Prelude
It was a short, dark day - the shortest day of the year, Gammer explained, as she went about her chores. She stopped frequently to tickle the small bright boy, or sing a song with him. Sometimes she would pause in her tasks long enough to sit by the fire and play a quick round of Cat in the Attic, Mouse in the Cellar, a game the boy had invented himself to pass the lonely hours. It involved several wooden shingles which he had stuck into the rough hearth stones at different levels. It was played with some intricately carved wooden figures that had been given to him as a special gift from a foreign land.
After lunch Gammer took down the ancient Grimoire from its hiding place in a secret panel above her bed. She unlocked the book with the key that she wore always around her neck and opened it. She turned the pages until she came to a beautifully illustrated page, glittering with gilded drawings of the sun, the moon and the earth against a deep azure background. She explained all about the movements of the planets and the stars, about how the days grew short in winter and then grew longer and longer as the seasons changed, until, by high summer the sun barely disappeared below the horizon at all. As she talked the shimmering images of the heavenly bodies slowly moved across the page, rotating around each other with gentle majesty, while the little boy looked on with wide eyes.
Still, by late afternoon the boy grew bored. It was too cold to go out and play in the deep snow that buried their small clay cottage. Purple darkness was falling in the woods that surrounded them and the boy became fretful.
“Come with me,” Gammer coaxed as he restlessly circled the small cottage, filled with pent up energy he could not release. “You can play in the loft while I milk the goats. Bundle up, though,” she added. “It’s very cold out.”
The boy donned heavy knitted leggings, a woolen sweater, and a coat made of an old blanket. He put on worn leather boots that were only a little bit too big. He followed Gammer out into the snowy yard, where the first stars were shining in the deep blue sky. It looked just like the illustration in the Grimoire, the boy thought, staring upwards. The cold froze the hairs inside his nose and made the snow crackle under his feet. He ran ahead and flung himself into the deep clean snow. His breath came out in white billowing clouds and his childish laughter echoed among the bare branches of the trees. Gammer stood and watched him play, smiling at him with deep love in her eyes. At last they grew cold and she made him come with her into the barn which was warmed by the musky breath of the goats.
The boy played in the haymow, climbing up onto a ledge and jumping into a huge stack of the soft, fragrant hay. He climbed and jumped over and over, until his cheeks were rosy and his eyes were bright. When he grew tired he settled himself in the pen with the baby goats, who licked his hands and butted at his head and tried to climb onto his back. The babies entertained him until Gammer was done with the chores and they headed across the dark yard to the cottage. She held a brimming milk bucket in each hand. The boy followed in her footsteps, taking giant steps so he could reach the prints her boots made in the freshly fallen snow. The moon had risen while they were inside. It rode in the clear cold sky, lighting their way, and the boy felt it calling him, pulling at him, though he didn’t understand why.
Halfway across the yard, Gammer stopped suddenly. She shaded her eyes and looked up at the wintery sky. The boy, focused on his giant steps, nearly bumped into her, then followed her gaze upward. There was a new light shining there, brighter than the brightest star. As bright as the moon. It made a slow arc across the heavens, lighting up the snow with a weird yellowish glow. A trail of sparks streamed behind it like a river of fire. It moved slowly across the sky and the boy felt a strange grabbing sensation in his chest, as if something was pulling deep at his insides. Gammer dropped the milk buckets with a clatter and clutched at her heart. The boy felt as if the earth were shifting beneath his feet. The world tilted weirdly. The shimmering light undulated and swirled across his vision, growing brighter and brighter until it nearly blinded him and he had to shut his eyes. He heard a loud rumble - deep and echoing, as if the very stuff of the world was being torn apart. The earth shook and he fell to the ground.
Then it was over. The bright light in the sky was gone. The boy could still see it burning against his eyelids but when he opened them he saw only the familiar blue glow of the moon upon the snow. The world had stopped shaking and everything was still. Gammer picked him up and hugged him. She gathered up the empty milk buckets and they went back into the warm cottage. She fed him his supper and made him go to bed, but after he was tucked up between the sheets she sat by the fire for a long, long time, leafing through the pages of the ancient Grimoire, searching for answers.
In a high tower far away another little boy sat in the shadows and watched as a bright comet streamed across the sky. He felt the earth rumble and shake. A man with dragon wings held a newborn baby aloft. Their forms were silhouetted darkly against the light, which grew ever brighter in the sky. The air around the baby sparkled and crackled with magic. Her cry filled the cold night air and mixed with the sound of the man’s triumphant laughter.
