In the beginning... White and the Sky Lotus

Power. The main attraction to our newborn Planeswalker. At a thought, his passion turns to fire, the fire to an inferno, an inferno to a star. A ball of fire far beyond the sight of even the 'walker. And yet...it wasn't what he wanted. Passion alone was powerful, but the power alone was largely nothing. But not completely nothing.

From this was born the avatar of of the powerful yet uncaring sun. His children are the sundancers, nymphs who's sole purpose in life seemed to be to celebrate the Lotus' day. The sundancers and sunseekers have variable power, being stronger during the day or night.

Some nymphs go above their call to dance for their sun, and attempt to follow the Lotus to the ends of the earth. These are the sunchasers, many of which grow mad or corrupted in the night. Some of these nymphs will die out, some will look elsewhere for a new Lotus...

And some will become their own Lotus.

The world is born... Green and the Terra Nova

The Planeswalker considered his creation, an unstable, awe-inspiring display of power. Who could claim to have built a star? Yet...something was missing. There was no substance to the display. Another thought began to grow, and where fire had once exploded, stone began to form. Thoughtless passion was replaced with focused strength, and at the 'walkers hand, his star obtained a planet.

The Planeswalker and his incarnation of strength formed the plane to his whim. His creation was still empty, but it was beginning to feel real. Like the Lotus before, the Avatar's children began to populate the world.

As the world grew, it's children grew with it...

And some of it's children grew beyond it.

Fill the seas... Red and the Tidemother

The stability of the earth had proved no better for life than the instability of the sun, and the Planeswalker had begun to grow impatient at his creation. Nothing was happening. Perhaps his art needed a little chaos to mix up the world. Water exploded from the 'walkers hands. Let the chaos reign.

The Planeswalker's decline begins as Rylei takes over his world, filling the world with water and the water with her children.

But as every parent knows, not all of your children will quite follow your splash-steps...

And some take it a step too far.

An uncomfortable atmosphere... Blue and the Aerolius

After Rylei took hold of the plane, the Planeswalker pulled back, filling the world with air and sending a number of sylphs throughout it to keep an eye on his ravaged creation. The best of these were called the Aerolius, and as their numbers shrank, the 'walkers love for the remaining grew until only his most trusted advisor remained.

Even after the Planeswalker left his post, the handiwork of him and Aerolius would linger for years.

The sylphs would soon find themselves with an unexpected ally with the edges of the final avatar, the wily but uncivilized capuchin.

Not that they would be the strangest of their allies...

The end of the beginning... Black and Mother Nature

Finally done trying to fix his plane, the Planeswalker looked down at the plane in disgust. The project of power had brought nothing but pain, and now it was time for Novea to feel his pain. Dark magic surrounded his hand and the Planeswalker struck the plane with a world ending blow. But the Planeswalker would find his emotions manifesting one final time.

Mother Nature would succeed where the Planeswalker had failed for years, creating life other than the plane-tending nymphs in the Capuchin and the monstrous Gorran, desperate to make their mark on the world.

And unlike the incarnations before her, Mother Nature maintains her hold on Novea to this day...

Though not everyone is exactly pleased with this.

The void of the Multiverse shrieked in his skull, trying to rend his power from his bones. Skirnon tried to hold his focus on the darting line of red mana among the darkness and inside out spheres, his only lifeline in the horror that was the Blind Eternities. Everything was wrong here, the familiar square pentagons of Dominaria replaced by a vortex swirling in four directions at once, changing from blood red to octarine to a bright orange purple all while remaining black as night. Wisps of blue collected around the jagged red mana line, and shortly after a river of green rushed down to follow them both. He felt a flicker of hope. Few planes would have mana stores that strong and diverse, Dominaria was so loved for that reason. In the back of his mind he knew they were too thin to be Dominaria, but the creeping madness of the Eternity were beginning to overpower what little logic the walker had to begin with. All the wisps spun and coiled together at the boundary of a plane, his own line surged forward towards whatever waited on the other side.

Skirnon walked into the plane, screaming as the Eternities fought to pull him back into the void, fighting to finally be free of the impossible plane between planes, until finally, silence. A cold, dead silence, louder than any noise. Skirnon blinked a few times, but the infinite darkness before him wasn’t due to the Eternities. This plane, or at least this area where he had walked, was nothing. There was mana, there was potential unseen almost anywhere else in the Multiverse, and yet, there was nothing.

The desire to get home was violently replaced by another. No plane should be empty, he asserted. It was right. It was boring. It was wrong. Skirnon tapped into the red mana flowing towards… somewhere. He could find out how or why later. First, this mistake in the Multiverse had to be corrected. His favorite spell, the every-trusty fireball, collected in front of him. The mana line had not looked as plentiful as Dominaria’s, but there was something powerful, something primal in this plane. The fireball grew far faster than he had even seen from better Planeswalkers, larger and larger until he had to pull back from the inferno as the heat began to affect even a Planeswalker. And yet, larger it grew, until something within him sparked, and the fireball seemed to become an entity all its own.

Skirnon pulled out of the mana pool, and the fireball, now a full blown star, continued to grow on its own. And yet, even out of the mana pool, he was still being drained. There was something other than the fireball, a spell that felt like it was in his own head. It felt foreign, but like it was right at home where it lay, a paradox that made him wonder if maybe he wasn’t dying in the Blind Eternities after all. Whatever the presence was, it felt right. His work, his sun was the right thing to do. But it wasn’t enough. There was something in the plane, but it was not yet a plane. There was more to make of the madness. All the formless chaos he had seen today needed fixing, and while he couldn’t do much about Eternities, he had proved he had power outside its grasp. The thought and the presence permeated his brain.

Well, what do you say, Pathomancer?

Skirnon hung in the dead of space, staring at the sentient sun. The thought had long since left his head, a manifestation of emotion now seemingly residing on the star that created it. He could still hear it, the Lotus' thoughts invading his own, but never matching the strength of its birth. And yet, he couldn’t shake the first thought. There was something wrong with this lifeless plane. His own magic couldn’t do much, but all that green he had seen coming in…

He tapped into his mana, trying to find the green line along with it. The red mana bubbled up into another fireball. A growl rumbled in his throat and died in the vacuum. The flickering fire steadied and the burning core solidified as the earthen magic began to filter into the red. His focus intensified as the green mana flickered through his head. The mana combined, causing the fireball became magma, causing a presence in the Pathomancer. It knew his weakness. But it knew how to overcome it. With its strength, with its help, it would realize that hope.

Green light faded out from the Planeswalker as the thought faded. The magma continued to grow, more and more stone filling the sphere. As the glowing died down, the walker could see something green and growing crawling across the ever expanding planet. Skirnon descended to the planet. Already plants were sprouting from the path of the green thing. He ran across the shifting ground to catch up to the mass of earth and trees stumbling across the dead stone. Parts of the manifestation continuously fell to the ground, the plants and dirt shaping the world below, yet somehow it seemed to only grow as it fell apart.

Well don’t just stand there. Strength comes from numbers after all.

The avatar of growth continued on its way, the dirt and seed falling from it had grown alongside him, now replaced by boulders and swaths of greenery falling to the earth, with pieces of the creature occasionally crumbling off to form dryads to tend to the world where Terra could not. Skirnon marveled at the manifestation. His grip on red mana could barely shape the world compared to the endless conversion of green mana into stone and vegetation.

Terra lumbered out of his view, reminding him of his mission. The luck with the green had opened a world for life, but still only the plants would live here, and not for long he realized. Novea was completely devoid of water, and Terra didn’t seem to be changing that. A grumble escaped his throat again, this one filling the emptiness around him. There had been some blue lines on his way in… and he had been able to get to the green, if only for a moment. It was a long shot, he knew, but he focused all the same, finding only his trusty red lines. There had to be something else to this…

Fire! he realized. Both the sun and the earth began with a fireball, that must be the source. Heat filled the valley as another fireball formed in his fist, his fingers barely suppressing the energy from torching Terra’s work. He doused the flame, then angrily reignited, burning through red mana but accomplishing nothing. Anger began to fill his brain. Terra could create without trying, and he had created that on accident. In fact, most of his successes had been accidental. But this world should be his to tap, if he could only unlock that accident. There must be something else, something beyond the thoughts, something that turns thought to emotion.

A little instability, an intruder thought, causing him to blindly tap into mana. Fire erupted from his hands as the though faded away, the blaze catching the green all around the valley. In the distance, Skirnon thought he heard a bellow.

Oh no, this certainly won’t do, came a softer thought. Be a shame to burn down the new place. Skirnon turned to his left to find a small child, a strange crown of flower atop her head. She flashed him a toothy grin before throwing two lines of water from her hands, each whipping out to the flames. Now why did you do a thing like that? She laughed with a voice larger than herself as water began to fill the valley from the ground. Skirnon jumped back from the puddle, but it continued to grow deeper as the child’s laugh became more and more deranged. Skirnon turned to run.

Oh, it’s been a pleasure, truly, she boomed in his head. I must thank you for the gift. Red mana burned out his hands to launch him further from the manifestation. But if I ever see you here again... Skirnon turned back to the ever growing pool. A little girl floated at its center. Behind her, a massive tidal wave towered over them both, roaring as it came crashing down towards him.

A bruised and dirty planeswalker floated just above the sparkling world of Novea once more. In the walkers absence, Rylei had managed to cover half of his plane in water. A grin cut Skirnon’s scars. The embodiment of chaos had gotten lazy, likely hadn’t changed her tricks in years. But in the meantime, he had found a way to alter his own. Skirnon drew deep, taking blue mana from his temporary home of Pguqium.

“What are your mysteries, Novea?” he whispered as he allowed the blue magic to leak into his brain. “What power are you trying to hide beneath the waves? You can’t hide from us forever.” A now familiar presence rested on his mind, and with a flight spell, the presence and its desire of knowledge went with it, a wisp of wind with the need to know every secret that the world was trying to keep from her. Before Skirnon could issue a command, she was off, breaking down into hundreds of smaller wisps and spreading all over Novea, a thousand invisible eyes showering the world at her thought.

It took hours for the first sylph to report back to him, its memories of the Terra struggling to spread into the sea transferring to his own as it approached. Another sylph followed, bringing memories of fish women striding from the sea, their fishy features melting back to resemble Rylei as they left the water. One after another the wisps brought back memories of the sea’s creatures striking out, attacking the Terra and its nymphs, and strange hooved creatures, almost always attacked by surprise as they spent much of their time staring towards the sky or dancing rather than watching the world unfold around them. And then, a memory that sent a chill through Skirnon and all the nymphs. The memory was simple, the nymph dutifully skimming across the waves until a creature, unmistakably Skirnon’s own Rylei, burst from the sea. Water lashed out from the avatar, skewering other nearby sylphs, all screaming as Rylei dragged them in and the memory flew away.

“Go, go!” Skirnon urged, more sylphs spawning at his hand. “She knows were here now, we need anything, a weakness, an opening, anything, go!” The nymphs scattered across the plane as Skirnon delved deeper for blue mana.

You are fighting a lost war. Skirnon turned to find only empty skies. Rylei will not fall to us. No secret you may find will prevent that. It had to be one of the avatars…but which one? Were the sylphs warning him? Was Rylei managing this? Pguqium had taught him much but not nearly enough.

Leave while you can, Pathomancer. Your work is done here.

"No! I'm not leaving whoever you are again. I'm going to make things right!" More sylphs spawned around him, each more aggressive as the Planeswalker's temper shortened. "She was made for Novea, it wasn't made for her!" Sparks crackled as the next few sylphs collected and took to the waves below.

You are a fool. There is nothing you can know that we cannot. Anything you find, she will know.

"And that's where you're wrong. So beautifully wrong." He grinned at the voice, now knowing its source. "It'll be a fight sure, but me and Terra'll take it back right quick." Purple magic bubbled together in his fist and the air grew heavy. "Let's see how well Rylei can fight the heavens."

Two purple eyes glared down at the flooded plane. Novea was overrun with naiads and sylphs, the happy nymphs of the other avatars torn to shreds and hunted across the final rocks of the world. The work of the Terra had been overthrown, his own work…

Four voices filtered in and out of his head. Skirnon recast the occlumens spell to clear them out, so many questions, threats, failures. He couldn’t stand the plane any longer. He knew now that it all started with that first little thought, a chain of mistakes finally collapsing on itself. He had tried to fight the Multiverse and lost.

Blue and red mana spiraled around the walker. “Another win for you.” He grunted, the sound going nowhere in the endless black. The voices crept back in as the destructive and disruptive magics combined to form Skirnon’s spell. He tapped into the red mana line that had led him here all those years ago.

“Be quiet!” Skirnon roared at the four clamoring for attentions, demanding help, demanding he leave, demanding he fight. His focus split between four avatars and his mana rending spell, he had yet to notice the fifth presence, feeding off his ever growing pain.

“I am done trying to make this work! You are all nothing but mistakes! Leave me alone!” The black spirit grew and grew, but remained trapped in his head. The walker had learned to contain his emotions but could never learn to control them. The mana surrounding the walker ramped up, the light engulfing him for a moment before the spell exploded towards the plane. Lights of purple and orange spun around and combined, forming a swirling ray designed to revert even the most advanced enchantments back into the mana that made them.

The deconstruction ray screamed through the sky, boiling away the air before connecting with the plane. The oceans didn’t even have time to boil as the spell drifted across Novea. Naiads fled to stone and sea, but neither would offer salvation for long. The voices turned fearful, and Skirnon found himself enjoying the fear as a familiar feeling drifted over his brain. Before he had a chance to react to it, his magic changed. The bright swirling magic darkened to the point it was invisible in the dead space. Skirnon’s head was now clear, save for a single, unsettling laugh.

He cut loose from the spell, but the final avatar had already escaped. He raced down to Novea’s surface, the heat of all his work widening the amount of land to touch down, but it had already been blackened by the new spell’s touch. The cackling in his head continued as the last of the spell dissipated, and the final manifestation of destruction and fear collecting herself from the corruption. Skirnon hovered just above the surface, the avatar’s first step further blighting the world around her and changing it into her own. With every step, her reach extended, reaching to the realm of Rylei, planting the seeds of life that turned her beautiful waters into the beginnings of a swamp.

Skirnon hesitated as her touch seemed to kill even the rocks below. She embodied the destruction of his own magic, but had twisted it to her own liking, killing and controlling the victims instead of quickly obliterating them. Trees gnarled and grew into poisonous thickets around him as her magic began to spread all over Novea.

Congratulations, planeswalker. You got your wish.

“No!” Skirnon yelled over the laughter filling his thoughts. “Not like this.” Fire flew from his hand, burning a path through the corrupted earth and straight through the avatar. The few burning holes in the avatar closed up as the blighted earth regenerated her. The twisted trees and vines in the swamp slowly surrounding them rose up, coiling together and marching forward to protect their mother. As the decaying golem stepped from swamp to pool of corruption, it collected on the champion as well. Skirnon force himself further airborne as the creature of life and death. The black spirit flashed her teeth and turned to her creation.

Maybe you didn’t quite get your wish. I can help with that one too.

At her touch, the decaying vines spiraled off the creature. The blight and stumps and sludge coalesced down, the once shapeless beast falling down into something almost human, though monstrously large, a mouth of ugly teeth cropping from its uneven jaw, all set on a clueless skull on a muscle packed body that reminded Skirnon of the gorillas on Rath, big and angry, but mostly harmless. Her champion took another unthinking step towards Skirnon. He could only stare at the mockery of life stepping towards him, trying to prepare another spell, trying to finish off his worst emotions brought to life when the simple question arose. Why?

He couldn’t tell if the thought was his own, but another shambling step killed the thought. Mindless magic had gotten him here. Who’s thought it was didn’t concern him so much as the question. The mother grinned at the walker again.

Why?

Skirnon turned to his star. Blue and red magic exploded from the planeswalker, and then, he was gone.

A fluffy grey tail fell from the forest canopy, poking around in the forest air as if watching the stillness around it. Nothing was foolish enough to hear the snicker that followed. The tail flicked back up into the trees. Branches moves without a sound as the monkey leapt from the trees, rolling across the ground until her feet connected with the ground and she sprung into the air, leaping along the receding forest towards the edge of the sea. Her fur shined in the dawn’s light as she scanned the shore.

Orria’s eyes darted back and forth, but her toothy grin was unmoving. It wasn’t often a pelt managed to get this close to the nereid’s domain. The sparkling sea seemed to stretch off forever until it turned into the sky, welling up again like a tidal wave ready to overtake the world. For once in her life, Orria felt intimidated by the run. She might be untouchable, but the woods? The world?

A boiling growl snapped her attention to the forming waves. Right, the run. A nereid was rising from the crystal water, barely disturbing the water as her scaly skin cut through it. Orria hooted at the fish woman, jumping forward to splash around in the water. Now the very sea seemed to be growling at her. As she splashed, the water turned on her, trying to grab at the monkey. Orria continued to holler and the nereid’s magic flew backwards, a line of splashes leading up to the glaring nymph.

Oh yeah, she had its attention now.

She tore off like a shot into the woods, a watery scream following her into the green. Orria snickered again as she darted up into the canopy, disappearing into the mess above the forest floor. Her eyes were everywhere again. Where was it? They hadn’t managed to learn had they? Her ears perked, tryig to catch any sound, but the forest was silent. As usual, it knew when to turn tail and run long before necessary.

It started as a trickle. An invisible line of water creeping down into the forest. Orria’s eyes caught the sparkle of it, grabbing her attention for a brief second. The forest erupted, the sea punching a hole into the thick, ripping trees bare and throwing Orria back into the open. Squishy steps approached the monkey as she rolled back to her feet, bounding away without turning back. The nereid didn’t take the bait, instead drawing its water back and spinning them around in two cyclones around her. Orria had awakened a hurricane.

A blur of fur bounced from trunk to trunk, hooting at the pelts scattered through the forest. This had quickly devolved out of a one monkey job, even for one as slippery as herself. Smaller monkeys darted overhead in the canopy, a flicker above telling her the backup plan was already in motion. Now they just needed to live long enough to pull it off. She skidded to a stop on the crinkling ground. She closed her eyes to focus on the sounds of the forest, catching the movement of the monkeys, a nymph running away, a dozing elemental and there! The snapping of tree branches and rushing water quickly replacing the rest of the noise. The nereid wasn’t giving in.

Orria’s eyes went back up, but the green was hiding the fishwoman as well as herself. Pelts hollered from behind, warning her Thorn would not arrive quick enough. Yellow teeth split her face. Well that meant it was playtime.
---
Nadei continued her calm walk through the forest, all of her energy put into the twin whirlpools tearing the woods a new river. She relished the sound of every drop tearing through stone and bark, its endless growl of creative destruction. She would have to thank that stupid monkey for this moment after she killed it. Pelts screamed all around her, trying to drag her from her path.

“Oh, don’t worry little ones!” her voice gurgled. “You’ll get yours soon enough.” Nadei’s webbed hand rose, one of the torrents to her side rising to drill into the upper canopy, adding shrieks to her harmony of destruction. The sounds of the raging water changed to shout for the nymph. “Come out, come out monkey.”

Nadei’s two storms converged at her hand, the energy contained in the water ball as big as herself nearly knocking her off her feet. The nereid threw a punch, the wave spell following through to tear a thunderous hole in the forest, snapping the nearest trees at the trunks as it went. She paused for a moment to admire her grand ruin. This might make a decent lake, a home away from home even, after she dealt with these pests. Speaking of pests…
---
Orria bounced into the ruined forest. Her plans were all drying up, but she couldn’t let the nereid any deeper into the forest. As long as she could keep it here… He fur shimmered and she leapt towards one of the few still standing trees, an arm of water reaching up to grab the now empty air. She jumped again as the nereid continued the game, sending shot after shot out of the drowning ground. Orria dodged each of them easily, hoping to burn out the mage, not realizing the nymph was doing the same. Quick tendrils turned into wider geysers as Nadei grew annoyed, Orria avoiding them as easy as ever. Until the water began to rain back down. The falling water clung to her fur, only taking a few moments to begin weighing the monkey down and making each jump harder on the monkey. The naiad seemed unfazed, not noticing, as far as Orria hoped, how much water she was losing with every spell. Orria leapt again, and a blast straight from the nereid caught her in mid-jump. Her fur shimmered, but the water’s force overpowered her magic, driving her into the muddy ground. It was almost out of water. Orria was almost out of time. Hooting filled the clearing.

Nadei finally turned to the sounds as she tried to call her water back. The growl that followed wasn’t from her magic. Nadei turned again to the face of a bear, more tree than animal, its roots drawing the last of her water from the ground before she could. A red haired nymph sat atop the beast.

“Well what is this? Rylei sticking her nose on the rocks again?” Dozens of monkeys hung down from the trees behind her, each barring their teeth at the cornered nereid. The forest groaned behind her, and Nadei dared not turn to see the no doubt more horrible elementals behind her.

“I may be the only one here that doesn’t want this to end in blood.” Thorn looked down to the dozens of toppled trees and the crushed monkey. “May be.” Her hand spun and branches among the wreckage starting pulling back together. “Do we need to see that change?” she growled at the nereid, already creeping back the way she came. Thorn leapt down from the bear, striding to the other nymph without an ounce of fear or hatred in her steps. Her bristled hair grew out, biting into the other’s skin as she got close. “Get. Out.” The spines of the hair pushed the nereid on her way out, showing off the tree sized elk calming walking through her ex-river.

“Tell Rylei we better not see you lot again.” Thorn turned back to her bear as Nadei stumbled away. Her hair receded as she turned to the monkeys. “I’ll let you decide if that message reaches the water.” The bear snorted and continued its peaceful drink as the monkeys above faded into the trees. Thorn turned back to the wreckage. With a little luck, this could form enough thicketwalkers to heal the forest soon. Not that this as the only wound, she remembered, wondering where the crumpled monkey had disappeared to.

A thousand years away, Orria shared that thought.

The smoke from a dozen fires spiraled up into the starless night. Eight Gorrans danced within the ring of fire, weaving in and out of the blazing pits. EIght shadows stalked across the fire’s glow, eight masks gleaming as they turned to face it. Nearly every eye was lost in the motions, following the tale of life and death that was the Dance of the Nymphs.

Two distant eyes watched only in fear as the chieftain, known only as Skullsplitter, crept up to the flames, hunched over as the man could barely hold up his own weight, further held back by a suit of bones. Gorrans began to chant as he brought himself upright before the fire burning at the center, his arms carefully cradled around his chest. With a final stomp from the dancers, all the noises died except the crackle of the flames and the cry coming from Skullsplitters arms. Mele buried her head into the tree trunk before she could watch the drop she had seen a hundred times before. The fire billowed. The Gorrans cheered. The chanting began again.

Mele held her voice. The dance had almost passed, if they could hold out a few more minutes, he would be safe. The child clinging to her leg whimpered. “Hush.” She turned to scan the trees behind them, but the night had turned the forest darker than her Mother’s heart, and not even the moon was there to help her this time. Keeping track of the forest’s nightmares would be easy enough even now, but it wasn’t the nightmares that worried her. TIny hands left her leg and her focus snapped back in an instant, turning back around to grab his arm. She crouched down to him, keeping her grip. Less than a year old and the little ones were already trying to get themselves killed.

“Shhh…” she cooed. “Two more. Two more and we’re done.” She tried to wipe the tears from his face, only managing to smear the dirt already there. “But we must stay quiet.” The chanting swelled again and the dancers grew erratic, the earth shaking with every step of the eight. Then, silence. Mele hugged her child close as the tribe erupted again. Seven. The Dance demanded eight. They could hold out for one more. There were others lined up to throw their own into the fire. She could be missed. They would be missed, she demanded her thoughts. A glow creeping over the tree sent her confidence running. She turned to the ghastly lantern. The hunched Gorran loomed over the two, his mask of bark hiding any emotion that might have been there.

Illus. by Thiago Almeida

“No.” she whispered. His free hand landed on her shoulder. She looked up to the wooden mask, pleading with the uncaring face. His hand tightened and threw Mele into the dirt, scooping up the child while she was disoriented. Mele roared through the shock, jumping back to her feet. The man had already disappeared into the blackness, but there was only one place he could be going. Mele charged towards the chieftain.

The chants of the tribe built up a final time, now with every Gorran in the forest joining in, every sound filling the forest with dread. The eight dancers now gathered around the center fire, circling around it as their erratic motions recreated their first shambling steps from their Mother’s Cradle. Mele’s screaming was lost in the sea of noise flowing from hundreds of Gorrans, stomping, singing, dancing, calling for the final sacrifice. The hunchback Gorran lifted up the child by his leg, still squirming and fighting for freedom as the blood rushing through his head clouded the world around him. Skullsplitter’s mass of callus he called a hand grabbed the year’s firstborn by the weakly swinging leg. While nearly triple the size of those before him, the monster Gorran barely noticed the extra weight. He set off to the fires again.

Mele ran roaring towards the two men, neither seeming to react to her, Skullsplitter not even breaking his gaze from the blazes. Steps from the chief, the lantern Gorran swung around, his fist following through into her gut.

The sky spun above her. Her head was screaming. Her son was screaming. Pain was nothing to her. Mele was back to her feet and sprinting before the lantern Gorran could strike again, heading for the ring of fires Skullsplitter had already passed, already before the center she realized too late. The dancers stomped and the world went silent. Mele’s legs gave out under her outside the outer ring.

The Gorrans cheered.

The scene replayed over again in her head. She tried to force it out with another memory, only to feel the happiness burning away and the fires filled her eyes again. She thought back to the day his eyes finally opened, only to find smoke pouring out. When he finally spoke, and the chant filled her ears. Every memory relived the moment. And the Gorrans cheered.

Mele finally collapsed from pain and exhaustion, only now realizing she had been running down the forest. Dozens of cuts attempted to join the chorus of pain pounding through every muscle and bone. Her body was pain now. But she knew pain. She forced herself to ignore it, giving herself something to think about that didn’t devolve into the flames rising as...she tore her attention to the trees. Mele had no clue where she had ended up. Anything could be hiding in the forest if she had gone the wrong way. Tiny dirt trails wound around tree trunks. The trees were intact, nothing trampled or broken. The Terra’s behemoths had not been here in a very long time. Mele pulled herself back up, pushing herself forward for no other reason than to move. The dirt beneath her quickly turned to mud, the mud eventually giving way to waters as black as the night. She traced the edge of the swamp, following it around to a hill overlooking the pit.

Familiar sigils jutted out from the swamp, each of the carved swords marking no doubt dozens of Gorrans thrown below. Her eyes widened and her head spun back to the dead trees behind her. She had found her Mother. She could only pray her Mother had not found her.

Illus. by Jorge Jacinto

Mele continued around the swamp. THe cheering and flames had left her mind, now fully replaced by panic, every nerve screaming to get out of the forest, get out of the swamp. She didn’t know how far her Mother’s reach extended, but she knew that nowhere in these woods was safe to her. There was no looking back now.

It wasn’t until Mele rounded to the opposite end of the graveyard that she heard anything, a simple twig snapping that echoed louder than a thunderclap in the silence. Mele froze. The Dance reminded the Gorrans every year of what the Mother was capable of. She wished against her sanity that she was back, walking into the flames to follow him rather than face this. A soft claw grabbed her shoulder.

“Clof aga nae sha cf?” the winged creature chittered uselessly at her. Mele slowly turned to the white claw and followed its feathered arm up to its strangely soft yet inhuman face, blended with a bird’s head but not unlike her own. More creatures crashed through the swamp, not knowing or not caring in whose home they tread. The bird woman chittered more sounds at the newcomers, some even more twisted visions of humans, birds, and other monsters.

Finally, one stepped forward, a creature that looked almost human, except for two horns twisting behind her head and two withered wings hanging behind her. “Why are you here, Gorran?” she demanded.

Mele looked to each of the nymphs, trying to decide if this was her mercy or her judgement until one word left her throat. “Escape.”

The creature laughed. “Aren’t we all?” She looked back, chittering at the others. Attention now off her, Mele tried to sneak forward. “Fear not Gorran.” the nymph chimed before turning back to her. “We are not of your swamp. We are of the glorious Lotus!” she announced, throwing her arms skyward. Only the night met her call. “Or, were. The Lotus may not take kindly to seekers.” a sigh escaped the creature.

“For better or worse, we have chosen our path. While it may look dark now, we have seen and learned far beyond any sundancer.” The nymph seemed to have recovered already, turning back to the others. “And no matter the darkness, the sun lies before us. Hope can never die.” The nymph chittered a bit before turning to Mele again. “Gorran, we have chosen our path in life. Will you chose yours?”

Mele looked westward out of the swamp, towards the moonlight beginning to filter through the trees near the marsh’s end. “What is out there?”

“Wonder beyond the swamp, surely. Others, like us. Hills that climb to touch the sky. Beyond, who can know?”

Illus. by Noah Bradley

Mele stood in the muddy divide where the plains met the forest. The sun was rising between two mountains ahead of her. She looked back, all but one of the sunseekers already hidden away in the darkness. Esycf stood alone, her withered wings raised for both Mele and the sun.

“Good luck Gorran! May your travels meet us again one day!”