The Last Summoning---Andrew and the Quest of Orion's Belt (Book Four)

by Ivory Autumn

  He grabbed Freddie by the shoulders and pulled him into a hug. “Goodbye, my friend, my brother. You did it, Freddie, just like I knew you would.”

  “No,” Freddie replied motioning to all the people standing there. “We did it.”

  “Yes,” Andrew nodded. “We did.”

  In a moment, Andrew’s friends rushed in around him, hugging him one last time, murmuring soft goodbyes. Talic tousled his hair, and hugged him tightly. Croffin shook his hand, and just smiled, not saying a word. Gogindy wrapped his three tails around Andrew’s legs, hindering him from taking another step. “Goodbye, old friend,” Gogindy howled, spraying Andrew in the face with his uncontrollable tears. “I will miss you! Ooooooh.”

  Andrew hugged Gogindy’s warm, whiskery body to his, feeling as though he had been enveloped by a pillow of feathers. “Take good care of the others while I’m gone. I will never forget you.”

  “Nor I, you,” Gogindy nodded, his big eyes gleaming under Andrew’s brilliant aura. “I promise to look out after the others until we meet again. A Twisker's word is more binding than a spider’s web.”

  “That, I believe,” Andrew said, shaking Gogindy’s small hand. “You have proven that one small whisker on a Twisker can make a big difference. “Goodbye, my whiskered friend.” He turned and stood before Sterling and Lancedon, Coral, and Page. Their regal countenance seemed to beam from their beings like the light did from Andrew’s skin. “All of you, thank you for never forsaking me.” Andrew took Lancedon’s hand and shook it. I have felt of your strength. You will make great a leader, Lancedon.”

  “And you…” Lancedon repeated, his clear eyes seeing deep into Andrew’s soul, “a great star.”

  “Come!” Orion commanded. “Andrew!”

  “Wait…” Andrew said, looking out over his friends, searching in vain for Ivory. But she had vanished.

  “It is time,” Orion urged him.

  Andrew reluctantly turned away from his friends, and followed Orion into his chariot, waving to his friends, his face brilliant, and his eyes gleaming. How he wished he could make them understand. How he wished he could take them with him.

  Orion stood at the helm of the chariot and lifted his long fiery whip, ready to stir his great horse into action.

  “Andrew!” Ivory called, pushing her way through the crowd, to the chariot. She pulled Andrew to her one more time, and pressed her lips to his. “I love you, Andrew,” she breathed. “And I’ll wait for you, even if I have to wait until the stars fall again, and drop from the sky---especially if one of them is you.”

  Before Andrew could reply, she pulled back, and jumped from the chariot, and waved. “Goodbye, Andrew. Goodbye.”

  Orion cracked the whip over his great horse, Nebula, jerking it to life, catapulting them into the air at a breathtaking speed. Wind, fire, and a wonderful warm heat of new galaxies rushed around him as the life below them vanished in a blur. The faces of Andrew’s friends disappeared in the distance, as he was propelled forward into a realm of light. A light so pure, so clean, that in it, galaxies were framed and called into being.

  One journey had ended. And a new journey had begun.

  A new star shone in the heavens that night, gleaming in an empty patch of sky that had been vacant and empty ever since The Fallen had forsaken his former glory. Now it was empty no more.

  Andromeda had been born.

  That night, Ivory looked at the new star and smiled. It gleamed, outshining the other stars as if willing her and those of his friends to look up and remember that they were not alone.

  Epilogue

  Dear reader,

  This is the last time I, Ivory, will be addressing you. For, my paper is running out, and any more words I add are unnecessary.

  Anything I have left out, Gogindy will duly put in. Even if I did not leave anything out, he will find something to put in, extra words, or double spaces---he likes to have his say. And after all that has happened, and all he has done, he deserves to add as much as he pleases, and as many spaces as he wishes. Though he is very unorganized, and tends to misspell, and add strange floating words and drawings, he does have talent, and he has helped me remember the things that have faded from my memory.

  If these imperfections offend you, I suggest you read something that isn’t written by human hands. For human I am. Fallible, and full of faults and imperfections. It is my hope that you forget the imperfection, if imperfection in my words you find. But the meaning behind the words, I hope you never forget.

  For that is what matters.

  I have spent over five years writing this account. Yes, I know that is a long time, but it has taken a multitude of words, and many bottles of ink to get this down on paper. Many times I felt I wasn’t going to finish writing this story, that I could not relive the past, and go through the many notes I took on my journey. But something compelled me forward, day after day, word by word, page by page, event by event, image by image, until they have culminated into one. This book.

  I am finished. For what end I do not know. Only that it wanted to be written, begged for me to write it down, to keep an account of the things that have happened, if only to not let their memories fade, and the past sink into oblivion. So now I give my words over to you to read, whoever you are, wherever you are. My work is finally finished, and I can be free. Once something, a word, a thought, and idea, has been created, it is its own being. It has its own soul. It is free to fly where it will.

  My job is done.

  Though nothing I could say or ever write in this book can describe the complete darkness that I have witnessed, nor the great light that transformed the world in that one moment when the darkness cracked and the world renewed itself and light was reborn, and the new sun arose in the west.

  But perhaps it can cause you to reflect, and wonder. Perhaps it can wake you, and stir you into action, to be the shining light you were born to be.

  The day of the new sun has long since passed away. But I still remember the brilliance of those first few years, the feeling of unity, peace, and regard all people had for one another. From that new day, the world was thrust into a new age of brilliance, where Lancedon reigned in justice, truth, and liberty, and all was good. All was peace and prosperity. Light expanded and multiplied. Knowledge flourished and flowered. Cities grew. Life spread, and populated the world with beauty. No true, lasting darkness lingered anywhere. It was a beautiful time to live. A brilliant time to be alive. All darkness had been done away. And all who lived on the earth rejoiced, and were free.

  Yet, while a new star shone, another fell.

  And in the midst of light, darkness has started to creep back in, even though such a short time has passed. I see it, though many are blind to it.

  One could only tell the difference had they seen the things I have, witnessed the brilliance, and contrasted it to the slowly dripping darkness of now, let in by man’s fallen nature.

  Even in this great time of peace, light, and prosperity, I can feel it creeping in inch by inch, shadow by shadow, almost undetectable. Some would call me a fault finder, for there has never been such a wonderful time in the all the world. But, I know better. As long as we live in our fallen state, there will always be some who let in the darkness and seek to bind others with its fear.

  Though it does not seem like a threat now, I know better. And I fear lest the people forget, and their children, and their children’s children fall into the same trap that bound the world once before.

  It is my sincere hope that my words reach you before these shadows gain power, and the darkness overtakes you while you are looking at the sun. For darkness is coming, and has come, eating away and grinding down the light bearers of our time, once again.

  And I have no wish to see it a second time.

  With this intent do I write, to let you know what happens when fear takes hold and darkness weaves its web around your soul. Please, do not let it stifle your voice---do not let it make you a mere shadow when you were born to be a st
ar, to reflect light, to give light.

  The sad fact is, darkness has always been at war with light, and bondage with freedom. The two cannot coexist. When they do, eternal night, and polluted malnourished beings come into being---mere faceless, voiceless, spineless cogs that turn the wheel of great evil, giving power to its exploiting powers of darkness.

  Some who have sensed this darkness and witnessed the contrast, have been packing light in boxes, storing it for a dark day. But they are foolish to hide it. For when they need it most, it will be used up. Light cannot be hidden, or it will cease. The greatest light you have, is you. Do not hide yourself. Some may come and try to lay claim on your light. Some may even try to patent your light, or hoard it, selling it to the privileged few. But light is freely given and freely made, it cannot be bought, or sold. It is its own being, independent and free. Just as you are. Shine. And never dim. Let hope grace your heart. Let it move you into action.

  A brighter day, a new sun, a better world exists outside the curtain of shadow, even if it is hidden for a time.

  So here we are, at this moment in time.

  Suspended by words, at the ending of this tale. You are probably eagerly thinking about your supper, or the problems you face, or your job, or your school. Me, chattering on as if begging you to stay, and keep me company before I go.

  But is this how the story really ends? Does it end here, with my farewell, and your leaving? No. Something inside me tells me this is not the ending. Just as one star falls, a new one is born.

  We the bearers of light stand guard.

  The stars have whispered to me that I am to be taken to them, to be with Andrew in the sphere of light, when I have finished this account. I now know what my task was. And now it is complete. My heart beats faster, and my life feels full of meaning. Freddie, Talic, Gogindy, Lancedon and the rest I will dearly miss. They have all been such good friends. They have all settled into the normal lives that have been afforded them, reminiscing of times past. The truth is, I have never felt at home, although the sun shines, and laughter fills the air. I feel as Andrew must have felt at his leaving, as if I had yet outgrown this world, and long for another. I yearn to be with Andrew. A few more words, and I will be gone, leaving behind this epitaph of the darkest time ever to grace the world, as a reminder to other bearers of light to keep shining. To give the light they have, no matter how dark things might seem. To give. And to live. To let their voices be heard though shrouds of mist that may try to drown them out. One small spark is powerful, even when surrounded by darkness. One voice can be a sound that will ripple forever with the truth it carries. Who knows what hope you may ignite?

  This book is my small spark. Though filled with flaws and imperfections, I hope it may afford those flickering candles out there a beam, a shaft of hope, and a reminder that though the earth is cycling once more towards darkness, they can shatter the shadows that bind them. They can reclaim the light that was stolen.

  For, you and I are the bearers of light. Together, or shining alone, we will stand no matter what. And that is all one person can really do. Shine, reflect light, and share it.

  I feel as if I know you, you reader of words. Somehow I will miss you. I will miss writing. I have written for so long that my fingers feel connected to the pen, and I am worried that once I let it go, I will have nothing to grasp onto.

  Even as Andrew was changed from passing through The Fallen’s mists of darkness, I have changed, as well. These words have changed me, made me brighter, helped me to see my path and the path that lies ahead---helped me to face my fears, and to come out a new person, renewed, and different.

  I look out my window. The sun has fallen, and the first star I see is Andrew’s, shining, gleaming down as if to welcome me to him.

  Whatever light I hold, I bear it proudly. Where it takes me next, I gladly welcome.

  These are my last words. My last black splotches of ink---only illuminated because they are on a white paper. May my words give you hope. May they give you comfort in darkness. May you always look up and see the light. May you keep the light alive, and share it with others. May you let the fire of freedom burn in your chest. May you never let this light go out. May you keep it, preserve it, and protect it. For once it is gone, it is almost impossible to ignite again. May you gleam valiantly on, like a brave candle on a windy night, even if you are alone. For you are never really alone when giving light. The stars are my witness. As they are yours. They see and watch, and record. No true light is ever really lost. No kindness is forgotten. No good deed goes uncounted or unremembered. It is only lost when it is denied, shrouded, kept in closets, left without air, and given no room, or stolen.

  I fear that by the time you read these words, a candle may not be enough light for you to read by. Darkness is coming, a darkness that will take the light that you hold, and plunder it from the people of the earth. A darkness that will auction your light off to the highest bidder, a darkness that will take pure light and twist, and mixed it with blood and poison, then churn it with oil, until it no longer resembles light, but shadow. In such times, it is hard to see the light. It is hard to find your way. It is hard to know what is real, and what is fake. But if you look hard, you will still find bits and pieces of light, pure, beautiful light, that will guide your way through the darkness. Guard those shafts of light, and share them freely with others who yearn to really see. That way you will never be lost. And no darkness can ever keep you for its master, to use you as its slave, nor bind you in its shadows. For darkness cannot exist where light resides.

  You are the last light bearers. My quest is finished. The candle has been passed. You bear the mark. The light is in your eyes, as it is in mine. As I go, I pass the flame to you. May you be strong in the days ahead. There are still many stars yet to be born. And it is not until we pass through the heat, fire, ice, wind, shadow, and mists of darkness will we be forged and molded into the brilliant beings we were meant to be. Where the light once shone, you begin to see everything differently. Once it has changed you, you can never go back into the darkness. Nor can I. I can only go forward. Just as these words pass away, I go on to new things. Bigger words. A different place. The stars beckon me. My words are dried up in my pen. There is nothing left to write. Nothing left to say. The pen I leave to you. The candle is now yours. Where I go, there is no need for candles. For there is no more night. Only light. Pure and undiluted.

  Many a soul thinks he knows the story of the star, Andromeda, and how it came into being. But all those other stories you have heard are but myths. Nothing else. Andrew was real. His story was hidden by lies, and his true identity faded into the black background of the past, shrouded in lies. Andromeda was very much a man, a shining soul whose real name was Andrew. A star he was, and a star he will ever be, a warrior of light, a bearer of truth. Let no one tell you otherwise. In your heart I know you know what I say is true. My time is ending. Yours is just beginning. Bear the torch well. For only you, and you alone, can give the light you hold. So remember, if ever you feel alone in this dark world to look up. There, gleaming in the sky, is Andrew’s star. He is still watching. He is still shining, reminding us that even through great darkness light can be born. That good can survive, and that truth endures forever. The candle is now yours.

  As always,

  Ivory Autumn

  About the Author

  Ivory Autumn is a young elf who enjoys ice-skating, swimming, cheesecake, noodles, hula hooping, and exploring tree houses.

  Her favorite color is purple, and her preferred shape is a circle. She likes the smell of cinnamon, and the sound of feebee bugs clicking their wings at night. She doesn’t like carrots, getting slivers under her fingernails, radishes, blustery wind, doing moldy dishes, or stepping in cold puddles with fresh stockings on. If she were to be any kind of fruit, she would be a mango, because they are so yummy. She likes watching lightning. Her favorite season is springtime. She likes tall trees, and having butterflies land on her nose. She spends muc
h of her time with her best friends, Andrew, Freddie, Talic, and Gogindy, protecting them from dragons, and other types of nasty monsters.

  To visit Ivory, Gogindy, Andrew, and the rest of the gang, go to: http://www.wix.com/ivoryautumn/thequestoforionsbelt

  Ivory’s blog: http://www.thewritinggarden.blogspot.com/

  Other books by Ivory

  Andrew and the Quest of Orion’s Belt Rise of the Fallen Book One

  Andrew And the Quest of Orion’s Belt The Canvas War Book Two

  Andrew And the Quest of Orion’s Belt The Shade's Trees Book Three

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