The Last Beacon

XXXVI

Sascha woke up in a cold sweat.

She sat up immediately, and when she opened her eyes, she was shocked to find that she was in a place that she did not recognise.

She found herself in a misty vale. The grass was a deep shade of green, and gently coated in a thin layer of dew. The sky was a solid grey, and the fog gave a mystical feel to the entire area.

Ahead of her, there was an enormous green willow tree; seemingly the only tree in the area.

Sascha stood up quietly, not wanting to make any noise and disturb the peace of the area. She let out a shaky breath and began to walk towards the willow tree, assuming it was the landmark she was aiming for.

The air was pleasantly cool; not cold enough for Sascha to be wishing for a coat, but not warm either.

It did not take her long to reach the willow.

Sascha brushed the fronds gently out of her way as she approached the trunk. The base of the tree had almost been entirely concealed by the weeping fronds of the willow.

There, in front of her, was a man in a grey cloak, his hood raised. Sascha took a small step back, not expecting anyone to be there.

"Hello, granddaughter," the man said, lowering his hood, "I have been expecting you."

Sascha's eyes widened as she saw his face. She instantly recognised him as the man from the room she was just in. He was the statue.

"Reverus?"

"Indeed," he said, a small smile on his face. His eyes were a dull blue, and his hair was in the process of fading from black to grey; the signs of age.

"Where am I? What's going on?" Sascha asked, before stopping in her tracks, "hang on, did you say granddaughter?"

"I did, young Sascha. I'm sorry we could not meet before I passed away."

Sascha furrowed her eyebrows, "if you're dead, how are you here?"

"There is a reason I enchanted the urn so that only a Cavlacanti may open it. Although, you did not always call yourself a Cavlacanti, did you, Sascha Nyland?"

Sascha paled, the memories returning.

'Nyland was my family surname. After they died, I couldn't stand to keep the name, so I changed it. I didn't know anyone still knew about my old name," she explained.

"What made you choose Cavlacanti?"

"I don't know," she said, honestly, "it just felt right."

"It just came to you, then?"

"Yeah," she said, "you could say that."

Reverus shook his head, chuckling. "That is one way to put it. Tell me, have you not wondered how I am your grandfather, if your real surname is Nyland? Did it occur to you that perhaps you were never really a Nyland?"

Sascha narrowed her eyes, "what is that supposed to mean? Are you trying to say that they weren't my real family?"

"Search your feelings, Sascha," he said, "you know deep down that what I say is true."

"That's impossible," Sascha accused, "that can't be right. They're my family! I grew up with them, they were the only family I ever had, and you're telling me I never belonged to them either? They were all I had, you can't take that away from me." Sascha struggled to grapple with the myriad of emotions.

"Perhaps not. I cannot take the memories away, but I can give you the truth. They may have been the ones you were raised by, but maybe your real family had no choice but to give you up."