by C. W. Trisef
A moment later, Ana arrived with her parents and Leo, their moods subdued and mouths muted by the ominous scene that lay before them. They joined Ret and the Coys on the beach, huddling together in the twilight.
Suddenly, a flash of light appeared from the deck of a large guided-missile destroyer, floating near the back of the fleet. A second later, an ear-splitting sound filled the air, giving the onlookers on the beach a jolt. They watched the missile trace a slight arc in the sky before flying over the Manor’s front gate, through the double doors, and into the semicircular entryway, where it exploded. Ret winced. Pauline gasped. Every eye spied on Mr. Coy, whose face held firm.
The first punch thrown, the international armada erupted in gunfire. A flurry of bombs and bullets rained down on the Manor, which, with its state-of-the-art defense system relocated to the Keep, stood utterly helpless to retaliate. Round after round of rockets and shells mercilessly pulverized the vacant establishment, which soon became engulfed in flames and smoke.
With a wide inlet of water between them and the onslaught, the Coopers, Coys, and Leo gazed in relative safety but total horror as Coy Manor was destroyed—a piece of themselves being destroyed with it. Pauline thought of the studatory where Ret interpreted the prophecy on the piece of parchment for the first time. Ana recalled the planetarium where she had taken a ride on Mercury and almost gotten singed by the sun. Leo’s mind was in the courtroom where he had delivered his stirring case about things real and unreal. Paige remembered when she and Ana used to practice volleyball in the Manor’s sports complex. Ret was thinking of the savanna where Conrad, astride a rhino, once rescued him from a hungry cheetah.
But those were just memories now. A missile collided into the bell tower, where Ret had received his first carillon lesson from Mr. Coy. Underwater torpedoes had finally caused the seawall to give way, releasing into the ocean the aquarium where Ret had come face-to-snout with a pack of tiger sharks. The Manor’s beautiful grounds now lay scorched and blackened, the lagoon empty and charred. Like the finale of a fireworks show, one last wave of ammunition exploded on the scene until, with an audible sigh, the underground hangar succumbed, swallowing the property and sending up a great cloud of ash and smoke that signaled the end of Coy Manor.
Their mission complete, the ships began to retreat, leaving behind an inferno whose flames lit up the skies so brightly that it appeared the sun was rising instead of setting. The seawater around Little Tybee Island looked much disturbed as it poured into the Manor’s many underground chambers.
True to his word, Ret stayed out of the struggle, despite his desire to engage. Paige caressed the top of his hand as compliment for his restraint, then wiped away a tear from her eye. There were still no signs of sadness from Mr. Coy. Meanwhile, Jaret’s eyes were glued to a pair of binoculars. Perhaps the Coast Guard in him, the captain was getting a closer look at the departing ships.
“Pauline, look at this,” he said in hushed tones, handing the binoculars to his wife. “Does this man look familiar to you?”
After a quick look, Pauline replied, “Of course, dear. It’s Lionel.” She kept her voice quiet, knowing such a name would only aggravate Mr. Coy even more in this difficult moment. She passed back the binoculars.
“Why does that face ring a bell…?” Jaret thought to himself, following Lionel’s face until his ship sailed out of range. Jaret may have made the crucial connection right then and there had he not been purposely, though only partially, brainwashed after unsuccessfully trying to steal Lye’s cane.
Pauline turned to the youth and said delicately, “We best be heading indoors. We don’t want to catch a cold.” The group began to make its way to the Keep.
Except for Mr. Coy. He waited until he was alone and then, no longer needing to be an example of strength, buckled under the weight of his emotions. He fell to his knees and wept. He had loved the Manor, not so much for the foundation that it stood on as the principles that it stood for. Yes, it was just a bunch of walls, as he had said, but it was what had happened within those walls that had transformed that house into a home. Truly, Mr. Coy put the heart in hearth.
In the midst of his grieving, Mr. Coy saw the sand in front of him begin to move. It swelled and swirled until a small structure took shape, like a sand castle. Then it grew—and grew and grew until a miniature replica of Coy Manor stood in the sand.
“We’ll rebuild it,” Ret said, admiring his handiwork as he returned to Coy’s side. “We’ll rebuild the Manor—maybe not here, but somewhere.” He helped Coy to his feet. “Someday, there will be a Coy Manor in every major city in the world.”
“Thanks, Ret,” Mr. Coy smiled, sniffling. “I hope you’re right.” Then he took one final look at the remains of the Manor and never looked back.
Ret took the Oracle from his pocket and held it out in front of himself for Mr. Coy to see. Naturally, their attention turned to the wood element, the sphere’s newest member. It was not the color of old bark but rather of the fresh center of a large tree trunk: white with an almost unrecognizable tinge of beige, like that of piano keys or the cue ball of a billiards table. It was the purest piece of wood, the source of all other plant life.
“Five elements down,” Coy sighed.
“Only one more to go,” Ret added brightly.
Ret stared at the palms of his hands. There was only one unlit scar remaining, on the far right side of his left hand. But it had been illuminated once before, of course. In fact, for the first time, he already knew what the next scar symbolized.
“Where are we headed next?” Coy asked.
“To the very heart of Lye,” Ret said gravely, looking out to sea. “Waters Deep.”
