The Oak Hotel - Watty Awards 2013 Finalist

Chapter Twenty-three - The Last Oak Tree

Chapter Twenty-three

The Last Oak Tree

The only thing that passed through Lincoln’s panicked mind was the anticipation of pain. Although lessened on his last trip through the portal at the top of the Painted Lighthouse, he still braced himself for the hot explosion of torn nerves.

But there was nothing.

Instead, both he and Kayleigh stepped onto moss-soft ground. Their sneaker clad feet made not a sound as their eyes adjusted to the dim light. They appeared to have come out in the middle of a forest. Tall, imposing trees reached mightily upward, creating a verdant ceiling of leaves and branches high above. Spaced evenly in long, straight rows, they created a natural path.

“I knew we should have gone to see Kafír. She probably sent that portal for us,” Lincoln whispered.

Kayleigh said nothing, but led them down the widest path toward what appeared to be (far in the distance) an open field.

Brighter light was slowly making its way through the green above. The grey and powdery twilight behind them was strengthening to the warm beginning of morning’s blush.

Without turning, Kayleigh said, “It didn’t hurt for you to go through this time?”

“Uh, no,” Lincoln replied, sprinting a bit to keep up with her.

“Why?” she asked.

Matching her quick pace, he said, “I don’t know, but that portal we stepped through was huge.”

“Stronger, too,” Kayleigh added.

“It follows the rules, at least as far as we know the rules,” Lincoln offered. “A portal can only appear where a de’Malange stands or once stood, right? Well, I planted that acorn in the ground. That counts, right?”

“This portal was different, though.”

“You don’t think Kafír made the portal?” Lincoln asked.

This time, Kayleigh chuckled, “No. This has nothing to do with Kafír. This is something—”

At that moment, the first tentative rays of morning sunlight crested the distant, unseen horizon behind them. Looking up, they saw the leaves at the very tops of the trees light as if on fire. A strong wind pushed down through the matrix of boughs.

And then: the glory and majesty and heartache of music broke above and around them. It was unlike any music either had ever heard. It filled their hearts to bursting. There were no words, only pure emotion as hundreds of voices moved in and between the rise and fall of distant, oceanic waves.

Lincoln pulled Kayleigh impulsively to him. Her eyes proved that she was as totally enthralled with the sound as he was. He leaned close, needing to be near her. They were so close, in fact, that their lips almost touched as if in a tentative kiss. There was no room for words or explanation. He just knew that being this close to her was right and it sent his heart racing even faster.

Saying nothing, she smiled, closed her eyes and they embraced, allowing the rising, complex harmonics to carry them to a higher place.

In Kayleigh’s mind, the voice said:

It is true that your fate is intricately entwined with his, but you must come to me now. It is not far.

“Lincoln,” Kayleigh whispered. “We need to go.”

The trees around them shimmered in the growing light as the music reached its enigmatic climax. Lincoln’s eyes were alight as he asked:

“Was that the Symphony of Dawn that Emil told us about? Are we back on Te’hæra Thorn?”