19.1 Sunset

General Summary

Day 231

I wake not in the camp with the knights, but in the Dreaming with Lesili. She beckons me away from our camp so as not to disturb the others. I agree to accompany her to see the Captain, who she tells me is the leader of the Raiita.   Although she also tells me that the Raiita themselves refer to themselves as the Vanguard. Most fae hear songs as though they are stories with which you become intimately familiar. For the Vanguard it is like the songs are parts of previous lives and even a young fae might have lived hundreds and hundreds of lives already, gaining more each time they sleep.   The Vanguard wonder why they have become like this - whether there is a purpose to their transformation and whether the Heart herself did this to them. She tells me that she is one of the few who remember a time from before the War, when fae and elves were friends. But if the Vanguard isn’t here to prepare for another war, why do so few remember peace?   Before she brings me to the Captain she asks if I know any reason that our people may need to fight each other. I don’t, of course, and so she flies with me across the entire Grove to a mountain lake surrounded by eldritch trees. Beside the lake is an ancient stone temple, reminiscent of the seasonal ruins near Ipth. And sitting amongst them is a fae unlike any I’ve ever seen, including Magdalena.   Her hair is blue-black against pale, milky white skin. Unlike the vibrant colours of other fae wings, hers are a rich purple-blue and speckled with shimmering stars, like her eyes. From her I sense power equal to my own, unlike any but the Blaze ghosts.   She introduces herself as Andstella. Like many strange new friends, she asks me why I have come. I don’t think this woman is part of the courts or any body of fae that I need to truly handle politically but still, I give her what amounts to a politician’s answer. I came here to find a way to finish a war. I found traces of an older war that need healing, and so I have started trying to heal the thousands-old wounds. I tell her about the groves I’ve found and the tree at Wellspring and Kadia’s forest.   She seems unconvinced and asks how I plan to form bonds. I answer again - I have groves to return and I want my people to keep the fae safe while they sleep.   And then she examines my hands, remarking that they have known a sword, a staff, a wand, and taken many lives. She asks if these are the hands I would use to forge bonds.   The gentle things that one does with one’s hands will never leave the same marks. The dirt under my nails washes out after gardening, the soft perfume of my lover’s hair fades. Once upon a time I had a callous from holding a pen but that too has been worn away. My hands have built and destroyed and they were unchanged throughout. She takes my hand and leads me away from the temple, drifting across the lake as through we were walking over it the same as any solid land.   And she asks good questions - if I weren’t doing this, would I be gardening? What would I do with my hands? The answer is obvious to me - I’d write. I have so much I need to write down, so much to read. I would be happy if I never had a free hand because I was always holding a book. Or a piece of chalk as I lectured and drew on a chalkboard. I want to do research and think about magic and spend hours arguing with Alwen and Amytri about some minute piece of magical knowledge that only we know or care about.   This, at least, seems like a good enough answer. Serves me right for trying to be a politician instead of myself.   Knowing that I am a researcher, Andstella poses a question. Some fae believe that the Heart of Song herself chooses which songs are heard by her children. But what would happen if someone else was singing to them? Who is singing to the Vanguard?   I accept a magical blindfold-effect as she guides me to yet another secret unknown place - one that is special to her. When the magic falls away I am in the presence of a large tree not quite like the other Grove trees but not quite like Kadia’s tree. I can feel someone here, familiar but distant in a way I can’t quite place. The energy is vibrant and pulsing like a heartbeat but still, it slips out of my reach.   Andstella tells me that she heard the beat of this tree when she was very very young. She followed it and slipped through parts of the Grove that no other fae could fit through and it took her a long long time but eventually she reached this tree. Now she is trapped, and has been for seventy years. No one can reach this place and she can only speak to others in the Dreaming. She stays awake much longer than a normal fae and only sleeps for a few days, waking each time with even more memories. It must be so disorienting, having grown up alone with only other people’s memories.   And now I see why she has brought me here. Yes, she is trying to understand this tree and how she came to be, why the Vanguard is waking. But now with an elf present, she hopes that I could shadow-step to her in the Waking world and even retrieve her to the outside Grove again. She has kin, she knows, even though it has been decades since her parents would have sung their last song. Between Alder and myself I’m sure we can work out how to shadow-step here and find our way out again, even with the complication of bringing her along with us. So I agree, of course.   But before we turn to leave, she asks if the tree will recognize me. This large but young tree is reminiscent both of the Grove and of Kadia’s forest, and I’m curious as well. I offer it blood, just like I did with Kadia’s purple blossoms so long ago.   And I find myself pulled into it and lost in a whirlwind of memories. Forty years’ worth of fae memories flash through my mind as though I had lived them myself, and these are ancient memories, not just of the war but of a time before that and even more than what Magdalena had told me.  

Elvish cities near the Groves. I’ve always had elven friends and lovers. In this world with both fae and elves, one of many fae kingdoms. Elves walked everywhere in the Grove. Fae felt themselves to be nurturers of elven spirits the way elves were nurturers of growing things. Fae brought elves back into the present to keep them from drifting off into the long-running future. Art, gardening, songs, I remember it all. For a third of my memories I was a poet. I remember endless time watching the sun set.

 

Day 261

I wake moments later in the soft grass amongst the roots of the same tree, my head in Andstella’s lap. Lesili is here, and Alder nearby. As they gather around me I feel disoriented and huge, looking at the tiny fae who feel like they should be my size...but this is a remnant of those memories that are still in my mind. I am an elf, and an appropriately-sized elf. Alder crushes me in a hug but withholds the scolding that I truly feel I have earned.   And it is only in the beginnings of their explanation (I passed out, Andstella contacted Lesili who contacted Alder who found a way to bring both Lesili and my unconscious body here to the tree) that I realize two weeks have passed since I first woke in the Dreaming.   And what’s more...when I try to retract my wings (I’m lying on them, and it’s not terribly comfortable), they stay out. My cloak is folded neatly on the ground and yet still, wings.   They aren’t the red-gold autumn wings given to me by the cloak either...they are navy fading to dusty blue to blush pink and rich, amber sunset. Just like Andstella is the night sky, I am the horizon as the sun goes to rest.  

You exist in the twilight moments at the end of the day, with all the complexity and blurry lines that brings. Dusk is a time to put down the work and struggle of the day, to find rest and restoration. A Disciple of Dusk can bring soothing, easing aching muscles, quieting restlessness and dampening overly abundant energy. The magic of the hearth pairs well with being a Disciple of Dusk, while you don't gain the full power of a hearth witch, you can mimic many of the lesser abilities of an experienced hearth witch. Likewise, while you don't gain anything approximating the abilities of a wizard Master of Fire, you do have distinct abilities to manage camp fires, bonfires, and to work with coals and embers. You move quietly in the twilight, see better in the dark, find it easier to maintain stillness when needed, and blend more easily with shadows. As you delve into what it means for you to be a Disciple of Dusk, think about the quiet moments of transition at the end of the day, think about creatures that begin to become active as the sun sets, and the ways people draw close at the end of the day.