Years had past since Morgan perished and Yew Rue was banished. Justice had been done. The country and city were at peace. The Golden City was now restored to its former splendour. One afternoon, while playing a game with the young Prince Eric, son of Zingara, Anchor discovered a strange little room. Because of her mental abilities, Anchor perceived this was Morgan’s abode. It was untouched since the solitary and catastrophic visit of Yew Rue. She cautiously entered.
“Hello?” she asked. All was silent. She walked to the toppled discarded black box where Yew Rue left it. She sat down and picked it up slowly. She sensed the power and lives occupying this small hinged space. She opened the heavy leather and wood lid. Looking in the box, it was full of small amulets of human hair … young women’s hair. Anchor gasped.
She saw the ghostly faces and unspeakable vampire deaths. Morgan was her half-brother, both born of Lamia the Dragoness. She saw in vision the puppet Morgan preparing their hair as food. All this swept before her eyes in a blink. She was silenced by panic; a panic that said, “run far away”. Instead she bolstered her nerves. Closing the lid to the box she carried it from the dark room and out into the daylight. She knew now why Morgan never killed her like the rest. In the garden, Zingara knelt by her son as he was asking her questions. Arrow also accompanied her. Arrow was big and round expecting her first child. They all were gathered in the military garden near the Eternal Flame for the Dead.
“Where have you been? What’s in your hands?” asked Eric, “Is it evil?”
His mother tried to shush him but Anchor pleased with his discernment interrupted.
“Quite right, my young highness, and we’ll destroy this wickedness today and rid its evil from the earth forever.” She dumped the box’s contents in the flame. It crackled with a roar. She tossed the leather wooden box in next. A funny noise commenced with a soft laugh followed soon by another until a cacophony of girlish laughter resounded through the entire flame. The curling thin flame rose higher and higher drifting off toward the midday sun.
“Those were Morgan’s girls. Weren’t they?” asked the young prince.
“What would you know of Morgan’s girls?” asked Anchor.
“Well they tell stories in the market. They say you were one of Morgan’s girls and survived. Is it true?” asked the boy Eric.
“Yes. It is true,” she replied seriously. She stared up at the flame, pensive.
“Why didn’t he kill you or give you to Lamia like all the other maidens?” asked the boy with intense curiosity, “They say he gave her all the unblemished ones. What does unblemished mean?”
“It means: perfect. But he most likely spared my life because he knew we were opposites. Maybe he feared killing me. Or maybe he feared loving me. I never got to ask him. But he knew, in the end, I would be victor. He set himself up to fail,” said Anchor.
“He probably was reserving you as the hideous damsel, you know, as a magic hostage,” said Arrow.
“I’m glad you freed those girl spirits today,” said Eric solemnly.
“Why is that?” asked his mother, Zingara.
“Because of what Grandfather used to say, “Serve not self”. This was a selfless act. Wasn’t it?”
“Yes. Very much so,” Zingara said, tears pouring down her cheeks as her small son quoted Somer Krest, a Grandfather little Eric knew only through stories.
Anchor hugged Zingara and whispering said, “Sister, savor these words for an unstained tomorrow; Serve not self.”
“Well said beautiful daughter! I’ve been observing all of you and you are all wonderful empathizing humans.” There stood the Wise Old Man emerging from the castle with Eye close behind him as bodyguard.
“Father! How are you alive? We saw you buried.”
He kissed them all, even Arrow.
“Your location and destruction of the box and it’s contents permits me to be with you now. I couldn’t be safe otherwise, nor any of our Kingdom. I could have been demonically possessed like Yew Rue and we would have lost everything.”
“Are you all right?” asked Anchor.
“I think if you ask the well-trained, Arrow, who is married to this Royal Bodyguard called Eye, they can tell you many of the nit-picky details. What matters, I’ve been “dead” and shielded by my good men. As for now, I am too old to relate such petty and boring trivialities. I want to talk to my grandson.”
Eric marched forward and bowed. The sisters seemed stunned.
“Excellent, Master Eric. Can you tell me the tale of the Great Phoenix?” asked Krest with a gleam in his eye.
“Oh, yes, sir. I know it very well. Let’s go over by the reflecting pond. I’ll tell you all about it. On a sunny day like this if you look hard into the waters, you can see the bird’s fires blazing.”
“Really?” said Somer Krest as they walked slowly toward the water, “Would it surprise you if I told you I just spent an entire year with the Phoenix?”
The boy stared at him for a minute.
“Grandfather, you’ve got to sit by the pond and hear my story first. OK?”
The Wise Old Man laughed heartily.
“I do like this boy’s leadership potential. Yes, indeed.”