Gray sidhe (Afina, 87 days left)

[Anastasia]

"In truth, no," Ilsenine admits, "Passage to Queen Titania's court is at her whimsy, not ours. Yet while the Court of Stars finds us in the spirit of righteousness and what is right, the Court of Summer finds us in the will and whimsy of the seasons."

[Ebiris]

After a look around, Afina takes a direction marked by the most colourful of the local foliage. It's as good as any, right? "How about this way, then?" she suggests, starting to flutter off.

[Anastasia]

You fly this way perhaps twenty minutes - a path of bright red roses wrapped around tree trunks, vibrant purple flowers dotting the clear spaces on the ground below. It is at that point you come to a door standing in the forest. A plain wooden door, standing there as if it was meant to be there.

[Ebiris]

"Hopefully this is an invitation," she says to Ilsenine, flying over to open the door!

[Anastasia]

The door opens. Ahead is a garden at nighttime, a walled garden full of flowers and beauty. The air is cooler there, brushing against the two of you like a momentary respite from summer.

"We have the Queen's favor," Ilsenine says, ever so softly.

[Ebiris]

"We did see the World Tree," Afina says, not having doubted it herself. Taking a breath of flower-scented air, she flutters through into the night-time garden.

[Anastasia]

As you step through, reality ripples. You are slipping asleep, walking in the hazy unreality of a beautiful dream. Everything is dim and yet defined, flashes of memories as much as the current reality. You feel warm and safe, as if curled up in bed in Aurora - or on top of your shelf as you particular case may be.

Before you Ilsenine slowly flies forward, as from afar, you hear beautiful music. The sound of a lyre playing something, forgotten the moment you hear it, yet leaving an echo of its beauty within you.

[Ebiris]

A bed's too inviting a target for an assassin hoping to get the drop on her, one can never be too careful even when they feel safe! Drowsily she dips down to the ground, her wings too lethargic to keep her aloft, yet her feet work enough for her to meander almost sleep-walking towards the source of that music.

[Anastasia]

You drift.

What other word is there for it?

You drift in your dreams, each step blurring together as you walk on. Like the end of a lie in, half awake and half asleep, you slowly advance onward, the barrier between your dreams and remembering weakening, reality and fantasy intermixing.

A voice lifted in song. A beautiful voice singing in Celestial - no. The Words of Creation. You realize this as you wander through this dreaming garden, a flash of insight from your aware mind as you continue to step through your dreams. The singing joins the lute, as you have a flashback to...a face. A gentle face holding you, so large and you are so small.

Mother.

Her voice is like a balm for a pain you forgot you had.

"My little Afina," she murmurs, "Do you remember it still, the song that's sung when a new life is born? Do you remember the Fey Queen singing it to you?"

Flicker.

Your mind drifts away from it, to the unreality of the garden before you. You're closer - ahead is a large lake, far too large to fit into the garden, and yet there it is. A covered pavilion is on the shores of it, from where the music and song comes from.

[Ebiris]

Afina instinctively glances over at Ilsenine after that memory flashback of her mother, to the woman who replaced her in so many ways.

She'd forgotten, of course. That and many other things, pushed down into the recesses of her mind to lay dormant, unimportant compared to fulfilling her Queen's will those long centuries, or more recently the task of liberation and revenge. But oh, she remembers now. That more innocent life, long since cast off, never to be recaptured.

It's nothing more than nostalgia. She's come here with a purpose, and with more focus now she flutters her wings to take the air once more, continuing towards the pavilion.

[Anastasia]

What Ilsenine sees is opaque to you, yet she looks at you at precisely the same time. Nothing is said between the two of you as you enter the pavilion.

Here are three.

Two are a man and a woman. Indistinct, hazy, impossible to see. The man plays and the woman sings, her voice rough and yet profoundly beautiful. The lyre's music is gentle, drifting along with you.

The third sits on a throne of memories, merely to look at it sends you dreaming again.

The flash of blood on your blade, Queen Ilsenine's will carri-

A gown of all the stars in the night sky. Silver bracelets.

The Child of Lifasa, twisting in the air before you as 21's light consumes it. In that moment, that memory brings an instant of perfect clarity. Before you sits the Queen of Stars, The Empress of the Fey and your sovereign. She is the most beautiful woman you have ever seen, a moment of heartrending joy and love consuming you like a tidal wave consumes a mere skiff.

"Come." She whispers a single word to you.

[Ebiris]

Afina only has eyes for Titania/Morwel, even her questions about the Gray forgotten as she's swept up in loving awe and flutters over to land before the throne and prostrate herself.

[Anastasia]

Ilsenine is at your side, mimicking as she gives homage.

Memories, another tidal wave washing over you.

The pain of diabolical fire and devil claws.

The scrape of blade against bone, the agony of bone breaking.

The aching agony of vile wounds, that refuse to heal and constantly leak your life's blood.

The overwhelming heat of Fire that threatened to consume you and end your Crusade.

The dazed throb of a blow to your head, as you choke on your own blood.

So many pains. In that moment after, they are washed away from you as if a spark drowned in the ocean.

"Come." Again she speaks, a single word beckoning you closer. "Your sacrifices have not been in vain."

[Ebiris]

She shivers upon reliving so many pains, but the tension leaves her body in their ensuing absence. "Thank you," she murmurs, finding it grossly inadequate, but what else can she say? Words were never her strong point, and right now she's just drowned out so much by her Sovereign.

At the instruction to come closer she rises gracefully to her feet, her limbs not betraying her even if her tongue feels clumsy, and walks ever closer to the throne.

[Anastasia]

Ilsenine simply cries without a sound, tears running down her smiling face as she approaches with you.

The Queen merely pats her lap, one leg and then the other. "Come, my children. Rest, come to my succor while you listen."