***

Do you hear us, Daughter of the Sun?

Just quiet words, a breath that takes the wind away

But listen carefully to what we say:

The time of silence comes, when all sound fades and dries up.

The splashing, rustling, quiet gurgling finally stop.

Where the melody once sounded, silence now lies.

The heron croaks a song of sadness, away he flies.

Creaking, scraping, hacking. The sound of breaking comes to us,

sounds through the stone and through the dust.

It breaks, it tears, it crashes and will burst,

who watches over us becomes cursed.

Blood freezes in cold veins, the mountain's heart no longer beats,

no water comes to us, the skin of earth refuses seeds.

Where green grass used to grow into the sky,

comes drought, comes silence nearby.

The sun's bright light pours itself into a golden bowl and also the moon's cool shine.

The weight of the gods sways, sways, and yet ultimately stands still until their splendor balances fine.

If this balance comes into force, the four must stand together and look through the eye.

It shows the way to the source. And perhaps the protective splendor of water will hear their cry.

Four marks then shine and make up for what was taken long ago.

And bring back harmony on the autumns morrow.

The sun's breath gasps and whistles, and if it does not regain its force,

its silver brother is already lurking at the doors.

And if what's bound to loneliness is freed, the wheel of gods will stand still.

Then what should always go forward will forever loose its turning will.

But this image vanishes like a candle in the windy gush,

the sun is setting and dusk comes in a rush.

In shadows, a hunter roams the land, searching and finding every light,

extinguishing it in silent fight.

His steps go inaudibly. He approaches invisibly and cuts through the candle's wick,

On his dagger the Goldens blood will stick.

A Sun' Child who dies alone loses its life and shiny glow.

But could it be the one who restarts the flow?

***

A shrill screech ripped through Soraya's head. The bizarre scene, made up of the hissing whispered ghost words, disappeared from her mind's eye, swallowed up by the terrible sound that cut through her skull like a knife blade.

She couldn't stand the unnatural tone any longer and opened her eyes. Immediately, the booming sound faded in volume, leaving only a distant, mournful echo. In its place came worried words and the whistling sound of her own frantic breathing.

"Soraya! What did they say?" The Shaman couldn't place who that voice belonged to. After a visit to the spirit world, it always took a few seconds for her own spirit to find its way back into her body. Dazed, she blinked at the cluster of small points of light that soon turned out to be tiny candle flames. A breeze that whistled through the tent entrance caused them to tremble and one of them to go out.

The sight immediately brought what she had just experienced back into Soraya's mind and reminded her not to let it get lost in the maelstrom of voices. Meanwhile, in her still somewhat confused mind, the noises, the whispers and the fragmented images are put together into something whole.

She had been listening to the voices of the spirits long enough to know that someone was about to make a terrible mistake. And it could only be one.

"Kovah will kill a Sun's Child," she said through trembling lips, reaching with her wrinkled hands for a cup of water offered to her by a red-haired Shaman.

Tilia, Soraya remembers. By absorbing things from the material world, her consciousness more easily re-anchored herself in the here and now and made it easier to remember her friends.

"Kovah is just doing his duty," someone else tried to reassure her as she drank deeply. By now Soraya's ears had adjusted to this world enough to recognize Jerikate behind the gentle words. "He's doing it to protect us."

Soraya's eyes hadn't worked very well for years, but she recognized the bright tone in the Thinker's voice all the more clearly. In general, she had the impression that since her first pair of eyes slowly stopped working, her second pair became more sharp.

With her knotty fingers she rubbed the throbbing area above her eyebrows on the right and left diagonally above the bridge of her nose. At these two points each sun child had an additional sensory organ, which many also referred to as the second pair of eyes. They weren't real eyes, the dark red emblazoned on her forehead, and only slowly reverted to the natural skin tone after use.

In Jerikate's camp they called it the Double Shadow because it made visible something that was otherwise hidden in the shadows. Unfortunately, it just worked for only those who at least knew what it meant and how to use it correctly. It was part of the knowledge that Lumondi's Ryumal was trying to eradicate from Yaradan, but Soraya didn't want to give it a thought at the moment.

There are more important things!

What Jerikate had said about Kovah sounded logical, but the last vision had left a bad taste in her mouth that water alone wouldn't wash away.

"Kovah is making a mistake. He will kill someone who poses no threat to us, someone who might even be valuable to us. The scream of the ghosts sounded terrible. He will undoubtedly do something wrong!" she resumed the conversation with the younger Sun's Daughter. In the dim glow of the flames, she could just see Jerikate's lips curling. The corners of the Thinker's mouth wrinkled and gave her a tired look. Soraya's insistence seemed to anger her.

"Then he will make a mistake... No Sun's Child knows where he is at the moment. We can't warn him and we can't stop him," she tried to ease the old Shaman's concern. She placed her pale hand on her friend's, hoping to give her some strength and support.

"No, we can't," Soraya agreed with a soft sigh and took another sip from the cup. The water lay like a soothing plaster on a throbbing wound. The heartbreaking scream of the spirits still ebbed in her mind, but Jerikate's touch helped her find her way back to Vachadris completely from the fleeting spirit world.

When she finally heard nothing more and her hectic breathing had returned to normal, Soraya knew that her second pair of eyes had closed again. The unpleasant throbbing above her eyebrows also subsided.

"What else did you hear?" Jerikate now demanded the information she had hoped to get from the Shaman. "Is there anything new from Yaradan?" But Soraya had to disappoint the Thinker. Everything else she had heard during her visit to the spirit world today had been brought to her ears many times by the voices. For several years now, the spirits had been talking about the same terrible event over and over again.

She shook her head timidly.

"No, it always stays the same."

"The source will dry up?" Jerikate knew the answer. Her question sounded more like she just wanted to painfully reassure herself of this fact. Soraya nodded with a soft sigh.

"And Yaradan becomes vulnerable to the Children of Yuhalai, who are just waiting for such an opportunity. The four bearers of the Lightmark must be united by the Equinox," she revealed her wisdom, "otherwise the source cannot awaken to new life and the Sun's Children will..." Soraya paused briefly and chose her next words carefully. "They ... they will lose..."

Jerikate hissed contemptuously and lifted herself from the woven willow mats on which Soraya, Tilia, and Nizat, the camp's three most skilled Shamans, still rested.

"You mean they will waste away and then be slaughtered!" The tall Thinker began to pace back and forth in the small tent restlessly. Years ago she had exchanged her white toga for a more practical garment made of coarsely woven Drall Sheep's wool, which now danced behind her restless steps as if it were being ruffled by a stormy wind.

Soraya knew why Jerikate couldn't remain relaxed about this news.

Sooner or later the source will run dry. The signs become clearer, the voices louder... When it comes to that, the four bearers must be gathered for the Equinox.

Soraya preferred not to imagine what would happen otherwise. The spirits warned her about it often enough.

And if what's bound to loneliness is freed, the wheel of gods will stop working. Then what should always go forward will forever and ever remaining.

The distorted words that increasingly crept into her mind sent a cold shiver down the old Shaman's spine.

Whether she wanted to admit it or not, time was running out. To be complete, however, they still lacked the Lightbearer from the shaman caste, and as long as it was not found, they would not be able to stop the impending catastrophe.

"I don't understand why Tanayar didn't bless you with his mark," Jerikate said freely. Soraya can immediately tell from the reproachful tone that these words were directed at her and not at Nizat or Tilia, who always silently assisted on her journey to the spirit world.

Sometimes she had the feeling that Jerikate was actually resentful of her for not wearing the Lightmark and thus being able to complete the four.

"You are able to hear the voices of the spirits, you can open your eyes, the spirits tell you about the future and the present. You should get the sign."

"It's not just what a grizzled Shaman like me can hear in her last days that counts," she quickly interrupted Jerikate, before she could get too caught up in her dream. "The sun god awards his Lightmark to those who have the greatest potential within them. I am too old to awaken the Source with you. Maybe I can listen better at this moment, but the Shaman who carries the Mark of Light will eventually be able to do it much better than I can.

The Sun God knows what strength we have within us, what we will one day be capable of...You already have so much wisdom and knowledge, Jerikate, but the Sun's Child we seek may not even be aware of his or hers double shadow." Soraya expressed her conviction. She could feel Jerikate's scrutiny on her.

The Thinker always tried to question everything and consider every possibility. She usually weighed every word that came out of her mouth carefully, but the fact that they had not made any progress in their search for some time was noticeably grating on her nerves.

"The source doesn't necessarily have to dry up this summer," the old Shaman tried to reassure her, even if she had little faith in it herself. Still, she didn't want to ignore hope. "The vision of drying rivers has haunted me for several years. The spirits only tell me that the chances are good that it will happen, but not when exactly it will happen."

Jerikate nodded hastily, but did not slow down her restless walk that had her rushing back and forth in front of the tent entrance. Her blonde braid bobbed nervously down her back.

Soraya could easily tell what was going through the Thinker's head.

She thinks of Kovah...

Almost everything they knew about Yuhalai's Children and their plans came from his stories. Jerikate believed his words without hesitation. As a Thinker with a well-developed Double Shadow, she had the ability to see through a person's intentions, and Kovah never had tried to hide a lie. Despite his dubious origins, she trusted him and his information, especially since it corresponded to a disturbingly high degree with the spirits' warnings.

"Brooding doesn't help us. We have to find the last missing bearer of the Lightmark, sooner rather than later," the Thinker finally interrupted the sad silence that threatened to spread through the tent like a paralyzing poison. "I will have a patrol prepared in the next few days. We need information from Yaradan. It's been too long since Malog's last report." Soraya immediately heard that something had changed in Jerikate's voice as she said her last words. When she thought about Malog, there was always a soft sound and so much concern mixed into her stern tone.

"You know he can't risk drawing too much attention. I'm sure he'll be in touch as soon as time permits." Soraya's wrinkled lips curled into a reassuring smile, even though her heart wanted to shed bitter tears.

The poor child carries such a huge burden...

Whenever Soraya could offer support to the Thinker with her abilities or comfort with words, she did so. After all, a burden was easier to bear when shared.

"I hope you're right," Jerikate agreed. But in her mind she was probably already selecting the possible Sun's Children who would make it to Yaradan quickly and unseen. She wrapped the light sheep's wool tighter around her slim body and made preparations to leave the tent, but not without turning back to her friend.

"As always, I thank you for your information, Soraya." She nodded respectfully to the other Shamans: "Nizat, Tilia, Tanayar's blessing with you." With these short words, Jerikate disappeared into the darkness that was already spreading outside the tent camp had spread out.

The visit to the spirit world had exhausted Soraya. She would have liked to sit down on her bed right then and there, wrap herself in the warm blankets and allow her old body to rest, but she didn't want the other Shamans to see her exhaustion. For this reason, she sent Tilia and Nizat out of her poor shelter with thanks before allowing herself to rest her bones.

She was too old for life outside of a protective city. Even if Jerikate's Warriors made sure that no Taragir or Whiteweaver entered her camp and gave her every comfort they could muster, she would not be of any use here for long.

Knowing this, Soraya dripped a few drops of Restdeep Tincture into her cup, added some water from an earthenware carafe, and drank. The bitter herbal extract would give her sound sleep and pleasant dreams. With any luck, it would allow her mind to separate from her fragile body for the duration of her sleep.

Soraya wanted it very much. She wished she could visit the Sun's City in her dreams, to hear the sound of the cascades again, to feel the holy water on her skin. She wished with all her heart that the last bearer could be found this summer, that the order could be restored soon and that no more innocent Sun's Children would have to die.

Tanayar, let me see once again your golden temple and hear the song of the twin cascades...

___________

JERIKATE

Night had come to the Valley of the Golems. Only a few lights flashed between the trees: the sentry torches, dying cooking fires or oil lamps swaying in the wind. Silence had spread over the camp, only the chirping of the crickets and the dance of the gently glowing fireflies filled the shadows with life.

Soraya's tent, stretched between two birch trees, was very close to her own. Jerikate knew every step by heart; the moon and starlight were enough for her to orientate herself.

Twelve years ago, when she fled the City of the Sun, she could never have imagined what her refuge would become. She now housed two dozen Sun's Children in this valley, and there were a few more every year.

Like me, they all fled oppression. They all know the truth, know about the right of the bearers of the Lightmark and are ready to fight for it. For freedom, for equality, for me...

As she passed an uninhabited tent, Jerikate felt sad despite the hopeful thought. Just as the Lumondis had taken increasingly drastic action against rebellious Sun's Children in recent years, Malog's visits to the camp had steadily decreased until they barely saw him anymore.

Perhaps he is the one who fights the most for me, even if he fights this battle far away...

As the Supreme Worker Malog could move freely in Yaradan and keep his eyes and ears open for the Lightmark he was looking for before the Lumondis found it. He was her invisible connection to the city, her safe haven in Yaradan. He fought under a cloak of lies in the place that posed the greatest danger to any bearer of the Lightmark: directly under the eyes of Lumondis. But that also meant they couldn't be together, not as long as Ryumal had control over Yaradan.

Long ago, Jerikate had put Lumondis's disempowerment ahead of her own desires. Reason had commanded her to act in the interests of all Sun's Children instead of fulfilling the desires of a few.

Even if her heart painfully regretted this decision every night, the union of the four bearers of the Lightmark had to come first.