When they first found the body there was nothing to be done but bury it with all due pomp and respect, so they built a tomb beneath the hill and wrapped her in goldrock brought half way across the world.

Because even then they had known that she was important.

Time passed and they grew wiser, and the wisest of them would sit in her tomb under the hill and consult with the gods about why she filled them with such awe and dreams of things they didn’t understand. Away from the hill they wrote stories about her and the things they saw, and taught their children to respect what they couldn’t understand.

The children listened carefully because they understood that, though they didn’t know her, she was important.

As the seasons rolled they grew more numerous and their knowledge larger. She remained an enigma, lying wrapped in silence under the hill. But other enigma surrounded them and the wise men stopped visiting the tomb and left her again to the silence they had disturbed. They forgot the visions her tomb had given them, leaving them to books that no one read.

The children played in the light and kept away from the hill and the reminder of things they didn’t understand.

Day followed night and their understanding outstripped their wisdom. The wise men bred the light and reached for the darkness and laughed about her lying under her hill. Yet still they could not let the visions lie, and they invented new ones to replace the stories they would not read any longer.

The children forgot about the hill and the silent tomb and played in the stories forgetting what they didn’t understand.

Under the hill she waited, wrapped in silence and unconcerned by their neglect.

***

Then the seasons didn’t turn and darkness replaced the light. The wise men shook their heads and pulled their minds from the stars, turning inwards to seek new answers, scrabbling amongst the old stories for new meanings, looking for the future in the past.

The children wailed and cried as the light died and the stories faded, hunger and pain their constant companion they learned that the past was also the future.

The wise men returned to the hill and the silent lady in her tomb. They took with them the greatest they were capable of, seeking answers in the visions that wrapped around her. With the last of their light they sought her in the darkness, travelling an unknown road to before the tomb.

In the blasted world the children waited and prayed that she would show them the way back.

It was in darkness that the wise men found her, in darkness and fear and dust, with her light only newly shadowed. But they covered her and gathered her to them before the darkness could claim her forever.

In the heat and the ice the children held their breath and waited for the return of the stories.

In the tomb under the hill the wise men brought her home and laid her, still sleeping, on her casket, uncertain what to do. As the days passed they kept their vigil and argued amongst themselves about what her return might mean.

The children had no such uncertainty and cried to her for salvation.

The darkness retreated on the seventh day and she opened her eyes to stare at the wise men in consternation and confusion.
“Who are you?” she asked them and there was ice in her voice. “Where are the others?”
The wise men were baffled and went in search of answers in the outer reaches of the tomb. They found no answers, but they found her words.

Outside the tomb the hungry children prayed for her understanding.

With her words in their heads the wise men sat before the lady they had returned to the light and begged her for help. She listened to them gravely with sorrow and understanding in her eyes but said nothing.

In the world beyond the children held their breath and hoped.

When they had said all that they could say, she still sat in silence. Only then did one wise man risk the question that they had not dared to ask,
“Who are you?”

It was then that she smiled, looking around at them in sudden understanding.
“Cally, my name is Cally.” She shook her head, “and I cannot help you.”
She ignored their shock and dismay and stared across at the sum total of their wisdom, her smile widening until it shone like the sun,
“But I know someone who can.”

Outside the children danced.