81. The Dellilian Castle
Skylenna
Eight Hundred and Ninety-Five Years in The Past
My husband built me acastle.
Though, he did not do it alone.
Our children and grandchildren made frequent trips to help us. Warrose, Marilynn, and Ruth too. Although, Warrose and Dessin would end up doing all the heavy lifting and the ladies would drink wine and critique their mistakes. At the end of the really long days, Warrose and Dessin would have a glass of whiskey on the gigantic balcony they built. The same one I was alone with Dessin on after the ball when he was still a patient.
We met the ancient colonies too, to which they enjoyed venturing out to our work site at sunrise to give us extra sets of hands. They’d bring lumber, beautiful stones, and their finest stonemasons to turn this structure into a masterpiece.
Sapphire and Krimson would bring us baked goods, furniture, paint, and additional tools as well.
Kane carved our bedframe by hand and made the feather bed himself too. He continued drawing blueprints of the ballroom, the designs along the staircase. All of it. And slowly we got there, with only one piece truly missing.
“Where are we going?” I ask Niklaus, leading us on a hike to the North Sapphrine Forest.
“So, I didn’t know this before—but Uncle Warrose recently told me how he made Aunt Ruth’s chair. Do you remember?” Niklaus helps Sapphire step over a creek, supporting her pregnant belly.
I exchange a glance with Dessin. “No, I don’t think so.”
We arrive at a small nook in the forest, a spot with four whimsical trees standing crooked and tall in the center of it.
“He cut down one of these four trees. But at the time, he said there were only three trees to choose from,” Niklaus explains.
Sapphire sits in front of them, admiring their roots. “He did know that these trees are impenetrable. Over the thousand years they’ve been standing—they have survived firestorms, earthquakes, extreme frost and war. Now, here’s what he didn’t know. He didn’t know that these trees can only be cut down by those foound worthy. That is why he was able to use one for Aunt Ruth’s chair. He didn’t know that Niklaus and I were here over a thousand years ago when these trees were born.”
“What?” Dessin’s eyes dart between them suspiciously.
“You still need a front door for the castle, right? Well, Sapphire and I were thinking…if there were only three trees here when Uncle Warrose cut one down, then the fourth must have been uprooted by a person who was worthy. We can’t think of a better, more worthy man than one who would build his wife a castle.” Niklaus puts one hand on the tree to the far right. “And if that castle is to be named after our sweet Dellilian, then it should have a piece of her built in it too.”
I stand up straight. “Is this where…”
Niklaus nods.
“The trees are called Dellilian’s Hearts. And this is where Dellilian passed away. These trees grew from her sacrifice.” Sapphire smiles sadly, patting the dark soil around her roots.
My eyes fill with tears as I grin at Dessin, holding my arms out to the trees.
“It’s perfect. I can’t think of anything more special.”
We hug our daughter and son-in-law. We admire the trees and take a moment to thank the heroic creature that was there for our children when we couldn’t be.
Dessin, Niklaus, and Warrose spend a few days on the front door. It’s massive. The spine and heart of our small castle. The wood is the old, burnished brown of the earth after a heavy rain. Warrose carves art into its surface. A RottWeilen with a shadow of wings. Knights and angels in combat. Saints transforming into wolves. And DaiSzek’s head as the iron door knocker.
As they install it on brass hinges, the door breathes life into our new home. A pulse that circulates our families’ memories into the walls.
One Sunday evening, we invite the colonies to the castle for a peaceful supper. They each bring delicious dishes from their sacred books of recipes. Marilynn helps me prepare a few of our own. During the dinner, we discover that the colonies do not have prophecies they live by.In fact, they hold no stories of the future to come. No prophecies that hold our names and destinies. At what point will they acquire them?
It’s then we set our forks down and turn to Marilynn.
She smiles warmly, dipping her head for us to catch on. To gather the last piece of the puzzle that she has always known, but we did not.
The men and women around the table have striking features, as close to fae, elves, nymphs, and other whimsical creatures that were diluted over the centuries. Leaving the descendants we came to know and love in the decade we were born into.
They continue eating, waiting to hear more about our travels from wherever we came from.
