After she was cast back to Umbravia by the evil Duke Cattivo-Piede, for false entry into Leoht, Alice could never forget her first-and-always love Aldun. Since her return to her homeland, her only wish was to return to that land of silver flowers and sapphire moons. And the crystal blue eyes of Aldun.

Every night she yearned for him. At the window, fresh from her bath, she would watch as dwindling dusk slid into deeper and deeper shadows, until she could no longer see the enormous elm tree that had opened a door to the passage to Leoht, that mystical, magical land of otherworldly love.

So-called grown-up life in Umbravia was so hard for her now, surrounded by people living their make-believe freedom. Alice lived a lie among liars. And even in the midst of the mob, she was so alone, so bereft.

Oh, she did have Bartram, but with him she felt even more alone. Bartram had befriended Alice, wooed her, called her darling, proposed marriage. But Bartram could never deeply love her. He thought only of Bartram, first, last, and ever.

She told him, ‘Thank you, no.’ He said, ‘Oh, darling, please.’ But she knew he didn’t mean it. Darling. Humph. Darling, indeed. Bartram was Bartram’s darling. She would never join him in his pre-fabra bungalow. Never become his wife, never love him with her heart. His heart was plastic and resilient. His mind was a raggedy ball of polyester yarn and elastic thread.

Aldun, had never called her such silly names as darling. When she and Aldun were alone, he took off his formal hat and coat and became a suitor with skin of pale silver. His kisses told her, right from the very first one, that he cherished her, that his feelings for her were deeper and richer with light than platinum stars. Dear Aldun’s love for her was a nurturing filled with tenderness.

At day’s end when the busy world was hushed and the fever of life was over, Alice prayed for her return to Leoht. She practiced the ceremonies and sang the chantings she learned from Aldun and the Love Guides of Leoht that guided Alice’s prayers to manifest desires and dissolve yearning and sorrow. Her rituals ended with elm bark burned and extinguished in a goblet of bright Sublatio wine to bring back the portal which would open for her passage back to Leoht.

She never doubted that Aldun joined her in prayer, that the longing of the two of them would work the mystical magic that would bring them together again. The most important lesson the Leohtians taught her was to have faith in prayers from inner light. The sorcery of those beings like Cattivo-Piede was sudden, but dark. The power of Aldun was slow, persistent, but everlasting. And filled with love and light.

One night in the middle of a dream of Leoht, she heard whispers: meemla, valsimi, shulasa. Aldun had come to her in sleep, bringing aromas of cedar and lemon, his soothing words of cherishment. And she knew the answer to their prayers would come soon.

Next evening as Alice was standing by the window putting up her hair and watching the dwindling dusk slide into shadows, she heard Aldun’s voice again, whispering, breathing his lovewords sossara, lirali, wowin. It was then that the giant elm tree began to glow softly, its trunk breathing an aura of gold. And the light from within leaked through the thick, ragged bark in the bright outline of a door.

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Photo by Jeremy Bishop on Unsplash