40
The Burning Darkness
A centuries-old country manor in Lebreima could conjure unpleasant visions of a drafty dwelling: cold, damp and poorly lit. The Breima family house was none of these. It did have its share of dark alcoves and labyrinth-like hallways on the second floor, but the main rooms, though not always daylight bright, were warm and surprisingly cozy.
Maybe too cozy. Grandmother Breima liked her furniture. Even in their small house in America she’d overstuffed the place. Here, in Lebreima, the proportions of the rooms were better suited to the size of the pieces. Sideboards and tall cabinets and wardrobes of exquisite wood dominated. Ornate floor lamps stood tall on intricately patterned rugs. Finely upholstered chairs and sofas invited luxurious sitting.
Which was what Lottica was doing. Sitting. Luxuriating. Feeling happily sated after dinner. Even Grandmother Breima’s cooking felt more lavish to Lottica. The lamb chops she prepared were tender and savory. The vegetables fresh and crisp with loads of creamy butter. And a huckleberry pie that tempted her into a second slice.
When they gathered in the plush parlor after cleaning up, she and Nick helped their father build a small fire in the enormous hearth. Not because it was cold, but because it seemed natural in these surroundings. Breima Manor, after all, was a very old place, and Lottica had gotten a glimpse of that ancestral past from the family portraits upstairs.
She even dared to think of herself as part of that ancestry. After all, she was a Breima, a direct descendant, legendary or otherwise, of the Breima. The strange folklore of this family was in her DNA. Maybe that’s why she’d always felt different. Kind of like her Weirdest Witch character. It raised so many questions, and she hoped to get a few answers when her grandparents explained what they knew. About their statue of Hawk. About the painting of the lifestones. About everything.
Similarly, Nick was trying to answer a few nagging questions himself. Most importantly, how it was possible for his parents to be back from the grave. Nick studied his dad as he prodded at the fire in the hearth. A few days had made a big difference in his appearance. His color was no longer as sallow and bruised. His flesh was tauter, much less bloated. And it was obvious to Nick that his father’s left side, which had been slack and unpredictable, was much more in rhythm with the rest of his body. There was still the out-to-lunch vacancy of his left eye, but his dad apparently had no vision problems with it.
Nick also noted his mom's physical improvement was much the same. His parents’ looked like they were recovering from a bad car accident, not from an explosion that had left them stone cold dead. Which begged the question: Was the Kareima healing them? How could a gemstone do that? Wanting badly to stay true to scientific method, Nick wasn't ready to accept folklore and magic as an explanation.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
"Isn't this so nice?" Linda asked from her chair near the fireplace. "We should have all come to Lebreima long ago."
Deilune looked up from where he was coaxing the fire with a brass poker. He met his wife's eyes and then ventured a glance at his father who sat directly across from the hearth in an imposing wing-backed chair. Grandmother Breima stood with her hands on top of the chair. Their expressions were still neutral and reserved, which fit their surroundings better. They were formal and proud like Breima Manor. Deilune could see how proud they were to have all their family together in Lebreima.
"You’re right, dear,” Deilune admitted. “We should have brought the children over before this.” He looked to his parents. “I'm sorry for not doing that.”
Grandfather Breima betrayed his contentment with a slight nod, saying with thick conviction, "We know you come. Like Hawk, we patient. We know."
A thrill ran through Lottica. They seemed to really believe the legends. Believe in the Breima legacy. It made her reexamine the resentment she’d felt for them back in America. She’d always viewed them through the tension, the icy relationship that caused so much pain with her parents. Lottica hadn’t really tried to understand their hurt, the feelings of their old ways being abandoned.
Seeing them in their home in their homeland, knowing she was named for her grandmother and Nick for their grandfather helped her feel a part of their rich and strange heritage. It was if she had discovering a constellation that was only visible in this part of the world. Coming here had already brought so much into focus.
"Will we stay in Lebreima long?" Lottica asked. "It looks like we have a lot to catch up on."
"Well, Lottie," Deilune began, "we have no set time frame. Our biggest concern in coming here is to stop Beilla from establishing himself as le Breima. That would give him claims to the Kareima, which for obvious reasons we are not willing to give up. He also would have access to family documents that might help him locate the Astreima."
Linda leaned forward in her chair. "Dale, I know that the Kareima and Fareima stones have both a real history and a legendary one, but isn't the Astreima purely fictional?"
"The Astreima is a fixture only of legends. No gemstone has ever been found. Though, I hardly need to point out that the Kareima's life-resurrecting qualities, until very recently, were only folklore," Deilune explained, tapping his chest lightly.
Grandmother Breima moved from behind the chair and faced her son. "We believe. The Tireima, the three lifestones, they are real. The Kareima surprises you. Hawk surprises you. It is because you deny. You are le Breima. Is your duty to accept. To act."
"What duty, Dale?" Linda asked, rising out of her chair.
"My duty is to my family," Deilune's replied, his eyes locked with his mother's unwavering stare.
"Lebreima is your family. You must do it!" Grandmother Breima demanded.
Alarmed at the sudden intensity of their exchange, Lottica broke in, "Do what?"
Deilune hesitated. He looked from Lottica to Nick to Linda. Then he faced his mother. "The end of the Breima legend, says that a time will come when Raven will recover his memory of where he hid the Astreima. He will gather the three stones forming the Tireima, and, unless he is prevented by le Breima, Raven will bring about the Feirengahst."
"The what?" Nick asked.
"The Feirengahst…," Deilune hesitated, "…the Burning Darkness. The end of all light and life."