Reaching an Accord

Character fiction from a troupe Vampire: The Masquerade LARP...

Reaching an Accord 

by Simon W. 

May 2023

Arne was so proud of himself. It radiated off of him like a warm glow. He'd encountered some actual Trolls and they had challenged him. After he'd successfully risen to the challenge they told him he was honorable and giving him a treasure, the hammer Mjölnir. It was a true religious artifact as far as he was concerned and he treated it as though it was approval from the Gods he revered. 

***

Of course, two months after gaining the hammer, in July of 2023, Arne was dead. After releasing Nyx into a society he was very honest about not fully believing in, he died for said society rather than spend any time at all acting as a spy or a turncoat. Nyx had wanted to die too, but the Phoenix Society hadn't given them that option. 

Nyx returned Mjölnir to the people who had made it in August. They had tried to convince Nyx that it was theirs now but Nyx told the Trolls that it had been a gift for an act of honor and Nyx had no honor with which to make any claims to keep it. The Trolls had been skeptical. But they accepted the artifact back. And then Nyx had sat back and not done a thing to help the Camarilla from the ravages of the 4th Anarch Revolt. They hadn't actively participated on the side of the Anarchs, they just hadn't lifted a finger to save the Camarilla from itself. Which, when it comes right down to it, was basically the same thing. 

The other Kindred of the Los Angeles domain assumed that Nyx was doing nothing because they were grieving Arne. Which they absolutely were. And maybe they couldn't have stopped the inevitable anyway, but occasionally the knowledge of their betrayal by inaction bothered them. 

The Anarch Movement ran Los Angeles for a while, until Lilith arrived with Her plans and Her schemes and Her power. And that was the end of Los Angeles. Nyx had been in an extradimensional space for a while so they hadn't seen the end. In fact, the last thing they had done in Southern California before getting swept into that space had been to try and go warn the Trolls that they were in terrible danger and they needed to get out of the area. Of course, Nyx had been too late. When they arrived the Trolls were all dead and the true horror of what Lilith planned to do had been laid bare. 

And now here they were, in the domain of San Francisco which traversed the entire area from the city by the bay to silicon valley. Nate, no, Prince Black, had managed to convince the four remaining Anarchs that it was in their best interests to join his New Camarilla. And Nyx had rejoined, of course, but not because they believed in Nate's New Camarilla any more than they had believed in the old Camarilla. They believed in Nate though, and they thought that maybe they should try and give Arne's death some meaning. Like part of some macabre joke from an uncaring universe Mjölnir had showed up in Nyx's haven and refused to leave. 

***

March 2025

Mjölnir glowed a faint blue which seemed odd. Nyx carefully made their way down the dark alley outside of the museum that everyone else was gathering in. Something was scrabbling around in the dark area by a pile of dumpsters. As Nyx approached they saw a clawed hand reach out and then, in the blink of an eye, an actual demon launched itself at them. Nyx swung Mjölnir and it connected with the demon's body with a satisfying thwack. The demon was momentarily stunned and that moment was all Nyx needed; they beat the demon into a pulp until nothing was left but a pile of red and black ashes. In those few moments Nyx felt nothing but the absolute rightness of their actions. This was what they were meant to do, this is why they existed. Nothing mattered but the simple fact that demons were an existential threat which must be destroyed, preferably with maximum violence. 

Afterward Nyx stood in the dark alley, blinking slowly. Mjölnir's blue glow faded and it looked only like a hammer again. Nyx looked at it and then they looked at the pile of ashes at their feet. Mjölnir no longer felt like an unwelcome weight in their hands; instead it now felt simply like an extension of their will. 

Normally this would be the time when Nyx would have so many questions about what on earth was going on. But instead they simply squared their shoulders and turned to head back inside. They'd reached some sort of accord with the artifact and only time would tell if this would be beneficial or would be their doom. 

The Night Never Answers

Character fiction from a troupe Vampire: The Masquerade LARP...

The Night Never Answers

by Simon W. 

February 2025

Nyx stared at the chat log fragment like an amateur entomologist studies a particularly interesting butterfly. This was what they had been looking for. It wasn't actually good news. But it was news and right now that is what was important. 

“RedDeadProtocol: we got out. too many watching. can’t trust anyone anymore, they’ll track us down. safe houses have been compromised. don’t go to Philly. Philly’s dead. there’s some in san antonio. just stragglers. more are dead than we thought. cover your tracks. fear Vanessa and anyone with the mark of old revolution. old dogs compromised.”

Nyx was practically the newest dog in the revolution. And they had no idea how they were supposed to hold together something that they barely believed in. If the Anarch Movement was on life support, then whoever should be trying to revive it should be someone who burned for the cause. But instead they'd elected a disaffected academic who didn't give a shit about sectarian politics to the role of Advocate. Nyx shook their head. What was wrong with people, really? 

July 2023

Nyx leaned against the wall uncomfortable in a room full of strangers. The tall woman fully decked out in  motorcycle club regalia beside them didn't make things any better. They wondered if the was any way to give her the slip and leave this place.

"Fix your face, new kid," said the woman. Her voice wasn't exactly unkind but it was absolutely no nonsense. "Every thought you have shows up on it."

"You know what I'm thinking, Constable?"

"Yes, you're wondering if you could possibly give me the slip and run. And I promise you that you can't." 

Nyx grunted noncommittally but stayed put. The image of a sword slicing off Arne's head and him turning to ash at their feet still loomed large in their brain. No one here had a sword, that they could see, but still it seemed so stupid of these people to just.... keep Nyx alive like this. 

The one who'd introduced himself as Sampson earlier came back over from across the room. With him was possibly the most stunning woman Nyx had ever seen. Dressed in red, with long brown hair, and a beautiful smile, which Nyx noticed didn't reach her eyes, she had an air of command that was unsettlingly powerful. "Nyx, lovely name that, I hear you're our newest recruit." She laughed but it was so polished and perfect that it sent ice down Nyx's spine. "My name is Vanessa and I'm the Advocate around here."

"Hello... Advocate. I'm not exactly sure what the folks who dropped me here have told you but I'm not exactly a recruit, more like a..."

"Let me stop you there, Nyx," said Vanessa. "You've been personally vetted by the Phoenix Society. From what I understand you have no real ties of loyalty to the Camarilla and I'm told you're intelligent. What is the logic in betraying the Anarch Movement, when we mean you no harm and can offer you more freedom than that decrepit ivory tower ever could?" Vanessa gave Nyx a level glance. "You don't have any real ties to the Camarilla, do you?" 

"That Ventrue witch murdered the only tie I had to anything really, politically or otherwise, in front of me." 

"Wonderful," Vanessa flashed her insincere perfect smile again. "Well, I'm sure that Sampson and Lorena can sort you out nicely. Sampson, be a dear and let our Phoenix Society allies know that we've accepted the package." And with that, Vanessa turned to walk away.

"Wait!" Nyx stepped forward, surprising Lorena enough so that she didn't immediately stop them. "Why are you doing this? I'm not one of you. I'm not one of anything! But still, what makes you think you can trust me to not just immediately go back to the Cam and tell them where you all are? Why do all of you Anarchs have so much God damned faith in me?!"

Vanessa turned around slowly. "Oh my dear, I am an excellent judge of character. Which is, among other things, why I don't expect that you and I will ever speak again socially. You are driven by logic and rational thinking. And the course of action you just described would be emotional and impulsive. That simply isn't you. Welcome to the Anarch Movement, Nyx. Goodbye." 

Nyx watched Vanessa walk away, utterly bewildered. "That went surprisingly well," said Lorena who was once again beside them. Come on, new kid, it's time for you to learn. I hear you're good at that."

February 2025

Nyx groaned. Apparently Vanessa really was a good judge of character. Because she had been correct, they had never spoken socially again. Which is why Nyx had never been able to see what should have been obvious. But they'd been grieving during that one conversation of significant length so they had missed all of the signs. 

They stood up at walked over to the window in the room they'd turned into their library. San Jose's skyline reminded them of Boston, actually. Less brick, certainly, in this earthquake prone region, but still it seemed more solid and serious than Los Angeles ever had. This was a place that Nyx could make home, at least for a little while.

But what were they going to do about the Anarchs? They needed a champion. They needed a true believer. And Nyx... Nyx was just a three year old vampire who'd managed to successfully betray every single person or group who'd ever believed in them. It wasn't a great track record, all things considered.

"I wish you were still here, Arne. I think I wouldn't be such a mess if you were."

The night didn't answer. It never did. 

San Francisco Retrospective - Personal Notes

Character fiction from a troupe Vampire: The Masquerade LARP...

San Francisco Retrospective - Personal Notes 

by Simon W. 

Nyx takes out a notebook and starts writing in a cipher. The translation follows: 

This evening was the first official court gathering of the Court of San Francisco, domain of the New Camarilla. I see little evidence that is has deviated very much from the "old" Camarilla. 

Nathaniel Black, Prince: The mantle of prince seems to lay very heavily on Nate's shoulders, not because he isn't good at it. In fact he's very effective and probably will be an admirable leader. But it's so clear to me that he hates it. Something about the way he stands. The only time he seemed comfortable all evening was when he was shouting at Jane. 

Vex, Nosferatu Primogen: Overly friendly, helpful, and interested in interpersonal connection. These are excellent qualities in a human politician. In a Kindred they are a trap. Almost certainly useful as an ally; he is a scholar and trader of information like the best of his clan. He is probably someone I can work effectively with once we establish some boundaries around the fact that I am not going to be his friend. 

Byron Creed, Brujah Primogen: Insecure, frightened, and possibly weak willed. He has too much to prove and is very loud. Of course he is hiding something. Only time* will tell if the rest of the domain finds out what it is before I do. He is playing his part very well but I wonder who is directing the action, his own internal drive or someone else. Clearly I will need to interact with him more. 

Felix Stone, Sheriff and Victor Zane, Scourge: Both able and willing to hide themselves with ease. They seem devoted to their particular tasks but otherwise could be entirely ignored. This, of course, makes them exceptionally dangerous. I shall have to find a way to observe them without their noticing me.  

The local Anarch Movement is comprised of only 6 members, all of whom are refugees from Southern California. The intelligence we were given is that all of the rest of the Anarchs from Southern California either joined an infernalist cult or died. I will need to verify this independently. 

Nyx, Brujah (Sage): Myself. Only notable because for reasons I am still trying to understand, the others elected me to be Advocate. I will do the job temporarily until one of the others is in the proper mindset to take it over. It sits heavily on my shoulders and I hate it. 

Reinhard, Ventrue (Crusader): The logical choice for Advocate. He was around during the founding of the sect and clearly believes in the cause (unlike myself). Has some sort of familial relationship with one of the Camarilla Elders. He claims he wishes to "retire" which strikes me as false given that he is both Ventrue and idealistic. 

Jane, Gangrel (Coyote): Still has impulse control problems. Still values clan/familial ties more than sectarian/political ones. Develops strong personal relationships and is fiercely loyal to those she cares about. A logical solution would be to encourage her to form a friendship with Kait. 

Kait, Brujah: Another true believer in the cause, like Reinhard. A logical choice for his second and enforcer. Emotionally volatile but able to control most of her impulses. 

Peter, Clanless: Ambitious, canny, enjoys being underestimated. Could be very dangerous if influenced by antisocial forces. Also logically should be encouraged to form a friendship with Kait. 

The Smith, Torreador: I remember them from Southern California. Adept at their craft and seemingly uninterested in politics. Could be a useful person to ground the others into seeking to build something rather than tear things down. 

Logical next steps are to encourage the Anarchs to bond emotionally so that they all depend on one another more than they look to me for leadership. With careful planning I may be able to remove myself from a leadership role in a few months and go back to my studies. 

There were some other persons of note in the domain.

Roberto Giovanni, Don of the Southwest: Has been a helpful ally in the past. We have an adequate working relationship. He has not yet adjusted to my new limitations (or are they advantages) but he, of all people, will be less put off by my being less emotional than I was previously. 

Tiberius Crassus, Ventrue Elder: Has some familial relationship to Reinhard. Carries himself like an apex predator. His attitude toward Anarchs is very specifically hostile which tells me that the stories of the Southern California infernal cult are considered vital enough to relay to elders awaking from torpor very early on in their debrief. Whether this is because the information is factually correct or propaganda is still unclear. More research is needed. 

* this is clearly my attempt at humor 

Nyx stared at their handwriting for several minutes after finishing. Then they placed it in a file labeled "Sociological Research - SF 2025". After that they wandered over to the window in the room and stared out at the nighttime skyline of downtown San Jose. It was going to be a fascinating year. 

Popcorn Worthy

 Character fiction from a troupe Vampire: The Masquerade LARP...

Popcorn Worthy

by Simon W. 

Nyx read the invitation again. They found themselves wondering who exactly this Hand of the Prince, Shoto Sasaki, was because their missives left a fascinating impression. 

"His Grace will meet with his Primogen prior to the official Gathering and then take audience from those of the New Camarilla. Following, he will speak with representation from the Independent Alliance, followed by providing a small amount of time to members of the Anarch Movement who wish to undoubtedly wish to offer a chance at forgiveness. I am sure His Grace will be considerate and merciful."

Nyx wondered about the local Anarchs. They hadn't really had a chance to find many of them yet. And they weren't sure if they were actually in as weak a position as the Hand's message was trying to convey or not. It could absolutely be true. But it could also be that this is what the Hand wanted people to believe. Nyx was skeptical and intended to keep an open mind. Still, this sounded a lot like wishful thinking. Nyx remembered the brutal efficiency with which the Anarchs had destroyed so much of the old Camarilla. They doubted that all of those who'd planned and organized that had been in Southern California when whatever it was that happened down there had happened. Which meant they were still lurking in the shadows. And that probably terrified the Kindred who were trying so hard to form this New Camarilla. 

Sectarian loyalty was not a concept that Nyx found comfortable. That's what happens when you start your entire journey as a vampire as a double agent and then quickly discover that the only person you can really trust is yourself. They used to feel like they could trust another, but he'd died for his ideals and Nyx found that... distasteful. Believing in anything that much seemed like a liability and Nyx didn't intend to make that mistake. Still, the Anarchs had provided a better environment for unfettered scholarship than the old Camarilla had. Nyx wasn't sure if this New Camarilla would be any better. They didn't plan on jumping ship, however. There was no reason to leave the Anarchs at this point, unless it was to set off completely on their own and belong to no sect at all. Which was still very much an option on the table as far as Nyx was concerned. 

It would be interesting to see Nate again. Nyx was very curious to see if the relationship between himself and his second was really as strained as it appeared from afar. Because it certainly seemed like it wasn't a match either of them were entirely happy about. Watching the interplay of the court of this New Camarilla would probably be excellent research. Nyx resolved to bring a notebook to court... and also some popcorn. 

New Year, New Me!

Character fiction from a troupe Vampire: The Masquerade LARP...

New Year, New Me!

by Simon W. 

Nyx sat in a bar around the corner from the campus of San Jose State nursing a beer. They'd been here since just past sundown, watching the students as they ebbed and flowed so expertly it seemed choreographed. They'd seen three successful first dates, many more unsuccessful ones, and lots and lots of vaguely punch drunk folks sitting in quiet corners with thousand yard stares. Those were the graduate students. Undergraduates still had so much life in their eyes. 

One of the obvious graduate students sat next to Nyx at the bar and ordered a beer. When he got it, he took one drink, and then set it down and stared at it. Nyx waited for several minutes in silence before asking, "quals or defense?" He seemed startled for a moment, but after looking Nyx in the face for a few seconds he relaxed. "Both, actually. Almost done with the physics doctorate and still working on the comp sci masters. How about you?"

Nyx laughed without mirth. "Oh, I'm done with the formal part; now I'm just doing the endless research. The doctorate is in Psychology; the masters is in Stats, and the undergrad was a double major of Sociology and History." 

"You a professor?"

Nyx shook their head. "Just got to the area a few days ago; still gotta figure out where I'm gonna land."

"Where you from?"

"Originally, the east coast but I was in LA when.... well, you know..." 

"Oh yeah, that sucks man."

Nyx and the, as of yet unknown, graduate student went back to staring at their beers with ten thousand yard stares without speaking.

Nyx still wasn't entire sure what happened in LA and they certainly weren't going to ask random humans. News was spotty because no one really seemed to know. That some sort of terrible disaster had occurred was obvious. But Nyx had missed it by getting locked in that timeless pocket of reality with several other members of the LA domain the night that Lilith made her move for world domination. And when they had emerged they were.... different.

Right before it had all gone down, after Lilith had gleefully informed Nyx that the upcoming end of the world was their fault, they had finally met their mysterious sire. He had confirmed that Nyx's embrace had been deliberate and that he'd been paid exceptionally well. He'd showed Nyx the book he'd gotten in payment and honestly, they couldn't blame him. They'd probably do the same for a treasure that rare. Pentex, well Lilith really, had needed someone to do the mathematical calculations required to bring about the end of the world and no one had been able to program a computer to do it. So they'd found someone who had the right blend of understanding of mathematics and how people worked. Someday Nyx would solve the mystery of why that had been the correct combination of skills. But probably not today. It was likely going to be a long time before anyone was inclined to voluntarily speak of Lilith. 

Another thing Nyx's sire had mentioned was that the nature of the Brujah clan was one of choice. Nyx didn't know if that was true of all of the Brujah or just the offshoot they belonged to. But when given a choice between passion and intellect, Nyx had unsurprisingly chosen intellect. Now they found that they viewed the world a bit differently. They still understood emotions and the kinds of decisions that emotions drove people to, but they didn't care to partake in them themselves. It seemed very messy when cold logic was right there to access. The gnawing hunger that had existed in the back of Nyx's mind ever since their embrace seemed to be soothed now by books, knowledge, and satisfying their curiosity rather than craving blood, violence, and action. It was a welcome change but Nyx did wonder if the people who knew them before would find it unsettling.

Granted, the likelihood that anyone survived whatever happened in LA seemed low. The only person that Nyx knew still existed that hadn't been in the weird pocket of reality with them at the time was Nate. And Nate was off being a fancy prince of a New Camarilla in San Francisco. He was going to have some sort of formal party in a couple weeks. Nyx planned on being there, even if they were going to have to call him Prince Nathaniel Black instead of Nate. Still, they were curious. And curiosity was the driving force of their existence these nights. 

Nyx paid for their beer and got up to leave. As they did, the student next to them finally stirred out of his stupor. "Hey," he said, "my name's Theo. I'll see you around, maybe....?" There was a question at the end of his sentence. 

"Call me Nyx," said Nyx. Theo looked skeptical. "No, it's not my given name, but you know how it is. I gave that up long ago."

"Fair enough," Theo said. "It's not like I ever respond to Theodore anymore. See you around, Nyx."

As they walked out into the dark December night Nyx found themselves thinking that maybe rebuilding might not be as hard as they thought. Maybe, just maybe, the new year would lead to a new life after all. 

The Past Has Teeth

The Past Has Teeth 

by Simon W. 

    "I don't actually have any narrative memories of my life." Ithil'lyn had told Rory, just the other night when they had been discussing demons and ways in which they might be defeated. Rory had been somewhat surprised and very sympathetic but Ithil'lyn brushed it off. It was just a thing about the Returned that a lot of them had memory problems. It didn't actually mean anything. Or so Ithil'lyn told themselves. Rory's facial expression had seemed to suggest that she felt differently. 

    The waning crescent moon shown in the sky as Ithil'lyn sat in the clearing of the woods near their cabin. They still weren't sleeping well since the world tree root had burned and the Returned had lost their battle with Mehs' armies. They spent half the night roaming the forest trying to tire themselves out so that they could go home and get a few hours to sleep, only to be awake to greet the dawn. It was starting to wear on them. Their decisions were becoming more emotionally driven and less rational. Something was going to have to give soon, but they had no idea what it would be. They suspected it was going to be their sanity.

    "What do you think, moon? Why don't I remember anything and why does it feel so uncomfortable?" Ithil'lyn didn't expect the moon, or anyone else, to actually answer the question but it felt better to say it aloud. They wondered if maybe they spent too much time alone between gatherings. But being alone felt so familiar, so comfortable, and yet also filled them with unease. It was hard to really explain. 

    Ithil'lyn didn't even notice that they were falling asleep, under the light of the moon. As they slept, they dreamed... 

    "See these tracks, Ithil'lyn, these are deer. And do you see these other tracks off to the side, those are a mountain lion." Aly'thena was not a tall Effendal but she towered over her child, larger than life. With her dark hair pulled into a sensible braid, she showed Ithil'lyn how to read the story of the forest's predators and prey from the marks they made on the ground. Both mother and child were dressed in sensible browns and greens for this day's hunt, as they always did when they were out working. Aly'thena saved wearing red and black for the rare occasions she needed to bring supplies back to the Citadel. She rarely took Ithil'lyn on those trips, preferring to keep her child away from a place that still didn't feel like home. The forests on the continent of Tear seemed like a much friendlier place for a child who had been born far away from the terror and chaos of war. 

    Aly'thena remembered that war and hoped that her child would never have to think of it as anything other than history. Her stepdaughter, Syl'thys, had a haunted look in her eyes from what she had seen as a small child. Aly'thena did her best to try and comfort the older girl but she knew she couldn't ever truly be Syl'thys' mother. Aly'thena had met Flen'dius while they were all sailing across the sea, hoping to escape. War brings people together in strange ways and Aly'thena and Flen'dius' love story was one of them. They'd both suffered and lost so much and they took solace in trying to make a family, just the three of them. It had been a surprise to everyone when a fourth member of the family had appeared after years of living on Tear. Aly'thena and Flen'dius had named the child Ithil'lyn and thought that maybe this was a sign of better times to come. 

    "Mama," whispered Ithil'lyn, "Syl'thys is sad and won't let me help. Please help her" As Aly'thena came to wakefulness she realized that her stepdaughter was weeping softly. She was surprised that anyone could hear her. She was not surprised at Ithi'lyn's desire to help, nor their inability too. Aly'thena went and held her stepdaughter and eventually Syl'thys was able to sleep. Aly'thena wondered if she would ever fully recover.

    One day while Aly'thena and Ithil'lyn were hunting, they found a wounded bear. Some less adept hunter had tried to shoot it with a bow and hadn't gotten a clean shot. They watched the bear stumbling around a bit, clearly in pain, the smell of rot coming strong from its wound. Aly'thena motioned for Ithi'lyn to stay still while she went in to try and put the poor creature out of its misery. A stray footfall from across the path they were on caused the bear to turn around unexpectedly and, roaring, it swiped at Aly'thena. Although it was injured, its claws were still long and deadly. Ithil'lyn stood very still and very quiet like their mother had told them too and watched, horrified, as the bear mauled Aly'thena to death. Only after the bear had lumbered off did Ithil'lyn run to their mother's body and weep over it. 

    Aly'thena's death sunk Flen'dius into a deep depression. He spent his days drinking Effendal wine and raging at his children. Syl'thys did her best to shield Ithil'lyn from the worst of his rages but nothing could protect Ithil'lyn from hearing their father say, with absolute certainty, that Aly'thena's death was their fault. Ithil'lyn took to spending most of their time in the forests around their home, hunting and gathering like their mother had taught them, in order to be away from Flen'dius and his grief. Of course, this meant that Syl'thys bore the brunt of it. 

    Decades passed in this manner. The household was not a happy one. Ithil'lyn provided as much food as they could to the rest of the family. As the siblings got older, Syl'thys started to echo her father's accusations, telling Ithil'lyn that she also blamed them for Aly'thena's death. The grief and rage that Flen'dius had been marinating in for so long finally poisoned his eldest child completely. And so the family was stuck in this unhappy cycle for a long time. Flen'dius couldn't be bothered to arrange for Syl'thys to attend her Flight of Sparrows and so she kept the name of her childhood well into adulthood. 

    Another hunter who sometimes crossed paths with Ithil'lyn, also from the Jokiota tribe, was more motivated however. He finally realized the depths of the dysfunction in Flen'dius' household and gathered together friends and neighbors. He arranged for both Ithil'lyn and Syl'thys to finally go to the Citadel to do a Flight of Sparrows but at the last moment, Syl'thys decided to stay home with her father claiming he couldn't be left alone. 

    When Ithil'lyn returned home, with the flight name of The Inquisitive Rook, some of the grief seemed to finally lift from Flen'dius. He started to pay more attention to his now adult children and seemed to make an effort to be more present as a father. Ithil'lyn was delighted to finally feel like they had a family again and Syl'thys seemed to be less resentful. On the surface, they were happy for a time. 

    Ithil'lyn was out hunting, about a year after their Flight of Sparrows. A snap of a twig behind them made them almost smile. "You never could avoid doing that, could you Syl'thys." Ithil'lyn started to turn around, only to feel a sharp pain between their ribs. 

    "You killed our mother! And her death turned our father into a monster. And now, now that you have a shiny new name he decides to try and make up for decades of not being there for me!" hissed Syl'thys. The last thing that Ithil'lyn heard before darkness closed in on them was Syl'thys sobbing. 

    "Mama," Ithil'lyn whispered, "mama, Syl'thys is sad and won't let me help..." 

    Sunlight shining on Ithil'lyn's face was what finally woke them up. They had slept past dawn. There were still tears on their cheeks from when they'd been crying in their sleep. 

    "What a terrible dream that was," whispered Ithil'lyn. "Please Gods let it only have been a dream." 

    

A Morning in the Forest

 A Morning in the Forest 

by Simon W

Ithil'lyn hadn't been sleeping well since the night the roots of Ren had burned. They'd tried to take advantage of the time by leaving their home before sunrise to pick herbs that were most potent in the darkness just before dawn and to mark the trees that needed to lose branches over the winter. They'd be back later to harvest the branches to ensure the trees would be healthy come spring. This morning they'd filled half their herb basket before finding a comfortable spot to sit and wait for sunrise. 

***

"Demons! Hide!" The fear in Palauta's voice had been palpable. Ithil'lyn hid, borrowed dagger in their left hand, even going so far as to hold their breath to be as invisible as possible. Every movement the other folks in the little group made made their skin craw. Please stop moving, they thought to themselves, but they didn't dare say anything for fear that even a whisper would betray them all. When those they were hiding from started talking, Ithil'lyn realized with sick dread that it wasn't demons. It was far worse; it was fellow Returned. 

***

A snuffling sound brought Ithil'lyn out of their thoughts. A fat bear had turned over a log nearby and was happily eating the grubs that had been under it. The bear paid zero attention to the motionless Effendal, confident in their belief that they were bigger and stronger. At another time that wouldn't have saved them, but Ithil'lyn didn't need any bear pelts for anything right now. Ithil'lyn just watched as the bear shuffled around and then eventually wandered off. 

"I'm sorry I'm failing you, Bear," whispered Ithil'lyn after they were alone once more, "I'm doing a lousy job of protecting hearth and home lately aren't I?" 

***

"Every sentient being on Adelrune needs to face the consequences of their actions, Levindicus! You don't get to be the one person that doesn't apply to; you're just not that special." He'd been trying to justify his reason for needing to escape death because he feared his soul was in peril. Ithil'lyn was so angry. But all of that anger disappeared in a flash when someone else wanted to harm him. They went from berating him to trying very hard to save his life in the matter of a blink. It hadn't worked.

***

"Quork?" Once again Ithil'lyn was brought back to reality by wildlife. This was a raven cocking its head and staring at them with its bright, knowing eyes. Ithil'lyn idly threw some of the jerky in their pocket that they kept specifically for such occasions at the bird. "I don't have anything for you besides food. I can't remember any of my dead who aren't Returned. Just please promise me that when it's my time You come for me instead of Eden, ok?" The raven blinked and cocked their head to the other side. "At this rate, You might be seeing me sooner than either of us expected." The raven chattered and flapped their wings at Ithil'lyn and then flew away. Was it just a bird startled by something Ithil'lyn couldn't hear yet, even with their sensitive hearing, or was it their God telling them that He disapproved of their fatalism? 

The forest was alive with chatter now that the sun was up properly. Ithil'lyn turned their face to the sky. Another day had started and that was supposed to be a new beginning. But everything felt like an ending right now. Still, people needed to be fed, clothed, and supplied. If nothing else would get them through their days, duty to their people would have to do. It was cold comfort.