Part 1 - The Ruins of Lea’O’Nor

The girl had no memory of her parents, nor did she remember the woman who had rescued her. When she was very small, she thought that whatever had killed her parents must have been terrible if the woman had been willing to cross the mountains and venture through the Ruins of Lea'O'Nor. Even the bravest Dru'va fear the terrible evil that dwells there. She would lay across the grass roof of Drunord and stare north toward The Autumn Vale, its brown, twisted trunks barely visible, and she would imagine the horrors that lay within. Her imagination ran wild, and she suffered terrible nightmares until she was old enough to understand the depth of the woman's great sacrifice. 

As the girl grew, she thought often of the woman whose name she carried. The woman, Iona, had wrapped the small baby in a scroll of protection and used every skill she possessed to cross the mountains and pass through the ancient corrupted city. Her body was poisoned by the darkness, but she had survived long enough to reach the safety of a longhouse before the shadow took her. The Dru'va burned her body, fearing to taint the land with such evil, but they named the baby she had protected after her, so her strength and bravery would live on.

Part 2 - The Cliffs of Woesha

So the girl grew up strong and brave on the windswept grassy plains of the Cliffs of Woe'sha. In the shadow of the massive longhouse of Drunord, she worshiped Edern and Elowyn and learned the history of the land. She danced at the Mother Festival and sang the songs of the soil on Planting Day and at the Feast of First Harvest. She learned the creatures of the land and their habits, and she learned to grow her own hokberry bush, although hers was never as healthy as those of the other children. She didn't have the patience for the slow nurturing of plants or the mixing of herbal ingredients; she would rather be practicing her runes or training with her staff or crouching in the tall grass watching the prairie dogs play on the roof of the longhouse. 

The massive longhouses of the Dru’va were built down into the soil, so only the low, mounded roofs were visible from the grassy plains. Inside, two rows of large columns supported the heavy thatch and earth roof. A long middle hallway was formed by leather and cloth screens the height of a man which were hung between the columns to create individual family dwellings. Where the screens ended, a large common area opened up with a fire pit built into the floor for roasting meat and boiling vegetables. Trestle tables were scattered about the room, which were used as sewing tables or craft tables as often as they were used for meals. At the rear of the longhouse were the Ard’Dru’va’s dwelling and the healer’s dwelling, which could be expanded during times of sickness with additional screens and pallets. Drunord also boasted a large side room which was carved into the soil and used for storing food for the clan. 

On sunny days, the longhouse was usually quiet and seemed very large to the little girl. The leather flaps were pulled back from the wide windows high on the walls, and sunlight filled the common room with a peaceful glow. On rainy days, when the entire clan was inside and restless, the smell of damp soil and smoke seemed to suffocate her, and she often crept out into the wet grass of the roof to watch The Autumn Vale and think about her parents. She didn’t know much about them, except that they had been missionaries in Torwynn, sharing their knowledge of the Old Gods with those who were interested, and that they had been killed when she was a baby. 

When the scents of dinner rose from the longhouse and the last hints of light had faded, the girl would creep back inside, hanging her wet wool cloak by the fire to dry and smiling as she listened to the chatter of her people. At night, when the longhouse was full and the window flaps were closed against the dark, it felt heavy and content, as if Elowyn herself sheltered them within her womb. During meals, the air was thick with the scent of delicious food and the muted roar of many people talking and laughing. As each family withdrew to their pallets, the longhouse grew quieter and hummed with the sounds of people settling in to sleep. 

Living in such a communal space with limited personal privacy meant that the Dru’va had developed certain unspoken social codes. It was considered rude to stare into the sleeping area of another family. Without private spaces to discuss marriage issues, parenting problems, or general family matters, members of the clan had learned to ignore and forget things they overheard from their neighbors, just as they expected others to forget their business, as well. Gossip was divisive and was not tolerated, and problems between clansmen or family groups were handled quickly by the Ard’Dru’va in a formal meeting in front of the entire clan. This sense of family was further enhanced by another of the Dru’va codes. At the age of twelve, all children left the longhouse of their childhood and began a six-year pilgrimage to the other three Dru’va communities. 

Thus, when the girl turned twelve, she left her home. The healer of Drunord, Ethburn, walked beside her, the only father she had ever known, and together they traveled southwest across the windy plains to the longhouse of Druvestr. Never a man to waste words, Ethburn looked into her eyes and touched her cheek softly before turning and beginning his journey back to Drunord. The girl watched him until he disappeared into the waving grass on the horizon, then she turned to begin her new life as a pilgrim. 

As the girl would soon learn, daily life at Druvestr was much like daily life at Drunord. She practiced her runes and trained with her staff and watched the animals playing. She danced at the Feast of the Storm and worshiped at the shrines of Meridros and Morvoryn, learning all she could about the ways of the water. There, on the edge of the narrow canyon overlooking the swirling river far below, she learned of the ancient connection between the Dru'va and the Alfar Fae, and she was taught the responsibility of the Dru'va to care for the Nimorian people. 

The people of Druvestr fished the swift river at the bottom of the canyon, casting long lines upstream and letting their bait drift into the calmer pools at the bottom of the river. The girl learned to scale the cliffside and had never felt anything like the exhilaration of belaying down the face of the cliff with the full force of Nimir’s Rage roaring beneath her. One wrong move and she would be swept to the ocean, her body dashed helplessly against rocks waiting under the water. 

Druvestr also traded goods with the town of Lan’Mara, and when she was thirteen, the girl was allowed to accompany the trading party. It was the farthest she had ever been from her home, and she felt very small as she crossed the swinging rope bridge over the canyon. The view on the other side was even more spectacular. The land sloped down from the cliffside, and the great tide pools of Meridros’ Bounty stretched as far as she could see. The setting sun lit up the pools with orange light and the sand seemed to glow. Flocks of seabirds ran from pool to pool feasting on the fish and small crustaceans brought in by waves. 

The village of Lan’Mara, nestled among the ancient bones of Ra’Tha, was very different from the longhouses of the Dru’va. She tried not to be rude, but she couldn’t help herself from looking in the windows and listening to the conversations of the people; their accents were so unique! After that, she went often with the traders and usually came back with a small trinket or bead that she added to the tassel on her staff. 

When she turned fourteen, the girl left Druvestr and continued her pilgrimage south through the grasslands. This time, no one accompanied her; this was the first journey she had ever made by herself, and though the path through the tall grass was clearly marked and the dangers were few, she felt very grown up. As she walked, the wind changed from a breeze that carried the fishy smell of the river to great gusts that billowed her shirt and lifted her hair with the salty scent of the sea. 

The Drusuth longhouse, built at the far end of the windswept peninsula, was set further into the soil than the others as if it were hunched against the constant gale, and strangely, it had no windows. If she hadn't spent her life among the Dru'va, she would have mistaken the massive subterranean structure for a gently rising hill. 

She had expected the interior of the windowless longhouse to be dim and gloomy, but her first glimpse inside her new home had taken her breath away. The massive longhouse was illuminated from one end to the other with a flickering firelight. Large lanterns filled with dozens of candles hung between each set of columns, long slender torches were mounted to the columns beside each family dwelling, and small oil lamps decorated the trestle tables in the common area. The flames, she learned later, were all enchanted to provide light and heat with no danger of burning the inhabitants of the longhouse. 

In Drunord she had shared the healer’s dwelling with Ethburn, but pilgrims were given pallets in the common area. She would never forget her first night in Drusuth; after all the families had retired to their dwellings, the Ard’Druva’s wife began a soft, lilting song, and as she sang, the flames dimmed and flickered out, one by one, until only the firepit in the common room remained. The girl fell asleep with a smile on her face watching the embers glow in the dark. 

Her years at Drusuth saw her flourish. Her rune studies were nearly complete; soon she would begin working with individual sigils and combining their use with that of her staff. She learned the flame songs of Ayden and danced at the Feast of the Ancients and Festival of the Sun. Drusuth had only one shrine, for it was considered an ill omen to look up on the vestige of Athna. No one spoke of Athna by name, but all the lessons she learned in her years at Drusuth demonstrated the delicate balance between life-giving fire and destructive flame, between feeling her emotions and mastering them, a lesson she would recall many times throughout her life. 

When the girl was sixteen, she left behind the billowing sea wind and traveled north over the grasslands to Druaustr, to the shrine of Woe'sha. There, at the feet of the oldest and wisest of the gods, she learned of the sacred duty of the Dru'va to protect Nimoria and keep at bay the corruption spreading like a stain from the Ruins of Lea'O'Nor. She learned to read the stars and their signs, and she learned to feel the presence of her ancestors and draw on them for guidance. She learned to sense the darkness that tainted the land and push it away from her mind. She couldn't help but wonder whether the woman who had saved her life could have saved her own if she had known of Woe'sha. Much of her studies during this time were conducted outside, meditating in the soft breeze of Drullaghar Bay, breathing the breath of Woe’sha. 

The girl’s six-year pilgrimage ended on her eighteenth birthday. In a ceremony under the stars, the High Ard’Dru’va of Woe’sha carved her facial tattoo slowly and deliberately, washing the wound in recognition of Meridros and Morvoryn; darkening it with a mixture of ash and soil to honor Edern, Elowyn, and Ayden; and finally blowing away the excess to invoke Woe’sha. The girl had trembled and had clutched her staff until her hands ached, but she hadn’t cried out. When she returned home to Drunord, the girl was a woman as strong and brave as her namesake. 

The woman spent her days walking the border of The Autumn Vale, and as her connection to the land grew, so did her confidence. She never stepped beneath the darkened, twisted boughs; she knew that to enter their shadow was to invoke evil. Each night, she camped at the edge of the forest. In the distance, to the east and west along the tree line, she could see other campfires of The Vale Watch, other lone Dru'va, each patrolling their own area of the darkness, carrying out the quiet work of protecting Nimoria. 

She spent her evenings in quiet meditation, breathing and reaching out with her mind. She could sense the evil among the ancient trees; she could see it in her mind as a shadow with dark tendrils like roots, always reaching, always seeking life. In her mind, she imagined her consciousness as a soft, healing breath, gently pushing the darkness back into itself. This was easy for even the least skilled Dru'va. They could not uproot the evil, but they could keep it from claiming their land and its people. 

Occasionally, she returned home to resupply her traveling pack and to check on the man she considered to be her father. Ethburn always seemed to know when she was coming, and he bustled about their dwelling, obviously pleased to have her home. When she had returned from her pilgrimage, she had been shocked by how much he had aged in six years. The gray that had peppered his beard when she was a child had spread even to his complexion, and he hadn't been able to hide his exhaustion.

At her insistence, Ard'Dru'va Weryn had sent requests to the other longhouses for an apprentice. The young man who had arrived a few weeks later from Druvestr was quiet but firm and knowledgeable, and Iona thought he would make a good healer for the clan. 

The day her life changed course, the afternoon sunlight streamed through the longhouse windows and cast a soft glow into their dwelling. She had brought fresh herbs from the grasslands near the Vale, to be used in the Naming Ceremony that evening. Twin babies had been born in the last moon, and tonight they would be welcomed formally as members of the longhouse. Naming Ceremonies required a special type of herb whose properties were mild enough for a baby's skin but with a rich enough color to stain properly when the protection sigils were painted on the baby's chest.

The three of them, the healer, his apprentice, and the woman he called his daughter, worked in companionable silence. Some of the herbs were wrapped for drying and the rest were pounded in the stone mortar to make the anointing paste.

"I want you to go to Te'rmann Wood, Iona." Ethburn's voice was soft but he didn’t look up from the pestle, his gnarled hand grinding in a steady rhythm. 

Iona finished winding her twine around the stems of the herbs she was holding and reached up to fasten the bundle to the hanging rack above her pallet. 

"The darkness rained down onto the world in the year I was born. I have never known a year without its shadow." The healer continued, "The Vale Watch is not your fate, my girl. That is simple work that even the youth can do." He gestured toward the common room, where they could hear children studying their runes on the other side of the leather screen. "The Fae were here before the darkness, before the Dru'va. They taught us of the Gods and the Holy Days.” He turned to meet her eyes, an act he only did when it was important that she pay attention. “They remember the ancient magics."  

Iona was silent for a long time, concentrating on the smooth stems of the herbs beneath her fingers. She did not want to leave her post at the Watch. The quiet freedom of walking the grasslands brought her peace.

As if he could sense her thoughts, the old healer who had raised her from infancy spoke one more time. 

“You are not meant to spend your life sitting on the edge of darkness. You are meant for greater things, Iona.” He held her eyes until she looked away.

"Alright, Father." She said quietly. "I do not want to leave, but I will seek out the Fae and learn what they can teach me." She turned back to him, studying the deep creases in his face before meeting his eyes again. They were full of pride and love.

"Good." He nodded briskly, dusting his hands clean of the fine powder from the pounded herbs. "You will leave tomorrow morning. A Naming Ceremony is a fine time for new beginnings."

Part 3 - Te’rmann Wood

Despite her initial hesitation about the journey, it wasn't until she stepped beneath the boughs of Te'rmann Wood that Iona understood true peace. She had felt peaceful before – standing on the edge of the cliffs, feeling the sun warm on her face and the breath of Woe'sha lifting her hair – or swimming in the salty sea on calm days when the waves were gentle swells, rising and falling like the long, slow heartbeat of Meridros. But she realized, as she breathed deeply the oxygen-rich scents of the ancient forest, that she had barely grasped the concept. She had been like a child trying to understand love. Throughout her lifetime, the woman would try to describe Te’rmann Wood many times and fall short; the closest she could ever come was merely to say, "It was perfect."

The Fae beings that inhabited Te’rmann Wood were numerous and much more varied in size and appearance than mortal men. Even after living among them for ten years, Iona was certain she had not met even half of their species. Many were shy and reclusive. Some were only visible to mortals if they wanted to be seen. Others would scamper through the ferns and over the rocks as she passed by on her daily walks. 

Iona was surprised to learn that some Fae were incorporeal, existing as spirits. Such beings could bring sentience to nonsentient objects. For instance, if such a being developed an affinity for a particular tree or river, or rock, the being could merge with the object. Thus many of the trees and streams in Te'rmann Wood had consciousness and remembered the great Fae War and the fall of their brothers and sisters.

The greatest and most regal of the Fae were called the Alfar, immortal elves that had inhabited the world since its creation and taught the first men the ways of magic. During her time with the Alfar, her use of earth magic grew and matured. Ethburn had been right to send her to the Fae; they taught her much she could not have learned among the Dru'va. She was also taught the long history of the Fae and the tragic end of the Circle of Light. 

As a people, the elves were calm and quiet, with a patience that can only be achieved by watching thousands of years pass slowly. After Illedryth, the leader of the Alfar, approved her petition to live and study with them, Iona was assigned a mentor, a solemn and thoughtful elf named Alarden. Together they worked to build a small cabin under a fallen tree. In her ten years in Te'rmann Wood, Iona had never seen the dwellings of the Alfar. 

Living alone in a wild and ancient forest was very different from the cozy, bustling longhouses and the open, sweeping plains of her childhood, and Iona often struggled with loneliness. She poured herself into learning everything she could about the Fae. Each day, she walked along the vast trees, many of them wider at the base than her own cabin. She knew each path through the breathtaking forest and the way the trees looked at all times of the day. She cultivated mindfulness and meditation in her everyday activities and kept herself busy when she wasn’t practicing her sigils. 

Perhaps it was the proximity to the Fae or the constant presence of magic, but she also had clear and vivid dreams. They began on her first night in the Te’rmann Wood. Alarden encouraged her to write down her dreams and supplied her with scrolls and ink. As the years passed, the dreams became increasingly prophetic. 

Some were heartbreaking, such as the dream of Ethburn's funeral, where she watched her father's body as it was returned to the earth, the clan he had cared for during his lifetime gathered around his grave. One week later, she received word from his apprentice that he had passed away peacefully in his sleep. 

Some of her dreams were wondrous and magical, full of Fae she had never encountered and a vengeful but beautiful queen. Alarden was convinced these were dreams of the Otherworld, a prison realm created by Nimir and EmrysElwyn to end the terrible devastation of the Fae Wars. 

More recently, her dreams were repetitive but strange. They were about the same man but they seemed to be moving through his timeline, providing her glimpses of his life. She had no way to know if the dreams were of a real person or simply a figment of her imagination, but they occurred so often that she started a new dream scroll just for him. 

The first time she saw him, he was running as if the darkness itself was chasing him. Sweat dripped from his pores despite the snow on the ground and his breath puffed in great clouds in front of his face. As he ran, he glanced over his shoulder. The terror on his face was haunting. 

She had the dream of him fleeing often, learning new things each time. He had scars on his back, four vertical lines, as if from claws. He had a sigil tattoo on his face, one she didn't recognize. It was larger than the tattoos of the Dru'va and not as elegant; she thought the man might be from Mor Dunaeth. 

Occasionally she would dream of him doing mundane things, traveling or eating or drinking at a pub. He laughed often and joked freely, but the smile didn't reach his eyes, and he always kept one eye on the door, as if he was expecting trouble. He had a tick, she noticed, when he was uneasy, a slight rolling of the shoulder. 

More often, she dreamed of the darkness that surrounded him. It was different than the darkness that seethed in The Autumn Vale. And it was the same. Its tendrils wound themselves around his muscular arms, perched on his shoulder, and burrowed into his heart. They throbbed and pulsed with the beat of his heart and grew slowly over time.

Her latest dreams were nightmares. She watched with horror as his blue eyes changed to black. His body broke apart and grew tall and wide, stretching into a grotesque and hulking beast. He killed with mindless fury, man, woman, and child. The killing dream haunted her, and she always woke shaking and sweat-covered. 

The final dream had woken her screaming. When the bloodthirsty beast within the man had finished killing, the body lying broken before him was her own. That morning, she sat in quiet meditation with Alarden, and together they came to the decision that she must leave Te'rmann Wood and seek out the man from her dream.