“Yes, and what of those others?” asked Oren. He’d heard of Elymas’ brutality through the years and dreamed of killing him.

            “It’s a varied world since Saar plucked the bloom. Oft times, evil wins.  This time, it mustn’t. Bring the child to me quickly before he is slaughtered. Elymas and his Red Robes have begun searching. This is the one, Oren. The Sea Star rose at his birth.”

            “You said it was swamp gas.”

            “I lied.” The Gibbor shrugged. “I had to keep it secret until the time came for rescue.”

            “A mere babe to defeat the Dark,” muttered Oren.  

            “The child was birthed by Queen Laveth.”

            “Who’s the father?” 

            “The King, you fool! What’s more, Ranald is being poisoned by Elymas.”

            “The Earth Child is the King’s son?” echoed Oren. “And the King is being poisoned?”

             “Yes, but the King’s life is not our concern. When the stone spoke, it was only about the babe. I’ve spent nights puzzling about this; such a break in lineage has never occurred. It can’t occur. I’ve even wondered if perhaps Ranald might have sown, well, never mind . . .” The Seer shrugged. “As I said, great evil comes.” From his other pocket, he produced a scroll. “Here is the message you must take. Read it before it is waxed.”

“This Textured Darkness” copyright by Joan Spilman, 2023