55.2 Mother of the Empire

General Summary

Day 1105

As is my night-fae wont nowadays, I wake late in the day and get to spend time just sitting outside my cottage, observing. Dreamfall has ballooned to over ten thousand fae, many of them very young. Any elf here, even the youngest ones, are community elders relative to their fae neighbours. It has led to a very chaotic environment, thrumming with energy and excitement that is much more pronounced than a pure elvish settlement.   When the stars rise again, the night-oriented quartet of me, Andstella, Starfield, and Thalien convene atop the ziggurat to watch the sky darken and relax together. When the sky is as dark and the stars as bright as they will get, we all retire to Andstella’s cottage for tea and some work on the magical workings that she and Starfield have been discussing in my absence.   The cottage is small, cozy, and strewn with Dawn’s clothing and items. And Andstella has decided that the palace belongs to the Arborist, but her own little cottage belongs to her, as a person. She’ll advise the next Arborist to build their own cottage, because such an escape is necessary.   The topic of discussion is the spring of magical energy for Qishali — Liliales had wanted to build it as a surprise but his auntie convinced him that it was important enough to discuss with Wishjali and make sure it suited her needs. They have drawn up designs and possibilities, but need my input and advice about how to handle the spirits that might be born from such an influx of spiritual energy. While I peruse their designs and offer some suggestions, I maintain an amused silence as Andstella talks herself in circles about exactly where to place the ‘pond’ to ensure the right kind of spirits and the right culture for them.   Eventually, I point out that she is anchoring a source, not a fixed body of water. She might construct rivers and waterfalls that take the river wherever she or the spirits want it. Thalien’s perspective is that we might set some magical rules governing precisely what kind of spirits can be born here (nothing actively and intentionally destructive), but the important thing will be fostering the right relationships rather than forcing the right ones to exist.   And while Qishali might be the best-suited of all of us to tend to young spirits, no one wants to saddle her with a job she doesn’t want. I’d like to turn Dreamfall into an oasis for spirits from the South. Compared with their current environment, Dreamfall will be safe and luxurious, and we are sure to wind up with enough spirits that some of them are sure to be interested in setting up a nursery for the young, unshaped spirits who will be born here. Particularly because we want dragons of all sorts to be welcome here, there are no spirits who would inherently be poorly-suited to Dreamfall like there would be if we were only going to be an elvish settlement.   Eventually, we settle on embedding the source magic deep in the earth with Onyx’s help. The source will be defensible and be able to bubble up to the surface in multiple places if we can pass a large enough volume of water through the underground spring. With either snowmelt from the mountains or a river flowing from the Unfreezing Sea, it all seems doable. Water from the Unfreezing Sea could imbue spirits with a sense of the Longing, but I am curious if we can transform that ancient sadness and nostalgia into something more energetic and curious — a passion for discovery or for seeking out something new.   The river could guard the Grove toward the West, with our barrier forest growing up to the North or South to defend us from those sides. And Thalien thinks we should shape the land to encourage swamps, marshes, and o there varied natural landscape that will encourage new spirits of all kinds. It is, as always, a bright future we are designing.  

Day 1106

The next night, Bran and I set forth into the Dreaming to visit what is left of Nucifera. I already have a sense of what to say to her, and Bran is coming along to make sure that he doesn’t accidentally get entangled by her.   When we arrive, her hut is deteriorating and she is sitting quietly on the porch, gazing at some divining bones that she has cast across the ground. She looks up at our arrival, but her eyes are milky and clouded, like the ancient woman she is.  

I see things…but nothing is growing. All roads lead to nothingness, now.

  She glances at Bran,  

You closed several of my roads. I should never have involved myself with you…I should have waited for someone else.

  These are the ramblings of someone lost. She gestures bitterly at the bones, at her tea leaves, at a dish of crystals and sand. She has been reduced to divining things from omens rather than seeing the threads move with her own eyes.   I cut through the self-imposed misery of her situation.  

What is your mission?

 

My people were destroyed. We were ravaged by an enemy, and they are coming for us again. They will never leave us alone. I have to keep them safe. I have to protect them from that threat. I can’t let us continue to be consumed by fire.

  I point out that she has already bound us to the Osyr. That was the mission she first described to me, because she knew only the Osyr could keep us safe. She shakes her head — the Osyr died. And I realized that as weak as she has become, she has not seen any of my workings in the world since she reached out through the song stones. She has not seen the Osyr return, nor the fae, nor the work of the Barrier being adjusted. She stays here because if she leaves, even more roads will close and she is terrified of closing a door that must remain open.   I hold out my hand and ask her to make the journey with me anyway. I’ll open a door if she’ll come with me. Bran physically helps her move and I support her magic as I ferry us to Deldrin. We stand amidst the new neighbourhoods of Osyr and she stands, frozen in amazement, as the enormous Osyr walk around, greet one another, work together, mixed with elves who are helping build shelters and acclimatize them to the new world. I tell her about Black Tourmaline and the thousands of Osyr held safe beneath the lake, and she smiles.   Then we follow the river out to the sea, to the Crystal Spires. The spires stand tall and gleaming in the moonlight, and here in the Dreaming we can hear the faint sounds of a professor teaching a class to new Dreamers. Finally, Nucifera speaks,  

There are so many…and they’ll continue to keep elves safe?

  I nod, but Bran answers in full:  

The Empire is changing a lot, but we have many protectors now. More pillars than just the Osyr. Even the Empress is no longer alone as the pinnacle protector. Did you lose sight of your mission? Did you want to defeat your enemy, or let your people prosper?

  She seems stricken by grief that she already had her victory and didn’t realize. It is hard to see her that way, even though she has been driven and disruptive lately, trying to ensnare Bran and direct a future that isn’t hers anymore…the Empire owes a lot to her.   But I bring her down to the beach to stand in the waves together. My day and night elvish form recedes and I let myself be just an elf, with the traces of leaf and vine in my eyes and ears. I take her hands, and begin to administer a new oath, one that I hope will let her join the Empire and move on from it in a single motion. It is an oath to serve the Empire in whatever way she can, but only so long as it is *needed*.   I had expected the oath to take hold and release her, but as the feeling of the Empress’ shade floods through her, I feel both Kaide and Jaeril’s presence beside us. Both were drawn here by the newly established connection I’ve forged with the first Fatespinner.   Kaide’s request to Jaeril is that Nucifera be allowed to join the cycle of Samsara. For someone who worked tirelessly for her entire life and beyond to pull the threads that allowed the Empire to thrive, Nucifera deserves to see her life’s work succeed. Even if it is only in the repeating of her songs and memories through hundreds of branching lives that emerge from Jaeril’s grove,   We carry the still-trembling Nucifera down the coast and I support her, physically and magically, as she touches the great Tree of Samsara and begins her final song. It is short, compared to the life she has led, but I know that the rest of the song is safely tucked away in the Celestial Grove and will one day join the chorus as well. This version of Nucifera sings very simply of her mission, of her magic, and of the hopes and dreams she had for the Empire.