A lifetime ago, a dark skydancer collapsed to the ground, fungi rapidly sprouting from her head as she choked out the final lines of incantation from a forbidden spell. She smiled thinly. Milliseconds later the centre of the clearing was alight with mauve sparks.
Her apprentice could only watch on helplessly, seeing her very soul ignite and burn to nothing as the Sanctuary pulsed into existence and It- Hiraeth- awakened.
Half a lifetime ago, Hiraeth sensed incoming danger. It began searching for souls to claim for Itself- ghosts that were drawn to It not only due to a desire to live but also were in-tune enough with the land's magic such that if the Sanctuary formed enough links, It will never drift into nothingness. It reached out with a promise and those that accepted reached back and returned to life.
The Spirit of Winter.
The Mind of Autumn.
With some difficulty, the Will of Summer.
A quarter of a lifetime ago, the Sanctuary ran out of time. Space-time surrounding It imploded, rifting It from the land with ink-black tendrils. Hiraeth reached out as the Void closed in, half-hysterical, and just in time, one last dragon reached back.
The Heart of Spring.
But she was not alone, and as the Sanctuary stabilised Itself, suddenly the Void became a cacophony of the voices and minds of the souls killed and caught in the rift of nothingness.
For some time, there was chaos.
But as the Sanctuary and the Void stirred into one, the voices quietened and faded into background noise; the owners of individual voices had surrounded themselves with thought, forming their own palm-sized Worlds within the Void.
No new ghosts visited Hiraeth again.
Until a hundredth of a lifetime ago.
Her apprentice could only watch on helplessly, seeing her very soul ignite and burn to nothing as the Sanctuary pulsed into existence and It- Hiraeth- awakened.
Half a lifetime ago, Hiraeth sensed incoming danger. It began searching for souls to claim for Itself- ghosts that were drawn to It not only due to a desire to live but also were in-tune enough with the land's magic such that if the Sanctuary formed enough links, It will never drift into nothingness. It reached out with a promise and those that accepted reached back and returned to life.
The Spirit of Winter.
The Mind of Autumn.
With some difficulty, the Will of Summer.
A quarter of a lifetime ago, the Sanctuary ran out of time. Space-time surrounding It imploded, rifting It from the land with ink-black tendrils. Hiraeth reached out as the Void closed in, half-hysterical, and just in time, one last dragon reached back.
The Heart of Spring.
But she was not alone, and as the Sanctuary stabilised Itself, suddenly the Void became a cacophony of the voices and minds of the souls killed and caught in the rift of nothingness.
For some time, there was chaos.
But as the Sanctuary and the Void stirred into one, the voices quietened and faded into background noise; the owners of individual voices had surrounded themselves with thought, forming their own palm-sized Worlds within the Void.
No new ghosts visited Hiraeth again.
Until a hundredth of a lifetime ago.