A succession of visitors arrived this morning. Ultar and the other Golden Eyes I’d met in the wood panelled room bid us farewell shortly after noon. Soon after that the Master of Crypts turned up alone. He looked different. Younger, like a great weight’s been lifted off his shoulders. He gave me a small emerald encrusted dagger. He didn’t stay long. He seemed ill at ease, like he’d discovered a newer, friendlier part of himself and didn’t exactly know how to display it. I almost told him to relax and enjoy his newfound comfort. Then again, it was the Master. He hadn’t relaxed for a long, long time. It was a skill he’d need to work on.

He did thank me, though. I thought he’d never find the words, but he did. He squeezed my hands, looked me straight in the eyes, and told me I’d done him a great service. In turn, I thanked him back for giving me the opportunity to enter the crypt. It felt strange saying that. I could easily have died in there. But I did emerge with something valuable. And for that I felt I needed to thank someone other than Lailia.

Only time will tell just how valuable the gift is. I doubt I’ll be disappointment. That lightness has settled now, settled around my chest and head like some kind of invisible armour. Though it’s not physical, I know it will somehow protect me. Mental armour. That’s what it feels like. Something that will protect me with knowledge instead of brute force.

Can I really see into the past and learn long hidden secrets? Will it help me against the Basilod? Yes. I’m convinced it will. But only if I learn how to use it properly. If I’m not careful, it might as easily drive me mad.

A commotion began outside shortly after two. Moments later, the central figure I’d seen on the stockade the other night strode into the room. He wasn’t wearing any crown or fine robes. Instead, he wore a plain cotton tunic and had a beret style cap moulded over his head that completely covered his hair. I knew immediately it was him, knew by his stature, elegance, and the way his entourage held back as they streamed in behind him. There was also a hint of blue in his eyes, a pale blue that shifted about within the yellow iris like a tiny cloud. He thanked both of us for helping and hoped he might return the favour some day. Then, after a few minutes of small talk, he wished us well and left.

We’ve been left alone since then. And it was nice for the three of us to chat for a while. I showed Lailia some pictures of Maya. I don’t know why. I guess some part of me wanted to make it clear to her where my loyalties lay in case she thought… well, otherwise. Maya was beautiful, she said, someone worth chasing the Basilod to the ends of the known Parawerthan, and beyond.

I was so glad she said that, so glad we’d marked our borders without a hint of bad feeling. Somehow I know I’m going to see these people again. It’s not wilful thinking. No. It’s a certainty.

Time to pack up our things. Lailia’s going to lead us up to the plateau at seven. They’ll administer the sleeping drug there before carrying us through the mountain. Can’t say I’m looking forward to it.

I don’t know what the other Golden Eyes thought of our departure plan, but Lailia wasn’t happy about it. Impressed, yes. She admitted it was a good thing we were prepared to do to protect the tribe. But happy? Most certainly now. After I explained things to her last night, she stared blankly at the floor for a while before running out the door. She was crying. I didn’t see any tears, but I knew it. Somewhere deep inside she was crying.

She was back to her usual, composed self this morning. The Council agreed to carry us through the mountains. It would take about a day, and once we emerged on the far side it would take another day for the drug to wear off. We wouldn’t be left alone while we recovered. They promised us that. I doubt, however, they’ll let Lailia accompany us.

Probably best if she doesn’t. It would make our farewell all the more difficult. I’ve grown to like her. A lot. I’ve also grown to like and respect her people. Under different circumstances, I’d almost be tempted to stay longer.

Lailia spent the afternoon with us. She explained that the ‘seer’s’ forefathers had always lived in the mountaintop so they could keep an eye on the world outside. That’s why their eyes hadn’t changed. Makes sense, I suppose. I can’t help thinking there might be plenty of others with normal eyes up high in the mountains: soldiers, guards, lookouts. Then I thought about the creatures I’d seen entering the first valley and wondered if the Golden Eyes had already instigated a part of their plan to recoup their lands by sending spies out in all directions. I didn’t ask about that.

Lailia gave me a plain white feather and a bottle of ink. If I ever needed to contact them, she said, all I had to do was write a note on anything and then toss the feather in the air. The note wouldn’t travel. The feather would. It would fly back here and rewrite the note word for word on a special canvas in one of their magician’s caves.

I didn’t doubt this for a moment. And when I asked here if Keyes had been given such a feather, she nodded. She removed a letter from a leather pouch and handed it to me. Keyes! The handwriting was instantly recognisable. The note didn’t say much, just a lot of apologies for being unable to send any more information back to them about his travels because he’d been taken into captivity. He’s included a detailed map of a fortress on the note, although nobody here had figured out where that fortress was. Somewhere in the east. That’s all they knew.

The letter was dated seven years ago. Seven years! It was a while before I could find a rational opening in my mind to slot that piece of information into. It sounded like he’d been spying for the Golden Eyes all along. Lailia admitted as much. She also admitted that the Golden Eyes would be grateful if we ever had the opportunity to send back any information of interest, too, though she insisted that’s not what the feather was primarily for. No. If we found ourselves in trouble, we were to write. The rest was up to us.

I’m glad she didn’t pressurise us. If she had, I’d probably have agreed to spy for her. Who knows, I might just do it anyway.

O’Heir and Justin sent almost identical emails today urging us to leave the mountains on our own two feet. Justin went as far as to suggest the Golden Eyes might do us harm if they thought us a threat. What nonsense. He doesn’t know these people like I do. Besides, after hearing about Keyes I’ve come to the conclusion that we know practically nothing about them. Who knows how many spies they have beyond the mountains? Who knows how far their plans have progressed?

Who knows what’s hidden in these mountains that we haven’t seen?

Plenty, I think.

After seeing in the New Year with Maya, I spent hours staring at the ceiling and thinking about ‘my gift’. Well, obsessing might be a better word. Shortly after we returned from the library, I told Armbranch what I’d learned. He didn’t seem surprised. He did, however, get annoyed when I spent the next few hours prowling the cavern examining everything I could get my hands on. I saw nothing, absolutely nothing. Well, not absolutely nothing. I did get some kind of flashback. When I picked up a clay pot I imagined I saw a potter’s wheel spinning while a pair of hands worked a wad of clay. I quickly realised how false that was. A hopeful vision that was nothing more than a memory of something I’d once seen on TV.

I should have stopped my search then. I didn’t. At one point I even convinced Armbranch I could look into his past and he agreed I could press my hand against his forehead to focus. He finally lost his temper when I pushed too hard and he fell off the chair. After that, he insisted I relax. The past would come to me, he said. I didn’t need to go looking for it.

That’s if what Harander told me is true.

Yet, I’ve no reason to doubt him. These people aren’t jokers. If I’ve received a gift, I’ve got to figure out how it works and how I can benefit from it. It might even help me understand the Basilod better and give me an edge to defeat it. I haven’t told Justin or O’Heir anything yet. I’ll wait, find a way to test it out and know it’s real. Then again, I guess I already have. What were those visions I saw in Lord Gullivan’s’ crypt if they weren’t a peek into the past?

If only I could venture back to the envelop gateway. If only I could perhaps lay a hand on Maya’s forehead, who knows what I might see.

What a crazy, crazy start to the New Year.

Lailia came for us shortly after eleven this morning. I’m glad I didn’t drink anything at last night’s celebration because the route she led us along through the mountain was rough and steep and I was panting and sweating after barely half an hour. We went up. All the time up. At one point the going was so steep, steps had been cut into the passage and handrails fixed into the rock.

We passed guards, too, at several stages on the route. Tall, tough looking men clad in a fine armour that sparkled to brightly in the torchlight it was hard to look at them. They’d been expecting us. Not a single one glanced our way as we passed. I guess we climbed for close to an hour before the passage levelled off and we were following a wider route along a torch lit tunnel. It ended in a cavern whose walls were smooth and polished and engraved with the most beautiful writing I’ve ever seen. I couldn’t understand a word of it, but there was something about the words, something fluid, that made them appear to quiver and move.

Minutes later a part of the wall swung inward. It happened so silently it was half open before any of us noticed it. Even Lailia looked surprised. But she didn’t hesitate to lead us in through the opening and into a room that appeared to be a huge library. There were no shelves. Instead, the endless lines of books that stretched off into the darkness on either side of the door appeared to be resting in the wall.

Or maybe they were the wall. I don’t know, and I doubt I ever will. I was so speechless in those first few moments it was hard to focus on any single thing.

Books! Why was I so shocked? How was I so naïve to think a civilisation obviously as advanced as the Golden Eyes wouldn’t have places of learning and countless books documenting their past? I felt very, very insignificant looking around that library. The amount of books, along with the weight of knowledge I imagined within them, was overwhelming. Lailia and Armbranch, too. Lailia was staring around like a child in a humungous toyshop while Armbranch’s eyes swelled as wide as saucers.

A man emerged from the darkness to our left. At first a crazy part of me thought it was Keyes. He looked so normal, so old and humanlike. His hair was a dark grey, his skin was tanned bronze, and, at first, his eyes appeared small and normal. I soon noticed the difference. Yes, those eyes were small. They were also tinged yellow. A paler yellow than the others; but yellow nonetheless. He introduced himself as Harander and told me he was a ‘seer’. After ushering Lailia and Armbranch into a side room where a tray of bread, meat, and wine was laid out on a table, he led me from the library and into a broad cavern whose wall was partly demolished to give a panoramic view of the black valley and surrounding mountains. Apart from a single wooden chair sitting close to the viewpoint, the walls of the cavern were bare. Outside, the mountain fell away in a sheer drop of maybe six or seven hundred feet. The crevice looked very small from up there, more like a crack in the earth. This was his room of contemplation, he said, the place where he felt most at home looking beyond the black valley.

I didn’t feel to comfortable. I felt dizzy looking down. And I felt even worse when he told me that I’d acquired a gift in Lord Gullivan’s crypt, a gift to see into the past whenever I touched certain things. A gift? I’m still trying to figure out that reasoning. But that’s what he said. That lightness in my chest is some kind of ‘inner eye’ of consciousness that will allow me to witness great events long after they’ve happened. When I asked how only outsiders were able to enter the crypt, he told me only those with a neutral mind, a mind innocent of their history, could withstand the forces contained in there without dying.

Sounds crazy, but I believed every word of it.

Don’t know what I’ll do for New Year’s Eve. I won’t drink. That’s for sure. But maybe I can look in on Maya and do the countdown with her.

Got a few mails from back home. No news. Justin is looking after the house for a while, as O’Heir’s obliged to work overtime. People drink more at this time of the year and he’s busy keeping an eye on the roads. He’s caught a few drunk drivers already. The numbers are down on previous years, however. He doesn’t know if it’s due to the recession or whether people are finally getting the message that drink driving isn’t a good idea no matter how well you can hold your booze. He doesn’t really care either. He’s just glad it’s quiet. He hasn’t been called out to any major accidents this winter yet.

It’s at times like this I feel most indebted to O’Heir. He’s sacrificing a lot for us. I’m sure he’s got plenty of other things to do apart from his day job. I don’t know how I can ever thank him enough. A trip into the Parawerthan might be a good place to start. Yes. Somehow I’ll find a way to bring him in here. Justin, too. It’s the least I can do for them.

I told Lailia this afternoon we planned to leave the mountains soon. Her eyes dimmed ever so briefly when she heard this. I’ll miss her. And I know she’ll miss us. It’s obvious because we passed the next twenty minutes or so making awkward small talk about the celebrations and how happy everyone was. Her face brightened when I finally asked her about the group on the walkway the other night. And if I was in any doubt as to the sheer volume of Golden Eyes, it was crushed when she told me those were members of the government. Each represented a different branch of the tribe, and each was in command of a minimum of five thousand warriors.

She clapped her hands over her mouth when she said this, like she’d made a mistake telling me. Deep down, though, I knew it was no mistake. She wanted me to know. She wanted to impress me with their numbers. There were at least thirty of those chieftains on the walkway. A powerful army. Or, who knows, maybe even an unstoppable army.

Then she asked me if I felt anything deep inside my chest. I nodded and told her about the lightness. Though I suspect she already knew I’d changed, she seemed genuinely relieved and happy. She couldn’t explain it. Nor could Ultar or the others I’d met. I needed to see someone else, one of their wise men, for an explanation. It was already arranged. She’ll bring me to him tomorrow.

I’d been justly rewarded, she said. And, somehow, I know she’s right.

There’s another celebration tonight. We’ll go but I won’t drink. No. I doubt I’ll ever drink again. Too much trouble, and yesterday was a wasted day. Well, not completely wasted. It is holiday season, after all. Everyone’s entitled to let their hair down occasionally.

I can’t help thinking about the numbers Lailia mentioned earlier. Whenever they decide to rise from this place, I think I’d prefer to be on their side and not their enemy’s.

Feel much better this morning. Normal, almost. That airy feeling in my chest returned sometime during the night. I guess the hangover couldn’t smother it forever. I’m glad it’s back. I can’t explain what it is or what it might mean. All I know is that I like and trust it. Something has changed inside me, and changed for the better.

With luck, Lailia will have recovered today because I’m hoping to get some more answers from her. I’m curious as to who the group on the walkway the other night were. Mostly, though, I need to know what changed inside me. I’m sure she knows. After all, Keyes changed so…. Well, let’s wait and see what happens. Though I welcome this ‘relaxed’ feeling, a small part of me is dreading hearing the reasons behind it.

Armbranch is certainly feeling better. He was up and out early. The celebrations have died down, but he didn’t think they were over. He saw signs of another major party building up everywhere. I’m sure we’ll be invited. But this time I’ll drink water or discover what other drinks they might have. Non-alcoholic drinks, I mean.

Armbranch also dropped the first hint this morning that we should be moving on soon. He’s right. We’ve been here long enough and, though I hate to admit it, I’m getting comfortable here. I doubt Maya would hold this against me when she wakes. After months in the jungle it’s nice to be pampered for a while.

The tunnels echoed with the sound of merriment all day. The hardcore partiers are still at it. I’ve had enough. I was so weak when I woke this morning all I could drink was water. Someone had left food and wine for us. But the sight of it turned my stomach and forced me back to bed. I’ll never learn. I’m getting too old to abuse my body the way I did last night. I can’t remember how much wine I drank. Hell. I can’t even remember returning here from the war cathedral.

Armbranch’s not feeling too good either. Nor is Lailia. She came earlier to check on us and I’ve never seen her as pale or heard her as quiet. In a cruelly humorous way it was nice to know the Golden Eyes suffered as much as we did. She didn’t stay long. Probably wanted to get back in bed herself. That’s where I’m going now. And I’m not budging the rest of the day. Must rest. Must return to bed. Must recover.

I sent O’Heir and Justin an update earlier. I’ll bet they haven’t stopped laughing since.

Great nite. Great party. Hello my darling, Maya. I wish you could b here. These Golden Eyes are so friendly. I got kissed on the cheek tonight more times than the Pope’s said mass. I came home early. Had to see you. Armbranch’s still wit the others. It’s amazing how he can hold his drink so well.

Byeeeeeeee

If I’d been expecting any ‘position of honour’ at last night’s ceremony, I was soon brought down to earth. The plateau was packed and Lailia had to struggle to lead us through the crowd to our assigned positions on temporary platforms erected outside the stockade. We had a good view. But, to be honest, I’d have preferred to be watching from the guards’ walkway that ran along the top of the stockade. That’s where Ultar and the other senior figures I’d met were. The walkway was crammed with Golden Eyes. All were dressed in white robes embroidered with an array of symbols I presumed denoted their rank.

One man stood tall among the others. His robe was a plain grey, but the jewelled golden headdress he wore left his rank in no doubt. He looked down at me several times. And at one point I think he actually nodded. It was only then I realised how little I still knew about this place. Ultar, Lailia, and the Master, were only minor players of a much bigger drama, a drama I wasn’t welcome to see just yet.

Above the stockade, the cliffs walls were tight with Golden Eyes clinging to the vegetation. They didn’t need any torches. The sheer amount of eyes was enough to cast a warm glow around the plateau. I even imagined the jungle across the crevice glowed a little, too, as if trying to feed off their energy. It also seemed that every star in the Universe was out. A billion pinpricks pierced the velvet sky like a billion curious eyes.

Was Lord Gullivan up there somewhere, watching? I’m sure he was.

Two pyres were built up close to the edge of the crevice. The Master’s men burned the bone fragment Keyes’ had emerged with first. The flames burned low and lazy and after a while those in charge were forced to pour oil on the flames to make it burn faster. The second pyre, however, burned like a new star. Within seconds of catching light, the timbers were blazing so intensely it was impossible to look at them. The heat was just as intense. When the pyre died away, they smothered the embers with buckets of dust before sweeping the ash into the crevice. They only used ash from the second pyre for this. The remains of the first was gathered into clay pots and carried away by the Master’s men.

We returned underground after that and the sound of singing, music, laughter, and sheer joy, rang through the tunnels all night and well into the early hours. We drank wine, too. Lots and lots of wine. I guess it was a new experience for Armbranch because it wasn’t long before he was slurring his words, stumbling about, and laughing. He wouldn’t stop pestering me to show him some more of our world on the laptop.

We’re all going to another celebration in the ‘war’ cathedral tonight. Looking forward to it. From what Lailia says, there’ll be plenty more wine there.

Grim news from O’Heir. Somebody was attacked two nights ago about half a mile from Singleton Cottage. The man was drunk and swore blind he didn’t see his attacker even though it was four in the afternoon and still bright. He wasn’t harmed. All it tried to do was tear his clothes off. It wanted them, the man claimed. It hissed and spat at him before tearing them to shreds.

The man’s become a laughing stock around the area. He’s known as a heavy drinker and most people believe he fell into a ditch and that’s how he lost his clothes.

They’re not laughing in Singleton Cottage. And I don’t blame them.

I was taken to the wood panelled room this afternoon. This time the atmosphere had changed. Even The Master of Crypts managed a smile every now and then when I told them about the crypt. They’d heard it all before, of course. From Lailia. But they needed to hear it a second time from me in case I’d remembered any more.

The meeting didn’t last long. When it finished up I took the opportunity to mention the Basilod. They’d never heard of it. Nor did they seem too bothered by the news. They did agree, though, we needed to be wary. I was disappointed by their reaction. I don’t know what I’d been hoping for: some more information, some great revelation, or simply an offer of help. But they quickly moved on to other business.

Ultar invited Armbranch and I up top tonight to see the burning of Lord Gullivan’s finger bone. It was their way of celebrating his passing, he said. The fires would release a part of him onto the wind. The ash from the pyre fire would then be spilled into the crevice in the hope that it might relieve the suffering of the spirits trapped down there.

Armbranch and I discussed this at length later. He didn’t know what to make of it except say that the spirit world in the Parawerthan worked in unimaginable ways sometimes. Ways impossible for most to understand. I guess the Golden Eyes know what they’re doing.

And one thing’s for sure, we’re going up top tonight. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.

Things have changed in the tunnels. For the first time in days I heard Golden Eyes passing outside. There’s a buzz about the place, a sense of liveliness and gaiety that wasn’t there before. Armbranch ventured outside our cavern earlier to snoop around. The Golden Eyes are busy. It looks like they’re planning something. A celebration. A constant stream of younger men were passing along the main tunnel carrying barrels, crates, and sacks, up towards the surface

Lailia came early, and the smile on her face reflected the mood outside. They’re planning a big celebration in Lord Gullivan’s honour tonight. It was all my doing, she said. I’d brought them proof his soul had finally been released from the blackness he’d been imprisoned in since he’d opened the bottle. At first I didn’t understand her. Then it dawned on me that the last images I’d been shown were the vital ones. The curse had waned enough to allow Lord Gullivan’s spirit to move onto that bright place.

I’ve no idea how I was shown these thing. Magic, I suppose. Lailia couldn’t explain it. All she said was that I was meant to see these things. Lord Gullivan had left a part of himself behind in those bones to show whoever entered the crypt. The Golden Eyes had examined the finger bone last night and found no trace of the curse there. They’d been expecting that. When Keyes emerged from the crypt with a bone sample, just the barest remnants of the curse remained in it. They’d known then it wouldn’t be long before Lord Gullivan was free. Now they’re sure of it. Hence the joy.

“Left a part of himself behind.”

Those words haunted me for the rest of the morning because I couldn’t stop thinking about the Basilod. It left something behind, too.

Feeling better now than I have in days, or maybe weeks. Lailia sang to me today and released the remaining demons flirting with my sanity. Yet, though my mind is calm, every muscle in my body still aches. The journey into the crypt didn’t make me this tired. No. I think I was exhausted long before we arrived at the mountains. I pushed my body too hard over the past six months. Now it’s pushing back.

I did pass down along those steps in the upper crypt floor. They dropped for about twenty feet before bottoming out into a chamber whose walls were clad in blocks of the purest crystal imaginable. It didn’t reflect the torchlight. Instead, it seemed to smother it, force me to look at the room on its terms. Perhaps it was something in the air, or maybe a lack of fresh air, but I felt wonderfully calm down there.

A block of solid crystal lay in the centre of the room. Bones were laid out on it, a thousand fragments of different sizes that formed the skeletal shape of a man. Before I approached it, I circled the slab to examine a crystal sarcophagus set into an alcove in the wall. The face of a beautiful woman was painted onto its lid. Lord Gullivan’s wife. Hermyn was her name. A beautiful name. She’d died months before they arrived at the mountains, but the tribe had carried her body with them.

I didn’t stay with her long. The compulsion to examine those bones overwhelmed me. They began to move as I neared the slab. I remembered that clearly. Bit by bit they jiggled about before rising into the air and snapping together around me like each was a section of a puzzle some invisible hands were piecing together. I have no idea how it happened, but Within minutes I was completely encased in Lord Gullivan’s skeleton. Perhaps I shrank, or those bones swelled, or some magic thing happened. I don’t know. But I became him. Yes. I saw everything that happened in the last hours before his death. I saw his enemies approach. I saw his people fleeing into caves leading into the mountains. I saw his men defending these caves and his wizards building the metal bridge. I even felt his pain as the bridge collapsed and his men toppled into the crevice.

Finally, I saw him open the bottle and release the darkness. It emerged as a dark, swirling smoke that killed everything it touched. It killed him, too. I saw the demon heart of the darkness claw its way from the bottle and tear him apart to get at his soul.

That demon is gone now. I know that. After millennia of torment, Lord Gullivan is finally free. The last visions I saw before the bones fell away and scattered across the floor showed a bright land, a place full of flowers and trees and open fields of grass that swayed in the breeze. There was no darkness in that place. Not in the clouds. Not in the shadows. Not even skirting the horizon.

It was always daylight there. Always bright.

I guess I should have gathered up the bones when I came to my senses. Instead, I picked up a finger bone, placed it in the locket Lailia gave me, and stumbled out of the crypt. I don’t know how I got back here. I guess the Golden Eyes must have carried me.

That locket was still in my pocket. When I handed it to Lailia, she wept through her smiles.

I’m going to look in on Maya now. Tired, but not as exhausted as after the last session. Lailia doesn’t need to sing for me again. But I hope she does. Before we leave this place I really hope she does.

The Master of Crypts came to our cavern this morning with two of his minions. Armbranch refused to let him enter without Lailia here, so he stayed at the door. A brief, awkward standoff followed before he started asking me questions about the crypt. I answered nothing. I didn’t even look at him. Then Lailia came and there was a sharp exchange of words before he left.

I’ve always sensed an iron toughness behind her soft exterior, and the way she spoke to him confirmed this. She wasn’t intimidated. She spoke with such a tone of authority his replies were subdued and respectful. I enjoyed that. So did Armbranch. We were both still smiling long after the Master left.

She’s going to sing to me again this afternoon. I’m looking forward to it. I know now that she’s not simply some servant girl assigned to look after us. There’s a greater intelligence at work behind the sparkling eyes and smile.

O’Heir’s unusually quiet. There’s little news from at home, and all of it is good and confident. They had a pleasant Christmas. When I checked the blog I noticed another unusual entry written yesterday morning.

‘Raymond need rest. Raymond sick but getting better. Soon okay.’

I’m grateful to him for that. But I won’t say anything about it yet. Now’s not the time.

I’m sure O’Heir and Justin knows who’s sending these mails. I wonder what they think about it.

Lailia spent the afternoon with me. She didn’t sing. Instead, she whiled away the hours with stories of her tribe, and the cities and lands they’d been driven from. Those tales were sad yet somehow hopeful at the same time. These lands are far beyond the mountains. And their names are so old she had difficulty pronouncing some of them.

Someday they’ll return and reclaim those lands. She hinted they had the means to do this. And I believed her. When the tribe were driven underground, they went deeper and deeper in the hope of finding an exit. But all they found were the remains of another civilisation so old it existed long before the mountains rose. Nothing remained of the people. But they discovered many secrets down there, magic things they’ve learned to use.

She told these storied beautifully. Even Armbranch was impressed. Yet, all the while I wanted her to sing to me again, unlock the mysteries in my head. But not today. I’m too weak, she said. My mind’s too vulnerable. She’ll sing to me tomorrow.

My mind’s too vulnerable? I guess she means I’m hovering on the borders of insanity.

What a wonderful thought for Christmas.

Last night went on forever. I kept tossing and turning and waking and dreaming. Even when I knew I was awake and Armbranch was kneeling over me, I still imagined a part of me was back in that crypt, trapped there, as the crystal melted and the bottle worked its way free and got ready to spill those last drops of darkness onto the floor.

The dreams didn’t trouble me too much. No. That lightness in my body, that wonderful feeling of internal freedom, kept me calm and allowed me to discount them as simply dreams and nothing else.

That didn’t stop me telling O’Heir everything in an email and asking him to mention what happened in the crypt to Mrs Daidogan. Perhaps she might have a different take on things. It’s a long shot, I know. But, well, anything’s worth a try.

I could do with some kind of positive news for Christmas. It’s almost impossible to look at Maya today without thinking back to all the Christmases we spent together. We’d planned a special one this year. yes. After all the hectic, festive party years in Dublin, we planned to spend this one alone. Just the two of us.

Raymond need rest. Raymond sick but getting better. Soon okay.

Slept late. When I awoke the room was empty apart from Armbranch and Lailia. She was smiling at me, a genuine, admiring smile. She told me it was time we were alone now and wanted me to ask Armbranch to leave. He hadn’t slept or left my side since I returned from the crypt and she didn’t feel she had the right to ask him to go anywhere.

Armbranch didn’t wait to be asked. He’d overheard Lailia and asked me if I wanted to be alone with her for a while. I nodded. Then I grabbed his hand and squeezed it as hard as I could as tears formed in my eyes and the room blurred.

Once he was gone Lailia sat cross-legged beside me and asked me if I remembered anything from the crypt. I told her about the images in my head. They hadn’t slowed. They were still swirling around and around and I was wondered if I was slipping into insanity. Lailia smiled again when I mentioned my fears. Then she began to sing in the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard. And as the notes rose and fell and reverberated around the cavern, some of the images in my head slowed and congealed together into memories.

I was back in the crypt and standing on front of the marble altar. It swung inwards to reveal an opening when I reached towards it. The flashlight died then. That’s right. It flickered and died the instant the altar stopped moving. Then the fear came, a cold, crawling dread I might have to enter this place in darkness. When I paused in the doorway, the Master called to me. He was holding an oil torch, beckoning me to take it. When I returned to the gate it was all I could do not to bolt from this place.

But I passed through the marble doorway. Yes, and the torchlight didn’t fail. It lit up a cavern whose walls, ceilings, and floor, were covered in the most beautiful artwork that caught the light and brought the figures painted there to life. There were thousands of tiny figures painted onto the walls, all prostrate, all with their arms outstretched in supplication towards a square hole in the centre of the room leading down through the floor.

Those pictures held a simmering energy. I remember feeling it, a buzz. Somehow the artists had captured the aspirations of an entire race in those drawings. A people in waiting, that’s what the images portrayed. No. Not just a people. A world.

Across the room, sealed in a block of solid crystal, was a glass bottle. It was about the size of my hand and so clear and clean it would have blended perfectly with the crystal if it weren’t for the torchlight. It lit it up, set it aglow. And the flame was drawn towards the crystal. No matter where I stood in the room, the flame licked through the air towards the block as if attracted to it. For several terrible moments I was afraid the bottle was alive and melting the crystal around it.

Though I knew what the bottle was, it didn’t stop me crossing the room. I saw something in it. Yes. A few drops of liquid,  a few little drops of darkness gathered in the bottom. When I reached out to touch the crystal, a bolt of raw energy singed my fingers. The last thing I remember after that was looking down through that hole in the floor and trying to count the steps leading down. I can’t remember how many there were. Lots.

Lailia stopped singing then, and the memories sank away. Though she left me alone an hour ago, I can still see that hole in the floor now as clearly in my mind as I can see Maya’s face.

Did I go down there?

I don’t know. I think so, but I don’t know. There are many images still swirling around my mind. If I concentrate hard enough, some of them slow and I see steps and another doorway and something lying on a slab that looks like a broken skeleton.

Did I go down there?

I must have. Maybe Lailia can help me find out.

Must finish writing now. Exhausted. Must sleep. So very, very tired and it’s the first Christmas Eve I’ve spent without Maya since… since I can remember.

Awake again. Spent ten minutes just soaking up energy by looking at Maya before checking my Inbox. Can’t believe the first of O’Heir’s emails. He was responding to a blog post sent from here yesterday.

Raymond okay, it said. Raymond sleep.

It certainly wasn’t me. I wasn’t asleep yesterday evening. No. I was half dead. Armbranch. It had to be. Somehow he must have learned how to write and send posts and wrote one to let the others know I was okay. I’m so grateful to him for that. Now that I think about it, for the past few weeks he’s been watching me type. And I know how quickly he picks up new things. I won’t ask him now. Lailia is here, along with Ultar and three others I don’t recognise. There’s a smell like incense in the air and I’m surrounded by clumps of vegetation that looks oddly like heather. I’ve barely spoken a few words to any of them. All I asked for when I woke was my laptop. I just wanted to see Maya.

As to what happened in the crypt? Well, I’m as intrigued as anyone. The images in my head are slowing. With luck, I’ll be able to analyse them after a good night’s sleep. The main thing is that I survived and that lightness in my body is still there.

That’s all I need to know for now.

Tired. Exhausted. Can’t remember much about the crypt. Everything’s hazy and it’s impossible to decide what was real and what was a dream. I remember stopping at the barred gate. I remember Lailia handing me a locket. I remember the Master of Crypts handing me a needle and telling me a drop of blood was needed to open the gate. Couldn’t be a Golden Eye’s blood, he said. It would alert the curse. I remember being angry at hearing that and wanting to challenge him for not telling me this earlier. I didn’t bother. There were three drops of dried blood on the lock. Keyes was one. But who were the others? I didn’t ask.

I pricked my finger and squeezed a drop of blood onto the lock. The gate eased open. They all stepped back. I remember that much. They all stepped back and some of the guards started to pray. Don’t know why they backed up. Whatever was in there might as easily have passed through the bars anyway. The last thing I remembered was the chill when I stepped through the gate. Then…

I have no idea what happened next. There is a constant flurry of images flying about inside my head so fast it’s impossible to pin any of them down. I did see Lord Gullivan, though. Somehow I know I did. I also know that something deep inside me has changed. I can sense it, a freshness, a lightness in my body that’s impossible to explain other than to say it’s like a part of me is floating.

Somehow I know I’m not meant to be scared. Don’t know how. I just know.

Raymond okay. Raymond sleep. Friends do not worry. I look after him for now.