47.1 Varied Hope

General Summary

Hope: Day 1

Gathering my wits about me, I take stock of myself, my magic, and my items. I can feel the spiritual energy in my core that is 'hope' - the part of my cycle that I am inhabiting. No other legacies come to the forefront, though I trust that they will return when I have done whatever needs doing in this spiritual test put forward by Asphodeloideae. At my hip, I have a sword that feels like a trusted ally. I'm glad in white robes that are cool and reflective beneath the blazing sun, and I have a sturdy backpack with the sort of adventuring fare I'd expect from a traveller.   The people around me are varied - both spirit folk and spirits walking around with no pacts, not being hunted. No one looks at me askance, despite there being no other fae in eyesight. I assume I must be in some time period far in the past, when fae of Drifting Seeds weren't uncommon.   Unburdened by the calling of my usual time period and self, I wander freely and take in the city. We are beside a massive lake that feels like the River and water is plentiful - it's an oasis. But there are still signs of hardship that are hauntingly familiar from back home. Droves of people without homes hunker down without shelter of sufficient food, small children clinging to their parents or guardian,   I approach a small, sand-hopping birdlike spirit folk for some news and he seems to recognize what I am,  

Did you come to help, blessed one? Are you a healer?

  I'm not. The magic in me is sword and spirit, nothing that can help the weak and hungry. From what this spirit folk tells me, the fae of Drifting Seeds are known here, though we are still fairly unusual. Every so often, one wanders through and we are known for bringing light and help wherever we can.   This particular tragedy is being caused by the Empire of Sand and Blasted Rock. The refugees are people who are usually nomadic or live in the desert but have been chased out by the titans. The city's council has sent for a fleet to bring supplies, but no one knows how long that will take. He says they’re in the spot between it being really bad and it being okay.   He asks if I'll sing for the city - apparently this is a thing that Drifting Seeds sometimes do. The sensation of having people know, vaguely, who I am and the powers I have when I am a blank slate is...familiar. The bird folk points me towards a palace where the council can be found, and I set off without a second thought.   The guards at the door feel sort of like Lyssa - impure spirits, perhaps? They are venomous snakes and wait with me until a portly man comes to collect me from the entrance-way. His name is Shal-neyah, and I speak with him honestly about having woken up in this city with no memories or understanding of the local context - how can I help?   The steady war they are facing comes from a particular spirit emperor who leads the Empire of Sand and Blasted Rock - Norcrack. From what Shal-neyah can gather, it seems that he thinks it is his right to rule everything in the sands, including the cities that have sprung up around the lake oasis. Each of these cities is ruled by a council of people drawn from various areas of life - business, art, war, magic. This lake remains one of the most powerful magical oases in the area - other places of power have become hollow in recent years and Shal-neyah assumes that Norcrack has consumed them since he has risen in power as these places have disappeared.   When he asks if my sword is sharp enough to cut stone, I say yes without even thinking about it. He laughs at this, and takes me to one of their generals to discuss how I can help.   Dakirim (Dak) is a spirit himself, and we find him in the midst of painting. In quiet conversation with him, I hear his thoughts on the war they are fighting. Half their army has ridden South already, ready to protect the caravan of supplies that will come to refuel the city. The other half is remaining here to guard the city, and when the caravan arrives, the two halves will join and march toward Norcrack.   Norcrack has consumed all other elder spirits in the area, and only has young spirits at his side. He destroys things with no care for whether they survive to be ruled or held afterwards. Traditional wars involve capture, prisoners, valuable targets - this one only involves destruction and they seem to destroy the valuable things first. Rock titans are smashing structures and villages while the shifting sand spirits kill anything living. Refugees are collecting in the cities and all the cities around the lake are in the same position: Desperately needing supplies and fearing for their people.    

Norcrack barely counts as a person. Things that gorge themselves on energy until they force themselves into a higher state of being - they make others terrified of us.

    I can feel the frustration and hurt in his voice - I wonder what changed between now and my own time that spirits have become non-people who are both coveted and hated. If the spirit emperors ruled their own people harshly and waged war against the others, I'm not surprised that they grew to be feared and reviled.   My impulses are split and hard to follow, given my current situation. With all of my legacies and my family, it would be easy to send some allies to guard the caravan and others to aid an army attacking Norcrack. It would be easy to plant my hands into the dry sand and find crops that would grow here and sustain the hungry populace. It would be easy to whip up people's spirits once they had food and a plan to save themselves.   But I am just a fae. I suppose that's the test.   When Dak shows me to my guest quarters before dinner, it is a relief to drop the mask of calm assurance and let myself collapse face-first onto the bed.   Hope is an unbroken soul, and there is such a range of what a soul can bear before it breaks. There is such range in what a healer of souls can tend to or prevent. If I were administering this test, how would I judge myself? How would I judge someone like Ying Ling? If Ying Ling went among the people and made one friend who felt better for having known her, it would be a success. But I am not Ying Ling - I am the person who has called Ying Ling out of her nest of misery and hopelessness. Making one friend feel better is just...not enough.   Hope is the awareness that another way forwards is possible - not that this alternate future will be or even that it is easy or achievable, just that it is imaginable. When I walk through the Empire or the Outlands or even here, in the spirit lands, the reason that people look to me with hope is because I am willing to press onwards to that alternate future. When I touch people's hearts and use familiar, hopeful words, they no longer have the hesitant sheen of hollow words. My presence alone has a weight that makes "things will be okay" into a promise, not a platitude.   I am not the same person here. I am not the Imperator, not Heiassa Duumn'ael, not the second fae of Day and Night or the first fae of Leaf and Vine, not the bridge to Harmony. I have to be someone else, and figure out what it means to have hope in a place where there is no problem I can just wipe out. I have to summon the heart that I had when I was Morning, waking up alone on the outskirts of Whitewater.   Hungry people are waiting for a caravan that is coming from far away. There is no way to know when it will arrive, or even if it will be enough. They are under attack from an ever-stronger enemy with unfathomable motivations. This, at least, feels very familiar. From speaking with Dak, the presence of a spirit emperor threatens the peaceful existence of spirits in more ways than one.   I don't know how to solve these problems. I do know that 'hope' doesn't need to mean solving problems, but it does mean finding a path through the ever-pressing fog of despair and anxiety. It means finding a way to survive and come out the other side, finding ways to share the burden and rest when needed, finding community and support because others are suffering too.   I can do these things.