enter the woods. It will try everything in its power to lure you away. Don’t trust it. We will have the sun scepter for guidance, as well as Daphne,” Celeste said.
“Who’s Daphne?” Abagail wondered. Luna fluttered up off Celeste’s shoulder and swirled through the air a few times before Abagail. “Oh.”
“Well, we were right, at least it is a she!” Leona said triumphantly.
“How could you ever be wrong about that?” Celeste said, leading them all closer to the forest. She tapped her finger against the scepter. The action brought about a ringing in the object, and the yellowed light pulsed a little brighter, illuminating the snowy path inside the trees. Again, Abagail wanted nothing more than to take the scepter form her. Something about the shadow plague called out to the sun scepter, as if it were an ointment to some malignant burn. She clenched her fist tighter inside the glove.
“We don’t have butterflies like her on O,” Rorick supplied.
“Oh, Daphne is certainly not a butterfly,” Celeste said, and then chuckled. Daphne pulsed violet in time with Celeste’s laughter as if the winged being was laughing as well.
“She’s a pixie,” Abagail said. Some part of her knew that, likely it had always known that even though she’d previously thought the creature was a fairy.
“Very good,” Celeste said. “One wonders how she got to O.”
“Through the mirror,” Abagail said. “She came through the same way we got here.”
“That would make sense,” Celeste said.
“The troubling thing is that entities are able to cross Eget Row so easily. How often does that happen?” Rorick wondered.
“Hmm,” Celeste said, wondering. “That I can’t be sure of. It doesn’t seem like something that would happen much at all, but things are changing lately, the balance is tipping in the favor of darkness, and wyrd is going haywire. Likely it’s throwing off some wyrded laws that dictate that kind of thing.”
“So it’s easy for darklings to come and go between worlds?” Leona asked.
“There’s no need to worry about that,” Celeste said. “Heimdall guards Eget Row, he doesn’t easily let the shadow pass between worlds.”
“But he lets the shadow pass sometimes?” Abagail wondered.
“The shadow has always been in the worlds, it’s not something that originated in one point and then spread. Since the beginning of time there’s always been shadow, there’s always been light.”
The forest was dark inside despite the brightness of the day outside. The trees were almost impossibly tall, and the canopy of the forest so dense that little snow had penetrated to the ground. The further they traveled away from Mattelyn’s house, the less the snow had been able to drift into the forest.
But the forest was like a dream of some distant fairyland, the branches and needles of the coniferous trees seemed soft, almost velvety.
“Is winter always like this?” Rorick asked.
“Like what?” Abagail wondered. “Cold? Winter is always cold.”
Rorick snickered. “Dumb question I guess.”
“Little bit,” Leona agreed.
“This is summer,” Celeste said. Abagail was about to laugh, but the mournful look on Celeste’s face told her that the woman wasn’t joking around.
“Summer looks a lot like winter,” Rorick said. Abagail smacked him in the stomach and he groaned. He was walking behind Celeste so he couldn’t see that she wasn’t playing around with them.
“So hasn’t spring, and fall, and winter for the last two turns. This is the third year of winter,” Celeste told them.
“Winter only lasts a few months on O,” Leona told her.
“Normally it only lasts a few months here, too,” Celeste said. “But the last winter never went away. This is the third straight year of winter.”
Abagail was speechless. She stared about the Fey Forest wondering what was happening. The wood was silent, there was no trace of birds or insects, like one would normally hear in the summer,
“Who’s Daphne?” Abagail wondered. Luna fluttered up off Celeste’s shoulder and swirled through the air a few times before Abagail. “Oh.”
“Well, we were right, at least it is a she!” Leona said triumphantly.
“How could you ever be wrong about that?” Celeste said, leading them all closer to the forest. She tapped her finger against the scepter. The action brought about a ringing in the object, and the yellowed light pulsed a little brighter, illuminating the snowy path inside the trees. Again, Abagail wanted nothing more than to take the scepter form her. Something about the shadow plague called out to the sun scepter, as if it were an ointment to some malignant burn. She clenched her fist tighter inside the glove.
“We don’t have butterflies like her on O,” Rorick supplied.
“Oh, Daphne is certainly not a butterfly,” Celeste said, and then chuckled. Daphne pulsed violet in time with Celeste’s laughter as if the winged being was laughing as well.
“She’s a pixie,” Abagail said. Some part of her knew that, likely it had always known that even though she’d previously thought the creature was a fairy.
“Very good,” Celeste said. “One wonders how she got to O.”
“Through the mirror,” Abagail said. “She came through the same way we got here.”
“That would make sense,” Celeste said.
“The troubling thing is that entities are able to cross Eget Row so easily. How often does that happen?” Rorick wondered.
“Hmm,” Celeste said, wondering. “That I can’t be sure of. It doesn’t seem like something that would happen much at all, but things are changing lately, the balance is tipping in the favor of darkness, and wyrd is going haywire. Likely it’s throwing off some wyrded laws that dictate that kind of thing.”
“So it’s easy for darklings to come and go between worlds?” Leona asked.
“There’s no need to worry about that,” Celeste said. “Heimdall guards Eget Row, he doesn’t easily let the shadow pass between worlds.”
“But he lets the shadow pass sometimes?” Abagail wondered.
“The shadow has always been in the worlds, it’s not something that originated in one point and then spread. Since the beginning of time there’s always been shadow, there’s always been light.”
The forest was dark inside despite the brightness of the day outside. The trees were almost impossibly tall, and the canopy of the forest so dense that little snow had penetrated to the ground. The further they traveled away from Mattelyn’s house, the less the snow had been able to drift into the forest.
But the forest was like a dream of some distant fairyland, the branches and needles of the coniferous trees seemed soft, almost velvety.
“Is winter always like this?” Rorick asked.
“Like what?” Abagail wondered. “Cold? Winter is always cold.”
Rorick snickered. “Dumb question I guess.”
“Little bit,” Leona agreed.
“This is summer,” Celeste said. Abagail was about to laugh, but the mournful look on Celeste’s face told her that the woman wasn’t joking around.
“Summer looks a lot like winter,” Rorick said. Abagail smacked him in the stomach and he groaned. He was walking behind Celeste so he couldn’t see that she wasn’t playing around with them.
“So hasn’t spring, and fall, and winter for the last two turns. This is the third year of winter,” Celeste told them.
“Winter only lasts a few months on O,” Leona told her.
“Normally it only lasts a few months here, too,” Celeste said. “But the last winter never went away. This is the third straight year of winter.”
Abagail was speechless. She stared about the Fey Forest wondering what was happening. The wood was silent, there was no trace of birds or insects, like one would normally hear in the summer,
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