The Last Summoning---Andrew and the Quest of Orion's Belt (Book Four) (73 page)
Read The Last Summoning---Andrew and the Quest of Orion's Belt (Book Four) Online
Authors: Ivory Autumn
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If these imperfections offend you, I suggest you
read something that isn’t written by human hands. For human I am.
Fallible, and full of faults and imperfections. It is my hope that
you forget the imperfection, if imperfection in my words you find.
But the meaning behind the words, I hope you never forget.
For that is what matters.
I have spent over five years writing this account.
Yes, I know that is a long time, but it has taken a multitude of
words, and many bottles of ink to get this down on paper. Many
times I felt I wasn’t going to finish writing this story, that I
could not relive the past, and go through the many notes I took on
my journey. But something compelled me forward, day after day, word
by word, page by page, event by event, image by image, until they
have culminated into one. This book.
I am finished. For what end I do not know. Only
that it wanted to be written, begged for me to write it down, to
keep an account of the things that have happened, if only to not
let their memories fade, and the past sink into oblivion. So now I
give my words over to you to read, whoever you are, wherever you
are. My work is finally finished, and I can be free. Once
something, a word, a thought, and idea, has been created, it is its
own being. It has its own soul. It is free to fly where it
will.
My job is done.
Though nothing I could say or ever write in this
book can describe the complete darkness that I have witnessed, nor
the great light that transformed the world in that one moment when
the darkness cracked and the world renewed itself and light was
reborn, and the new sun arose in the west.
But perhaps it can cause you to reflect, and
wonder. Perhaps it can wake you, and stir you into action, to be
the shining light you were born to be.
The day of the new sun has long since passed away.
But I still remember the brilliance of those first few years, the
feeling of unity, peace, and regard all people had for one another.
From that new day, the world was thrust into a new age of
brilliance, where Lancedon reigned in justice, truth, and liberty,
and all was good. All was peace and prosperity. Light expanded and
multiplied. Knowledge flourished and flowered. Cities grew. Life
spread, and populated the world with beauty. No true, lasting
darkness lingered anywhere. It was a beautiful time to live. A
brilliant time to be alive. All darkness had been done away. And
all who lived on the earth rejoiced, and were free.
Yet, while a new star shone, another fell.
And in the midst of light, darkness has started to
creep back in, even though such a short time has passed. I see it,
though many are blind to it.
One could only tell the difference had they seen
the things I have, witnessed the brilliance, and contrasted it to
the slowly dripping darkness of now, let in by man’s fallen
nature.
Even in this great time of peace, light, and
prosperity, I can feel it creeping in inch by inch, shadow by
shadow, almost undetectable. Some would call me a fault finder, for
there has never been such a wonderful time in the all the world.
But, I know better. As long as we live in our fallen state, there
will always be some who let in the darkness and seek to bind others
with its fear.
Though it does not seem like a threat now, I know
better. And I fear lest the people forget, and their children, and
their children’s children fall into the same trap that bound the
world once before.
It is my sincere hope that my words reach you
before these shadows gain power, and the darkness overtakes you
while you are looking at the sun. For darkness is coming, and has
come, eating away and grinding down the light bearers of our time,
once again.
And I have no wish to see it a second time.
With this intent do I write, to let you know what
happens when fear takes hold and darkness weaves its web around
your soul. Please, do not let it stifle your voice---do not let it
make you a mere shadow when you were born to be a star, to reflect
light, to give light.
The sad fact is, darkness has always been at war
with light, and bondage with freedom. The two cannot coexist. When
they do, eternal night, and polluted malnourished beings come into
being---mere faceless, voiceless, spineless cogs that turn the
wheel of great evil, giving power to its exploiting powers of
darkness.
Some who have sensed this darkness and witnessed
the contrast, have been packing light in boxes, storing it for a
dark day. But they are foolish to hide it. For when they need it
most, it will be used up. Light cannot be hidden, or it will cease.
The greatest light you have, is you. Do not hide yourself. Some may
come and try to lay claim on your light. Some may even try to
patent your light, or hoard it, selling it to the privileged few.
But light is freely given and freely made, it cannot be bought, or
sold. It is its own being, independent and free. Just as you are.
Shine. And never dim. Let hope grace your heart. Let it move you
into action.
A brighter day, a new sun, a better world exists
outside the curtain of shadow, even if it is hidden for a
time.
So here we are, at this moment in time.
Suspended by words, at the ending of this tale. You
are probably eagerly thinking about your supper, or the problems
you face, or your job, or your school. Me, chattering on as if
begging you to stay, and keep me company before I go.
But is this how the story really ends? Does it end
here, with my farewell, and your leaving? No. Something inside me
tells me this is not the ending. Just as one star falls, a new one
is born.
We the bearers of light stand guard.
The stars have whispered to me that I am to be
taken to them, to be with Andrew in the sphere of light, when I
have finished this account. I now know what my task was. And now it
is complete. My heart beats faster, and my life feels full of
meaning. Freddie, Talic, Gogindy, Lancedon and the rest I will
dearly miss. They have all been such good friends. They have all
settled into the normal lives that have been afforded them,
reminiscing of times past. The truth is, I have never felt at home,
although the sun shines, and laughter fills the air. I feel as
Andrew must have felt at his leaving, as if I had yet outgrown this
world, and long for another. I yearn to be with Andrew. A few more
words, and I will be gone, leaving behind this epitaph of the
darkest time ever to grace the world, as a reminder to other
bearers of light to keep shining. To give the light they have, no
matter how dark things might seem. To give. And to live. To let
their voices be heard though shrouds of mist that may try to drown
them out. One small spark is powerful, even when surrounded by
darkness. One voice can be a sound that will ripple forever with
the truth it carries. Who knows what hope you may ignite?
This book is my small spark. Though filled with
flaws and imperfections, I hope it may afford those flickering
candles out there a beam, a shaft of hope, and a reminder that
though the earth is cycling once more towards darkness, they can
shatter the shadows that bind them. They can reclaim the light that
was stolen.
For, you and I are the bearers of light. Together,
or shining alone, we will stand no matter what. And that is all one
person can really do. Shine, reflect light, and share it.
I feel as if I know you, you reader of words.
Somehow I will miss you. I will miss writing. I have written for so
long that my fingers feel connected to the pen, and I am worried
that once I let it go, I will have nothing to grasp onto.
Even as Andrew was changed from passing through The
Fallen’s mists of darkness, I have changed, as well. These words
have changed me, made me brighter, helped me to see my path and the
path that lies ahead---helped me to face my fears, and to come out
a new person, renewed, and different.
I look out my window. The sun has fallen, and the
first star I see is Andrew’s, shining, gleaming down as if to
welcome me to him.
Whatever light I hold, I bear it proudly. Where it
takes me next, I gladly welcome.
These are my last words. My last black splotches of
ink---only illuminated because they are on a white paper. May my
words give you hope. May they give you comfort in darkness. May you
always look up and see the light. May you keep the light alive, and
share it with others. May you let the fire of freedom burn in your
chest. May you never let this light go out. May you keep it,
preserve it, and protect it. For once it is gone, it is almost
impossible to ignite again. May you gleam valiantly on, like a
brave candle on a windy night, even if you are alone. For you are
never really alone when giving light. The stars are my witness. As
they are yours. They see and watch, and record. No true light is
ever really lost. No kindness is forgotten. No good deed goes
uncounted or unremembered. It is only lost when it is denied,
shrouded, kept in closets, left without air, and given no room, or
stolen.
I fear that by the time you read these words, a
candle may not be enough light for you to read by. Darkness is
coming, a darkness that will take the light that you hold, and
plunder it from the people of the earth. A darkness that will
auction your light off to the highest bidder, a darkness that will
take pure light and twist, and mixed it with blood and poison, then
churn it with oil, until it no longer resembles light, but shadow.
In such times, it is hard to see the light. It is hard to find your
way. It is hard to know what is real, and what is fake. But if you
look hard, you will still find bits and pieces of light, pure,
beautiful light, that will guide your way through the darkness.
Guard those shafts of light, and share them freely with others who
yearn to really see. That way you will never be lost. And no
darkness can ever keep you for its master, to use you as its slave,
nor bind you in its shadows. For darkness cannot exist where light
resides.
You are the last light bearers. My quest is
finished. The candle has been passed. You bear the mark. The light
is in your eyes, as it is in mine. As I go, I pass the flame to
you. May you be strong in the days ahead. There are still many
stars yet to be born. And it is not until we pass through the heat,
fire, ice, wind, shadow, and mists of darkness will we be forged
and molded into the brilliant beings we were meant to be. Where the
light once shone, you begin to see everything differently. Once it
has changed you, you can never go back into the darkness. Nor can
I. I can only go forward. Just as these words pass away, I go on to
new things. Bigger words. A different place. The stars beckon me.
My words are dried up in my pen. There is nothing left to write.
Nothing left to say. The pen I leave to you. The candle is now
yours. Where I go, there is no need for candles. For there is no
more night. Only light. Pure and undiluted.
Many a soul thinks he knows the story of the star,
Andromeda, and how it came into being. But all those other stories
you have heard are but myths. Nothing else. Andrew was real. His
story was hidden by lies, and his true identity faded into the
black background of the past, shrouded in lies. Andromeda was very
much a man, a shining soul whose real name was Andrew. A star he
was, and a star he will ever be, a warrior of light, a bearer of
truth. Let no one tell you otherwise. In your heart I know you know
what I say is true. My time is ending. Yours is just beginning.
Bear the torch well. For only you, and you alone, can give the
light you hold. So remember, if ever you feel alone in this dark
world to look up. There, gleaming in the sky, is Andrew’s star. He
is still watching. He is still shining, reminding us that even
through great darkness light can be born. That good can survive,
and that truth endures forever. The candle is now yours.
As always,
Ivory Autumn
read something that isn’t written by human hands. For human I am.
Fallible, and full of faults and imperfections. It is my hope that
you forget the imperfection, if imperfection in my words you find.
But the meaning behind the words, I hope you never forget.
For that is what matters.
I have spent over five years writing this account.
Yes, I know that is a long time, but it has taken a multitude of
words, and many bottles of ink to get this down on paper. Many
times I felt I wasn’t going to finish writing this story, that I
could not relive the past, and go through the many notes I took on
my journey. But something compelled me forward, day after day, word
by word, page by page, event by event, image by image, until they
have culminated into one. This book.
I am finished. For what end I do not know. Only
that it wanted to be written, begged for me to write it down, to
keep an account of the things that have happened, if only to not
let their memories fade, and the past sink into oblivion. So now I
give my words over to you to read, whoever you are, wherever you
are. My work is finally finished, and I can be free. Once
something, a word, a thought, and idea, has been created, it is its
own being. It has its own soul. It is free to fly where it
will.
My job is done.
Though nothing I could say or ever write in this
book can describe the complete darkness that I have witnessed, nor
the great light that transformed the world in that one moment when
the darkness cracked and the world renewed itself and light was
reborn, and the new sun arose in the west.
But perhaps it can cause you to reflect, and
wonder. Perhaps it can wake you, and stir you into action, to be
the shining light you were born to be.
The day of the new sun has long since passed away.
But I still remember the brilliance of those first few years, the
feeling of unity, peace, and regard all people had for one another.
From that new day, the world was thrust into a new age of
brilliance, where Lancedon reigned in justice, truth, and liberty,
and all was good. All was peace and prosperity. Light expanded and
multiplied. Knowledge flourished and flowered. Cities grew. Life
spread, and populated the world with beauty. No true, lasting
darkness lingered anywhere. It was a beautiful time to live. A
brilliant time to be alive. All darkness had been done away. And
all who lived on the earth rejoiced, and were free.
Yet, while a new star shone, another fell.
And in the midst of light, darkness has started to
creep back in, even though such a short time has passed. I see it,
though many are blind to it.
One could only tell the difference had they seen
the things I have, witnessed the brilliance, and contrasted it to
the slowly dripping darkness of now, let in by man’s fallen
nature.
Even in this great time of peace, light, and
prosperity, I can feel it creeping in inch by inch, shadow by
shadow, almost undetectable. Some would call me a fault finder, for
there has never been such a wonderful time in the all the world.
But, I know better. As long as we live in our fallen state, there
will always be some who let in the darkness and seek to bind others
with its fear.
Though it does not seem like a threat now, I know
better. And I fear lest the people forget, and their children, and
their children’s children fall into the same trap that bound the
world once before.
It is my sincere hope that my words reach you
before these shadows gain power, and the darkness overtakes you
while you are looking at the sun. For darkness is coming, and has
come, eating away and grinding down the light bearers of our time,
once again.
And I have no wish to see it a second time.
With this intent do I write, to let you know what
happens when fear takes hold and darkness weaves its web around
your soul. Please, do not let it stifle your voice---do not let it
make you a mere shadow when you were born to be a star, to reflect
light, to give light.
The sad fact is, darkness has always been at war
with light, and bondage with freedom. The two cannot coexist. When
they do, eternal night, and polluted malnourished beings come into
being---mere faceless, voiceless, spineless cogs that turn the
wheel of great evil, giving power to its exploiting powers of
darkness.
Some who have sensed this darkness and witnessed
the contrast, have been packing light in boxes, storing it for a
dark day. But they are foolish to hide it. For when they need it
most, it will be used up. Light cannot be hidden, or it will cease.
The greatest light you have, is you. Do not hide yourself. Some may
come and try to lay claim on your light. Some may even try to
patent your light, or hoard it, selling it to the privileged few.
But light is freely given and freely made, it cannot be bought, or
sold. It is its own being, independent and free. Just as you are.
Shine. And never dim. Let hope grace your heart. Let it move you
into action.
A brighter day, a new sun, a better world exists
outside the curtain of shadow, even if it is hidden for a
time.
So here we are, at this moment in time.
Suspended by words, at the ending of this tale. You
are probably eagerly thinking about your supper, or the problems
you face, or your job, or your school. Me, chattering on as if
begging you to stay, and keep me company before I go.
But is this how the story really ends? Does it end
here, with my farewell, and your leaving? No. Something inside me
tells me this is not the ending. Just as one star falls, a new one
is born.
We the bearers of light stand guard.
The stars have whispered to me that I am to be
taken to them, to be with Andrew in the sphere of light, when I
have finished this account. I now know what my task was. And now it
is complete. My heart beats faster, and my life feels full of
meaning. Freddie, Talic, Gogindy, Lancedon and the rest I will
dearly miss. They have all been such good friends. They have all
settled into the normal lives that have been afforded them,
reminiscing of times past. The truth is, I have never felt at home,
although the sun shines, and laughter fills the air. I feel as
Andrew must have felt at his leaving, as if I had yet outgrown this
world, and long for another. I yearn to be with Andrew. A few more
words, and I will be gone, leaving behind this epitaph of the
darkest time ever to grace the world, as a reminder to other
bearers of light to keep shining. To give the light they have, no
matter how dark things might seem. To give. And to live. To let
their voices be heard though shrouds of mist that may try to drown
them out. One small spark is powerful, even when surrounded by
darkness. One voice can be a sound that will ripple forever with
the truth it carries. Who knows what hope you may ignite?
This book is my small spark. Though filled with
flaws and imperfections, I hope it may afford those flickering
candles out there a beam, a shaft of hope, and a reminder that
though the earth is cycling once more towards darkness, they can
shatter the shadows that bind them. They can reclaim the light that
was stolen.
For, you and I are the bearers of light. Together,
or shining alone, we will stand no matter what. And that is all one
person can really do. Shine, reflect light, and share it.
I feel as if I know you, you reader of words.
Somehow I will miss you. I will miss writing. I have written for so
long that my fingers feel connected to the pen, and I am worried
that once I let it go, I will have nothing to grasp onto.
Even as Andrew was changed from passing through The
Fallen’s mists of darkness, I have changed, as well. These words
have changed me, made me brighter, helped me to see my path and the
path that lies ahead---helped me to face my fears, and to come out
a new person, renewed, and different.
I look out my window. The sun has fallen, and the
first star I see is Andrew’s, shining, gleaming down as if to
welcome me to him.
Whatever light I hold, I bear it proudly. Where it
takes me next, I gladly welcome.
These are my last words. My last black splotches of
ink---only illuminated because they are on a white paper. May my
words give you hope. May they give you comfort in darkness. May you
always look up and see the light. May you keep the light alive, and
share it with others. May you let the fire of freedom burn in your
chest. May you never let this light go out. May you keep it,
preserve it, and protect it. For once it is gone, it is almost
impossible to ignite again. May you gleam valiantly on, like a
brave candle on a windy night, even if you are alone. For you are
never really alone when giving light. The stars are my witness. As
they are yours. They see and watch, and record. No true light is
ever really lost. No kindness is forgotten. No good deed goes
uncounted or unremembered. It is only lost when it is denied,
shrouded, kept in closets, left without air, and given no room, or
stolen.
I fear that by the time you read these words, a
candle may not be enough light for you to read by. Darkness is
coming, a darkness that will take the light that you hold, and
plunder it from the people of the earth. A darkness that will
auction your light off to the highest bidder, a darkness that will
take pure light and twist, and mixed it with blood and poison, then
churn it with oil, until it no longer resembles light, but shadow.
In such times, it is hard to see the light. It is hard to find your
way. It is hard to know what is real, and what is fake. But if you
look hard, you will still find bits and pieces of light, pure,
beautiful light, that will guide your way through the darkness.
Guard those shafts of light, and share them freely with others who
yearn to really see. That way you will never be lost. And no
darkness can ever keep you for its master, to use you as its slave,
nor bind you in its shadows. For darkness cannot exist where light
resides.
You are the last light bearers. My quest is
finished. The candle has been passed. You bear the mark. The light
is in your eyes, as it is in mine. As I go, I pass the flame to
you. May you be strong in the days ahead. There are still many
stars yet to be born. And it is not until we pass through the heat,
fire, ice, wind, shadow, and mists of darkness will we be forged
and molded into the brilliant beings we were meant to be. Where the
light once shone, you begin to see everything differently. Once it
has changed you, you can never go back into the darkness. Nor can
I. I can only go forward. Just as these words pass away, I go on to
new things. Bigger words. A different place. The stars beckon me.
My words are dried up in my pen. There is nothing left to write.
Nothing left to say. The pen I leave to you. The candle is now
yours. Where I go, there is no need for candles. For there is no
more night. Only light. Pure and undiluted.
Many a soul thinks he knows the story of the star,
Andromeda, and how it came into being. But all those other stories
you have heard are but myths. Nothing else. Andrew was real. His
story was hidden by lies, and his true identity faded into the
black background of the past, shrouded in lies. Andromeda was very
much a man, a shining soul whose real name was Andrew. A star he
was, and a star he will ever be, a warrior of light, a bearer of
truth. Let no one tell you otherwise. In your heart I know you know
what I say is true. My time is ending. Yours is just beginning.
Bear the torch well. For only you, and you alone, can give the
light you hold. So remember, if ever you feel alone in this dark
world to look up. There, gleaming in the sky, is Andrew’s star. He
is still watching. He is still shining, reminding us that even
through great darkness light can be born. That good can survive,
and that truth endures forever. The candle is now yours.
As always,
Ivory Autumn
About the Author
Ivory Autumn
is a young elf who enjoys
ice-skating, swimming, cheesecake, noodles, hula hooping, and
exploring tree houses.
Her favorite color is purple, and her
preferred shape is a circle. She likes the smell of cinnamon, and
the sound of feebee bugs clicking their wings at night. She doesn’t
like carrots, getting slivers under her fingernails, radishes,
blustery wind, doing moldy dishes, or stepping in cold puddles with
fresh stockings on. If she were to be any kind of fruit, she would
be a mango, because they are so yummy. She likes watching
lightning. Her favorite season is springtime. She likes tall trees,
and having butterflies land on her nose. She spends much of her
time with her best friends, Andrew, Freddie, Talic, and Gogindy,
protecting them from dragons, and other types of nasty
monsters.
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