Some talking but no real resolution as to what the heck is going on. If they are confused then I have no clue at all where this is going.

I did finish my preliminary spreadsheet about ages. I, obviously, still need to draw the cavern. That’s a bother right now as, several segments ahead, they go exploring.

Enjoy my content? Buy me a beer!

Like all their extended family, lore was important.  Loyalty more.  Alicia had known of Allen’s mysterious disappearance decades ago, after going out fishing with his then-little daughter, Livia.  Now wife to my great uncle, Edward.  Followed by his return, barely aged, to Ryland, nearly twenty years later.

Yet here he is before me, she thought, following and making the occasional sound as he told a story she already knew.  A soul cannot be two places at once; well, maybe Kalí, so what is going on here?

“…had just picked up my fishing pole, when there was something like a flash from the sky,” he was saying, “and instead of East Beach of Galveston, I was in this nearly pitch black cave.”

His eyes adjusted over the months or years to be as good as hers, Allen led them further down the path next to the lake, explaining it got less and less brackish as they moved [north].  Hence his fishing pole.  When she asked about the Crabbies, he stopped.

“You mean those in the images in that building?  No.  I think that was from a long time ago,” he surmised.

Time means nothing here, human.

He had them angle left away from the path.  A rough stone hut had been constructed next to yet another stone pipe pouring water into a cut into the ground, leading to the lake.

“Not to be crass, but it makes for a place to wash and a toilet at the same time, up and downstream, of course,” he said.  Walled with no roof, Alicia watched him take some smallish rounds of vegetables? lichen? and shake them, producing a glow enough to see by.

“Having said all that,” he turned about to face her, “you introduced yourself with words which made zero sense.  The great granddaughter of the Empress?  Hell, Ry and I only met her five years ago, when she was carrying her son.”

“What year do you think this is?” she asked, looking at him closely.  He told her.  Where do I start?  Family, I suppose.

“That was over fifty years ago.  How long do you think you’ve been here?”

“A couple of years,” Allen muttered, stunned by her pronouncement.  “I guess.”

“Was your hair short when you came here?” she asked.

“Yeah.  In the south Texas heat, always kept a buzz cut, even before the Navy.”

“Given its current length, I’d guess you’ve been here three years, plus or minus.  Calm down!” she said, seeing his skin flush and blood pressure spike.  Ryland is fine.  Your daughter Livia is a beautiful woman married to my grandfather’s brother, the Empress’ second son.”

“And,” she smiled and tried to put compassion into her voice, “you a grandfather, several times over.  Congratulations, Uncle.”

Allen’s head hung so low, Alicia was worried about his neck.

“I don’t get any of this,” she barely heard.

“If it is any consolation,” which she doubted, “neither do I.  We have been given this great trial from the Lord.  With faith in Him and ourselves, we shall prevail.  After all, I know you are reunited with your family.  I just never was privy to the details.”