Hmm. When will I see my light?

“I say,” came Eustace’s voice much later, “are my eyes going queer, or is there a patch of light up there?”

Before anyone could answer him, Puddleglum called out: “Stop. I’m up against a dead end. And it’s earth, not rock. What were you saying, Scrubb?”

“By the Lion,” said the Prince, “Eustace is right. There is a sort of – ”

“But it’s not daylight,” said Jill. “It’s only a cold blue sort of light.”

“Better than nothing, though,” said Eustace.

C. S. LEWIS, The Silver Chair