and Kari would make him the nicest undershirts for him to wear under his armor. They would only stay here to plan their short excursions together. Then, they would go off to some secret place for days, and come back with the most outrageous things, things she could sell to the travelers. Their love was very inspirational.”
“It sounds wonderful. But it must have torn my mother’s heart every time my father had to leave,” Lythina said.
Hildabrand’s smile faded. “That’s what killed her. Every time your father left, it shattered your mother’s heart, little by little. And a person’s heart can only heal so many times. One day, he never returned. The captain met with your mother to tell him that Marcus had been killed in battle. He handed her his medallion, then went back on board.”
Lythina’s eyes swelled with tears as her ears burned with the news.
Hildabrand continued, “Your mother dropped to her knees right there on the dock. It was as if her broken heart broke her entire body. A friend and I had to help her back to the Inn. She was so distraught that, for months, she barely spoke a word, except ‘please’ and ‘thank you’. By the end of her stay, it was quite obvious why her pain dug so deep inside her. She was with child. We spoke of simple things, her and I, but never about your father, no matter how much I tried. She said she wanted to return to her home in Hyrendell Village to give birth. Then one day, she left on a carriage, and that was that last time I heard from her.”
Lythina was sobbing into her sleeves. Just then, she reached inside her shirt to pull out a thin silver necklace with a medallion attached. It was a multi-pointed star with Marcus’s name engraved in the center. Hildabrand stared at it in disbelief as all the memories from a lifetime ago came flooding back to her.
“I got it when I was a little girl,” Lythina clarified. “It was given to me by my Auntie Elisa. She told me that my mother wanted me to have it, and now I know why. This is all I have of my father.”
For some time, she cradled the medallion in her hands as if it was a timeless piece of treasure, while Hildabrand just looked on. Lythina’s tears gradually subsided, and she slid the medallion back underneath her shirt. She had to let her parents go, for their sake and hers. She eased her breathing, drank some more tea, and regained her voice.
“Now, about this mysterious light,” Lythina smiled. “You said that this village was very active once, but it was deserted soon after the light arrived.”
“Yes, that’s right,” Hildabrand confirmed. “I’d say the village emptied in about six months worth of time, from the first appearance of the light.”
“And you also said that my intuition serves me well, right?,” Lythina continued.
“Yes, love.” The old woman paused. “Where are you going with this?” Hildabrand looked cautious, yet curious.
“I think there is more to this riddle than meets the ears. When I was standing at your door, before you told me to get inside, I felt something like a thousand hands reaching out to grab me. That’s why I jumped inside so quickly.”
Lythina was watching the Innkeepers response; she looked relatively unsurprised, and Lythina noticed it. “You’ve felt that too, haven’t you?”
Hildabrand sighed. “Every time I leave my home, I feel the pull of those hands, as you say. I’ve ignored them for these many years, without a desire to investigate them.” Suddenly, her voice turned cold, “and so can you, dear,” she snapped, guessing Lythina’s thoughts.
But Lythina wasted no time. “Hildabrand, I think those people who sought the light aren’t dead. In fact, I have a feeling that they’re alive and well!” The old woman looked rightfully skeptical. “At first, I thought those hands were part of the deserted village, like the remnants of the fear that supposedly affected the people. But that’s not it at all; they’re the essence of whatever that light is out at sea. And I’ll bet the people who left to seek the light those many years ago felt it too!”
“All the more reason to stay away from it then,” Hildabrand argued. “No need to go and leave your life here forever.” Her passion for dissuading Lythina was immense, her eyes glowering at the young lady from above tightened lips.
Although Lythina’s thoughts were distracted by the mysterious sea light, her intuition suddenly spoke something different. It was about Hildabrand; she was hiding something.
“I can’t help but marvel at how adamant you are against me searching out that light,” Lythina began. “Thank you for being so concerned for me.” Patiently, she waited for Hildabrand’s response.
“Well, of course I’m concerned for your safety, love,” she squeaked, “someone needs to look out for you.” Immediately, the little innkeeper knew she had divulged too much.
Lythina stared at Hildabrand, confident she knew her secret. “I wonder if you’re this protective of all your guests?”
Hildabrand gazed into the fire, contemplating her confession. “Do you know your father’s last name?”
Lythina tossed the question around for a moment, not really knowing the answer. But if her hunch was right, there was only one possible correct response. She decided to try it.
“McCloud,” she said, holding her breath.
Hildabrand grew a smile and started to nod. “And that makes you my granddaughter!”
Lythina flew off the recliner and into her grandmother’s open arms, and for what seemed like a small eternity, they embraced each other for the sake of both Kari and Marcus, weeping over the joy of finally meeting long lost family.
Eventually, Lythina returned to her own chair, but did so without taking her eyes off of her new Grandmother, as if she would disappear if she looked away. An intimate warmth was building inside her spirit, and she didn’t want to lose any part of that moment. For a short time, both ladies marveled at each other, surrendering themselves to that familiarity.
But the smile began to fade from Lythina’s lips, and she broke her stare away from Hildabrand. Out of all of the images and feelings flashing across her mind, she always found them winding their way back to the light at sea. Why did it just show up one day? Why didn’t anyone return from seeking it? She had to find out what that light was, but how could she gain her grandmothers support.
Again, Hildabrand answered her as if she had read her thoughts. “Why do you feel so inclined to seek that light, Lythina?”
For a moment, Lythina was shocked by how much consternation her grandmother could weave into her squeaky voice. “Maybe there’s a reason those hands are pulling us toward the light. I feel like it’s a force that I have no control over, like gravity after you jump. I’m excited because I know that I’d find that light, but I’m nervous to make the leap.”
Hildabrand sat quietly in her recliner contemplating Lythina’s words. Her desire to protect Lythina from disappearing at sea while seeking the sealight, as well as wondering herself just what that light was, created a dissonance within her. Plus, she was acutely aware that she could not stop Lythina from going; the young lady had too much of her mother’s curiosity inside of her, and far too much of her father’s unbridled determination. She raised her eyes to meet her granddaughter’s.
Hildabrand marveled at how Lythina’s emerald eyes glistened from the flickering light of the fire, how her exquisite features were pronounced by the
