Ar'Kendrithyst - Chapter 216, 2/2

Chapter 216, 2/2

The daughter, in her curiosity, asked the mother, “Where do universes come from?”

The mother, in her ageless wisdom, asked, “Where do you think they come from?”

“You made this one, so this is why I asked you.”

“And you’re the fully-formed product of that one time I held a hand with a guard, so your guess is as good as mine.”

“… Universes come from hand holding?”

“No, dear. Little inquisitive girls come from a Queen wondering what it would have been like to have a husband who is not her husband.” The mother said, “I have very little idea of where universes come from, for I have no idea how I made this universe either. Go ask your father.”

“Which one?”

“Whichever; both are your father.”

And so the daughter went to the guardhouse, because the king was always busy.

“Father? Where do universes come from?”

The guardian father asked, “Didn’t you ask your mother?”

“She said to ask you.”

“Your mother knows more than I, but where do you think universes come from?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe from something being put where it ought not be put?”

The guardian father laughed. “That is often true! But not the whole truth. Either way, I only know where kids come from; not universes. Your brother the prince is a lot more generative than I, and he made himself happen when I handed the king his crown. Go ask the prince.”

And so the daughter went to the prince’s art studio.

The prince was in a creative mood today, so the daughter watched as paint struck canvas, and people came into being. The prince had yet to make a universe, and yet he was still the most generative force in the kingdom because he never stopped trying to make another universe. So far all he really made were people.

The daughter watched a baker come into being, along with the baker’s oven and a loaf of bread. Looking past the edge of that painting, the daughter saw wheat fields, for one cannot have bread without wheat, and without farmers. In a single painting, the prince made a whole small industry, which, when placed next to the other paintings in the studio, would slot into all the other industries that the prince had already made. When the painting proved good and wholesome with all the other paintings, the prince might even decide to break the frame and let the painting into this universe.

The prince did not do any of that right now, though, for he was fully in the flow. He moved on to the next painting. This next masterpiece became a fisher, who fished the streams, and by that fishing the fisher brought those streams into being.

And now, the prince put the baker painting and the fisher painting next to each other. This, then, was the testing. The streams went by the wheat fields, and both were enhanced by that joining, though the fields were enhanced more than the streams.

The daughter watched as the prince watched his paintings become the kingdom on the other side of the frame.

She watched the river dry up, due to too many farms. And soon, the river was gone. The fisher was dead. The fish were dead. The farms were fine, though; they had even grown in the consumption of the rivers. But now the river was dry, and the farms retreated. The baker thrived for a time, building a kingdom of bread, but then they fell back onto hard times, and now they were back to making simple bread for their neighbors

The prince looked at his painting of a fisher, now a desolate thing of skeletons and muck on a riverbed. He took it off the wall, and painted it again.

This time it was a painting of a raging river, wide as a world. When he hung it beside the painting of the baker, the baker was swept out to sea, along with all the farms.

The painter clicked his tongue. “Overdid it that time.”

“Maybe the river should have been wider, and not so much whitewater,” offered the peeping daughter.

The prince rounded on the daughter. “What are you doing here— You messed up my paintings! Get out of my studio!”

The daughter, indignant, put her fists to her hips. “I didn’t do a thing to you or yours! I only watched!”

“Your presence was enough! It was enough! Get out of here!”

“Answer a question and I will.”

“I agree! State your question and then begone!”

“Where do universes come from?”

“From wherever there is a clean canvas and a will to create! Now get out of my studio!”

“… Wait. That doesn’t help me at all. Why does—”

“Too bad!”

The prince had grabbed a painting from the bin—

Suddenly the daughter was in the middle of a road, on a street she did not know, in a land that was not her home. She looked up at the sky and saw a square of canvas with a painted image of the prince’s face vanishing into the blue. The prince called out silent curses against interlopers, and about how some lessons never get learned.

The daughter looked around.

“That fucker trapped me in a painting.”

It was a kingdom of normal make. Nothing too strange about it. At least the prince had been nice enough to throw her into something that resembled home. Not like that time he had shoved her into a world that was a beehive. Whatever! She could get out of this.

And so she did.

It was a tale of blood and gore and killing tyrants and wooing maidens and a magical trip through an orchard that was a kingdom, and then down into the crystal caverns and up to the highest peak of the sun. In that ageless time the painted world had long since turned real for the daughter, but sometimes she could see the seam of the fabric of the canvas, here and there. When she cared to, she searched out those seams, looking for a way out, but when she loved the world, she stayed longer than she should have, which was at least as long as she needed to see the mortals live and die, and to live and die with them. Finally, though, something changed, and the daughter wanted out.

She searched so long for a good seam; one that could actually take her out.

And then, she found it.

A cut.

Finally, a cut!

She stepped through that cut—

“Oh! Hello, daughter,” said the king, her other father. “You have come back to us. Welcome back.”

There were too many things to say and not enough time to say them, but those thoughts vanished in the wake of true life anyway. And so the daughter who had been the princess, the queen, the beggar, the brother, the killer, the mother, the monster, simply said, “Hello, father.”

“How long was the journey this time?”

“An age and a day. The prince was nice this time. I took your advice and I didn’t actually interrupt his painting, so that helped. How long has it been here?”

“An age and a day; the normal amount of time. Did you find out how universes are made?”

“Not at all! I did learn how to swing a sword again. That was fun.”

The king smiled, saying, “I would have thought you would have figured out universe creation by now. The prince has been making them all this time and he’s only a few ages older than you.”

“… Those are real universes? I thought they were paintings?”

With a knowing grin, the king asked, “How have you tried to make a universe so far?”

“Ugh!” the daughter said, her frustration on full display. “I tried touching hands with a cute boy. I tried putting a crown on a queen. I tried painting a world on a canvas made of magic, with paints made from Reality. It’s so easy for all of you, but not for me!”

The king nodded. “Keep trying. I’m sure you’ll get it eventually. Try going for a walk in a distant land, and seeing if a change of perspective helps. And if nothing else… Have you tried bringing together two things that simply shouldn’t work? That’s often enough to start a universe rolling.”

“Tell me again how you made this universe, father?”

“I found a spot in the light of Endless Summer and introduced a change; a darkness, if you want to call it that. You can’t really control the outcome that way, but I like it better that way.”

“… Huh. I haven’t tried that yet. Maybe I’ll do the opposite, though. Where would I find a deep enough darkness, though?”

“Ask your brother for a black painting. But don’t interrupt his painting, or he might trap you in another world. Wait for his tea time, instead.”

And that is what she did.

The daughter waited for an age and a day, peeping on the prince, looking for a time when the prince was not painting. Eventually it happened. The prince came out of his studio to take tea on the grassy hill with one of his paintings he had broken wide and brought into this world, fully.

The new introduction to the kingdom was an old woman, hunched with age and with eyes so bleak they could not see. But the prince had gifted her glasses made of perfect paint, and the woman could see everything.

She saw the daughter in the bushes. With a cheerful tone, she asked, “Oh oh! Who is that?”

The prince saw the daughter. “That’s the daughter.”

“Your sister?”

The prince scowled. And then he relented. “Maybe? Sure. Why not.” He called out, “Sister! Stop hiding in the bushes and come out and say hello.”

The daughter, who was a sister sometimes, came out of the bushes. “Hello… Brother? Sure. Why not.” She turned to the old woman. “Hello, old woman. May I have your name?”

The old woman cackled. “No you may not, fairy girl. Why were you hiding in the bushes?”

“I was waiting to ask my brother, the prince, for a black painting, so that I might try creating something out of darkness like our father did when he did the opposite.”

The prince scowled. “He didn’t make this universe out of light. He made it out of a dream. But since light did not exist, then he made that, too.” He waved a hand, saying, “I’m not talking with you. I’m talking with this old woman. You want a black painting. Go get one; I care not which. I made a million of them.” He gestured to the studio.

The daughter gleefully scampered off into the depths of the studio, leaving behind the prince and the old woman, as the two of them began to speak of such useless things like magic and order.

The trip into the studio took an age and a day.

Finally, a thousand kilometers into the studio, after passing through halls of black painting after black painting, and journeying into the other areas when she grew bored of the black, the daughter found something that she was not approved to take. But she wanted it. A man, trapped behind a painting’s surface, contained by a frame of metal. He wore a strange suit like a full-winter getup, but with a faceplate made of glass. He hovered on a field of void, alone in his universe of stars and vacuum, looking as bright as the stars themselves.

Without knowing she had been looking for it, the daughter had found her light. She stole that painting, grasping its metal frame tight, bringing it with her as she delved deep into the studio, looking for the perfect black expanse.

And then she found it.

The perfect black painting.

It spanned a kilometer in every direction, from top to bottom to back and forward through time. It was a pool thick with nothing. It was a universe of tendrils and eyes and teeth, but everything was black, and nothing was made of teeth and eyes and tendrils at all. It was simply black. The perfect black.

The daughter suddenly realized why she had grabbed the painting of the man in the weird suit. She would need an especially hardy source of light to survive this perfect black, and that is why she had taken this hardy-looking man. He could probably survive in that environment.

Oftentimes, when the prince threw the daughter into a painting, she did not survive until she transformed herself a good ten or thousand times. That was why the suited man called to her. She needed a survivor, and she had found one. With the introduction of this man into this darkness, perhaps when she joined them she wouldn’t need to go through a thousand iterations of her own self to grow accustomed to this new universe. She would have a leg up!

And the man might even survive this, too!

Like holding an egg above the black, the daughter grasped the two sides of the metal-framed painting, and with a great breaking, she introduced light into darkness.

And the universe began.

– – – –

Erick wasn’t sure what to make of the ‘True Telling’ of the Old Cosmology, as told by two Carnage dragons and one ephemeral fairy. The visuals were great, and a bunch of those lightwards still hung out everywhere in the atrium. Erick recognized those lightwards as lightwards now, but as Ar’Cosmos had been telling the story, Erick had felt like he was really there, and it was only upon looking back at the moment that he realized that he had witnessed a tale.

So. Fae Magic.

No matter how many times Erick asked Fairy Moon not to pull weird shit, she always did.

It was probably best for his mental sanity and continued relationship with Ar’Cosmos that he rolled with the punches, but at the same time, he needed to be sure to always tell Fairy Moon not to do that shit, or else she would get comfortable rolling over him like she always seemed to do. Erick did not feel that Fairy Moon had gone against his orders this time— not exactly, anyway. This was the Feast, after all.

And yet, there would likely come a time when the equilibrium of ‘don’t do that’ and ‘I’m doing it anyway’ will veer way too far to Fairy Moon’s side of the equation. She hadn’t crossed that line tonight, but maybe soon she would? Erick had no idea.

Erick found himself suddenly dreading that day, just as much as he dreaded Fairy Moon ensorcelling his mind once again.

Whelp!

There was a solution to that. Erick had to become a full Wizard. He had been slacking on that requirement of his life for a while now, but, to be fair to himself and all the rest of the world, he had been doing a lot of good work. And it wasn’t like he had been slacking off on keeping the world intact and moving forward. But the equilibrium between ‘I need to be stronger’ and ‘I need to be productive today’ was now veered toward the first option, thanks to this little display of a ‘True Telling’.

Three seconds had passed since the end of Ar’Cosmos’s Telling.

A few Shades looked concerned, though Fallopolis was the only one with a clearly-readable expression.

Ambivalence— No. Wait.

Dismissiveness.

Fallopolis did not care for the interpretation of events laid before her. As Erick glanced around the room, his mana sense sweeping far and fast, Aisha looked distrusting and Zolan looked similarly distrusting, but with an edge of ‘what the fuck is Volaro doing’. According to what Zolan had told Erick about what this ‘True Telling’ might say, this story was not too far out of expectations.

Five seconds had passed, and no one had said anything. Volaro was looking uncomfortable up there on the stage while Bright Smile was reevaluating her life choices, and Fairy Moon…

Fairy Moon was rapidly beginning to wonder why she wasn’t getting any applause.

Erick decided to speak before anyone else did. “Your Telling is appreciated. Is that how Fairy used to be?”

Fairy Moon had been waiting for someone to say something, but Erick’s words had not been her preferred place to start. “That is how Fairy is. Our True Telling was told with an intent to inform.”

Fallopolis said, “My God was and is not some painting in some fairy art studio.”

Fairy Moon scowled at Fallopolis. “Of course not! Causes are not cessations of creation. They are merely the beginning; a birth! And this story is True in the Telling. The prince painted open a portal into a land of only Darkness, and he also painted Xoat the traveler. It was the daughter who brought those two paths together and thus created the universe.”

Fallopolis complained, “The Old Cosmology was not created on the whims of a fairy.”

Fairy Moon blinked a few times, not understanding how Fallopolis could be so uncomprehending—

Quilatalap said, “The fae see creation as something different than we would see creation, Fallopolis. It does not mean that it is wrong. She is simply looking at the backside of a coin while all we can see is the front.”

Fairy Moon scowled, saying, “The damnable damner of souls is correct. All of you all have putrid perspectives, but I don’t hold it against you!” She added, “Not nearly as much as I might.”

To forestall any other anger from spilling out into this festival for the Dark, Erick spoke up, “Your Telling is appreciated, Fairy Moon, Bright Smile, Volaro. But since Fairy Moon is a million years old and as old as the Old Cosmology… Where were you when this all happened? I was kinda hoping to get that particular story.”

That was the main thing that Zolan had not been able to answer when he was explaining what this True Telling might look like.

“Oh!” Fairy Moon brightened. “I was the king.”

A collective pause.

Even Bright Smile and Volaro stared at Fairy Moon. They had not expected that. No one had expected that. Fairy Moon had never answered this question before, and Zolan had not expected her to answer it, if Erick decided to ask.

Erick continued, “What happened after your daughter made the Old Cosmology?”

“Oh? Oh no. Not my daughter, as you would qualify this quality. ‘The Daughter’. Or just ‘the daughter’. Still my daughter, too, though… It’s not important for you to understand that nuance now, so let’s get right to the ‘First Telling’, too, but from my perspective; That will answer most other questions quite well.”

Fairy Moon raised an arm, and the air above the atrium shattered into another place and time, myth and legend reorganizing all around everyone as the King took her throne in a great hall of some mythical kingdom somewhere…

– – – –

Erick and every other mortal member of the Feast stood to the left side of the atrium, each of them wearing something new, either robes of hunting leathers or armor. Each of them looked like a member of a court which had reported for duty in an emergency, without anyone having had time to change into something more respectable. A few things stood out on their side of the gathering. Quilatalap stood in a barbarian’s loincloth, which was very much too small for him. He wasn’t the only one wearing something scandalous, for Aisha wore little more than a skimpy sheer dress. Quilatalap briefly looked down at himself, and then ignored what Fairy Moon had done to him, while Aisha tried and failed to transform her body back into real clothes, or at least that’s what it seemed like she was trying and failing to accomplish. With a quick bit of deduction, Erick guessed that everyone Fairy Moon disliked personally was now wearing as little as possible, in some sort of embarrassment tactic. Erick wore normal, nice robes. Zolan wore booty shorts and a crop top…

Well. He had the body for it, and he wasn’t embarrassed at all. So… Whatever? Whatever.

Whatever the case, the atrium was divided in half by a long pink and green carpet ending at a bright white dais, where a throne of wood and crystal stood resplendent. All the members of the Feast were on the left side, standing near enough to each other. Volaro and Bright Smile were also on the mortal side of the gathering. Their part in this play was now to watch, it seemed, and not to participate.

The other side of the gathering held a whole lot of strange people indeed. Long ears. Angled faces. Large eyes and lithe bodies. Most of the tall, beautiful people wore normal courtier clothes; fancy noble stuff. There were also quite a few short stocky people wearing metals for clothes, and then there were the very small people in extraordinarily gaudy clothes made of jewels. A few people looked like elementals, and a few people looked like shadelings, but that was probably completely incorrect, for surface similarities did not mean deeper similarities existed at all.

At the head of the gathering, Fairy Moon stood upon the dais, standing before her throne made of twisted wood and myriad glowing crystals. She looked completely unwilling to have an emotion, as she gazed down at the only person on the pink and green carpet, in the center of the gathering, facing Fairy Moon directly.

The woman kneeling upon the carpet was nondescript.

Erick tried to focus on her face, but he could not. Her face was not there. Her body shifted to be taller, or shorter, or more pointy-eared, or to have green skin or blue skin, to be wearing a dress, or to be wearing pants and a tunic. She was a shifter of uncountable possibility; that was Erick’s first impression. Erick realized that his impression might be wrong, that something else could be happening. Maybe the girl in the center was too painful a memory for Fairy Moon, and Fairy Moon would not conjure the girl correctly. No one else in the hall looked as myriad of form as this person…

Though some of the people on the other side of the gathering didn’t look wholly there, either, now that Erick knew what he was looking for. Faces a bit wrong. Hands a bit odd, with too-long fingers, or too many, or not enough. The lettering on clothes could change from one angle to the next—

Fairy Moon’s mask slipped as she stared down at the shifting girl. The Last Fairy was suddenly sad, with a heaviness to her face and a slump to her shoulders that Erick had seen before when Fairy Moon recalled old memories best left ignored—

And then the metaphorical mask went back on, as though it had never left. But Erick knew what he had seen.

Fairy Moon spoke to the gathering, “My People of my minor kingdom of the neverwas. The daughter of Our People has gone and done her expected duty, but in doing her duty, she has gone far, far beyond our expectations. Stand and inform your family of what you have done, daughter.”

The daughter rose from kneeling. She addressed the gathering, “I have finally birthed a True Universe.”

The fae side of the gathering gasped—

“Yes,” Fairy Moon said.

And then the king of neverwas raised her arm and opened the roof of the atrium, revealing the Darkness Beyond that enveloped the world, ever spreading, ever deepening. Only the throne room remained untouched, and only by the grace of the king. She only allowed this much of the Darkness to show itself, and it was enough. The Darkness moved inside that endless expanse as it was wont, but that movement slowed completely when a man in a space suit appeared in the center of the sky, so far away, like a distant star. The king focused the gathering on that pinprick of light that was a man, speeding up time just barely enough to get the gathering closer to the sight above.

The man, Xoat, had struggled for a while, but now he just floated there in a slight fetal position. Tendrils of Darkness had wrapped around the man, poking at him. The man had lost his left arm somehow, and the man cradled that stump, as Darkness played in the globs of blood floating like spherical rubies in weightlessness. Erick glanced over to the other side of the sky, and saw the arm in the process of being flayed by tendrils of Darkness. White bones came apart in spirals of calcium and marrow. Muscles unspun. Blood separated into parts, and then separated further.

The king spoke, “Since we are so close to the creation, I am able to slow our perusal of this production long enough for us to come to a common cause.”

A man stepped out of the audience of fae, wearing overalls with paint splotches all over them, saying, “This should have been my production! The daughter has corrupted my work! And so, I will work to make this work better, since she is obviously incapable of knowing what she does at all! I cannot do this alone, and I will not forsake my own work, though. I will assist those who choose to assist.”

Fairy Moon asked, “Then we expand? We educate, colonize, and create?”

A woman wearing a thin crown of leaves stepped out of the air, onto the dais beside Fairy Moon, saying, “If we do not nurture with true knowing, then it could end up another mundane making. I wish for wishes and I mandate magic. We go forth, and be fruitful.”

Fairy Moon asked, “What sort of magic? What sort of making?”

The guard wrapped in time stepped from the air beside the dais, saying, “Fate is made and magic it shall be. We go in at the getting, and the getting is now. I call upon the four fated few, for we are already here at the hearkening.”

The sky of Darkness shifted.

The walls of the atrium fell away, revealing Darkness everywhere. The floor was the only thing that remained solid in all of creation, for like the guard said; they were already here. Every single person on the mortal side of the gathering looked concerned, and Erick was no exception. But the fae didn’t seem to care that they were already inside of the vast, consuming Darkness.

Fairy Moon asked, “Who shall be the four fated few?”

Three fae stepped forward.

A tall man in leathers. A very short woman in jewels. A metal-wearing man.

“I choose the blood.” “I choose the breath.” “I choose the bones.”

There was no fourth volunteer.

Fairy Moon looked around, and she spotted—

The daughter spoke up, “I would see this universe go far. I choose all the rest, and all the further hidden parts yet to come. I will become what needs to become to make it all work.”

The painting prince said, “Then you shall have my help the most, daughter.”

“Then go!” Fairy Moon said, “Go forth! To our new universe!”

The four volunteers exploded into blood, and wind, and stone, and everything else in creation. The painter’s paints flowed with them. Those parts of something new flowed into the sky, becoming like hidden prizes being placed into that which already was. The fae became the blood, breath, and bones of Xoat, along with everything else, their souls sundering as well, under the ministrations of Darkness, spilling forth from the shivers of the First Wizard’s dying body. The daughter was briefly visible as a shadowed embrace around Xoat’s shoulders, but that shadow passed, for everything turned into something new.

Something more.

Time fractured fast.

The man in the suit died and was pulled apart by Darkness, piece by piece.

But those pieces did not remain small, and separate. Bones grew large, as the Darkness tugged on them, pulling power out of the ephemeral space where the metal-clad man had joined with Xoat. Blood spilled forth in great waves, powered by the tall, thin man who was now Xoat. Breath filled the sky, powered by the small jeweled woman who was also Xoat. And everything else slowly grew, for when the Darkness finally understood what he was touching, that something rapidly began to expand.

Erick witnessed a version of the First Telling that he saw last year, but different. One where the lives of fae gave a hook for the Darkness to pull upon, as though they were saying ‘pull here!’ and ‘touch this here!’ to create more and more of whatever the Darkness sought to create. It wasn’t until the Darkness had fully broken and transformed Xoat into something new that he tried putting Xoat back together, to understand what he had broken, and to know that it could never truly be put back together. In that act, Darkness understood that it had killed. In that act, Darkness understood death, and life, and the difference.

Creation followed.

As a universe of people spilled out above, as world and worlds and pathways to other universes opened, Erick and everyone else at the party watched as the tall man reformed out of the blood of a battle. The tall man stepped back into the gathering of fae across the aisle, followed rapidly by the jeweled woman falling out of a windstorm that had scoured a world bare. Next, a world of metal split and cracked, and the stocky, metal-armor man came back to the party.

And it was a party. Music. Dancing. Revelry. Guests pulled out of the forming cosmology up above and brought down here for a while, only to go back to the Old Cosmology and find everything they knew to be changed beyond recognition.

Occasionally, a shadow would pass across the sky, looking like a dragon with wings. The shadow came and went two times now, but on the third pass it came into the gathering, landing directly onto the green and pink carpet which separated the gathering into the Feast, and the History.

It was the daughter.

But she was not herself. As she stepped toward the dais which held Fairy Moon, the daughter solidified from something unknowable, to a half dragon, but more human. Black scales and wings and a tail, but with a face like a supermodel and a body to match.

Fairy Moon rose from her banquet table and turned to the daughter, saying, “Welcome back, daughter. What shall we call you now that your nascent power has precipitated?”

“I have joined with the Darkness and given myself the name of Shadow, but now that the Third Cosmology is solid it is time for the true joining to commence.” Shadow turned and regarded the fae party. “It is time for us to go to our new home.”

The party of the fae stopped and stared at the daughter who now called herself Shadow.

Fairy Moon said, “Continue, daughter; Shadow.”

Shadow nodded, and then spoke to them all, “I am a god in that land, as these things are sometimes called. My duty is to expand my universe, and that is all I care for, but there is much work yet to be done. Blood and Breath and Bone and myself have paved the way to a true population of The People, and so, I ask The People if you would join me in this land. Do as you will. That is all I ask.”

With sadness in her voice, Fairy Moon asked, “Will you remain this god that you are for all eternity?”

Shadow shook her head. “I would rather not, for though I am the Darkness, I am also not, and I wish to see all the other stories alongside the smaller lives that come afterward. I will give up this mantle to one of my children as soon as they come of age and of power. I call them dragons, as they are beings of power and wrath and greed, and the name suits them. I might give up this power sooner than I wish, for it is good to give trials to those who aspire, and if someone should best me in combat then they have more of a right to this power than I. There are a lot of aspirants for this power.”

Fairy Moon smiled wide, and so did everyone at the party, each of them for uncountable different reasons. Erick saw love among most of those people, but he also saw pure greed. He saw people eager to live something new, and to shape what was to come. He saw eyes fixed on distant mortals high, high in the sky above; a desirous look, an uncomfortable stare. Some fae readied spears and swords. Others readied fire and lightning. Some held out brilliant golden hope to help against their fellow fae.

Erick saw the fairy side of the gathering expand, as though he had forgotten to look to the left and right and in the distance all this time. A million fae of a million sorts all looked ready for what was to come.

This entire party had been going on all this time while the Old Cosmology expanded up above, but the fae had been waiting for this moment. This split in time, where the new universe was ripe for the taking, for the toying, for the bolstering and the blasting. For the guiding.

For the growing.

This ageless party which had lasted an eternity and merely an hour, was finally at an end.

Fairy Moon declared, “The time is nigh. New lands are set.”

And the fae party responded with thunder, “The time to break and make is met!”

Fairy Moon waved her hand over them all, like the signal to start a race.

And what a race it was!

Fae turned to mist and light and lightning and fire and everything else conceivable, and many things that were not. A storm of power flowed into the heavens, into the Darkness, to take root on worlds at the real start of the Old Cosmology, after the Darkness had stabilized everything to an acceptable level. That storm took hold of the places just out of sight, each fae cloaking themselves in the matter of the Old Cosmology, each of them living new lives in this new land.

Except for Fairy Moon.

The pink/green/white fairy waved her hand, and the Darkness and the Old Cosmology and the empty party retreated to a painting held at the side of the atrium. It was a painting 20 meters long and curved along the top wall, looking like a window into another universe, for that is what it was.

Fairy Moon remained upon her dais, near her throne. She did not go into that other cosmology. She remained.

The Last Fairy remained.

As she would always remain.

From one nearness to the next, the tale was terminated, and the singing of stories had come to a close.

– – – –

In the atrium of House Benevolence, Fairy Moon spoke to the mortals, “I eventually went with them, to a land beyond the last, but that is a tale for another time. A story of song and storms and war and want, and a time of troubles for us all. For My Precious People were but the first to follow in the daughter’s footsteps. Other fae from other courts waged war, to claim countries and creation, and My People needed my help to win that war. We were the first in that land, though. We had precedence. When we died, we reformed there. When others died, they reformed elsewhere. In this way we lived alongside many mortals for many millennia.” With a suddenly-tired expression, Fairy Moon added, “And since I have to secure the same answers every single time I tell this tale, let me secure one or two of them now:

“We fae are not your souls, though mingling is possible, for the original Xoat had a soul not unlike our own and the Darkness made do with that originality rather well. All souls from all lands are similar in scope.

“Yes, that really was me. I am the king, but the kingdom was given up many great eons ago, so even I cannot recall what it once was. Only that it neverwas… I will stop there.

“But that is never the nadir of the not-truly-necessary questions.

“I will answer one more question from the host of this party, this Feast made in honor of the daughter of Shadow, subsumed into herself so long ago, because an honor of tales told true must be returned in kind to those who care. And Wizard Flatt…” Fairy Moon asked Erick, “You care so much it hurts sometimes. Ask your question, and let all other questions go unanswered. For now.”

There were many things to say to that little ultimatum of Fairy Moon’s. Primarily, Erick did not like the idea of being limited to one question only. He appreciated being able to fully talk to a person, and to get to understand them through more than what he could read of body language and between the lines. What good then was a single question, but as a springboard to misunderstanding?

But Erick got over that feeling rather quickly. There would be time for more questions later. Fairy Moon was purposefully limiting the questions that could be asked right now, due to the very mixed company and her own heavy emotions, and Erick could understand that.

His next impulse was to seek the most important answer he could. But how would he even gauge such a thing? By the possible importance for the world? Or for him, personally? For the future? Should he ask if he was Xoat? Should he ask how this universe connected to the Old Cosmology? What was the connection between universes that allowed fae to travel freely? How did wizards exist in this New Cosmology? How did planars travel to the Old Cosmology, and how did planars fall to Veird?

That string of thoughts led Erick to his actual question.

Erick began, “According to your own history, you could go into any universe you wanted until you settled into the Old Cosmology. Now that we are in this Other Cosmology that is not the Old Cosmology, and isn’t really a ‘New’ Cosmology either due to it being a part of some other existing cosmology… I could ask if this is Xoat’s original Cosmology, or whatnot, but I have a concern for interloping fairies of your own power level coming in and smashing what we plan to build as soon as the lesser Scripts go out into new lands. So here is my question: since the Old Cosmology is trapped on Veird… how does your expression of Fairy here on Veird interact with the rest of this particular universe?”

“Receptive transmission only, yet any fae who steps here will die instantly, and be trapped, though they might maybe be reborn in a future Script that doesn’t contain us all. My Own People are forcibly transposed into this New Cosmology, though, so we will be at war with the other courts of fae eventually. Maybe. War is not always all that must be. It is my hope that I can welcome family back to life soon enough, and maybe even be able to host parties again with others of my kind, as well as ameliorate any anger that they might have for having been accosted by blue boxes for the last living age. On that day, you are welcome to dine with us, our Wizard of Benevolence, and help me make up for all those failures of proper hosting, though you will need to make proper merriment when that time comes. Less presentations, more productions. Anything to assuage the anger of the ancient fae of this much, much older land than any I have ever been in before. I hope you can secure yourself before that date and get over your insecurities about my magic; it will make life so much simpler for us all if you are not so skittish, or so weak.”

Well that was suitably terrifying.

“Well then!” Erick forced a great amount of cheer into his voice as he tried to banish all problems, saying, “That’s a much appreciated story, Fairy Moon. Maybe we can talk later about some of the particulars of it all, but that was a lot to think about!” He said to the others, “So how about we get that band up and playing? We’re supposed to have four more nights of this Feast, and it’s time for the music and the talking! Or dancing, if you’re up for that— You know what? No talking. Only dancing for now. Talking will happen later.”

The audience was less than enthused. For the Shades, Fairy Moon’s story had been rather blasphemous. Those light-eyed people still had no idea what to really make of what they had heard. Bright Smile and Volaro were rather shaken, though that had happened during Fairy Moon’s second tale. Erick would ask them about all that later. Aisha looked terrified. Zolan was relaxed; he had hit his maximum level of shit about twenty minutes ago, and everything else that Fairy Moon had thrown out there had simply rolled off the man… And those booty shorts looked hilariously too small in every possible way, but he didn’t seem to care about that, either.

Erick’s request for dancing and music and no talking seemed to have fallen on deaf ears—

Music started playing from somewhere as Fairy Moon alighted on the floor next to Erick.

Ah. Well she had heard his request.

The music was proper and smooth, to go along with Fairy Moon’s actions as she bent one knee, while her other leg swept backward, fluttering her dress in the action. Her opposing hand went forward, toward Erick. She looked up, asking, “May I have this dance?”

Erick was wary, of course, but if everything went correctly, then this whole last year was still the bare start of a long term relationship between Fairy Moon and him. He needed to be something more than diplomatic, so he said, “You may have a dance lasting no more than one hour, or one dance, whichever comes first.”

The wording was tight, but Fairy Moon could always undermine him if she wished. It was what it was.

Fairy Moon smiled, and Erick took Fairy Moon’s hand.

They danced.

It was not a dance that Erick had ever danced before, but after an initial flubbing made passable by his Dexterity, Perception, and Intelligence, Erick caught up, and began dancing in truth. In the third revolution he even got into the song, smiling lightly as he held Fairy Moon’s hand, she held his hip, and he held her shoulder. She took the lead half the time, setting Erick to spin before they came back together, and then she switched it up, where Erick held her and she spun twice in quick succession, outdoing Erick’s own single spin, her dress flying out almost level with the dance floor.

Hard emotions seemed to melt a fraction.

For in that moment, Fairy Moon was perhaps the most graceful person he had ever seen.

When they came back together, Fairy Moon was giggling, small and polite. She whispered as they drew close, “You caught on quick to the quickening.”

Erick had no chance to ask what that all meant, for they separated fast, for that is what the dance required.

When they came back together Erick whispered, “I learn from the best.”

Fairy Moon laughed happily.

And Erick relaxed a little more.

The dance was light, and kinda fun. It was only Erick and Fairy Moon out there on the dance floor, skipping across pink and green tile where once there was only white eternal stonewood and a long carpet. Erick chuckled as he finally looked down at the flowery design underfoot, but he returned to the dance instantly as the music reached new heights and depths. The Wizard and the Fairy spun away from each other, then came back together in a twist of hands on hands, and then another spin away, mirroring each other as they whirled and then slowed in a sudden crescendo of song—

Suddenly, the dance was over. Erick lightly sweated as he stood there, a meter away from Fairy Moon, his right hand in her right hand, their lefts at their hips. Fairy Moon was as poised as ever, and looking simply radiant in the light. She bowed. Erick bowed. The music had departed, and so they split from each other—

A few polite claps came from the audience of Shades and guests, with Fallopolis being the only one to really clap like she meant it, her shouts of ‘Wonderful! Wonderful!’ rising above the sound of music. Fairy Moon giggled like a schoolgirl as she lightly took a step back, and then she was suddenly on the edge of the dance floor, twenty meters away. Erick remained in the center, upon a circle of white stone in the middle of a mosaic of flowers of all colors and kinds, his emotions still fraying over everything he had learned, and then over the dance they had had.

He turned to the audience to open the floor to others—

But then Fallopolis stepped forward, happily declaring, “I’m next! Everyone out of the way!”

The Shade of Civilization came forward, relentlessly, seeming to drop in apparent age, leaving behind her eternal grandmother look and appearing, in a certain light, to look like a rather normal, nice person.

Well this was fine, too, Erick supposed.

Erick held out his hand, saying, “Care for a dance?”

“We’ll be dancing around each other forevermore, Erick, so yes—” Fallopolis took his hand, smiling as she said, “Some booty shaking events are a welcome reprieve from all the other Events we’ve had so far.”

Erick pulled a false frown, saying, “I have a boyfriend, Fallopolis.” Erick smiled at Quilatalap, who was still standing on the side of the dance floor. He mouthed, ‘You’re next!’ and the big guy grinned. He was still only wearing leather loincloth like some sort of wonderful barbarian, and Erick almost wanted to discard everything but his own underthings for their own dance. But he turned his attention back to Fallopolis. The music rose, he pulled the Shade to a normal starting position, eliciting a schoolgirl giggle from the old woman, as he said, “Don’t be trying to break up my relationship, now.”

Fallopolis threw her head back and cackled. “Break you up?!” She stared at Erick. “I’m the one who told you two to go for it! Now that’s enough nonsense! Let’s dance~”

The band played.

Erick twirled Fallopolis on the dance floor, for that was exactly what she wanted. Soon, others came out to dance, pairing off together as they desired. And a curious thing happened.

Extra people started showing up. The Cooks and the staff. But also…

Others.

Erick ignored the extra people for now.

For Erick finally got to move on to Quilatalap, and the big guy changed his size dropping a full meter of height to dance more easily. In that moment Erick somehow saw and did not see as the band tripled in size, and long-eared partners mingled with the staff, and the servants of Shades, and soon the whole atrium floor had people dancing upon a mosaic of flowers. Fairy Moon danced with Queen. Zolan shimmied alongside Aisha, both of them having found something more respectable to wear when no one was looking. Hollowsaur somehow found an orcol woman to partner with, the two of them having eyes for each other, while Treant swayed gently on the side of the dance floor near a potted flower that did the same. Fallopolis danced with Farix, and then she handed Farix off to Erick, and the two of them danced together for a little while.

Erick recognized that all the orcols at the party were somehow human-sized somewhere in the second hour, or third hour, or whatever hour it was that it was…

And the goblin Hollowsaur had invited to the Feast was also human-sized, somehow, and dancing up a storm with Hollowsaur, and then moving on to dance with Queen, and then Erick a bit, too. In a belated sort of way, Erick recognized when Fairy Moon decided to change the theme of the party, putting everyone in loincloths while the music turned harsh and drumlike, fully in line with proper orcol sensibilities, and suddenly everyone was orcol sized.

The next time the music changed everyone was somehow wearing proper Victorian-esque stuffy outfits, full of frills and coat tails as they danced in lines like human nobility.

Another shift and everyone wore the robes of Nelboor, while the music was of gentle stringed instruments that turned harsh by turns, with the men dancing on one side of the party and the women on the other. It was some sort of coordinated dancing war that Erick barely understood how he knew how to dance. But he did know how to dance it all, and it was great fun.

Somewhere in all of that, there was another feast, served by people Erick had never seen before.

Soon after that, Fairy Moon officiated the Second Telling, the Sundering Story, but it was a 30 second thing about how everything broke and now it was finally getting better, so let’s move on, shall we?

And so they did.

The band played on.

– – – –

Erick woke in bed, naked and warm. His arm lay around a green guy— Ah. He was in bed with Quilatalap, and he was the big spoon…

Oh.

He was the big spoon.

He was somehow orcol-sized…

And…

Yup.

His horns were out.

Well fuck.

… At least he was only in bed with Quilatalap, and this was warm. Still, though, Erick spent half a second glancing out into the rest of the House, through Ophiel, and saw that he would have a problem as soon as he got up. A quick counting of all the people he had invited to the Feast brought him a few crucial members short, but they were probably beyond the giant fucking black-lined [Gate] in the center of the atrium.

Erick wanted to go back to sleep, but he did not. Instead, he kissed Quilatalap on the neck, causing the big guy to grumble and then giggle at the tickling, for Erick had grown a day-old beard since… yesterday? Or two days ago? Whatever.

“Time to get up,” Erick whispered.

Quilatalap giggled in a very manly way, and then he startled, for he had finally seen everything that Erick had seen. He tensed, and then Quilatalap relaxed. “So… I see several problems right away.”

“Yup.”

“I was hoping to talk about the nature of mana and planars and what it means to communicate between universes and how that relates to souls moving back and forth between universes…” Quilatalap breathed deep, then squeezed Erick’s arm, which was under his own and around his chest. “But I guess that conversation can wait till later; It’s too broad and you also have questions.” He released Erick and then rolled out of bed. Briefly, he turned back. “Are you going to stick in that form? Everyone’s probably seen your horns by now.”

Erick enjoyed the view and being of the same size as Quilatalap for a moment, and then he got out of bed and shrunk back down to his own size, his horns vanishing in the transformation. “I don’t have clothes to wear in that size, so no; but yes, everyone has seen my horns, but I don’t think we talked about it much.” As he began putting his clothes back on, he said, “I was hoping to talk to you about the nature of forms, and how they relate to the fae. Do you want to go first?”

“My question was more philosophical, while your sounds more grounded. You go first. What do you mean by the nature of forms?”

“Let’s start with the allegory of the cave, and how everything we experience isn’t real, because we are all collections of neurons and consciousness— That idea breaks down somewhat when it comes to mana and mana sense and the validity of souls. But. We can still talk about the basic idea.” Erick began, “Imagine a cave and people trapped inside that cave for their whole lives, watching figures dance in the shadows cast by the light of an unseen fire…”

As the both of them got dressed they found that they had plenty of time to talk about whatever they wanted to talk about. There was a big black [Gate] in the middle of the atrium, but nothing was on fire, and Erick had already accounted for Zolan, Aisha, Volaro, the Cooks, the helpers, an everyone else from his side of this Feast, with most of those people more or less exactly where he expected them to be. The Shade side of the Feast was kinda sparse, with only a few of them downstairs or nearby. Most notably, Fairy Moon and Fallopolis were both missing, though Bright Smile, Farix, and Zolan were all having breakfast at the same time, between the central black portal and Lisa’s Dessert Counter. The three of them seemed to be having a tense, yet calm business discussion over an assortment of quiches and other fancy breakfast foods, which was fine.

As Erick and Quilatalap began stepping down the stairs into the atrium, Erick had finished his explanation of the Allegory of the Cave, and Quilatalap was thinking.

Erick glanced over to the portal. It was about five meters wide and circular, hovering in a north-south-pointed position, with the opening on the south and the back of the portal at the north. Like Erick’s portals, this one’s backside was filled with mist, but instead of being glowy-white mist given form, this one was filled with gloom. Possibly even Elemental Gloom, though probably not. From the backside, it looked like a portal into Darkness Itself. Though that was probably incorrect.

From the south, the portal opened up into a land of green hills, bright blue sky, a few distant trees, and mountains in the distance. A floating sign of black and white lettering held in front of the portal like a blue box, but vastly different, as though made by a different Script, or possibly just one of the really special boxes that the Script sometimes made.

TESTING IN PROGRESS

It was a simple statement, with a whole bunch of implications that Erick could barely grasp, though he was getting a good grasp on those implications through the various glances through Ophiel, all around, and through the words spoken by those still present in the House. Everyone was talking about the portal.

Everyone was talking about the Darkness’s presentation.

The talk was light on the details, for no one really knew what was happening, but there were a lot of speculations.

Erick left all those thoughts alone, because they had reached the floor of the atrium, and—

Quilatalap said, “This idea that the fae exist in this ‘realm of forms’ seems like a translation foible. We would call this ‘realm of forms’ Elemental Fae, or Fairy, or maybe even some of the names you mention, like Arcadia, Tir Na Nog, Fairyland, Under the Hill… All are valid names for the idea that fairies exist in a land apart from us, but which is no less real than our own. This new foible was expressed to us by Fairy Moon last night, of fairies being the ones who helped lift up the Old Cosmology to sapience, and yet they did not create souls… Seems like they have created souls in an uncountable number of other realms of pure thought and they choose to no longer take credit for the things they have started.”

Erick smiled softly. “Perhaps. This brings us to what you wanted to talk about, though.”

“Oh! Uh.” Quilatalap looked genuinely repentant and cute in that moment, before schooling his expression, and saying, “Our concerns are closer than one might initially consider, because this idea that we’re part of the mana and the mana is our true expression of self, is how it was in the Old Cosmology. According to what we heard last night, it would seem correct to consider the Old Cosmology as a Realm of Fairy, but different, that collapsed when… Something happened. The collapse doesn’t really matter right now, I suppose.”

“But what does matter—” Erick said, bringing the conversation back to the point, “—was that in the Old Cosmology, you were the mana and the mana was you, but here, we are both mana, and particle, and through our physical senses we can see the world and interact with the world, but it is only through our mana senses that we can see the world for what it truly is. I’ve already explained how limited our physical senses truly are…” He shrugged. “And maybe our mana sensing capability is similarly limited to our physical sensing capability, and there is no escape from the cave; it’s just a series of caves all the way up, filled with a series of light sources without any true sun at all.”

Quilatalap frowned. And then he shivered. “You know Melemizargo has been going on about how this world is fake for the longest time, right? You see the connection you have made right there, yes?”

“Of course. But according to the one fairy who probably knows best, this world is as real as any other. This is a statement that can be taken either well, or poorly, or perhaps even both at the same time. So instead of stressing over if we can ever really know what we know and experience what we experience, why not take the world as it is and try to make it better?”

“Ahh… You would say that, wouldn’t you.”

Erick smiled. “You know me all too well, Quilatalap.” And then he looked up at the large [Gate] sitting in the center of his House. “But do you have an insight into this thing?”

Quilatalap gazed into the idyllic space beyond the black portal, his thoughts going distant, before coming back to the moment. “What would be the scariest way for this reality to be?”

“To have never had a positive impact on anyone.”

Erick’s answer had been instantaneous.

Quilatalap stared into the distance for a little moment, and then he looked down at Erick.

Erick was already looking up at the big guy, and grinning. “What?” he asked, happily.

Quilatalap’s face heated up. He turned to face the portal again. With softness, he said, “You’ve had a positive impact, Erick.”

“Then this must truly be the best of all possible worlds!”

… Quilatalap looked to Erick. “You’re going to have to explain that one.”

“Ah. Yes. What I said was probably odd; I understand that now. Also, this tangent isn’t that important. But anyway! ‘The best of all possible worlds’ starts with the idea that god is all knowing, all powerful, and all good, which is a rather big assumption and I already see you disagreeing, but this assumption was made hundreds of years ago back on Earth in an effort for… A lot of stuff which I don’t have to get into. Anyway. It’s all about the Problem of Evil…”