to me and continued the ascent.
"Okay… if you're sure. This cavern is important to me. Your father and I used to fight over the stuff inside," she shouted over her shoulder as she marched out of sight.
Taking her advice, I slung my arms over my head and muttered,
"I can make it," as I followed her retreating figure.
The smell of Earth and chlorophyll was oddly comforting as we climbed. Soon, the path widened as we neared the cavern. Mama kept glancing back to make sure I was still keeping up. Each labored step pulsed with pain, but eventually, we reached the entrance.
I lowered myself onto a random boulder and leaned back, my face taut with concentration as I willed more air into my lungs. Noticing me, she smiled and began pulling gear and supplies from her backpack. Once I caught my breath, she handed me some water before we slipped into the cave, our footsteps echoing softly against the damp stone.
The only light came from the beams of our headlamps, slicing through the inky darkness and illuminating the uneven path ahead. The air was stale, cold, and thick with the scent of moss, dirt, and a faint hint of urine.
"This was a wonderful decision," I muttered sarcastically.
"Come and look at this, Tara. There's an inscription carved on the wall near the entrance."
Following her voice, I stepped up beside Mama and read the engraving aloud.
"In honor of Beatrix. What do you think that means?"
"When your father and I found this, I didn't know she had followers this far from home," Mama said, inspecting the inscription more closely.
"Wait, you know who she is?"
"On the mainland, many families have ancestral spirits they worship. She is ours. My family has served her for many centuries."
"Huh, I never knew that."
"I was hoping you'd pay attention to the tapestries in the living room and ask me one day."
"I have paid attention to them. But it's not like you or Dad ever explained they had any significance. And there are several tapestries in the house, with unique pictures and symbols."
"I guess that's true. Michael and I always disagreed on whether to keep the tradition going or start new ones," she shrugged.
"I was always in favor of you getting to know her. Come on, let's go deeper." She waved me forward.
"Wait!"
Mama paused and turned back to me.
"What?" she asked.
"Tell me about her." I pointed to the carved words on the wall.
A smile graced her face.
"Beatrix was a goddess. She lived among the twenty-four elders in heaven. Her role was to maintain justice on Earth and in the heavens."
She started making her way back toward me.
"For some reason, though it's not well documented, she challenged the ruling spirit, Ellumiel. She believed she could govern the heavens better than he."
Reaching me, she threw her arm around my shoulders and tugged me deeper into the cave.
"Let's walk and talk."
I nodded.
"Ellumiel accepted her challenge, and for forty days, they fought. Their battle shook the heavens, sending ripples throughout the skies. And after forty days, she was defeated, falling like lightning to the Earth as punishment. As she fell, she made a promise: the next time she returned to the heavens, she would wear the crown."
"Wow. So, what happened to her after that?" I asked, slipping free from her sweaty forearm.
"Well, Ellumiel wanted to make sure he'd never be challenged again. So, he did something cruel; he made sure she could never return. He planted warriors on Earth, shaped solely to stop her. Each one trained and molded into a vessel of his will."
"So," I kicked a small pebble on the path, "your family wants Beatrix to return to the heavens. Is that why you all served her?"
She smiled.
"Absolutely."
"But… for what reason?" I asked, brow furrowing. "If she lost, then she lost."
Mama turned to me and shrugged.
"That, hunny, is a family secret." She giggled and marched deeper into the cave.
I'd been excited to explore, but ever since she told me who the temple was dedicated to, she'd taken the fun out of it.
Everything was "Watch out," and "Don't do this."
I was thankful the cavern was dark; she couldn't see my fiercely exasperated eye rolls.
It took all I had to focus on the carvings lining the walls. With a dramatic flourish, I read several epitaphs scattered throughout the cave, hoping they were some kind of cool incantation. Nothing happened.
Then, suddenly, a cool breeze brushed past my ear, and I flinched.
"Ahh! Why are you so close to me?" My heart raced. "I didn't hear you behind me!"
"What do you mean? I think I'm a suitable distance away. Are you getting scared?" She smiled.
"It's okay if you are. Mama will protect you." She leaned in for a hug and kiss.
"STAP." I scrunched my face and beelined toward a cracked stone to hide behind.
"Don't run from me!" she giggled.
We played the worst game of tag until I tripped over a small rock jutting from the ground.
"Oomph." I rolled onto my back, trying to catch the wind that had been knocked out of me.
"Tara, are you okay?" She rushed over and pulled me to my feet.
"You're having a rough day, aren't you?" she laughed.
Unfortunately, I didn't have enough air in my lungs to reply.
"Ha," I finally exhaled, dusting off my clothes.
Next to my face were lavender bushels and scattered willow leaves littering the floor. In each corner stood a small table draped in multi-colored cloth. Atop each cloth sat six candles, with a small bundle of twigs arranged neatly in front of them. There, in the heart of the cave, a beautiful ball gown was spread across the stone floor, its fabric meticulously arranged.
As we stepped closer to inspect the strange scene, the inscription on the floor glowed fluorescent blue:
Only she who knows the heavens can wield the scepter of a queen, and her head will wear a crown.
I glanced toward Mama, but when I didn't see her in my peripheral vision, my concern spiked.
"Ma?"
"I'm right here, Tara." Her voice came softly from behind me as she stepped forward to stand in front of the gown. I watched as she stared at the gown, transfixed, as if under a spell.
"Is this a part of your tradition as well?" I asked, leaning on her shoulder, trying to glimpse whatever memories had her locked in place.
"Yeah, it is." She murmured, almost to herself. Her expression softened, and she slowly backed away from the dress, looking at me as if she were seeing me for the first time.
"I'm ready to go back."
"Wait, what? We just got here. Are you okay?"
She let out a deep sigh.
"Yeah. It's time to go back."
Abruptly, she turned and started walking down the same path we had come down. I lingered for a moment, glancing around the space, cluttered with relics that seemed strangely out of place. Then, quietly, I followed her, secretly hoping she'd share more.
"You know," she began, her voice distant, "I've missed home, even if my upbringing was strict. And lonely."
She glanced back at the gown.
"They used to dress me in gowns like this, make me stand still for hours while they pinned and perfected, because I had to be just right."
She laughed softly, but there was no humor in it.
"But it wasn't all terrible. I had Rhonda. She was my only friend, the only one who truly saw me."
A gentle warmth lit her face.
"Rhonda always made me feel welcome. She'd sneak me books and teach me all the family secrets."
A quiet laugh escaped her lips.
"When it was finally time for me to go, Rhonda helped me slip out unnoticed. She arranged everything, all so I could meet your Papa," she mused.
I studied her carefully, her voice catching on the last word like it carried weight.
"If you grew up in the estate, why did Rhonda need to help you leave?" I asked gently.
She paused, then smirked.
"Because it was time for me to go," she said matter-of-factly.
I blinked, confused.
She paused again, this time fully turning to face me.
"Rhonda said she found me in the woods with nothing but a name and a blanket. She never told me about my background, just that I had a purpose, and that I was lucky to have been chosen. And I believed her."
I watched as her eyes softened, filling with a fondness that felt almost tangible.
"It sounds like she cared about you. In a weird way."
"She did," Mama whispered, her gaze far away. "She saved me… in more ways than one."
We walked in silence for several minutes. Wanting to lighten the mood, I stopped just outside the entrance of the cave.
"So, you mean to tell me I'm the daughter of a rebel who left her family for love?" I grinned.
"Wow. I never would've guessed my strait-laced, always-following-the-rules mother was so scandalous."
I giggled and started heading down the path home. Glancing back, I laughed when I saw her open-mouthed expression, still frozen in disbelief.
"What?"
She walked past me, clearly annoyed by the narrative I'd created.
"What did I say?" I giggled.
A heavy silence hung in the air as she descended from the jungle, the only sound the soft crunch of leaves underfoot, a silence that felt as cold as her shoulder. Even if she was annoyed by my comment, I couldn't deny the determined glint in her eye. It was funny to watch her lips curve into a grin as she silently mouthed words to herself. Seeing her so lost in whatever plan she was concocting was oddly amusing. The experience had given me a glimpse into her world. After Papa passed, she seemed cold and distant. Many times, my attempts to get close to her were futile.
Over the past three years, she'd started to come out of her shell, but I didn't think we'd ever be as close as me and Papa. He felt like the sun, warm, comforting, and gentle. Tuning back into my surroundings, I was relieved we'd made it back to the small, cozy town before nightfall. The stars shone brightly in the sky, illuminating our path. The densely packed cobblestone streets were void of movement.
Entering the front door, the routine of dinner unfolded quietly. Instead of eating in the sun room with her, I sat on the floor in the center of the living room, balancing my plate on my lap. The house remained quiet, save for the occasional scrape of my fork.
The tapestries on the far wall hung in perfect symmetry, their edges curling ever so slightly. Near the living room's entrance, a woman with a radiant, sparkling face was depicted on one tapestry. Her pale beauty, striking against a black backdrop, seemed to shimmer in the dim light.
Beneath her, a kingdom stretched in ruin; the people were faceless, little more than wisps of thread. Intrigued, my eyes moved to the second tapestry: a twisted city with warped buildings and streets that spiraled into dark alleyways, forming a circle. In the center sat an unoccupied throne, yet it felt menacing.
The imagery in the third tapestry was drastically different. A vibrant blue sky was streaked with silver and gold thread. A being stood in the center, its features obscured by swirling musical notes, only partially visible.
Finally, my gaze landed on the last tapestry. A single figure stood before an archway made of light and flames. His face was tilted upward, hands reaching forward. He didn't seem to be burned by the fire, but instead engulfed by it. Beyond the arch, there was nothing except light.
"Cool, right?" I jumped, startled. A force to be reckoned with.
"Isn't she lovely?"
I rubbed my hands across my chest. "She's kind of scary," I chimed in. "Who's that one?" I pointed to the third tapestry.
Crossing her arms, she muttered, "That is Ellumiel. There are some books about him in your dad's office." She nodded toward the stairs.
I whipped my head around. "Really? 'Cause I've looked through all his…" I quickly shut my mouth. "So, you served Beatrix, and Dad served Ellumiel?"
She smiled. "Yeah. Love makes you do weird things." She kissed me on the forehead.
"Goodnight."
"Goodnight!"
Alone, I continued to observe the pictures in front of me. My gaze settled on the final two tapestries, and that name, Ellumiel, floated through my mind again and again. I couldn't recall ever coming across it while rummaging through Papa's stuff. I'd recheck his office tomorrow to see if I missed anything.
Once I had finished eating, I placed my plate in the sink, walked upstairs, and got ready for bed. As the sounds of island nightlife filled the air, I drifted off to sleep, lulled by the gentle rhythm of music and waves.
I awoke with a feeling of unease. I was standing in mist; the air hummed with an eerie stillness that reached into my chest. I turned in slow circles, expecting to see something familiar, but as far as I could tell, the mist stretched endlessly.
Deciding to move, I jogged forward into the haze. Slowly, it thinned until I stood before a forest. The tightly packed trunks wove their branches into a canopy that swallowed the sky.
Surveying my surroundings, I spotted the entrance to the cave we'd explored earlier that day. A wispy shadow moved near the mouth. It was my mother. She was slipping inside, her steps airy, like she didn't care if anyone saw her.
"Ma?" I peered after the retreating figure, confused.
She couldn't hear me as she sank further into the darkness. Not wanting to be left outside, I followed her into the depths of the cavern. The inscriptions that had been there earlier today had vanished. Still, she dragged her hand along the cave wall as if they remained.
Her body moved toward the scene we'd found in the cave. The lavender and willow bushels were nowhere in sight. Instead, thorny roses covered the floor. The candles on each small table were lit, casting an eerie glow across the ceremonial room.
Standing in front of the ballgown, she recited the phrase:
"Only she, who knows the heavens, can wield the scepter of a queen, and she will be crowned."
Immediately, the ground crumbled beneath her, opening into a yawning pit. She plunged into the darkness, the shimmering dress vanishing with her. I rushed forward, dropping to my knees at the edge, but the pit swallowed the light; I couldn't see the bottom. Panic swelled in me. Without thinking, I tried to follow, but an unseen force slammed into me like an unbreakable wall.
Pressing my palms against it, I pushed with all my strength, but the wall wouldn't give. The harder I fought, the more solid it became, holding me back, as if the cave itself had deemed me unworthy of descent.
Then, without warning, a brilliant blue light erupted from the depths. The pit trembled with power, and from its heart, Mama rose, her form glowing. As the light dimmed, I saw the dress clinging to her like a second skin, no longer fabric, but something woven from magic itself. I barely had time to take in her transformation before the force that had held me back suddenly shoved me away, dragging me toward the cave's entrance.
My feet scraped against the dirt, but I couldn't fight it. While hovering over the pit, she reached for the scattered wooden sticks resting on the cave's tables. With a flick of her wrist, they snapped together, twisting and reshaping into a dark scepter, pulsing with energy.
A thick black fog slithered from the cavern walls, coiling around her like a living thing. Dread scratched at my throat. I whispered a small, "Thank you," to the unseen force that had distanced me from her.
Her newfound beauty was undeniable, yet a subtle sense that something was deeply wrong overshadowed her appearance. Then she turned. Her gaze locked onto mine, and the fog stirred, its tendrils stretching toward me like greedy fingers. The cave trembled.
I bolted.
No matter how hard I ran toward the entrance, which appeared tantalizingly close, the distance refused to shrink. It remained frustratingly constant, despite my every effort. It was as if the cave itself had warped, stretching time and space to keep me trapped. A chill ran down my spine. I could feel her behind me. The air shifted, charged with something terrible. I pushed harder, my lungs burning, but the entrance stayed just out of reach. My breath hitched. She was right there.
I screamed, "No!"
My eyes snapped open, my chest rising and falling in frantic, uneven breaths. The room was dark, and fear hadn't lost its grip on me.
I reached for the lamp on my nightstand with trembling fingers, flooding the space with soft light. A rustling sound near my door made me freeze.
"Are you okay?"
I swallowed the knot in my throat. "Yeah," I croaked. "Just a crazy dream."
I waved her away and rolled onto my side to calm myself, but my body wouldn't stop shaking. She lingered in the doorway, watching me. Then, after a pause, she said, "Let me get you a glass of cold water."
I listened as she padded downstairs, the rhythmic creak of the floorboards fading into the stillness of the house. Cabinets swung open, the faucet hissed, and then soft footsteps signaled her return. She handed me the glass without a word. I took a few gulps; the cold water shocked my system. It helped.
"Thanks," I murmured, sinking back into my pillows, willing sleep to reclaim me.
The mattress dipped beside me. I opened my eyes. Mama sat at the edge of the bed, her fingers smoothing over the sheets in slow, absent-minded strokes, like she wasn't aware of what she was doing.
"Since you're awake," she began, her voice casual, "I wanted to run something by you."
She didn't look at me right away. Her eyes followed the pattern on the fabric, almost like she was rehearsing.
"I was thinking about our conversation in the cave." A pause. Her tone was careful, not warm, but not cold either. "I know I haven't always been the mother you needed since your father passed."
She exhaled; her gaze fixed on her hands. "Keeping you at a distance was all I could do." She shook her head. "And I know it was wrong. I just couldn't give you the answers you were looking for. So, I thought it was better not to answer at all."
Her voice sharpened. "You deserve to know more about who we are, Tara. Where we come from. I think it will give you some closure and help us understand each other better."
She smiled softly.
I blinked at her, groggy and still shaken. My voice came out low and dry. "A heart-to-heart at…" I glanced at the clock. "Five forty-five in the morning. You sure know when to open up."
I shifted under the blanket, dragging it tighter around me, the remnants of the dream still clinging to my skin like sweat. She didn't flinch. Didn't blink. Instead, she let the silence stretch for a moment, smoothing the fabric beside her like nothing had been said. Then, softly, almost too softly, she continued.
"I'm hoping when you find what you're looking for, you'll see that there's only one way forward. For both of us." She paused. "I'm planning to reach out to Rhonda and see if we can come visit. The sooner, the better."
Her sudden eagerness was strange, but I said, "It's cool with me." I couldn't be mean to her while she was trying.
She hummed, thoughtful. "I'm sure Rhonda will be pleased to see you."
I sat up a little. "You think she's just going to say, 'Come on over, we miss you?" I let out a chuckle, trying to shake off the weird feeling creeping up my spine.
"Yeah." She caught my look and smirked. "Don't look at me like that. It's a win-win for both of us."
I rubbed my face. "How long are we staying?"
A flicker of something mischievous crossed her face, but it vanished too quickly to read.
"I don't know." She giggled. "Perhaps a month." Then she quickly exited the room.
Before closing my eyes again, I shouted, "Nobody's going to answer the phone this early!"
Considering the ungodly hour, there was no chance I was getting out of bed. Even though I sank back under the covers, my body refused to relax. The remnants of my dream still clung to me, shadowy and insistent.
A few more hours passed, and my frustration grew as I lay there, wide awake. Resigned, I sighed, tossed the covers aside, and dragged myself to the bathroom. Shivering against the early morning chill, I splashed cold water on my face. The water prickled my skin, but my thoughts remained tangled. As I wiped my face, faint murmurs drifted up the stairs. Mama was already on the phone.
I cracked my door open, straining to hear her. Her voice was low and hushed, but the tone was unmistakably eager.
I slipped out of my room, careful to step over the creaky part of the floor, and crept toward the stairs. The hallway was dim, and the house lay wrapped in early morning silence.
I paused at the top step, peering down. In the kitchen, Mama stood with her back to the stairs, one hand gripping the telephone receiver, the other gesturing animatedly as if trying to illustrate a point or explain something complex.
My chance came. I dashed down the hallway with equal speed and care, slipping into his study as quietly as possible. The door was closed, a usual occurrence. My fingers hesitated on the handle. Swallowing hard, I turned the knob slightly and slipped in. The scent of old paper and wood polish filled the space, grounding me in memories I wasn't ready to face. Dust lay across the bookshelves, the desk, and the collection of artifacts he once treasured.
I moved to the desk first, trailing my fingers over the leather-bound notebooks stacked neatly on its surface. Some were journals, others research logs. If there was anything about Ellumiel, it had to be here.
Carefully, I pulled open the first drawer: receipts, letters, and a few loose photographs. In a flurry of motion, I shuffled through the papers, my pulse a rapid drumbeat in my ears.
I proceeded to the next drawer, more of the same mundane documents I'd already seen. Then, in the third drawer, tucked beneath a thick folder, I spotted something new. A pocket journal. My breath caught as I pulled it free, fingers trembling slightly. The edges were frayed. I flipped it open, scanning the first few pages. His familiar handwriting filled the margins, notes scribbled hastily alongside sketches of strange symbols.
Ellumiel. The word tasted like candy, like a sweet reward for never giving up.
Elated, I made sure Mama wasn't venturing upstairs. Tuning in, I could still hear her voice carrying from the kitchen, the conversation ongoing. Carefully, I flipped back through the pages, skimming the passages. Some entries were lists of names, others were records of dreams.
I paused on one page where the ink was darker, pressed harder into the paper, as if written in urgency.
"I'm getting better. My dreams were only the beginning. He's speaking to me."
Before I could read more, a floorboard creaked in the hallway. I shoved the journal into my shirt and slid the drawer shut as quietly as possible. My pulse strummed in my ears as I pressed myself against the desk, waiting. Then, the clatter of dishes. Releasing a breath, I forced my shoulders to relax and eased the door open just enough to peek out.
Slipping into the hall, I tiptoed back to my room and placed the beaten-up journal on the nightstand. As the noise downstairs grew louder, I figured she'd started cooking. Before reaching my room, I shut the bedroom door as slowly as possible. Even though she'd mentioned his office and Ellumiel, I didn't want her to know I'd been in there.
The last time I got caught in that room, I shuddered; it was an unpleasant memory I had no desire to relive. At the top of the stairs, the smell of something sweet wafted up to meet me. Warm. Buttery. Fruity.
I descended, acting natural, rubbing my eyes as if I'd just woken up.
Mama turned as I entered the kitchen, a grin spreading across her face as she set a plate on the counter.
"You made pancakes… again," I said, forcing a lightness into my voice. I slid onto a stool and grabbed a fork.
"Just for me. For you, bacon and eggs." She grinned, setting a glass of juice beside me. "Figured you'd need something good after that crazy dream of yours."
I nodded, taking a bite.