A cold gust of wind blew in from the cavern's entrance, bringing with it a flurry of pillowed snowflakes that swirled around me. "Cody wasn't joking about Belkeep being cold," I murmured to myself, rubbing my free hand along my goosebump-covered arm in a futile attempt to generate warmth. The hand not clutching the wine bottle felt numb and clumsy in the frigid air.
Slowly pivoting on the spot, I took in my surroundings with a sense of awe. The cavern was immense, its size and scope beyond anything I had ever seen or imagined. Three large, translucent screens, which I presumed must be Portals, rose majestically from their bases on the cavern floor. They were enormous, and I estimated each to be at least three meters wide by three meters high. Standing there, I finally understood how Luke was able to drive those small trucks in and out of the Portals. It was a revelation that made the fantastical nature of my current reality even more profound.
The flickering fires of lit torches interspersed among the Portals cast dancing shadows that melded with the matching fires lining the rocky cavern wall behind me. The shadows seemed to perform a silent, haunting ballet against the rugged stone. I shivered as another gust of icy wind swept through the entrance, chilling me to the bone.
Noticing a large fur coat hanging on a hook in the wall of the cavern beside the Portal screen through which I had arrived, I walked toward it, drawn by the promise of warmth. Touching the soft fur, a familiar scent reached my nose. "Cody," I whispered, realisation dawning on me that this must be what he wore when he left the cave. He must have left it beside the Portal before returning to Earth.
I pushed my face inside the coat, breathing in Cody's scent deeply. The smell was comforting, a tangible reminder of him, bringing both solace and a sharpened sense of loss. "I miss you so much," I whispered into the coat, my voice muffled by the thick fabric. As I stood there, enveloped in the fur coat that still held traces of Cody, I could feel my eyes beginning to burn once more with tears, a testament to the profound grief that was never far from the surface.
"Are you our new Guardian?" a soft voice called out, breaking the heavy silence of the cavern.
Startled, I spun around to locate the source of the voice. My eyes widened in surprise as a petite girl retreated from the falling snow and stepped further into the cave, her presence unexpected yet intriguing.
"I guess I am," I replied softly, my voice laced with a mix of uncertainty and wonder as I glanced down at the Portal Key in my hand. The weight of the key suddenly felt more significant, a symbol of responsibilities and expectations I was only beginning to comprehend.
The little girl's long dark curly hair framed her face beautifully as she ran toward me, her movements light and graceful. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around my waist and hugged me tightly. "I knew you would come," she said, her voice filled with a certainty that both comforted and bewildered me.
I looked down at the young girl as she slowly released me from her embrace. "I'm Krid," she announced, her voice lilting, as she curtsied with a flourish that seemed both quaint and solemn.
"Gladys," I responded cautiously, somewhat taken aback yet charmed by the child's polite demeanour. "How old are you?" I couldn't help but ask. The long, frilly black dress she wore seemed like something from a different time, out of place yet oddly fitting in this strange environment. But you're not in Hobart anymore, Gladys, I reminded myself. Heck, you're not even on Earth anymore... supposedly.
"I'm six," Krid replied. Without missing a beat, she fired off several questions of her own. "Why are you sad? Didn't you want to be our Guardian?" She reached out, pulling the wine bottle from my hand with a surprising assertiveness.
My senses were overwhelmed, caught off guard by the young girl's directness and the surreal nature of the situation. I tried to take back the bottle, feeling a sudden need to regain control, but my body refused to cooperate. My limbs felt heavy and unresponsive, as if they were no longer mine to command. No sound escaped my lips, though I desperately wanted to answer her, to explain, to understand what was happening. I stood there, mute and motionless, caught in a whirlwind of emotions and unanswered questions, feeling both lost and oddly connected to this young girl, Krid, who seemed to know more about me than I knew about myself.
Krid pushed her nose into the bottle and sniffed curiously. She pulled back quickly, coughing as the strong aroma of the wine hit her. Holding the half-empty wine bottle in her small hand, she walked briskly to the edge of the cave. With a sense of purpose, she began to pour the remaining liquid gold onto the nearby rocks.
"Wait! Stop!" I cried out, a reflexive response born out of surprise and a sudden protective feeling over the bottle. I rushed over and snatched the bottle from Krid, my actions more instinctive than considered.
Barely flinching at my reaction, Krid looked up at me with an innocence that belied her actions. "We're not allowed alcohol here," she stated matter-of-factly.
You're not allowed to, I retorted telepathically, a bit of defiance flaring within me as I watched her over the top of the bottle. I brought it to my lips and began to drain the final drops that remained, savouring the warmth and familiarity of the wine.
"No, it's against Belkeep law," Krid finished, her tone implying the seriousness of her statement.
I spluttered at the news, caught off guard. Droplets of shiraz sprayed into the freezing air. "That needs to change," I muttered under my breath, a mix of annoyance and determination in my voice, before quickly emptying the bottle's precious cargo into my mouth. Finished, I extended the empty bottle for Krid to accept.
The young girl took the bottle from my hand, and before I could react, she threw it hard against the cave's wall. The sound of shattering glass echoed loudly through the vast expanse of the cave, a sharp and final end to the wine bottle’s journey.
"Fixed," said Krid, her bright eyes beaming with satisfaction as a wide grin smothered her face. Her quick action and evident glee caught me off guard, and I chuckled nervously in response. The girl appeared sharp, intelligent, and possessed quite the wit about her. Be careful, Gladys, I warned myself internally, a reminder to be cautious about trusting the young girl so easily. Despite her apparent innocence, there was a depth to Krid that suggested she was more than she seemed, a complexity that mirrored the strange and unfamiliar world I had stepped into.
"Is Cody far away?" Krid asked innocently, her eyes reflecting a child's simple curiosity. "I haven't seen him for a few days."
I was grateful that I no longer had wine to splutter on, yet the question felt like a punch to the gut. I couldn't stop my heart from plunging into despair, the mention of Cody reopening a wound that was far from healed.
Krid's bright countenance suddenly turned dark, a shadow of understanding crossing her young face. "He's dead, isn't he?" she asked bluntly, her words cutting through the air with a chilling clarity.
Unable to find my voice, choked by grief, I nodded silently.
Tears overflowed from the poor girl's eyes and dribbled down her rosy cheeks. "I thought so," she said, her voice small and laden with sadness. The sight of her tears, so genuine and heartfelt, tugged at my heart.
"I'm very sorry, Krid," I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper. I felt frozen on the spot, my uncertainty of how to comfort the child growing rapidly. The situation was overwhelming, the task of consoling a child over a loss I myself hadn't fully processed felt insurmountable.
"It's not your fault," Krid replied, showing a maturity beyond her years. She wiped the tears from her face and sniffed loudly. Then, slowly and carefully, Krid's small warm hand took hold of mine. Squeezing tightly, she gave my hand a light tug, a silent invitation to follow her. "You must meet Freya. She will be delighted to meet you."
The sound of Freya's name sent a chilling shiver down my spine. The memories it evoked were too raw, too painful. I shook my head fiercely, "No, I can't," I blurted out, yanking myself free from Krid's grip. The thought of facing anyone else, of reliving those torturous hours beneath the stairs with Cody's decaying body, was unbearable.
"It's okay," said Krid, her voice soothing as she reached for my hand again. "She won't be mad at you." Her assurance, her calm demeanour in the face of my distress, was both baffling and comforting.
How can such a young child be so gracious? So understanding? So calm? The silent questions plagued my brain. Glancing at the heavy snow that fell outside the cave's entrance, I was reminded of Belkeep's harsh conditions that Cody had once told me about. No wonder Krid is so resilient, I thought to myself. With each step, my feet crunching through the inches of fallen snow, I followed the young girl out of the cave. There was a part of me, despite the fear and grief, that was curious about this world, about Freya, and about what my role here as a Guardian might entail. In the midst of my turmoil, Krid's presence was a guiding light, leading me through the unknown.
Walking along the edge of the frozen Lake Gunlah, which Krid had informed me in her helpful manner had always been frozen, felt surreal. Each step I took was a reminder of the bizarre reality I had stepped into. Had it not been for the warming reminder from my brain that I was now a Guardian, and therefore had the potential to leave this barren, frozen wasteland, Lake Gunlah's icy expanse might have been enough to chill me to the core. Especially without any wine to keep me warm, the harsh cold of the landscape seemed even more unforgiving.
As we walked, trails of smoke rose from small chimneys in the distance, a sign of life in this desolate place. Approaching the small settlement, I noticed a lack of any sort of urban planning. Buildings were scattered haphazardly, as if each one had been built wherever the owner had desired. The few cobbled streets that we had walked along were eerily silent, devoid of people. I wasn't surprised by the absence of inhabitants. If I lived here permanently, I wouldn't ever leave the warmth of my home either, I had commented to Krid during our journey. The thought of living in such an isolated and harsh environment was unfathomable to me.
Suddenly, Krid came to a halt, and with my eyes wandering about the unusual architectural landscape, I almost bumped straight into her. My steps faltered as I quickly adjusted to avoid a collision.
"We're here," Krid announced, her soft smile conveying a sense of reassurance as she looked up at me.
I gulped, feeling a wave of anxiety wash over me. "I don't think I can do this, Krid," I whispered softly, the apprehension clear in my voice. The reality of facing someone new, especially in this unknown and strange place, was daunting.
"You don't have a choice," Krid replied with a firmness that belied her young age. She opened the door and pulled me inside, her small hand surprisingly strong. The door closed behind us with a steady creak, a sound that seemed to mark the finality of my entrance into this new phase of my journey.
"Krid, is that you?" a woman's voice called from further inside the house, her tone a mix of inquiry and warmth.
Krid pulled off her winter coat with practiced ease. "Yes, Freya. It's me." She hung the coat on the rack beside the door and then reached for mine.
I shook my head, instinctively holding onto the coat like a protective barrier. "I'd rather keep it on," I said, tugging the furry collar tighter around me. The coat, still carrying the scent of Cody, was a small comfort in this unfamiliar environment.
Krid nodded. "I understand."
A small plate shattering on the floor suddenly drew our attention to the slender woman standing in the archway of the living area.
Ignoring the accident, the woman's eyes narrowed as she assessed me. There was a curiosity in her gaze, a recognition of something unfamiliar yet significant.
"Gladys!" she gasped, rushing toward me with a swiftness that took me by surprise.
I instinctively took a step back, unprepared for the close encounter. A shiver of apprehension ran across my shoulders, warning of the imminent closeness.
The woman pulled up short, noticing my discomfort. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice laced with sincerity. "I didn't mean to startle you."
"It's okay," I managed to say, though my eyes were drawn to her, captivated by her presence. She looked so much like Cody, I realised, a resemblance that was both comforting and unsettling. Her features, her expressions, they held a familiar beauty that echoed Cody's, stirring a mix of emotions within me.
"Where's Father?" Freya looked to Krid and asked, her voice tinged with apprehension.
Krid’s shoulders slumped, the movement speaking volumes more than words ever could. She rushed into Freya, wrapping her arms around the young woman’s waist in a gesture that was both protective and seeking comfort.
The briefest moment of eye contact between Freya and me was all that was needed to confirm to her that her greatest fear concerning her father was, indeed, true. I watched, my heart heavy, as Freya held brave for barely a few seconds before her resilience crumbled. Her lip quivered uncontrollably as tears burst their dam, streaming down her face. Slumping to her knees, her body trembling with grief, she wrapped her arms around Krid and pulled her closer, seeking solace in the young girl’s presence.
The stinging of my eyes was almost unbearable as I witnessed the scene. What have we done? I repeated over and over in my mind, the question echoing with a weight of guilt and helplessness.
Krid, displaying a maturity that belied her young age, pulled herself back and cupped Freya’s face in her small hands. "Don’t cry, Freya," said little Krid, her voice soft yet firm. She brushed her fingers gently across Freya’s damp cheeks. "Hold strong. We’ll be okay." Her words were like a balm, offering comfort and strength in a moment of raw vulnerability.
The back of my hand rushed to my mouth to conceal a soft gasp. Witnessing the profound love and compassion shared between them sent my shoulders shuddering in conflicting waves of grief and hope. Their strength, their connection in the face of adversity, was both heartbreaking and inspiring.
Suddenly, a familiar cry sounded as a furry four-legged creature entered the room and ran straight for me. "Chloe!" I cried out, my voice breaking with joy. I knelt down and scooped the fur-ball into my arms, placing a multitude of kisses on Chloe’s head. Her fur tickled my chin as she snuggled in close.
Finally, a moment of calm washed over my entire body, a rare feeling of peace. This is where you belong, Gladys, the soft voice of Clivilius whispered in my mind, its message resonating within me.
The three of us sat closely together, the warmth of the fire a small comfort against the chill of Belkeep's air. Chloe, sound asleep on the small rug in front of the fireplace, added a sense of peace to the room as I recounted to Krid and Freya the tragic events that had befallen another of Belkeep's Guardians. The weight of the story hung heavily in the air, a shared sorrow that seemed to bond us together in that moment.
Freya, her movements reflecting a quiet resilience, threw another log into the fire, sending fiery sparks into the air. The fire crackled loudly, hungry to consume more, wrapping its heated fingers around the wooden food.
Dragging myself to my feet, a sudden thought struck me. "You don't have electricity?" I asked, my concern growing deeper as I realised that I hadn’t noticed any sign of electronic devices.
"What's electricity?" Krid and Freya responded almost in unison as they too rose to their feet. Their synchronised, innocent curiosity was both endearing and startling.
I gulped dryly, feeling a sense of disbelief. What the fuck have I got myself into? The gap in our worlds' technologies and lifestyles felt vast and almost insurmountable. "I'll introduce you to it later," I told them, trying to mask my uncertainty and the fact that I had no idea how I was actually going to achieve that.
Forcing myself to bring my concentration back to the more urgent matter at hand, I addressed Freya. "I'll bring your father's body to you as soon as I can," I said, the promise a solemn vow. I reached for the front door, feeling the gravity of my commitment.
"I'll walk you back to the Portal Cave," Freya offered, as she rushed to grab her coat from the hook beside me. "You stay here and look after Chloe," she instructed Krid, as the young girl made a move to follow.
Despite her reluctance, Krid nodded and sat beside the dozing feline.
As much as I really wanted to be alone right now, well, alone with a good bottle of wine, I was also grateful that I didn't have to navigate my own way back to the Portal through the snow. The unfamiliarity of Belkeep was daunting, and Freya's company, though unexpected, was a welcome aid.
"Thank you, Freya," I said, moments before I found myself wrapped in her comforting embrace, which I uncharacteristically reciprocated.
