23.3 Their Own Rhythm

General Summary

Day 395

Ghost and Camellia are carefully dismantling the lean-to when I finally drag myself out of my sleeping roll. It's a slow, methodical process and each little binding is unwound and scattered to the wind as the larger pieces are strewn about as though they had never been part of a structure before.   I listen to Alder and Lyssa outline their plan for crossing their river (he leaves an anchor here, Lyssa flies him across, and he opens a gate) as I gulp down my tea quickly in order to make a suggestion - in a circle he can see through Lyssa's eyes and cast a gate without traversing it first. As much as I trust them, I'm a little nervous at the prospect of someone tumbling into the icy water.   We cross without issue and continue North along a tributary that seems to grow warmer and warmer the further we follow it. Wisps of steam drift off the surface in places above strange magical patches that I don't recognize. It seems like someone poured magic into the river upstream and now it is swirling and combining with the rest of the water and mixing until it fades away. Whatever it is, it's warm and pleasant.   The air around us warms as well and vegetation begins sprouting from the banks. Suddenly there is a flood of deep red rose petals and a young woman in a dark red dress steps out from the illusion to greet us (to greet Ghost, really).   Mystery seems to recognize her as Belle, but she quickly clarifies that she is Belle's daughter, Charlotte. Her mother passed away but Charlotte has inherited her gifts. It seems that they are both mystics of Mora, the red duellist.   Charlotte accompanies us to the village and we pass through a circle of brightly burning torches to come into the centre of the settlement. It is open and airy, almost too warm as we shed our winter vestments. The centre of the village is a spring-fed pool that gurgles with warm water that I think must have been enchanted to be like this.   Despite all the people around us, I see no one older than 30. Even when an impressively-clad mystic of the Candlemaker approaches, he can't be more than Bran's age. Mystery starts upon seeing him, recognizing him as Gedrin. He doesn't recognize her, of course, but Mystery was last here thirty years ago and he was nearly fifty.   We end up sitting down to tea with the people I imagine are the most relevant to us: Charlotte, Gedrin, Meila, and Tom, the leader of their village. Meila is in her third century and she is delighted to see us and offers to share her home with us.   When I mention that we have found welcome in another village of the Weaver, Tom seems pleased to hear that Moira has found a place for herself. Apparently she was once his disciple. I wonder if he knew her from across the sea or whether they found one another here...Regardless, he is full of questions and comments that border on strange. Mystery whispers to me that he doesn't seem to have changed at all since she was last here.   He asks if we are looking for a home (no). He asks if Bran is sure he's human anymore (also, no). And he tells us that this place is blessed with some sort of strange magic of the gods. Perhaps the gods once sheltered here long ago and left their mark on the area. He has been taking people in here for a long time and they only ever leave when they are seeking to make the world a better place (like Moira) or because they are restless.   When I ask Gedrin how long he has been here he looks confused, and Tom hushes him a little. He came across the sea with members of the Candlemaker's church who were more warlike and violent. I ask if he came here with Killeon and again, he looks confused. Tom nods and once again, gently hushes Gedrin's confusion. The wards around the village are Gedrin's work and they've been lucky to have him for so long ("Not that long" Gedrin comments).   It is, on the whole, an unsettling conversation and I'm relieved to leave and be shown to Meila's home. Once we cross her threshold she kneels and offers apologies for not demonstrating the proper respect but as usual, I wave it off. I had nearly forgotten what it was like to meet new elves unaccustomed to the lack of formality I'm practising.   We spend the next little while catching up about elvish things - she tells us there is an ancient elvish place nearby that she will show us tomorrow. And she asks if we have perhaps heard news of a friend she has lost: Spindle. Again, it has been so long since I could deliver such happy news!   She happily says that she will have to pay him a visit as soon as possible, remarking that it is fortunate that she is not bound here yet.  

I'm not bound to this place yet. Maybe one day I will be. I have seen that there is no wound that cannot be healed here, no trauma that cannot be erased. Tom calls it 'unweaving' and although it restores a person it is not true healing. It restores the person to before their injury as though it never happened. All the memories accumulated since that point are lost and they experience life again from then on. The more it is used the more dependent they get on the magic. I have seen people leave the village and simply return as they felt an inescapable pull to come back.   Some people here are too important for the community to lose so Tom unweaves them. Gedrin, for example. But Tom always explains the process to people and lets them choose if they want to do it or not. Of course they don't remember afterwards and he simply tells them that they've been healed. People here are told not to look too hard for their past. It may no longer exist.

  This explanation flows with a dawning sense of horror in my mind. I can't judge anyone who needs to forget things in order to heal but the prospect of losing it all and never getting it back...as someone who has lived that possibility I can't imagine choosing it. I can't think of many elves who would, nor fae!   I wonder what Bran makes of this. Perhaps it is something that would appeal more to humans.