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The Child of the Evening Star

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The feast was laid and all made merry but Osseo. He sat like one in a dream, neither eating nor drinking. From time to time he would press Oweenees hand and speak a word of comfort in her ear, but for the most part, he sat there gazeing through the door of the tent at the star besprinkled sky. Soon a silence fell on all of the company, from out of the night, from the dark, mysterious forest came the sound of music, a low, sweet music, that was like yet unlike the song sung by the thrush in the summer twilight. It was magical music, such that none had ever heard coming as it seemed from a great distance, and rising and falling on the quiet summer evening. All those at the feast wondered as they listened, and well they might, for what to them was only music, was to Osseo, a voice that he understood, a voice from the sky itself, the voice of the evening star.

These are the words he heard. Suffer no more, my son, for the evil spell is broken.
And hereafter, no magician shall work you harm.
Suffer no more, for the time is come when you shall leave the earth
And dwell herar with me in the heavens.
Before you is a dish upon which my light has fallen
Blessing it and giving it a magic virtue
Eat of this dish, Osseo, and all will be well
So Osseo tasted the food before him, and behold, the tent began to tremble and rose slowly into the air. Up, up above the treetops. Up towards the it rose, the things within it were wondorously changed. The kettles of clay became bowls of silver. The wooden dishs were scarlet shells, while the bark of the roof and the poles supporting it were transformed into some glittering substance that sparkled in the rays of the stars.


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