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[columns][center][item=softly glowing pendant][/center][nextcol][color=transparent]..[/color][nextcol][color=#E8AF49][font=garamond][size=7][size=4][b]illusion[/b][/size][/size][/font][/color]
[size=2]written by Disillusionist
[color=#9494A9]2,766 words[/color][/size][/columns]
[center][font=gabriola][size=5][color=#D1B047]Love is not yours, love is not mine:[/color]
[color=#D08439]It is the tranquil twilight heaven[/color]
[color=#CF582B]Through which our pauseless feet are driven[/color]
[color=#CE2C1D]Into the vast and desert noon.[/color][/size][/font][/center]
[color=#2F0003]There are worlds that drift beyond Sornieth, and when their edges overlap, strange beings come through. This was how Leannan, Fairy Lover, came to the land of the great wyrms. She strode through a dark forest one day, and when the air around her began to change, she kept going. It grew darker and began smelling of fire, but she did not mind; she was bored of the lands behind her and was curious about what lay ahead.
Then the smoke briefly cleared, and she understood where she was. A slow smile spread across her face.
She had visited the land of the great wyrms before, but not the wasteland where the Flamecaller reigned. It had always struck her as desolate. But now that she was actually here, she felt the thrum of thousands of souls and hearts, the dragons working in harmony. The rhythm and joy of it, all woven into a rich tapestry...She would insinuate herself into that tapestry, awaken the passion that she fed upon.
And once she had had her fill, she would move on, leaving behind nothing but tatters and ash.[/color]
[center][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2257922][img] https://i.postimg.cc/zXRGZ5ky/Divider-Horizontal.png[/img][/url][/center]
[color=#2F0003]Like many fairies, Leannan adored opulence, and she soon found herself drawn to one of the most prosperous clans: the Clan of the Lunar Serpent. It was composed of several different lairs, all laboring together for the benefit of their entire clan. They were ruled by a king, who was said to be the long-dead Lunar Serpent’s son.
While Leannan was intrigued by the rumors of this leader, she soon found plenty of entertainment among his vassals. Despite the long years of cooperation between the lairs, they [i]did[/i] have the occasional disagreement.
The vassals of the Lunar Serpent were mostly merchants and artisans: too boring for the flighty Leannan to serve as lovers. But it was easy and entertaining enough to fan the flames of their disagreements and turn them into more serious conflicts. Whisper a rumor into this drake’s ear, and charm that dragoness into forgetting an important meeting...
Like certain kinds of spirits, Leannan could and did eat mortal food. But what gave her true nourishment was [i]passion[/i]: the blind, driving force that consumes one’s thoughts when they are falling in love...or drowning in hate.
The speed with which the dragons’ fury ignited surprised Leannan — though on further reflection, she realized it shouldn’t have. These were the Flamecaller’s children, after all, and they’d inherited their mother’s temper. In her luxurious apartment, courtesy of one of the Lunar Serpent’s vassals, Leannan chuckled slyly to herself. She had been wrong to think that these hard-working drakes were dull and mundane: the emotions within them burned brighter than any flame she’d seen, and she drank deeply of their passion and wrath.
She reflected rather lazily that once she was done with these outer clans, she would move deeper into the Lunar Serpent’s territory. Perhaps she could even gain an audience with the king himself. She had charmed leaders before; in fact, her most recent conquests, in the lands of Faerie, had been of noble blood.
But as it turned out, she didn’t need to journey to the king’s palace. He sought her out himself. Apparently he had heard of this strange, beautiful visitor who, due to the squabbling among his vassals, had taken refuge in one of the larger estates.
Leannan remembered the first time she’d seen him: a pale, aristocratic Pearlcatcher with luminous green eyes. His manners, as befitting a leader, were serene and gracious, but she noticed how he lowered his gaze before her.
She praised the good fortune that had led this dragon to her. And when he invited her to his palace as an honored guest, she asked him, “And how may I address Your Esteemed Majesty?”
“You have heard me referred to as the Lunar Serpent’s son,” the Pearlcatcher replied, “but you, fair lady, may call me [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=49449251][i]Khonsu[/i][/url].”[/color]
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[color=#2F0003]Leannan was given a private apartment in the King’s palace. The King himself was a gracious host; though he was busy managing his clan, he always found time to talk with her. He asked Leannan about the lands and life she hailed from; Leannan simply gave him the same tale she’d spun for the vassals: that she was descended from a now-dissolved clan and had maintained her wealth by selling goods and spells. She had heard that the Lunar Serpent’s Clan was prosperous and had hoped to trade with them—
“But this ugly unrest brewing just beneath the surface...I could not believe I was caught up in it!” she said to Khonsu. He nodded sympathetically as she continued, “I am deeply relieved you arrived when you did, Your Majesty. Surely the Lunar Serpent’s palace is free from such strife.”
“The unrest seems to have died down now, but I shall be keeping a close eye on things. Friend Leannan, please do not judge my vassals harshly. They have served my family for centuries, and despite these occasional disagreements, they truly have the clan’s best interests at heart.”
“That is true. You see the best in everyone, Lord Khonsu.” And Leannan smiled at him, hoping that her pity and contempt weren’t rising to the surface.
It had been so easy to charm him, this young, frail-looking drake — doubtless like so many of his ilk, he’d been sheltered all his life, docilely accepting the tenets and platitudes of the crown. Had his station in life been humbler, Leannan wouldn’t have bothered with him. But he [i]was[/i] a clan leader, and the possibility of ensnaring him completely — and, by extension, his entire clan — was very attractive indeed.
And so Leannan stayed, growing closer to him day by day, whispering sweet praises and soft lies into his ears. The young king nodded, encouraging her to speak her mind further, and so Leannan felt her hold on him grow stronger and stronger...
But a curious thing happened: Even as Leannan’s influence with Khonsu grew, she found she was deriving no joy from it. She considered the power she would gain when the clan eventually fell, but even that no longer pleased her. The realization unsettled her: Had she come to care for those mortals, even though her stays with them had been brief? Was this world exerting some strange influence on her?
As she closed her eyes, the king’s face flashed into her mind: Lord Khonsu, with his serene smile and his warm green eyes. His paw patting her arm gently, as though afraid he would hurt her. The earnest assertions that his people were loyal and good...
Corruption formed a great part of Leannan’s world. It was the core of her magic: taking those emotions and twisting them into something dark and vile that she could feed upon. Was Khonsu succumbing to that same corruption? Of course he was...[i]Surely[/i] he was. But she couldn’t help but be impressed by such a pure spirit, and whenever he turned that soft gaze upon her, she felt a warmth that had nothing to do with her usual hunger.
Perhaps she could find a solution. She could prey on other beings...This world was full of fickle dragons and all their turbulent emotions. She could devour those instead.
Yes, let the rest of this world fall apart. As long as she had her beloved to adore her, she would be wealthier than any queen.[/color]
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[color=#2F0003]Winter always came to Sornieth, even to a place as fiery as the Ashfall Waste. On this, the longest night of the year, the dragons remained inside their lairs, safe from the dangers and magic of the darkness. A light still burned in the Lunar Serpent’s palace, though.
Khonsu whispered a spell to his pearl, and it lit up with a warm amber glow. He placed it inside a special holder, so that it could serve as a lantern. “A useful thing, pearls,” he said, chuckling to himself. “They can be enchanted to hold all sorts of spells...” And then he coughed delicately. “Forgive me, friend Leannan, but I noticed you did not have a pearl when you came here. It is...safe, I hope?”
Leannan had been asked this question before, for in form she was very like a Pearlcatcher. She gave the story she always had: “My pearl is gone, lost in an unfortunate incident. It is...related to the downfall of my clan. I do not like to speak of it....Oh, I hope you will not think poorly of me. Please do not think that I’ve no soul...!”
“Of course...of course,” Khonsu murmured. He had turned away from her — awkwardly, she thought — and was looking out the window.
And then he turned to look back at her again, and hesitantly, he smiled. “Forgive my insensitive inquiry. Will you allow me to make it up to you?” He beckoned to her, his green eyes sparkling, inviting her out into the night.
By the light of his glowing pearl, they leaped through a window and soared away. The land below was drowned in deepest black, and Leannan followed Khonsu through the darkness.
She landed when he did. By what little she could make out, they were on a hilltop. She could hear the wind whispering faintly through the grass and trees.
Khonsu set his pearl atop a nearby rock. It was still well-shaded, so only the faintest glow pulsed from it. Leannan asked him, “Will you not give us more light?”
He shook his head. “The world is beautiful at night,” he said by way of explanation, and once again his earnest smile warmed Leannan from deep within.
“This is the longest and coldest night of the year,” he began, “but soon winter will pass. Spring will come again. You will...” His wings rustled nervously. “You will wish to move on, I assume.”
“Move on?” Leannan was startled. Khonsu ducked his head, hiding his gaze. “You came here to trade, did you not? You are an honored guest, but surely there are other clans and opportunities that interest you. You’ve told such wonderful stories of your travels...Perhaps you will visit my humble clan again?”
The tentative question beckoned to Leannan as invitingly as an open door. She told him, “My King, I would be pleased to offer my talents and services to your clan. Gladly would I call this place home...if you will let me stay.”
Khonsu’s ears rose. “Stay? Why, of course, Leannan! Ah, it is a pleasant surprise...With all your stories of meeting many grand dragons, I had thought you would want to begin traveling again.” He moved closer as he spoke, his eyes bright with interest. “Pray, what convinced you to stay?”
And Leannan hesitated — actually [i]hesitated[/i] to say those words. Oh, she had said them before, countless times, but it was another thing to actually [i]mean[/i] them. She folded her ruby wings around herself, trying to work up the strength.
“Tell me,” Khonsu breathed, his voice right beside her ear. And she was too absorbed in her own emotions to notice the way he shifted, the wintry glint in his eyes...
“It is because...I care about you,” she told him. “[i]I love you.[/i]”
“I thought so,” he murmured, and it was the tone of his voice that warned her. Behind him, his pearl still shone, and it gleamed on something that filled Leannan with utter dread.
[i]Iron.[/i][/color]
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[color=#2F0003]With the agility born of terror, the fairy leaped aside, but the king’s knife flashed through the air like an arrow. It ripped through one wing, and though it was a very short cut, it burned like venom and fire. Leannan contorted on the grass and screamed.
“[i]Why?[/i]” she cried, her wing tucked close to her side. Golden tears filled her eyes, and through the haze, she saw her beloved approaching...
“Why? [i]Why?[/i] How [i]dare[/i] you ask me that,” spat Khonsu, and the fury in his voice was chilling. Gone were the warmth, the earnestness, and even the frailty. He stood strong in his ornate robes, every inch a king. The dreaded iron dagger rotated above his head slowly, almost lazily. But Leannan now knew that at a single glance from the king, that thing would fly, faster than thought, to inflict more agony upon her.
“You came to this land many moons ago and sowed discord among my people,” Khonsu growled. The accusations came, swift and stinging as the crack of a whip, as he continued, “You lied to them and fed upon them, reveling in their torment. You thought I would not know everything that occurs in my domain?”
His eyes...They were so bright, yet so cold. As bright and cold as—
“What [i]are[/i] you?” Leannan groaned. Khonsu inclined his head curtly. “I am the Lunar Serpent’s Son.”
And then the moon came out from behind the clouds and she [i]knew[/i]—
Not just a moniker or fancy title, those words. She saw them in the way his skin glowed, absorbing the silver moonlight, and how his eyes burned, going from green to white. Blue and amber runes danced upon his skin. Even the pearl glowed brighter, outlining the Pearlcatcher’s form.
[i]The Pearlcatcher...and the pearl...[/i]
Leannan stumbled to one side. As Khonsu turned to follow her, she gasped, “Then this...this was all...?”
“I knew what you were from the very beginning. Why do you think I brought you back to my palace? I couldn’t let you continue fomenting unrest among my vassals.” His face twisted in anger. “I know what your kind does. You would have stood by and cheered and drunk your fill as they’d spilled one another’s blood. And I — you had designs on keeping me as your slave, didn’t you? Some besotted lapdog, perhaps?”
“That’s not true! I did love you — truly, I did!” Leannan burst out. She could see it now, just on the edge of her vision, but she couldn’t look. If she did, all would be lost....
And though it wounded her, she needed more time, and so she asked him, “Did you cast some vile enchantment upon me? Something to make me love you?”
For the first time, he hesitated. Leannan bent her head in grief, but her mind turned inward. She grasped at her other magics, drawing on the fire within; still, she could not shut out Khonsu’s words—
“My father was once like you. He charmed and enthralled mortals so he could feed on them. He was an ancient, powerful being....He passed his knowledge on to me.” Khonsu sighed. “I am not proud of what I did. But I could not allow my people to fall prey to you. I believe your arrogance was your own undoing, Leannan. All those stories you told, of ‘befriending’ kings and queens...You believed no one was immune to your charms, didn’t you? You never entertained the thought that perhaps there was someone more skilled, someone more powerful—”
There was no fanfare, no biting retort. Leannan simply screamed, a scream of heartbreak and fury. And in that single instant, she launched the spell she had been preparing — not at Khonsu, but at the pearl beside him.
Its holder shattered, and the resulting blast flattened Khonsu and sent the dagger whirling into the darkness. The pearl tumbled onto the grass. Suddenly it was engulfed in white-hot flames, its surface running like wax.
“[i]No![/i]” Khonsu’s howl was pure agony, and as Leannan watched in horror, strange lights burst beneath his skin — the same lights that were eating away at his pearl. They bubbled beneath his face, distorting his fine features, and sickened, she turned away.
That was when she noticed the markings chalked upon the ground. They were glowing, obviously feeding on the moonlight. Leannan spread her wings, trying to fly away, but suddenly they felt so heavy, and her feet seemed welded to the earth....
Behind her, Khonsu was speaking. She couldn’t make out the individual words now, but she [i]felt[/i] their portent: Even as the enchanted fires ate him and his pearl, he was casting a spell to imprison her deep beneath the ground.
She turned to look at the dragon she had loved — and at last it was her turn, her love twisted into hate. “You will never be rid of me!” she screamed at him. The earth shimmered like mist, and she sank down, but her burning eyes remained fixed on him. “Even this spell will fade! I will find you, and I will be your doom—”
“Sleep,” commanded the king, and darkness dropped over Leannan. Her blazing eyes closed, and she was gone, banished to the darkness beyond the reach of mortals...and moonlight.[/color]
[center][font=gabriola][size=5][color=#CD000F]Love is not mine, love is not yours:[/color]
[color=#A10914]It is a flying fire that passes,[/color]
[color=#75111A]Perishing on the blind morasses[/color]
[color=#491A1F]After the frail and perished moon.[/color][/size][/font][/center]
[right][font=garamond]~ [i]Love is not Yours, Love is not Mine[/i] [color=transparent]______________[/color]
Clark Ashton Smith[color=transparent]______________[/color][/right]
[right][font=Copperplate Gothic Light][color=#E8AF49][size=5][b]continued[/b][/color][/size][/font] [b][size=5][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2323941/58#post_40895342]»[/url][/b][/size]
[url=https://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2323941/38#post_38481930][font=garamond][b]Khonsu's story [size=4]»[/size][/b][/font][/url][/right]
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illusion
written by Disillusionist
2,766 words
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Love is not yours, love is not mine:
It is the tranquil twilight heaven
Through which our pauseless feet are driven
Into the vast and desert noon.
There are worlds that drift beyond Sornieth, and when their edges overlap, strange beings come through. This was how Leannan, Fairy Lover, came to the land of the great wyrms. She strode through a dark forest one day, and when the air around her began to change, she kept going. It grew darker and began smelling of fire, but she did not mind; she was bored of the lands behind her and was curious about what lay ahead.
Then the smoke briefly cleared, and she understood where she was. A slow smile spread across her face.
She had visited the land of the great wyrms before, but not the wasteland where the Flamecaller reigned. It had always struck her as desolate. But now that she was actually here, she felt the thrum of thousands of souls and hearts, the dragons working in harmony. The rhythm and joy of it, all woven into a rich tapestry...She would insinuate herself into that tapestry, awaken the passion that she fed upon.
And once she had had her fill, she would move on, leaving behind nothing but tatters and ash.
Like many fairies, Leannan adored opulence, and she soon found herself drawn to one of the most prosperous clans: the Clan of the Lunar Serpent. It was composed of several different lairs, all laboring together for the benefit of their entire clan. They were ruled by a king, who was said to be the long-dead Lunar Serpent’s son.
While Leannan was intrigued by the rumors of this leader, she soon found plenty of entertainment among his vassals. Despite the long years of cooperation between the lairs, they did have the occasional disagreement.
The vassals of the Lunar Serpent were mostly merchants and artisans: too boring for the flighty Leannan to serve as lovers. But it was easy and entertaining enough to fan the flames of their disagreements and turn them into more serious conflicts. Whisper a rumor into this drake’s ear, and charm that dragoness into forgetting an important meeting...
Like certain kinds of spirits, Leannan could and did eat mortal food. But what gave her true nourishment was passion: the blind, driving force that consumes one’s thoughts when they are falling in love...or drowning in hate.
The speed with which the dragons’ fury ignited surprised Leannan — though on further reflection, she realized it shouldn’t have. These were the Flamecaller’s children, after all, and they’d inherited their mother’s temper. In her luxurious apartment, courtesy of one of the Lunar Serpent’s vassals, Leannan chuckled slyly to herself. She had been wrong to think that these hard-working drakes were dull and mundane: the emotions within them burned brighter than any flame she’d seen, and she drank deeply of their passion and wrath.
She reflected rather lazily that once she was done with these outer clans, she would move deeper into the Lunar Serpent’s territory. Perhaps she could even gain an audience with the king himself. She had charmed leaders before; in fact, her most recent conquests, in the lands of Faerie, had been of noble blood.
But as it turned out, she didn’t need to journey to the king’s palace. He sought her out himself. Apparently he had heard of this strange, beautiful visitor who, due to the squabbling among his vassals, had taken refuge in one of the larger estates.
Leannan remembered the first time she’d seen him: a pale, aristocratic Pearlcatcher with luminous green eyes. His manners, as befitting a leader, were serene and gracious, but she noticed how he lowered his gaze before her.
She praised the good fortune that had led this dragon to her. And when he invited her to his palace as an honored guest, she asked him, “And how may I address Your Esteemed Majesty?”
“You have heard me referred to as the Lunar Serpent’s son,” the Pearlcatcher replied, “but you, fair lady, may call me Khonsu.”
Leannan was given a private apartment in the King’s palace. The King himself was a gracious host; though he was busy managing his clan, he always found time to talk with her. He asked Leannan about the lands and life she hailed from; Leannan simply gave him the same tale she’d spun for the vassals: that she was descended from a now-dissolved clan and had maintained her wealth by selling goods and spells. She had heard that the Lunar Serpent’s Clan was prosperous and had hoped to trade with them—
“But this ugly unrest brewing just beneath the surface...I could not believe I was caught up in it!” she said to Khonsu. He nodded sympathetically as she continued, “I am deeply relieved you arrived when you did, Your Majesty. Surely the Lunar Serpent’s palace is free from such strife.”
“The unrest seems to have died down now, but I shall be keeping a close eye on things. Friend Leannan, please do not judge my vassals harshly. They have served my family for centuries, and despite these occasional disagreements, they truly have the clan’s best interests at heart.”
“That is true. You see the best in everyone, Lord Khonsu.” And Leannan smiled at him, hoping that her pity and contempt weren’t rising to the surface.
It had been so easy to charm him, this young, frail-looking drake — doubtless like so many of his ilk, he’d been sheltered all his life, docilely accepting the tenets and platitudes of the crown. Had his station in life been humbler, Leannan wouldn’t have bothered with him. But he was a clan leader, and the possibility of ensnaring him completely — and, by extension, his entire clan — was very attractive indeed.
And so Leannan stayed, growing closer to him day by day, whispering sweet praises and soft lies into his ears. The young king nodded, encouraging her to speak her mind further, and so Leannan felt her hold on him grow stronger and stronger...
But a curious thing happened: Even as Leannan’s influence with Khonsu grew, she found she was deriving no joy from it. She considered the power she would gain when the clan eventually fell, but even that no longer pleased her. The realization unsettled her: Had she come to care for those mortals, even though her stays with them had been brief? Was this world exerting some strange influence on her?
As she closed her eyes, the king’s face flashed into her mind: Lord Khonsu, with his serene smile and his warm green eyes. His paw patting her arm gently, as though afraid he would hurt her. The earnest assertions that his people were loyal and good...
Corruption formed a great part of Leannan’s world. It was the core of her magic: taking those emotions and twisting them into something dark and vile that she could feed upon. Was Khonsu succumbing to that same corruption? Of course he was...Surely he was. But she couldn’t help but be impressed by such a pure spirit, and whenever he turned that soft gaze upon her, she felt a warmth that had nothing to do with her usual hunger.
Perhaps she could find a solution. She could prey on other beings...This world was full of fickle dragons and all their turbulent emotions. She could devour those instead.
Yes, let the rest of this world fall apart. As long as she had her beloved to adore her, she would be wealthier than any queen.
Winter always came to Sornieth, even to a place as fiery as the Ashfall Waste. On this, the longest night of the year, the dragons remained inside their lairs, safe from the dangers and magic of the darkness. A light still burned in the Lunar Serpent’s palace, though.
Khonsu whispered a spell to his pearl, and it lit up with a warm amber glow. He placed it inside a special holder, so that it could serve as a lantern. “A useful thing, pearls,” he said, chuckling to himself. “They can be enchanted to hold all sorts of spells...” And then he coughed delicately. “Forgive me, friend Leannan, but I noticed you did not have a pearl when you came here. It is...safe, I hope?”
Leannan had been asked this question before, for in form she was very like a Pearlcatcher. She gave the story she always had: “My pearl is gone, lost in an unfortunate incident. It is...related to the downfall of my clan. I do not like to speak of it....Oh, I hope you will not think poorly of me. Please do not think that I’ve no soul...!”
“Of course...of course,” Khonsu murmured. He had turned away from her — awkwardly, she thought — and was looking out the window.
And then he turned to look back at her again, and hesitantly, he smiled. “Forgive my insensitive inquiry. Will you allow me to make it up to you?” He beckoned to her, his green eyes sparkling, inviting her out into the night.
By the light of his glowing pearl, they leaped through a window and soared away. The land below was drowned in deepest black, and Leannan followed Khonsu through the darkness.
She landed when he did. By what little she could make out, they were on a hilltop. She could hear the wind whispering faintly through the grass and trees.
Khonsu set his pearl atop a nearby rock. It was still well-shaded, so only the faintest glow pulsed from it. Leannan asked him, “Will you not give us more light?”
He shook his head. “The world is beautiful at night,” he said by way of explanation, and once again his earnest smile warmed Leannan from deep within.
“This is the longest and coldest night of the year,” he began, “but soon winter will pass. Spring will come again. You will...” His wings rustled nervously. “You will wish to move on, I assume.”
“Move on?” Leannan was startled. Khonsu ducked his head, hiding his gaze. “You came here to trade, did you not? You are an honored guest, but surely there are other clans and opportunities that interest you. You’ve told such wonderful stories of your travels...Perhaps you will visit my humble clan again?”
The tentative question beckoned to Leannan as invitingly as an open door. She told him, “My King, I would be pleased to offer my talents and services to your clan. Gladly would I call this place home...if you will let me stay.”
Khonsu’s ears rose. “Stay? Why, of course, Leannan! Ah, it is a pleasant surprise...With all your stories of meeting many grand dragons, I had thought you would want to begin traveling again.” He moved closer as he spoke, his eyes bright with interest. “Pray, what convinced you to stay?”
And Leannan hesitated — actually hesitated to say those words. Oh, she had said them before, countless times, but it was another thing to actually mean them. She folded her ruby wings around herself, trying to work up the strength.
“Tell me,” Khonsu breathed, his voice right beside her ear. And she was too absorbed in her own emotions to notice the way he shifted, the wintry glint in his eyes...
“It is because...I care about you,” she told him. “I love you.”
“I thought so,” he murmured, and it was the tone of his voice that warned her. Behind him, his pearl still shone, and it gleamed on something that filled Leannan with utter dread.
Iron.
With the agility born of terror, the fairy leaped aside, but the king’s knife flashed through the air like an arrow. It ripped through one wing, and though it was a very short cut, it burned like venom and fire. Leannan contorted on the grass and screamed.
“Why?” she cried, her wing tucked close to her side. Golden tears filled her eyes, and through the haze, she saw her beloved approaching...
“Why? Why? How dare you ask me that,” spat Khonsu, and the fury in his voice was chilling. Gone were the warmth, the earnestness, and even the frailty. He stood strong in his ornate robes, every inch a king. The dreaded iron dagger rotated above his head slowly, almost lazily. But Leannan now knew that at a single glance from the king, that thing would fly, faster than thought, to inflict more agony upon her.
“You came to this land many moons ago and sowed discord among my people,” Khonsu growled. The accusations came, swift and stinging as the crack of a whip, as he continued, “You lied to them and fed upon them, reveling in their torment. You thought I would not know everything that occurs in my domain?”
His eyes...They were so bright, yet so cold. As bright and cold as—
“What are you?” Leannan groaned. Khonsu inclined his head curtly. “I am the Lunar Serpent’s Son.”
And then the moon came out from behind the clouds and she knew—
Not just a moniker or fancy title, those words. She saw them in the way his skin glowed, absorbing the silver moonlight, and how his eyes burned, going from green to white. Blue and amber runes danced upon his skin. Even the pearl glowed brighter, outlining the Pearlcatcher’s form.
The Pearlcatcher...and the pearl...
Leannan stumbled to one side. As Khonsu turned to follow her, she gasped, “Then this...this was all...?”
“I knew what you were from the very beginning. Why do you think I brought you back to my palace? I couldn’t let you continue fomenting unrest among my vassals.” His face twisted in anger. “I know what your kind does. You would have stood by and cheered and drunk your fill as they’d spilled one another’s blood. And I — you had designs on keeping me as your slave, didn’t you? Some besotted lapdog, perhaps?”
“That’s not true! I did love you — truly, I did!” Leannan burst out. She could see it now, just on the edge of her vision, but she couldn’t look. If she did, all would be lost....
And though it wounded her, she needed more time, and so she asked him, “Did you cast some vile enchantment upon me? Something to make me love you?”
For the first time, he hesitated. Leannan bent her head in grief, but her mind turned inward. She grasped at her other magics, drawing on the fire within; still, she could not shut out Khonsu’s words—
“My father was once like you. He charmed and enthralled mortals so he could feed on them. He was an ancient, powerful being....He passed his knowledge on to me.” Khonsu sighed. “I am not proud of what I did. But I could not allow my people to fall prey to you. I believe your arrogance was your own undoing, Leannan. All those stories you told, of ‘befriending’ kings and queens...You believed no one was immune to your charms, didn’t you? You never entertained the thought that perhaps there was someone more skilled, someone more powerful—”
There was no fanfare, no biting retort. Leannan simply screamed, a scream of heartbreak and fury. And in that single instant, she launched the spell she had been preparing — not at Khonsu, but at the pearl beside him.
Its holder shattered, and the resulting blast flattened Khonsu and sent the dagger whirling into the darkness. The pearl tumbled onto the grass. Suddenly it was engulfed in white-hot flames, its surface running like wax.
“No!” Khonsu’s howl was pure agony, and as Leannan watched in horror, strange lights burst beneath his skin — the same lights that were eating away at his pearl. They bubbled beneath his face, distorting his fine features, and sickened, she turned away.
That was when she noticed the markings chalked upon the ground. They were glowing, obviously feeding on the moonlight. Leannan spread her wings, trying to fly away, but suddenly they felt so heavy, and her feet seemed welded to the earth....
Behind her, Khonsu was speaking. She couldn’t make out the individual words now, but she felt their portent: Even as the enchanted fires ate him and his pearl, he was casting a spell to imprison her deep beneath the ground.
She turned to look at the dragon she had loved — and at last it was her turn, her love twisted into hate. “You will never be rid of me!” she screamed at him. The earth shimmered like mist, and she sank down, but her burning eyes remained fixed on him. “Even this spell will fade! I will find you, and I will be your doom—”
“Sleep,” commanded the king, and darkness dropped over Leannan. Her blazing eyes closed, and she was gone, banished to the darkness beyond the reach of mortals...and moonlight.
Love is not mine, love is not yours:
It is a flying fire that passes,
Perishing on the blind morasses
After the frail and perished moon.
~ Love is not Yours, Love is not Mine ______________
Clark Ashton Smith______________
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[columns][center][item=azure yuccarope][/center][nextcol][color=transparent]..[/color][nextcol][color=#7F7745][font=garamond][size=7][size=4][b]elision[/b][/size][/size][/font][/color]
[size=2]written by Disillusionist
[color=#9494A9]2,896 words[/color][/size][/columns]
[center][font=gabriola][size=5][color=#977B6D][color=#0B1F25]You run for cover in the temple of love[/color]
[color=#2F3A30]I shine like thunder, cry like rain[/color]
[color=#53553B]And the temple of love grows old and strong[/color]
[color=#766F47]But the wind blows stronger, cold and long[/color]
[color=#9A8A52]And the temple of love will fall before[/color]
[b][color=#BEA55D]This black wind calls my name to you no more[/color][/b][/size][/font][/center]
[right][font=garamond]~ [i]Temple of Love[/i], The Sisters of Mercy[color=transparent]________________[/right]
[color=#0A3D67]The place had been beautiful once, and so had she. Now she moved alone in the echoing darkness, wings held wide to embrace a warmth that wasn't there. She looked down at the altar, she looked down the aisle. [i]Empty[/i], and so they had been for years, [i]as empty as a hateful heart.[/i]
There were still those left alive in the walls beyond, and it was their faint flickers of memory that gave her life, even after all the rest had gone. For this wasn't Sornieth. It wasn't even a world of ghosts, though it might as well have been—
Once, these lands had been ruled by fairies.[/color]
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[color=#0A3D67]There are places that are not to be found on any maps, nor are their names to be heard. These are lands beyond the reality of Sornieth, and while many of them shelter different beings, two in particular were ruled by the fey.
[i]Heliotrope and Ereblight.[/i] These lands belonged to opposing bands of fairies, and they contended mightily against each other. It must be said that among the Fair Folk, such conflicts aren't unusual. Fairies are, by nature, capable of great pettiness and jealousy—which made the alliance that finally bloomed between the two lands all the more remarkable.
For many years their war had raged, but now those days were at an end. Two noble fairies, one from each land, had fallen in love with each other. So powerful was their love that the others could only lay down their arms and stare in wonder. They followed the happy couple towards the border of their lands, leaving their weapons to be overgrown by flowers and moss.
There, on the border, they raised a great temple. Here the Heliotrope lord and Ereblight lady pledged themselves to each other in marriage, and thus was the alliance forged.
By then, all the fairies had grown tired of war. The alliance was welcomed by both sides, and henceforth, marriages between Heliotrope and Ereblight fairies were celebrated here, at Gloamcross Temple. They were always accompanied by music and revelry, laughter and gaiety, and stories of all the great lovers and marriages of the lands.
These marriage celebrations were such lively events, it was little wonder they eventually [i]did [/i]take on a life of their own. Over the long years, all that joy and love gathered together beneath the rooftops. Laughter and applause turned to fluttering wings, and love into a beating heart. And the spirit's mind, when finally it awoke, was made of promises: every couple's vow to cherish and love one another, no matter what came their way.
Just as there are worlds beyond Sornieth, so there are worlds beyond the fey. This spirit, the [i]lar[/i], was of them, and she made it her duty to guard the temple and bless the marriages celebrated therein. The fairies answered to no god, but this lar was here, at least, to watch over them, and this she did with pride.
And for many years, all was well. Heliotrope and Ereblight flourished. Fairies from the two lands continued intermarrying; and the lar, unseen, drew upon her own power to strengthen the love each fairy felt. Indeed, the fairies had no need for gods, and it was not just because of the lar; they didn't even know she was there. But they had the alliance, the ancestral honor to uphold, and to them, that was sterner and more demanding than any god. It was only through the alliance that prosperity had come to them; thus, promises made at Gloamcross were promises made for life.
And perhaps because of this, the marriages, no matter how much love went into them, could sometimes become terrible burdens.[/color]
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[color=#0A3D67]Centuries had passed since the first great marriage at Gloamcross. The noble families of both lands frequently intermingled, and soon two of their brightest flowers, an Ereblight lord and a Heliotrope lady, were betrothed to one another. They had been together for some time, and were now eager to establish their own house. The rulers of Heliotrope and Ereblight looked kindly upon this, for this was yet another chance to strengthen the bond between their lands.
It was during those early, bright days that she came—she, all darkness shot through with red and gold. There was a fire burning behind those eyes—the kind that destroys, not the kind that warms.
It's hard to say who saw her first, but the end result was the same: those fires promised ruin, and ruin they brought. One day, in the great temple, the lar awakened. What startled her was no nightmare, but still it shook her to her very core—
[i]"I met such a charming lady in the garden today," sighed the lady of Heliotrope. "It was a cold dawn, but her eyes lit upon me, and suddenly I felt so warm..."[/i]
Then, from the west, where the Ereblight lord lived: [i]"A most beautiful lady came to my father's court at dusk. I nearly passed her by, but then, the way she smiled..."[/i]
The way they both sighed, like dying breaths, and how sharply that image burned in their minds. [i]Her[/i], the obsidian-dark dragoness, her eyes shining as if through a mask.
The day of the wedding came, and the lar stood, invisibly, over the noble couple. She folded her wings around them and whispered, reminding them of the promises forged by their lands, the promises they themselves now made to each other. Always when she had done this, she had felt invincible and proud, a shield against any storm.
But as she looked upon them, her gaze pierced their eyes, and beneath she saw the memory of the beautiful, fiery face. Even as lord and lady pledged themselves to each other, they could only think of [i]her[/i]. And for the first time in centuries, the cold winds of doubt hissed through the lar's wings.
The lord and lady headed north, where their families had built a great house for them. They made it theirs, and they seemed happy together. And thus all seemed well....
But the lar, in her temple, knew that something was terribly amiss. Previously the temple of love had felt completely indestructible. Now, every once in a while, tremors shook the vows that had raised these hallowed halls. The lar felt them, too, deep in her soul: laughter turning to sadness, promises that frayed.
And love, the same love that her heart had been forged from, slowly beginning to break.
[i]"I met her as I was walking along a forest path. She had such a melodic voice..."
"Her touch was warm. Everything about her was just...It was so warm...."
"She held my hand. I wanted to pull away at first, but I didn't. And it was all worth it because..."
"She spread her wings around me. They were painted with flowers and crowns, but her eyes..."
"The promise they held, I couldn't ignore it. I wanted to see more. And so I leaned forward..."
"And I kissed her..."[/i]
—Gloamcross Temple was empty, for there were no weddings to be held that day. And the lar knew, at that moment, that there never would be any again.[/color]
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[color=#0A3D67]The alliance was broken. For some time now, rumors had been spreading that the newly-wed lord and lady had each taken a lover and abandoned their duties to their house. When they were together, they either ignored each other or fought. Their families, aghast at this scandalous behavior, called their children home. The house was left behind to fall into disrepair.
For the fairies of Heliotrope and Ereblight, it was a terrible blow. They'd thought their lands the most enlightened and prosperous, for they hadn't waged war in centuries. But could it be that they'd been wrong about the others? That they were in fact as treacherous as ancient records claimed?
Wasn't this fractured alliance proof of this? That Ereblight lord...that Heliotrope lady...They hadn't been trustworthy after all. They'd made sacred vows before their people and their ancestors, and yet it had all been a [i]sham[/i]....
Soon the two lands fell into conflict once again. The fairies held their palms out to the earth, and their bows and staves leaped, shedding flowers like rain, into their waiting claws. The time of peace faded into memory as the war raged anew. Fields were blighted, forests turned to kindling, and glades that had known dancing were turned into diseased bogs. Fairies can be ugly when they're playing, and they weren't playing now.
Only one place was left alone, for the memories of happier days became so painful as to be insulting: Gloamcross Temple remained empty, slowly falling into ruin. The lar crouched before the altar, shaking beneath her tattered wings, for as the temple she guarded crumbled, so too did she.
But the lar did not die. She was a spirit, and they do not sicken and wither away as other beings do. For while the temple was her home, it was the marriage vows that had given her purpose. Now, as those vows were broken, her shape began to change.
[i]"To love and to protect,"[/i] she murmured alone, in the darkness, as fighting raged outside. Fighting flowed around the temple like water around a stone, but the lar heard only the voices of those who had stood before her—once, not so long ago.
[i]"To cherish, to honor...when fortune fails...when beauty fades...when trouble knocks upon the household's door."[/i]
With the war came death, and fairies fell or fled. The castles stood in ruin, and the once-idyllic fields withered to dust. There were no more gardens; the trees that remained bore bitter fruit. The two lands, at last, were united—and it was in the silence of absolute desolation.
Heliotrope and Ereblight were no more. A few hardy souls remained, but even their days were numbered, for with the land around them dying, they too were not long for this world. Only loyalty to the lands and lieges they'd known kept them from leaving. And it was those promises, no matter how feeble, that gave the lar strength. The promises...and the hate.
[i]"They took a lover. That lecherous lord..."
"That lustful lady...They said their lover was..."
"...a dragoness with night-dark scales..."
"...but she had fiery eyes. And her face..."
One and the same.[/i] The truth of it struck the lar now, and she shuddered in grief as she realized—this treacherous stranger, this enchantress...With foul magic, she had seduced the lord and lady separately. They had never realized it—how could they, when they’d spent most of their married life arguing? But even before they’d been wed, the enchantress had come to each of them and ensnared their hearts. And so it had been easy for her, even after the ceremony, to visit them again and again. The lady hunting in the forest...or the lord alone out in the orchards....
They had been too desperate to see her, too [i]obsessed[/i], to even suspect the truth. And when the war had broken out, they had withered away—for then the enchantress had fled, taking their hearts with her.
[i]"I will remember that face,"[/i] the lar snarled in the darkness. No voice was heard, yet the temple shivered with the force of her vow. It burned brighter, and yet at the same time darker, than any vow of love and fidelity ever had. A vow of [i]vengeance[/i].
[i]"I will remember that face, the fire burning in those eyes. And it will be...extinguished..."[/i]
Gloamcross Temple tumbled to the ground in ruins as the lar left it at last. No longer a lar, a guardian—but a [i]larva[/i], a malevolent spirit.
She circled the former lands of Heliotrope and Ereblight one last time. The fairies felt her passing, for as she left, their eyes darkened, and their hearts grew cold within them. One by one, they faded into stardust, and eternal twilight covered the land.
As for the larva, she had already moved on. She had nothing to guide her but a face, and the fairies' memories had given her a name besides. The name of the one she sought—
[url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=52783531][i]Leannan[/i],[/url] the ill-fated lord and lady had called her. [i]The Lover.[/i][/color]
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[color=#0A3D67][i]Noon, midnight. Dawn and dusk.[/i] These are when the veils between worlds grow thin, and the larva came to Sornieth this way. It was sunset in the Tangled Wood—but so far beneath the thorns, it didn't really matter what time it was. So thickly layered were the thorns that even at high noon, here, all was as dark as pitch.
All, but not [i]always[/i]. Candlelight flared in the darkness—then resolved itself into a luminous beetle. It painted sparkling golden loops that lit up a face.
A stark white face, obviously made of bone, a thick blue mane bristling around it. But it wasn't a skull: It had the strange, bumpy smoothness of melted candle wax, and it was fixed in a toothless smile. The eyes were black, empty holes, and tarry ichor dripped from them onto the soil below.
A dragon would have screamed to see that face. The larva was merely startled. She hesitated only briefly before saying, [i]"I greet you, [url=https://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=56816614]Lord[/url]. Pray, have I left the Fair World behind? I was led to believe this world was inhabited by the great wyrms."[/i]
The face didn't move, yet the smile seemed to grow wider. Candles, real ones this time, slowly puffed into view around it. They encircled the smiling lord lazily, illuminating his diaphanous wings, his amber adornments.
[i]"You have traveled truly, fair spirit. The wyrms call this land[/i] Sornieth. [i]Perhaps the fey nature we share was what brought you here, to my domain."
"I hunt a being."[/i] Rage crackled beneath the larva's words. [i]"A sly one, a trickster. She calls herself 'the Lover'. Have you seen her face?"
"No...but as time runs in this world, I have not been here long. Your Lover could have passed through many moons before."[/i]
The larva considered this. She had not reckoned on the vast discrepancy in times.
Meanwhile, the strange lord had been studying her. He gestured with a furry paw. [i]"The passage between worlds has granted you a shape, but you will need to change it if you are to travel well here. The wyrms might take offense at the form you wear now."
"This will trouble them?" [/i]The larva was referring to her current shape, if "shape" it could be called. It was really just a formless mass of swirling, inky vapor.
[i]"The gods of this world have an ancient enemy. You would do well not to resemble it."[/i]
The larva reached out, brushing his mind, and the minds of all those who'd passed through the Tangled Wood within the last few days. She caught hints of shapes, sizes. Fangs, wings, and claws with which to rend her foes.
And so she acquired a shape. She grew till she filled the bramble hollow, her wings seemingly large enough to blot out the sun. Four great feet, a long tail...She looked at the finely-adorned lord and copied his jewelry, though hers instead shone in shades of blue.
Finally she stood before him, clothed in a great Guardian's shape. The lord nodded approvingly. He cocked his head. [i]"Why the mask, though?"[/i]
Why indeed? It was not as if the Lover had ever seen her before. She'd never even come near the temple.
But the ancient promises had been warped by treachery, and this behooved the larva to conceal her true nature as well. She looked unwaveringly at the lord, and he, wisely, did not ask again.
Instead, he counseled her, [i]"Now you will need a name. The mortals here are most insistent about everything having a name."[/i]
The larva bristled. [i]"I will not surrender my name so freely."
"It doesn't have to be true,"[/i] and she gave a start as the lord said that. [i]"You can create one of your own. Is it too difficult? Shall I help you, then?"[/i]
His beetle fluttered onto his waiting palm, and he blew gently upon it. Golden dust billowed into the air. It engulfed the larva, and she heard the voices of the creatures in the woods, saw their natures and names. They glimmered before her, briefly but brightly, like shooting stars crossing the sky.
She plucked one out at random, closing her great, dark claws around it. It melted into her skin, and the sound of it slithered over her tongue and from between her jaws—
[i]"Corwin,"[/i] she whispered. [i]"That, for now, shall be my name."
"And now, be on your way," [/i]laughed the fairy lord. He gestured, bowing as he did so, and the great thorns parted, a curtain unveiling the mortal lands waiting beyond.
Corwin stormed out into the night. The last rays of the sun slipped away, but she strode on. She didn't know where to go—as the fairy lord had observed, she was a stranger here. But she had all the time in the world, and no land was too large for her to explore. She would run out of land to explore before she ran out of rage, and when that happened, she would simply move on to the next world....
Behind her, the fairy lord gestured, and the thorns closed up again. The golden beetle doused its light, and only his waxen face remained, gleaming like a distant moon, before it, too, fell back into the darkness.[/color]
[center][url=http://webstersdictionary1828.com/Dictionary/elision][font=garamond][size=6][b]elision[/b] (noun)[/font][/url]
[size=4][font=cambria]= division; separation[/font][/size][/center]
[right][font=Copperplate Gothic Light][color=#7F7745][size=5][b]continued[/b][/color][/size][/font] [b][size=5][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2323941/55#post_40892691]»[/url][/b][/size][/right]
[size=2][color=#9494A9][b]Notes:[/b] This story was originally submitted to the [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/forums/qnc/2836692]MistJam 2020 Story Contest[/url] (“The Great Blue Yonder” prompt).
[b]Further reading:[/b] [url=https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leanan_s%C3%ADdhe]Leanan sídhe[/url] and [url=https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lares]Lares[/url][/color][/size]
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elision
written by Disillusionist
2,896 words
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You run for cover in the temple of love
I shine like thunder, cry like rain
And the temple of love grows old and strong
But the wind blows stronger, cold and long
And the temple of love will fall before
This black wind calls my name to you no more
~ Temple of Love, The Sisters of Mercy________________
The place had been beautiful once, and so had she. Now she moved alone in the echoing darkness, wings held wide to embrace a warmth that wasn't there. She looked down at the altar, she looked down the aisle. Empty, and so they had been for years, as empty as a hateful heart.
There were still those left alive in the walls beyond, and it was their faint flickers of memory that gave her life, even after all the rest had gone. For this wasn't Sornieth. It wasn't even a world of ghosts, though it might as well have been—
Once, these lands had been ruled by fairies.
There are places that are not to be found on any maps, nor are their names to be heard. These are lands beyond the reality of Sornieth, and while many of them shelter different beings, two in particular were ruled by the fey.
Heliotrope and Ereblight. These lands belonged to opposing bands of fairies, and they contended mightily against each other. It must be said that among the Fair Folk, such conflicts aren't unusual. Fairies are, by nature, capable of great pettiness and jealousy—which made the alliance that finally bloomed between the two lands all the more remarkable.
For many years their war had raged, but now those days were at an end. Two noble fairies, one from each land, had fallen in love with each other. So powerful was their love that the others could only lay down their arms and stare in wonder. They followed the happy couple towards the border of their lands, leaving their weapons to be overgrown by flowers and moss.
There, on the border, they raised a great temple. Here the Heliotrope lord and Ereblight lady pledged themselves to each other in marriage, and thus was the alliance forged.
By then, all the fairies had grown tired of war. The alliance was welcomed by both sides, and henceforth, marriages between Heliotrope and Ereblight fairies were celebrated here, at Gloamcross Temple. They were always accompanied by music and revelry, laughter and gaiety, and stories of all the great lovers and marriages of the lands.
These marriage celebrations were such lively events, it was little wonder they eventually did take on a life of their own. Over the long years, all that joy and love gathered together beneath the rooftops. Laughter and applause turned to fluttering wings, and love into a beating heart. And the spirit's mind, when finally it awoke, was made of promises: every couple's vow to cherish and love one another, no matter what came their way.
Just as there are worlds beyond Sornieth, so there are worlds beyond the fey. This spirit, the lar, was of them, and she made it her duty to guard the temple and bless the marriages celebrated therein. The fairies answered to no god, but this lar was here, at least, to watch over them, and this she did with pride.
And for many years, all was well. Heliotrope and Ereblight flourished. Fairies from the two lands continued intermarrying; and the lar, unseen, drew upon her own power to strengthen the love each fairy felt. Indeed, the fairies had no need for gods, and it was not just because of the lar; they didn't even know she was there. But they had the alliance, the ancestral honor to uphold, and to them, that was sterner and more demanding than any god. It was only through the alliance that prosperity had come to them; thus, promises made at Gloamcross were promises made for life.
And perhaps because of this, the marriages, no matter how much love went into them, could sometimes become terrible burdens.
Centuries had passed since the first great marriage at Gloamcross. The noble families of both lands frequently intermingled, and soon two of their brightest flowers, an Ereblight lord and a Heliotrope lady, were betrothed to one another. They had been together for some time, and were now eager to establish their own house. The rulers of Heliotrope and Ereblight looked kindly upon this, for this was yet another chance to strengthen the bond between their lands.
It was during those early, bright days that she came—she, all darkness shot through with red and gold. There was a fire burning behind those eyes—the kind that destroys, not the kind that warms.
It's hard to say who saw her first, but the end result was the same: those fires promised ruin, and ruin they brought. One day, in the great temple, the lar awakened. What startled her was no nightmare, but still it shook her to her very core—
"I met such a charming lady in the garden today," sighed the lady of Heliotrope. "It was a cold dawn, but her eyes lit upon me, and suddenly I felt so warm..."
Then, from the west, where the Ereblight lord lived: "A most beautiful lady came to my father's court at dusk. I nearly passed her by, but then, the way she smiled..."
The way they both sighed, like dying breaths, and how sharply that image burned in their minds. Her, the obsidian-dark dragoness, her eyes shining as if through a mask.
The day of the wedding came, and the lar stood, invisibly, over the noble couple. She folded her wings around them and whispered, reminding them of the promises forged by their lands, the promises they themselves now made to each other. Always when she had done this, she had felt invincible and proud, a shield against any storm.
But as she looked upon them, her gaze pierced their eyes, and beneath she saw the memory of the beautiful, fiery face. Even as lord and lady pledged themselves to each other, they could only think of her. And for the first time in centuries, the cold winds of doubt hissed through the lar's wings.
The lord and lady headed north, where their families had built a great house for them. They made it theirs, and they seemed happy together. And thus all seemed well....
But the lar, in her temple, knew that something was terribly amiss. Previously the temple of love had felt completely indestructible. Now, every once in a while, tremors shook the vows that had raised these hallowed halls. The lar felt them, too, deep in her soul: laughter turning to sadness, promises that frayed.
And love, the same love that her heart had been forged from, slowly beginning to break.
"I met her as I was walking along a forest path. She had such a melodic voice..."
"Her touch was warm. Everything about her was just...It was so warm...."
"She held my hand. I wanted to pull away at first, but I didn't. And it was all worth it because..."
"She spread her wings around me. They were painted with flowers and crowns, but her eyes..."
"The promise they held, I couldn't ignore it. I wanted to see more. And so I leaned forward..."
"And I kissed her..."
—Gloamcross Temple was empty, for there were no weddings to be held that day. And the lar knew, at that moment, that there never would be any again.
The alliance was broken. For some time now, rumors had been spreading that the newly-wed lord and lady had each taken a lover and abandoned their duties to their house. When they were together, they either ignored each other or fought. Their families, aghast at this scandalous behavior, called their children home. The house was left behind to fall into disrepair.
For the fairies of Heliotrope and Ereblight, it was a terrible blow. They'd thought their lands the most enlightened and prosperous, for they hadn't waged war in centuries. But could it be that they'd been wrong about the others? That they were in fact as treacherous as ancient records claimed?
Wasn't this fractured alliance proof of this? That Ereblight lord...that Heliotrope lady...They hadn't been trustworthy after all. They'd made sacred vows before their people and their ancestors, and yet it had all been a sham....
Soon the two lands fell into conflict once again. The fairies held their palms out to the earth, and their bows and staves leaped, shedding flowers like rain, into their waiting claws. The time of peace faded into memory as the war raged anew. Fields were blighted, forests turned to kindling, and glades that had known dancing were turned into diseased bogs. Fairies can be ugly when they're playing, and they weren't playing now.
Only one place was left alone, for the memories of happier days became so painful as to be insulting: Gloamcross Temple remained empty, slowly falling into ruin. The lar crouched before the altar, shaking beneath her tattered wings, for as the temple she guarded crumbled, so too did she.
But the lar did not die. She was a spirit, and they do not sicken and wither away as other beings do. For while the temple was her home, it was the marriage vows that had given her purpose. Now, as those vows were broken, her shape began to change.
"To love and to protect," she murmured alone, in the darkness, as fighting raged outside. Fighting flowed around the temple like water around a stone, but the lar heard only the voices of those who had stood before her—once, not so long ago.
"To cherish, to honor...when fortune fails...when beauty fades...when trouble knocks upon the household's door."
With the war came death, and fairies fell or fled. The castles stood in ruin, and the once-idyllic fields withered to dust. There were no more gardens; the trees that remained bore bitter fruit. The two lands, at last, were united—and it was in the silence of absolute desolation.
Heliotrope and Ereblight were no more. A few hardy souls remained, but even their days were numbered, for with the land around them dying, they too were not long for this world. Only loyalty to the lands and lieges they'd known kept them from leaving. And it was those promises, no matter how feeble, that gave the lar strength. The promises...and the hate.
"They took a lover. That lecherous lord..."
"That lustful lady...They said their lover was..."
"...a dragoness with night-dark scales..."
"...but she had fiery eyes. And her face..."
One and the same. The truth of it struck the lar now, and she shuddered in grief as she realized—this treacherous stranger, this enchantress...With foul magic, she had seduced the lord and lady separately. They had never realized it—how could they, when they’d spent most of their married life arguing? But even before they’d been wed, the enchantress had come to each of them and ensnared their hearts. And so it had been easy for her, even after the ceremony, to visit them again and again. The lady hunting in the forest...or the lord alone out in the orchards....
They had been too desperate to see her, too obsessed, to even suspect the truth. And when the war had broken out, they had withered away—for then the enchantress had fled, taking their hearts with her.
"I will remember that face," the lar snarled in the darkness. No voice was heard, yet the temple shivered with the force of her vow. It burned brighter, and yet at the same time darker, than any vow of love and fidelity ever had. A vow of vengeance.
"I will remember that face, the fire burning in those eyes. And it will be...extinguished..."
Gloamcross Temple tumbled to the ground in ruins as the lar left it at last. No longer a lar, a guardian—but a larva, a malevolent spirit.
She circled the former lands of Heliotrope and Ereblight one last time. The fairies felt her passing, for as she left, their eyes darkened, and their hearts grew cold within them. One by one, they faded into stardust, and eternal twilight covered the land.
As for the larva, she had already moved on. She had nothing to guide her but a face, and the fairies' memories had given her a name besides. The name of the one she sought—
Leannan, the ill-fated lord and lady had called her. The Lover.
Noon, midnight. Dawn and dusk. These are when the veils between worlds grow thin, and the larva came to Sornieth this way. It was sunset in the Tangled Wood—but so far beneath the thorns, it didn't really matter what time it was. So thickly layered were the thorns that even at high noon, here, all was as dark as pitch.
All, but not always. Candlelight flared in the darkness—then resolved itself into a luminous beetle. It painted sparkling golden loops that lit up a face.
A stark white face, obviously made of bone, a thick blue mane bristling around it. But it wasn't a skull: It had the strange, bumpy smoothness of melted candle wax, and it was fixed in a toothless smile. The eyes were black, empty holes, and tarry ichor dripped from them onto the soil below.
A dragon would have screamed to see that face. The larva was merely startled. She hesitated only briefly before saying, "I greet you, Lord. Pray, have I left the Fair World behind? I was led to believe this world was inhabited by the great wyrms."
The face didn't move, yet the smile seemed to grow wider. Candles, real ones this time, slowly puffed into view around it. They encircled the smiling lord lazily, illuminating his diaphanous wings, his amber adornments.
"You have traveled truly, fair spirit. The wyrms call this land Sornieth. Perhaps the fey nature we share was what brought you here, to my domain."
"I hunt a being." Rage crackled beneath the larva's words. "A sly one, a trickster. She calls herself 'the Lover'. Have you seen her face?"
"No...but as time runs in this world, I have not been here long. Your Lover could have passed through many moons before."
The larva considered this. She had not reckoned on the vast discrepancy in times.
Meanwhile, the strange lord had been studying her. He gestured with a furry paw. "The passage between worlds has granted you a shape, but you will need to change it if you are to travel well here. The wyrms might take offense at the form you wear now."
"This will trouble them?" The larva was referring to her current shape, if "shape" it could be called. It was really just a formless mass of swirling, inky vapor.
"The gods of this world have an ancient enemy. You would do well not to resemble it."
The larva reached out, brushing his mind, and the minds of all those who'd passed through the Tangled Wood within the last few days. She caught hints of shapes, sizes. Fangs, wings, and claws with which to rend her foes.
And so she acquired a shape. She grew till she filled the bramble hollow, her wings seemingly large enough to blot out the sun. Four great feet, a long tail...She looked at the finely-adorned lord and copied his jewelry, though hers instead shone in shades of blue.
Finally she stood before him, clothed in a great Guardian's shape. The lord nodded approvingly. He cocked his head. "Why the mask, though?"
Why indeed? It was not as if the Lover had ever seen her before. She'd never even come near the temple.
But the ancient promises had been warped by treachery, and this behooved the larva to conceal her true nature as well. She looked unwaveringly at the lord, and he, wisely, did not ask again.
Instead, he counseled her, "Now you will need a name. The mortals here are most insistent about everything having a name."
The larva bristled. "I will not surrender my name so freely."
"It doesn't have to be true," and she gave a start as the lord said that. "You can create one of your own. Is it too difficult? Shall I help you, then?"
His beetle fluttered onto his waiting palm, and he blew gently upon it. Golden dust billowed into the air. It engulfed the larva, and she heard the voices of the creatures in the woods, saw their natures and names. They glimmered before her, briefly but brightly, like shooting stars crossing the sky.
She plucked one out at random, closing her great, dark claws around it. It melted into her skin, and the sound of it slithered over her tongue and from between her jaws—
"Corwin," she whispered. "That, for now, shall be my name."
"And now, be on your way," laughed the fairy lord. He gestured, bowing as he did so, and the great thorns parted, a curtain unveiling the mortal lands waiting beyond.
Corwin stormed out into the night. The last rays of the sun slipped away, but she strode on. She didn't know where to go—as the fairy lord had observed, she was a stranger here. But she had all the time in the world, and no land was too large for her to explore. She would run out of land to explore before she ran out of rage, and when that happened, she would simply move on to the next world....
Behind her, the fairy lord gestured, and the thorns closed up again. The golden beetle doused its light, and only his waxen face remained, gleaming like a distant moon, before it, too, fell back into the darkness.
Notes: This story was originally submitted to the MistJam 2020 Story Contest (“The Great Blue Yonder” prompt).
Further reading: Leanan sídhe and Lares
