The Oaken Throne

Have no fear," the voice told her, "for in thee lies the hope of all. Only thou can deliver the land from darkness." "How can I?" she asked. "I am just one against so many." The eyes gleamed behind the dappling leaves. "Yet the smallest acorn may become the tallest oak," came the answer.

The time is come," he spoke quietly. "Now, when lesser folk would wither, thou must be true to the blood of thine ancestors. Much greatness is bred in thee; accept now this terrible mantle and take a step nearer thy destiny.

I shall not waste any more words on you," she said coldly. "Your mind is too closed to hear them.

Yours is a true heart, Vespertilio. Beware of it, for it is surely too large for thy chest to contain.

I don't want to be the Starwife!" Ysabelle protested. "It isn't fair!" Her mother wavered; even now, it was not too late. "You must fulfill your destiny," she said at last. "The Starwifeship is already yours. All that remains is for you to bring the amulet and the Starglass together. Once that is done, the power of the heavens will be yours to command. Use it wisely, for the forces locked within the Silver Acorn may be used for good or ill. On your journey, never be parted from it; always wear it about your neck.

Curious how even a little time can alter so much.

The time had finally come when she would have to accept the full power of the Starwife. No longer could she be just Ysabelle. Now she had a land to govern and all the daunting responsibilities that that entailed. The liberty she had experienced since the night she had escaped from the Ring of Banbha seemed to vanish. She was left stripped of her freedom, and only long years of a lonely reign stretched out before her.

The moles came bearing their lamps and then the most ancient and magical creature that ever danced beneath the moon was lost in darkness once more.

Alone, her soul destroyed and her heart bereft and empty, the Lady Ninnia touched her amulet and closed her eyes. "No," she breathed, "I was wrong. This time, my wisdom has failed me. Our daughter is not ready. To become the Handmaiden of Orion, one must know terrible grief in order to learn compassion." She gazed after her husband and shook her head sorrowfully. "Even the deaths of us, her parents, are not, I fear, enough. May she find what she needs upon that dark and deadly road upon which I have sent her. My poor, poor child - farewell.

Remember us, Belle," Cyllinus wept, "when the dangers are past and you sit upon the throne in Greenreach. Think of us. Do not forget me, little one.

Now is the time!" Ysabelle cried. "Now do I accede to the throne and claim my place as Handmaiden to Orion!

Hesitating at the last instant, she gazed back at Vesper, and tears brimmed in her eyes as she murmured in a meek voice, "Good-bye, my love." Then she returned to the enchanted device and called out, "May this new vessel serve you well!

Tread not into the fearsome night But pull the covers high, Step not into the wild dark wood For the Hobbers are dancing nigh