Stefan

In the dark beneath their ruined fortress, the Witches waited for the end. Their lair had fallen, their allies scattered, and now one of their commanders, the Umbra Witch Charlotte, was dying of grievous injuries.

It was not a Witch who tended her now, however, but a Lumen Sage, perhaps even the last living one: Stefan, her lover. The years of conflict had not been kind to them, and now they were about to be torn apart again. Knowing this, he held her close, and they whispered words of love and comfort to each other.

Outside, the exalts continued battering the door of the fortress. The walls trembled, and the defending Witches cried out in fear. “They’re breaking down the door!”

“My love...” Charlotte’s voice was a faint whisper, but Stefan still heard it. Tears spilled down his cheeks as he bent to listen better.

As he did, the pendant around Charlotte’s neck pulsed with violet light. Stefan remembered it well: It had been his gift to her, many years before. But what was that light?

Before he could ask, he heard Charlotte’s whisper: “I have kept it safe: our magic...and our love....Your face will be the last thing I see—”

“Stay with me,” Stefan pleaded. Beyond him, the doors gave out at last, blades and talons ripping through the wood. Still, he begged her, “Please stay.”

She said nothing more, only smiled gently back and reached out to him. He bent down to kiss her, and as he did, he felt the pendant pulse against his heart. It was strangely warm—and now he realized light was flowing from it, pooling around them both—

Whoom! With the sound of a sudden gale, the violet light blasted through the room, flattening the Witches, blowing the attacking exalts away. Stefan remained standing—but not for long; he could feel a tremendous force tugging him from behind. He turned, saw a portal opened in mid-air behind him. Curious shapes and colors moved beyond, and he seemed to hear a faint chiming noise....

But he struggled to hold on to now, to Charlotte. He was the one slipping away, as the portal tugged at him.... “No!” he cried, as at last she slipped from his grasp.

She looked at him, her violet eyes warm with love, and whispered the words, “Be safe.” She was the last thing Stefan saw, before the portal ripped him away, flinging him backwards across the miles....

And suddenly he was crashing down through foliage, branches snapping beneath him. Their leaves burst into clouds of stardust that clung to his golden scales. He finally landed on soft ground with a tremendous thud, and for a while, he lay there, breathless and exhausted.

And then Stefan’s mind caught up to his body, and he staggered upright, looking wildly around. Silvery trees, sparkling foliage...He was in the Starfall Isles. Above him, the sky was an unbroken vault of deep, silver-strewn blue.

“It’s nighttime?” The last time he’d seen the sky had been...hours ago, by his count. The Windswept Plateau and the Starfall Isles weren’t that far apart; the time difference shouldn’t have been that great. How long had he been barricaded into the fortress?

Then he remembered the purple light, the portal. “No. It couldn’t be...?”

Stefan stumbled through the Starwood Strand, heedless of the branches plucking at his robes. He knew he must look absolutely deranged, with his wild eyes and the grime of battle still upon him, but he didn’t care. He’d left Charlotte behind....He had to find her. He had to get back....

There was a glow beyond the trees. Stefan glimpsed glints of pink: “Some sort of lair, perhaps?” He moved urgently towards it, bracing himself for challenges from any guards....

But there were none. Instead, he found himself standing on a ledge, looking down upon the great river that wound through the Starfall Isles. That wasn’t what stunned him—that river had been there for as long as anyone could remember.

What he did not remember was the metropolis that lay in one of its bends, a sprawling collection of buildings beneath a shield of arcane magic. Here and there, sparks flashed as meteorites impacted against its surface. Beneath, the streets teemed with dragons, traveling and working even through the night.

Stefan knew what the dome was. He’d heard of it before—centuries before—when there was talk of it being constructed. His dazed gaze moved across the rest of the land, taking in more changes: things missing, things added, things that had been altered over time....

His legs trembled, and he sank to the ground in despair. Time magic—that was what the spell had been. It had flung him into the future, and separated him from his beloved not just by miles, but also by centuries.

~ ~ ~
The old Bogsneak took the papers and neatly filed them away. His small eyes crinkled as he smiled up at the towering Imperial. “Thank you for your help today, Stefan. Should we expect you back here tomorrow?”

“I am unsure yet, Chief Clerk. Perhaps in the afternoon...”

The Bogsneak waved his words aside. He passed a small pouch of gold coins over, saying, “No harm in taking the day off. I think I’ll have more than enough staff here. You look as though you could use a break...but if you do change your mind, you are always welcome to drop by.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you soon.”

Stefan hurried home. Despite his meager earnings, he decided he would take the day off tomorrow. He had some research to do....

Months had passed since he’d landed in the Starfall Isles. By then, he was aware that he’d been flung forward in time by about 500 years.

He was also painfully aware that the Umbra Witches had been extirpated completely. The deities’ forces had done their work so thoroughly that both the Umbra Witches and the Lumen Sages had become thought of as mythological. Fictional. Few believed that the fabled warriors had existed, and even then it was thought that tales of them might have been grossly exaggerated. Most dragons were of the opinion that the Witches and Sages had been created out of whole cloth, characters in tales that cautioned against angering the gods.

“But I’m here. I’m still here,” Stefan thought later, as he sat down in his study. His bedraggled state had initially attracted a lot of attention, but most dragons had taken pity upon him and given him places to stay. His scholarly training had helped him a great deal; he was able to find work, to earn enough to keep himself sheltered, fed, and clothed.

Most of his work was in the Tourmaline Archives, where he labored among other clerks to keep the files organized. His work here made it easier for him to access other libraries, and he made full use of these privileges to gather knowledge on the bygone Witches and Sages. Time magic was not an option for him now—he could find zero information on it. Any that existed must have been kept closely guarded, and Stefan still feared the gods enough not to risk searching for it.

He’d borrowed some books that had looked promising, but by the time the lamps burned low, he’d found nothing except more children’s tales. Heavy-hearted, he trudged back to his den. He’d have to try again next week....

Stefan had spent most of his time consulting manuscripts and other scholars—so he very nearly missed the information the next day, because it came from an unexpected source. He was visiting the Trading Post, running simple errands, when he passed a performing minstrel.

“And Light and Shadow fled to a new tomorrow, to a valley in the east...”

“Light and...?” Stefan’s ears perked up. The Spiral minstrel strummed her mandolin, singing, “Shrouded in eternal mist...”

Stefan sat down with the rest of the crowd. The song was short, and it was one he’d never heard before, a jaunty tune about warriors of Light and Shadow battling each other. Their war grew to encompass Sornieth like a great storm, so the other gods had intervened and chased them away—

“Beyond the golden, sun-kissed horizon, the ever-brilliant dawn!”

The crowd applauded politely. Stefan was one of the few who approached and tossed the Spiral a few coins.

She winked a bright green eye at him. “My thanks, stranger. Glad you enjoyed my work.”

“Ah. The song...is an original composition, then?” Stefan tried not to show his disappointment. He’d been hoping for a fragment of ancient knowledge—or truth.

“I guess you could say that. I pieced the story together from scraps my grandsires told me. Wrote down the words, set it to music. The words are theirs, but the melody’s all mine.”

Stefan’s heart gave a great leap. “Could you...sing it for me again?”

“’ Fraid not. The day’s growing short, and I’ve got places to be.” But even as she slung on her mandolin, the Spiral grinned at him. Her forepaws flitted through her clothes.

“Got it written down, though...Ah, here it is!”

Stefan stared in surprise at the scrap of paper. “You would...give this to me?”

“Sure, why not? Got it all in my head by now. I was thinking about rewriting some of the lyrics, anyway. I’m not really happy with that last line. See ya, pal.”

She jetted off, leaving Stefan to trudge home and contemplate those lyrics. Words had been crossed out and overwritten here and there, but he could still make them out, and the story they had to tell. His eyes focused on a particular phrase: “A valley in the east, shrouded in eternal mist...”

~ ~ ~
The Hidden Valley. It certainly fit the descriptions, and though Stefan had come across mentions of it, he’d assumed it was just another lofty, wealthy clan. But as he delved anew into his research, he wondered at the stories of mighty, divinely blessed warriors who had found refuge there. Could some of those warriors possibly be survivors of the old orders?

After weeks of searching, Stefan found himself back in the Sunbeam Ruins—and more significantly, he was now surrounded by thick, pale fog. He’d read of it many times before; it was one of the protective barriers surrounding the Valley. So he could at least assume that his goal was nearby. The only question was, in what direction was it?

His golden eyes narrowed as he focused his magic...

Stefan had studied extensively in his days as a Lumen Sage, and like many other fabled warriors, he had developed unique talents of his own. He had exhibited some of these talents in the Starfall Isles, mostly as a way to aid other researchers and earn a living, but not to a very strong degree—just enough to satisfy curiosity.

Now, however, he gathered light, tried to use it to push the fog away. It was difficult, and not for lack of practice: He could distinctly feel the fog resisting him, smothering the radiance.

He was already tired from the trek, and it would’ve been so easy to just give up.... “No,” he thought instead, taking a firm step forward.

He remembered Charlotte, the bond and the love they’d shared....If there was even a small chance that he could find her, or what had become of her, here, then Stefan would keep going forward. “I cannot turn my back on her. I owe it to her to try. I must get through....I must know!”

And with each thought, his resolve strengthened, and the way forward became easier. The light blazed brighter—and the fog began to fade away.

At last, Stefan left it behind, and he paused, tired but awed, atop a grassy knoll. Ahead of him lay the Hidden Valley, peaceful beneath its enchanted shields, teeming with dragons and their magic. There was a great city in the distance—would he find answers there?

He noticed a detachment of dragons flying towards him. Sunlight gleamed off their armor, and he guessed that they were guards, sent to investigate his intrusion. He stood his ground, but remained peaceable, hoping they would not turn him away.

And then they drew nearer, and he gave a start when he saw the slim figure in the middle. Those flowing robes, that headdress...the smile beneath the veil. His sister Sage—

“Himiko?” he gasped, stepping towards her as she alighted. The dusty-gray Pearlcatcher turned towards him, and he saw that familiar smile.

“Brother Stefan. Welcome to the Hidden Valley. We’ve been expecting you.”

Despite the formal greeting, Himiko’s face was alight with joy, and Stefan’s was, too. He let out a shaky laugh and gasped, “It’s true, you’re really here. You survived...”

“We knew you’d find us eventually. Please come with us to the palace, Stefan. You look like you could use a rest. And,” she added, breaking into a brilliant grin, “there’s someone you need to see.”

~ ~ ~
Himiko was not the only Sage to have survived and come forward in time. The goddesses had intervened, and they had also reawakened Balder and Bellatrix, leaders of the Lumen Sages and the Umbra Witches. The two of them had reconciled and had agreed to work together to rebuild their orders and continue their divine work and studies.

And Charlotte, Stefan’s beloved, had also been spared. The Shadowbinder herself had plucked her from death’s grasp, and like Stefan, she had been brought here, to this place of safety. After many centuries of strife, they were at last reunited....

But the road to happiness was not a wholly smooth one. Balder and Bellatrix still found it difficult to let go of their old prejudices. The dire warnings against “the union of Light and Shadow” were still strong in their minds, and they voiced disapproval when they learned that Stefan and Charlotte would soon be having children. It did not matter that the two children would be raised here in the Sunbeam Ruins: They were still born of the union of Sage and Witch, and were therefore living violations of the tenets the old Gaolers had spent their lives upholding.

“I had thought we were past that,” Stefan fretted, sometime after the two eggs had hatched. He and Charlotte were caring for their sons, watching over them as they slept. Two Nocturnes, Valor, and Urbane, warmly colored like the sky at dawn and dusk.

Charlotte shook her head. She was still as beautiful as ever, but the long years of hardship had deepened the shadows around her, given her a gravity that had not been there before. Still, hope burned inside her—the same hope Stefan had fallen in love with many years before. And it was with that hope in mind that she said, “We have found a home together, and Empress Mirage herself has pledged to protect our union. The Lumen-Umbra War is over, and it will stay that way.”

“What of the other wars, though? The battles against the other gods’ exalted forces...the Witch Hunts?”

They could not with complete conviction assume that the gods had forgotten those conflicts. But still, Charlotte said, “Our goddesses saw the error of their ways. Perhaps the other deities have, too.

“We’ve made so many mistakes. But we’re still here; we have learned from them. And we can pass those learnings on to our children, that they will live better lives, know better futures than we ever did.”

“Aye...that’s true.” Softly, Stefan smiled.

Balder and Bellatrix did not speak out against the matter again, and under the protection of Empress Mirage and her Council of Crowns, Stefan and Charlotte raised their two sons in the Hidden Valley. Valor and Urbane were tutored in the ways of the Lumen Sages, and looking at them swooping together in playful flight, Stefan felt that he could ask for no finer children.

There was some concern when Valor expressed a desire to go to the Ashfall Waste. The first natural-born Lumen Sage in centuries...Would he be accepted there? But trusting their son’s dreams, Stefan and Charlotte bade him goodbye. He found work with another clan—and eventually, he was accepted as an exalted warrior in the Flamecaller’s service.

That their son had been accepted by another deity brought hope to Stefan and Charlotte. Stefan in particular contemplated this as he sat in his office, rereading the letter that Valor had sent him.

“Do you need any more help, Father?”

“We’re done here for today, Urbane. Thank you.” Stefan folded the letter away. His second son, Urbane, fluttered over to perch atop his shoulder.

Together, the two of them looked around the room. It was but one of many, half-finished, scaffolding still here and there. The Library of Alexandria, it would be called—a new repository of knowledge for dragonkind.

“It’s so grand...and you’ll be in charge of all this, huh?”

“I can’t wait,” Stefan admitted, with a touch of his old enthusiasm. “It’ll be so exciting to meet more researchers. A great deal of time has passed since the original library was destroyed; there is still so much to restore...and so much yet to learn.”

“You’ll do a great job, I’m sure! I’ll see you in the morning, Father.”

“Pleasant dreams, son.” Stefan watched him glide back to his own den. He doused the lanterns and then locked the doors, and then he, too, went to dream his own dreams of brighter futures and tomorrows.

~ written by Disillusionist (254672)
all edits by other users