Lyset (3)

“Grandmother, what story will you tell me today?”

“Well, today I’ll tell you a tale I heard when I was your age. A very beautiful priestess in this region gathered children on a feast day and told us this fairy tale. It’s called ‘The Magic Okle’.”

“I’ve never heard it before!”

“Then listen carefully…”

Goldense had often told Lyset the old fairy tales and myths she had grown up with, but after recent events, she began to tell her even more directly the old stories of this land.

Clearly, Lyset was different from other children.

It was something that could not be revealed, nor could Goldense control, but she believed the child must receive the education and care suited to her.

“Once upon a time, there was a boy named Toralv. One day he had a dream. In it, a war leader named Sigvaldi from the neighboring land, urged on by his prince, tried to invade this land with his legion. Here, a noble leader named Håkon fought back with his two sons. Håkon, a ruler with both strength and wisdom, had strong faith in our traditional gods. The neighboring king wanted him driven out.”

“Ah… so they fought against the bad men.”

“In the end, Håkon won and captured many. But among them, a valiant Viking named Båson fought on even as his commander Sigvaldi fled. Because of his honor, Håkon’s son spared not only him but also his men.”

“That’s amazing! We truly have great ancestors.”

“Right? When Toralv awoke, he realized the stories he saw in his dream were true tales painted on the Okle (a cloth hung on the wall). He was deeply moved, and resolved to be a warrior who honored his enemies’ dignity and fought without fear.”

“Please tell me more stories about such heroes! Or any story will do.”

“Let’s see… I’ve already told you about the farmers, and the puppies and farm animals.”

“Then, shall I tell you a story, Grandmother?”

“What kind of story?”

“The story of the animals from my dreams.”

“If it’s about how they taught you to make a necklace, I’ve already heard it.”

“No, it’s something else. They speak of different things now.”

Goldense’s face showed both fear and expectation. She knew that after hearing it, the way she saw Lyset would change, and she dreaded bearing that.

But on the other hand, she wanted to know even more clearly what kind of child Lyset was.

“Don’t you want to hear it?”

“How could that be, child? Every grandmother in the world listens to her granddaughter’s stories.”

Goldense got up, stepped into the yard, and looked around the house just in case.

Of course, no one would come or eavesdrop at night in such a remote place, but Goldense instinctively knew the story would be dangerous.

“All right, it’s safe now. Tell me, child.”

“The animals in my dreams say: You are important. You are the child who will fulfill the prophecy of Olrun and Manafreya in this land. You are the chosen child of the gods. You will open the end and the beginning of this land…”

As Lyset spoke, a chill rose in her eyes, adding immense depth to her lake-like, clear blue gaze.

Goldense’s mouth fell open.

She knew well what that prophecy meant. Especially in Goldense’s generation, which had witnessed the change of the state religion, the old stories and prophecies had been passed down all the more from mouth to mouth.

Although speaking it aloud meant execution by law, like folk magic the prophecy had survived stubbornly, etched deep into the minds of the old.

“Lyset, do you know what that prophecy is?”

“No, I don’t.”

“In your dreams, don’t the animals explain further?”

“No. They only say that I am important, that I will fulfill the prophecy… things like that.”

“Have you never asked them questions?”

“In my dreams, I can’t speak at all. Oh right! They told me this, too.”

“What was it?”

“That someday, the time will come for me to enter the castle. And that will be the time I stand alone.”

“…!!!”

After saying this, Lyset let out a long yawn. The chill in her eyes had vanished without a trace.

“Yes, Lyset… it’s bedtime now. So that’s why you told the priest you would go after I’ve entered my rest.”

“Because I know it for certain.”

Lyset smiled faintly, then fell asleep.

After tucking the blanket over Lyset, Goldense staggered and sank into a chair at the table.

‘The prophecy… Lyset, the child destined to fulfill it!’

From the blue reindeer carrying her to find Lyset, to the child’s dreams… she knew Lyset was tied to Olrun and Manafreya. But that prophecy was one of this land’s destruction.

‘How could such a little child! Oh, Olrun, Manafreya! What are you trying to make our Lyset do…’

Worried about what storms this little child would face, Goldense once again cried out the names of the old gods she had come to believe in again.

About four years later.

The time came for Goldense to leave this world.

She had already known it from her dreams. The blue reindeer that had once carried her appeared, laying down in its mouth a branch of evergreen spindle, and stood gazing at her.

‘It is giving thanks.’

Goldense understood the reindeer was expressing gratitude for the twelve years she had raised Lyset and shared the tales and myths of this land.

The evergreen branch was a token Manafreya gave to faithful women she would invite to her garden. To be invited meant Goldense’s soul would soon leave this world.

When she awoke, Goldense realized she no longer had the strength to even rise from bed.

“Lyset…”

Her weak voice called again and again until Lyset came from the kitchen.

“Go to the village and ask Grandfather Henriksen and Uncle Ibsen to come here, will you?”

“Right now?”

“Yes… they must come quickly.”

The clever Lyset, seeing how different she looked, understood at once the meaning in Goldense’s words. Her bunad skirt fluttered as she rushed outside.

Goldense, fighting her closing eyes and fading sight, slowly and carefully lifted herself up.

“Should I tell her…”

Goldense murmured.

Her last dilemma was about the place she had found Lyset—the cave, and within it, the remains of Lyset’s mother.

If indeed she had truly seen the reindeer, bear, and wolf that day, then surely those remains had been protected, beyond the reach of any beast.

Still, she wondered if she should tell Lyset the details of that place and the moments of her birth.

The villagers knew the broad circumstances, but not the exact place, nor of Olrun’s three messengers.

‘No. I must not say. She is no ordinary child—she will find it herself…’

As Goldense decided, Village Head Henriksen, the woodcutter Ibsen, and several villagers burst in through the door.

“Old Goldense, are you all right?”

The villagers gently laid Goldense down, and Lyset followed in, panting.

“Henriksen…”

The light in Goldense’s eyes dimmed. Everyone knew the end had come near.

“Old woman, speak your last words!”

“I only wish… to be buried in my yard. With my favorite clothes, that Okle, the pot and bowls I always brewed tea with. And be sure to bury an evergreen branch with me.”

“Not in the village cemetery beside the meeting hall?”

“Please… do it as our ancestors who built this village always did. In the north side of my yard. And Lyset…”

Lyset, eyes brimming with tears, approached Goldense.

“Grandmother!”

“Lyset… the words you heard in your dreams are revelation. You will do well. And God Olrun and his daughter, Goddess Manafreya…”

When Goldense spoke the forbidden gods’ names, everyone froze. She looked around at them and smiled faintly.

“Olrun and Manafreya will guide you. So please, do not hate too much the people of this land who have forgotten them. The villagers will cherish you and help you. Isn’t that so?”

Henriksen, Ibsen, and the other villagers nodded.

“These words are this old woman’s final request, so please grant it.”

“Of course, old mother. Lyset is the pride of our village.”

“Yes… yes.”

Goldense looked at Lyset one last time.

“Thank you. For coming to me as my granddaughter… It has been a joy.”

The light vanished from her gaze. Emptiness filled the void.

“Grandmother! Grandmother!”

“Grandmother!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Goldense’s body entered its rest.

Goldense was buried in her yard as she wished. Because of this, the priests could only conduct a simple rite.

After most of the priests and villagers left, Lyset placed the evergreen branch on the grave, hung a necklace she had made of strung bones, and laid upon it a wreath of fireweed and thistles—flowers said to be Manafreya’s favorites.

“A wise woman is invited into Manafreya’s garden, where she beholds the wars of heroes and praises them with poetry and song…”

Just as the hawk had told her in last night’s dream, Lyset recited a funeral hymn once spoken over women’s burials in the now-vanished region of Nordenheim.

None of the remaining villagers interrupted or objected.

Some time later, Lyset went to the meeting hall.

The apprentice priest announced Lyset’s arrival.

“Oh, Lyset! You’ve come to the meeting hall. It has been such a long time since you last came here.”

Lyset only smiled.

The priest smiled as well, already guessing the purpose of her visit.

“Lyset, have you at last resolved to become a Holy Sister of the Nastrand Grand Cathedral?”

“Yes. The time has come.”

Fortunately, thanks to the priest’s efforts and advocacy, Lyset’s place had been reserved and postponed each year. She could go to the Grand Cathedral whenever she was ready.

“Normally, formal initiation is at age twelve. Though you could have entered much earlier, now you’re entering at the right time. It is true you’ll be joining midway, but it is fortunate you are not any later. It is a pity about Sister Goldense.”

“Grandmother has… truly gone to a good place.”

“Yes. Well, for you to go there, you need no special preparations. As soon as you arrive, your habit and everything you need for daily life will be ready. But there is one problem.”

“What is it, Father?”

“You should have been baptized as an infant or child, but somehow, until now at age twelve, the time was never right. We must do it now. Is that all right?”

“Yes…”

The priest called the apprentice to prepare the tools for communion and baptism.

After a simple blessing, the priest broke a piece of white bread and placed it in Lyset’s mouth.

“This is my body,”

Then he poured a little wine into a small chalice and handed it to Lyset. She received it and drank.

“This is my blood.”

After communion, the priest dipped his hand into a silver bowl of water and placed it on Lyset’s head, praying the baptismal prayer. As the water flowed down her face, Lyset smiled faintly.

Thus ended the communion and baptism, carried out in simplified form.

After writing the baptism certificate, the priest urged her to follow them into the Grand Cathedral of Nastrand in a week’s time.

A week was enough to prepare her belongings. From then on—though she did not yet know what it was exactly—her true task would begin.

She did not know the scale of that task or how long it would take, but just the thought of finally entering the cathedral made Lyset glad.

And the week quickly passed.