Kaplan Rufa made his way upstairs to a room on the highest floor of the church. He pulled out a silver key that hung on a cord around his neck. Using the key, Rufa unlocked the door revealing a brightly lit domicile. It was simple but larger than traditionally sized rooms. The room contained dusty bookshelves filled with old texts and strange artifacts. Large windows allowed ample sunlight to pour into the room, highlighting an oversized comfortable chair and a small bed to the side. Several thick rugs softened the hard floor. At the back of the room was a fireplace with cindered chains to suspend a cooking pot. Adjacent to the fireplace stood a small altar. It contained a flat obsidian bowl filled with a viscous black fluid. He walked in before turning and locking the door from the inside. Rufa lit the various candles, which seemed strategically placed to illuminate the entire room. He then closed the shutters on the windows blocking the outside sunlight. The kaplan knelt before the altar and said a quick prayer quietly. Pulling his knife from his pocket, Rufa pricked his fingertip swiftly. He squeezed his finger, causing a few drops of blood to drip into the obsidian bowl. The liquid bubbled for a moment and then became smooth like a mirror. It produced a strange illumination, and within moments a familiar face stared back at Rufa.

“Corrado, you were right about the boy. I could not turn him as I had the others.” Rufa looked at the withered image of his fellow kaplan. Dressed in a white mantija, the elderly kaplan was bald and visibly blind.

In an aggressive tone, Corrado replied, “I do not know why you did not kill him outright. In my visions, he is the one who restores the girl’s powers.”

Rufa dismissed the ravings of Corrado with callousness. “The boy is inconsequential. And as for the girl, she has been chained for over a century. She does not have the power to escape the church. She is cut off from the moon and her powers.”

Corrado softened his voice while maintaining his menacing timbre. “It seems your failure to heed my warnings has cost us an opportunity. The master will not be pleased with you. All for the sake of a bitter woman that does not love you and has never loved you.”

Rage flooded Rufa as he felt the need to defend Marika and his own honor. “Mind your tongue, Prophet! Your powers only reveal glimpses of the future, whereas mine demand respect.”

Corrado raised his voice like a parent would argue with a teenager. “Mind yours, Tamer! You cannot control me like your puppets nor hide your intention from my sight. The others will not tolerate your lack of obedience, laughable as it is.”

Rufa furiously spoke with muted words, “I will catch the boy. I swear it.”

Corrado sighed in disappointment at Rufa. “Leave the boy. I have made other arrangements. You need to just catch the girl.”

Rufa was perplexed by his mentor’s words. “Are you deaf as well as blind? She is chained up by ancient magic. She cannot leave even if dragged by one hundred horses.”

Irritated, Corrado rebuffed Rufa. “She is loose and hides to the East in Danion’s forest. Restrict all access in and out of the island. Do this, and she will remain trapped. If you fail and she escapes with the boy, the moon’s power might be fully restored. I should not need to remind you of the punishment for failure.”

Concealing his fear with indignation, Rufa declared, “If she is free, I will make her pay for it with her life.”

Corrado laughed with amusement at Rufa’s inability to grasp the magnitude of the situation. “Bold words from an ignorant fool. All six Kaplans and the master combined could not stop her, and you seek to triumph alone? Well then, may the Light of Vadim be with you until you meet your end.”

Waving his hand over the bowl, Kaplan Rufa ended the spell that allowed him to communicate with Corrado. Slamming his fist on the altar, he roared, “Insufferable old man!”

***

Sileny was standing in the middle of a clearing deep within the forest. Before her stood a cracked stone carving of Danion in his wolf form howling upwards. It was made of ancient blue granite and covered in thick foliage. She took a moment to clean the stonework from the plants. Once done, she smiled slightly before moving towards a small building made from the same granite. Unlike the statue, the building’s stone seemed burned black, weathered by countless storms over the last century. The shrine had three walls and a partial roof, all in disrepair. This saddened Sileny, but she could not have hoped for any better condition, given Monsan history. She saw a dry circular basin on the floor covered in dead leaves. Kneeling, she cleaned it to the best of her ability until it was slightly less dirty.

Wiping her dirty hands on her dress, she called out, “I know you can hear me. Gather the water for Kahuli’s song.”

Rustling leaves and cracking branches sounded in the distant trees. As if they could understand Sileny’s words, swarms of golden plovers took to the air carrying empty leaves in their beaks. The beautiful birds were speckled with white and gold on various gradients of brown. A band of white feathers ran across their foreheads, curving down their neck in the shape of a ladle. After moments, enumerable amounts of birds returned with their leaves containing tiny amounts of water. In perfect concert, they deposited the water into the basin before returning to the water source. This continued for several minutes until the basic was filled with fresh water.

Taking a deep breath, Sileny invoked the snail spirit. “Kahuli. Your water is gathered. Come down from your tree and drink with me.”

With that, a tremendous translucent snail emerged from one of the nearby trees. It glided down the trunk, making music as it moved. Kahuli had light-colored skin carrying a spiraled shell on his back. The striations were divided into sections by red-brown growth bands separating three distinct regions. The smallest was white, the middle was yellow, and the largest was green. Sileny knew these signified his connection to the water, wind, and forest. He traveled much faster than any snail as he arrived at the basin in no time. The snail spirit drank deeply from the water and then looked up at Sileny. She cupped her hands and sipped the cool water down. Kahuli seemed to understand Sileny without ever speaking.

With no warning, a gentle and constant breeze swept across the forest. The trees seemed to hum like a chorus. Sileny recognized that this was Kahuli’s way of communicating. As if the words were whispered from a hundred directions, the forest sang, “Save the priestess. Save the mother. Save the girl.”

Sileny objected, “I am not going back into the heart of Monsa!”

“Save the priestess. Save the mother. Save the girl. The girl reveals the stones. The stones drive the darkness from the water.”

Sileny interrupted again, asserting, “Kahuli, that cannot be right. I am supposed to save the boy, not his grandmother, and mother. And who is this Monsan girl that reveals the stones? Can’t you just tell me where they are?”

The trees grew louder as Kahuli’s colors became more vibrant. “Darkness left the water. Darkness covered the moon. Darkness consumed the sun. Krása was dark but hopeful. Áki made the stars to shine. The stars will banish the darkness. The stars heal the moon and sun.”

Frustrated, Sileny bellowed, “You’re not making any sense. How! How do I get the stars to banish Vadim’s darkness?”

Kahuli faded from sight as the wind slowed. The song quieted, uttering only, “Save the priestess. Save the mother. Save the girl.”

Groaning, Sileny complained, “Fine.”

***

Pétur held Wilk preventing him from squirming too much. Pups were not known for sitting still at the best of times, making this scenario stressful for Wilk. Pétur kept petting him, unsure of what would happen next. By focusing on Wilk, he could distract himself from his fears. After a few more minutes, Pétur felt their barrel being hoisted into the air. With a large thud, they landed in the back of a cart. Wilk let out a small yip before Pétur soothed him quiet.

Bydlę whispered, “Stay quiet and keep the pup calm. Half the village is already out looking for you. I will get you out of here, but don’t come out until you are told it’s safe.”

Pétur took a shallow breath as he whispered, “Thank you.”

Bydlę loaded a few more things in the back of his cart. Once everything was packed, he took his seat. With a snap of the reigns, they were off. Pétur and Wilk’s barrel was in the rear of the cart. They felt every stone and crack in the old road. In a strange turn of events, Wilk eventually became accustomed to the bumpiness and passed out from the excitement. This reassured Pétur, whose mind started to creep back to worrying. He was scared for himself, his mother, his grandmother, and even Sileny. He unsuccessfully tried not to think about what the kaplan planned to do to all of them. As his anxiety grew, tears rolled down his cheeks. Pétur kept wondering what was wrong with him and why his eyes wouldn’t change color like everyone else. He dried his eyes and took a calming breath. Pétur’s mind cleared, and then he recalled that Edda’s eyes were blue. She attended church like he did and was never threatened. His dread and sadness transformed into frustration and anger. Pétur thought about what was different about him that made the kaplan change so drastically. He longed for his father and imagined how Rybak would have thrown Rufa off the cliffs for threatening his family.

Without warning, the cart stopped. Three boys only slightly older than Pétur blocked Bydlę’s path. They had created a makeshift checkpoint on the narrow road that led down to the docks. The oldest of the three walked over to the side of the cart to speak with Bydlę directly. Bydlę smiled, expecting the possibility that he may be stopped. He felt confident he could handle whatever nonsense the kaplan had sent his way.

“Good day to you. What may I help you with, young man?” Bydlę stated calmly.

The young man asserted himself. “Good day to you. Our town’s kaplan has asked us to speak with every traveler on this road today.”

“What a strange thing for Kaplan Rufa to ask, but I have some time to chat. How can I help him?” Bydlę inquired.

“Were you in attendance at church today, sir?” asked the young man.

“I was in church last week, but sadly I was unable to attend today.” Bydlę feigned disappointment.

The young man seemed shocked and delighted at the same time. He attempted to not let his emotions show. “Why is that? Our Lord Vadim commands us to attend church every week.”

Bydlę articulated, appearing to think deeply before responding. “All too true, and in this have I failed. However, Our Lord Vadim also commands us to work so that we might support our families. Taking rest when work is to be done is also grievous in His eyes. In this, I am righteous because even now, I am off to deliver my wares.”

The young man seemed satiated, resuming a calm demeanor. “What do you sell?”

Bydlę stepped down from his seat in the cart. With an eager smile as if he was trying to sell to the boys, he pitched, “Let me show you! I sell milk, cream, butter, and many kinds of cheese. They are the finest anywhere, and I give discounts to church-going Monsans like yourself!”

All three boys followed him to the back of the cart. Bydlę pulled out various dairy delicacies keeping them as distracted as he could. They tasted a few samples and were amazed at Bydlę’s skill. The youngest of the three noticed three large barrels. He pointed to the barrels, which brought the others back to their senses.

Believing Bydlę innocent of his previous suspicions, the eldest spoke respectfully, “Sir. A boy has gone missing, and the kaplan has asked us to search all the carts to make sure he is not hiding out. Apologies, but we will need to see in those three barrels.”

Bydlę laughed as they had fallen right into his trap. “Do not apologize. You have a good eye. These are my finest wares that have been purchased by some local fishers. This is my best milk and cheese that I can craft.”

“We still need to see in the barrels,” said the youngest before getting shushed.

Bydlę opened the first barrel revealing fresh and creamy milk. It was slightly sweet, sending out a pleasant fragrance into the air. The eldest nodded. Bydlę put the lid back on, to the dismay of the others. He opened the second large barrel revealing large amounts of moldy cheese. The scent was rancid, causing the boys to cover their noses. Bydlę took a small piece and offered it to the eldest, causing him to step back. The youngest seemed to be getting lightheaded from the smell. Bydlę began fanning the aroma using exaggerated gestures.

“How is that your best?” gagged the eldest.

“I should have warned you that it is quite strong. It can take some getting used to, but I promise you the cheese is delightful despite its smell.” Bydlę smiled and then popped the declined piece of cheese into his mouth. He savored the taste making unnecessary sounds of enjoyment. Stepping towards the eldest, he exhaled slightly.

The eldest jumped backward again, pleading, “For the love of Vadim, just put the lid on.”

Bydlę frowned. “I am sorry. Well, let me tell you, this third barrel has my strongest cheese in it. I know you do not wish to look, but we all must do as the kaplan says.” He walked over to the barrel containing Pétur and Wilk. Bydlę started to lift the lid when he was interrupted.

“No!” screamed all three boys in unison.

“It’s fine. There is no way anyone could stand the smell. Thank you for your time.” The eldest rushed Bydlę hinting for him to get back in his cart.

Bydlę grabbed non-moldy cheese and offered the youngest another piece. The boy turned and vomited on the side of the road.

The eldest appeared frustrated. “Best be on your way.”

Bydlę fought back the urge to smile. He solemnly nodded and sighed. “As you wish. Perhaps when you’re older, you will reconsider.” Bydlę got back into his seat on the cart, taking up his reigns. With a snap, they resumed the journey towards the docks. He turned and waved goodbye to the boys seeing they were preoccupied with their friend’s ongoing nausea.

***

Elsewhere in Monsa, churchgoers were tearing apart Marika’s and Edda’s homes looking for Pétur. Motivated by Kaplan Rufa’s fervor, they wildly searched, looking for any evidence of his whereabouts. They collected various notes that Marika had written. One person noticed that Pétur had not taken his night clothes with him and thought that was important. Even a few rože that Marika had kept for herself were added to the pile of things. The group rationalized that Pétur may try to go to the mountain to hide.

Those searching in Edda’s home made two significant finds. The first was a book with an image of a whale on the cover written in the Aeqori language. No one present spoke Aeqori, so they assumed it was something forbidden. The second and most damning item was a silver diadem with a crescent moon in the center. The zealots immediately recognized this as one of Vadoma’s symbols. After finding these, they had all the justification they needed to destroy Edda’s home. They looted all her keepsakes, including the knife with the Caeli handle.

Once they were satiated, everyone gathered to discuss their findings. After a few minutes, they reached only one conclusion. They believed Edda was a servant of Vadoma, demanding severe punishment. The churchgoers, still deeply under the influence of the kaplan, made their way back to report their findings. If they could not find Pétur, they could at least deal with Edda.