The Cateraman boat is moored on the sea–shore.
The wind rustles the trees, and the sky blisters the earth with lightning bolts and rumbling thunder.
Distant carooning of owls, chirping of crickets, and hoots of wild creatures echo the forest.
Ishmael holds Isaiah in his arms and is leading the way through unmarked trails.
Isaiah is cautious and curiously wide–eyed, observing this mysterious Island.
Ace walks closely beside them with a flashlight. The bright illumination unravels the barbed path lined with trees, crawling vines, and shrubs.
Isaiah gasps as a white rabbit with glowing scarlet eyes hops across.
"A rabbit, Papa!" Isaiah exclaims, excitedly pointing a finger at the rabbit vanishing into the bush.
A few steps behind, Rhean, walking with his parents, shifts his gaze to catch a glimpse of the rabbit.
Neva feels a drop of cold rain on her head. She carries a sleeping Inaya, whose fever has fortunately subsided.
Carefully untangling her hand from Rhean's, she adjusts Inaya's hood, which has drifted astray from her head.
Neva finds Rhean's hand again, securing his little hand in her gentle, but firm grip.
Rhett walks beside them, flashlight in hand. Of all the luggage prepared, only one bag hangs from his shoulder, containing the belongings that will prove crucial if anything goes offshore, considering his lack of trust in Ishmael and the Island.
There are surveillance cameras mounted on the tree trunks and poles. He even discerns some of the camouflaged ones, with infrared LEDs blinking red as they operate.
"Are you tired?" Neva asks Rhean in a gentle, murmuring tone. Rhean glances up at her and shakes his head.
She smiles and softly squeezes his hand.
They walk for about twenty minutes now. The wind grows harsher, biting colder with each gust. She feels more droplets of rain tap gently against her skin—more frequent, more insistent.
And surely... fortunately, almost as if summoned by hope itself, a faint golden gleam slices through the dense murk of the forest.
A slit of light—soft and distant—cuts across the gloom like a promise.
"Is this it?" Ace asks, slowing his pace.
His brow arches, surprise flickering across his face as the lodge rises solemnly in the heart of the forest.
"Indeed," Ishmael replies, his tone flat, unreadable.
Neva releases the breath she hasn't realized she's been holding, snared in anxiety.
Then Ishmael seizes shortly after.
The massive three–storey wooden lodge stands apparent to the eyes in the closed clearing of forest.
"I'll head in first." Ishmael says and gently places Isaiah down on the ground.
He gazes down at the boy, who looks up at him with quiet curiosity. Ishmael runs a hand through Isaiah's hair. "Go to your mother."
Isaiah nods obediently and runs toward Neva.
"Ace, go with him." Rhett says.
Ace responds with a silent nod.
The flashlights are now turned off.
Ishmael moves towards the lodge, Ace walking silently behind.
"Are we staying here tonight, Mumma?" Isaiah asks spiritedly, glancing up at his mother.
One of Neva's arm supports a deeply slumbering Inaya beneath her bottom, while the strained other steadies her head.
"I think so," Neva murmurs, her sight not straying from the towering wooden lodge.
The iron gate stands estimatedly about thirty steps away from where they are. Along the pathway leading to the lodge, tall poles of Victorian lanterns line the way, each one of them eminating a warm, golden luminance.
But it is awfully eerie and still, only broken apart by the distant rumble of thunders, the light whooshing of wind through the trees, and the faint chirupping of crickets.
She is in Miraeth. All seven of them.
Three adult men, a woman, and three of her young children.
They have come with her to assist her in The Calling.
The smell of dirt and bitter grass of Miraeth symphatizes with her respiration, familarizing and lived by her heart. This Island that she has a mysterious connection with—an antiquity with, hopefully to evoke along a fortuity of dawn with.
She is suddenly hit by this realisation: None of the happenings in her life is coherent.
But rather, an uphill of blessings, and valleys in bleak shadows and obstacles.
Everything that she went through had made her.
And each hair's breath of her life is meaningful—and it prepares her for this Holy grail.
He had led them to Miraeth without harm. And Neva has faith; He will usher protection over them for as long as the soul lives.
"Sleepy?" Rhett asks, noticing his son yawn.
Rhean nods dizzily, his eyelids heavy and drooping.
"Is it okay if we sit there?" Neva gestures at the Victorian bench farther away by the front gate.
Rhett scrutinizes the bench, then looks straight ahead at the lodge where Ace and Ishmael dissapeared inside.
"Sure," he answers, and Neva, in an instant makes for the bench, ushering along her children.
She sighs in relief as she sits down on the bench and carefully stabilizes Inaya on her lap.
She is weary from walking, and her arms are starting to hurt from holding Inaya.
Isaiah and Rhean companiably sit on either side of her.
Rhean leans on her, Neva's arm instinctively wrapping around to secure him in. Comforted, his eyes slowly fluttering closed.
And nearby, Rhett watches in fascination, noticing the fatigue etched on the mother and son.
They are both equally, painfully stubborn.
He offered to carry Inaya, but Neva refused, the same answer prevailed from Rhean when Rhett asked to support him.
Soon enough, Ace walks out the entrance door.
Ishmael trails behind shortly with two men dressed in pleated navy–blue shirts under black vest coats and trousers, dragging along with them hotel baggage carriers.
They are presumably the staff members of the unnamed lodge–cabin.
They walk out the gates, and the two staff members, acknowledging their presence, bows their head in respect.
Neva returns the gesture, as does Isaiah.
"They'll bring the rest of the luggage." Ace indicates.
"And the boat?" Rhett inquires.
"They'll look after them," Ace replies.
Rhett inspects the two strangers, measuring them briefly and eventually nods, sending the personnel back along the route they arrived to collect the rest of their belongings.
Rhett grows alarmed as Ishmael nears Neva.
But before he can charge at him, Ishmael asserts Neva to carry his daughter.
Neva aids in shifting Inaya into Ishmael's arms.
This time, Isaiah walks and Rhean is carried by Neva.
Rhett closes the gate, but before he enters further, he pauses and scans the stiffened atmosphere, obscured in shadiness.
And he hypothesizes—they will have the pleasure of seeking rest in the lodge, but only for tonight.
"Rhett?" Neva calls, her voice drifting nearby.
Rhett looks at her.
She stands a little ahead, already turned his way, patiently awaiting him.
"Coming," Rhett responds, and jogs towards Neva, his heart stirred.