Fall the 70th, 519 AV
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Just after dusk
Underneath the twinkling stars, a sinister shadow slunk across the mountaintops of Lhavit. It was an unnatural shadow, not moving with any pattern of the light, and even Akajia’s shadows regarded it with caution. It was a thing that existed but in a way things should not. It could be seen in the same way the creatures could be seen, but like the shadows it couldn’t be touched. There was no substance to it, and while the shadows moved in an odd way due to the presence of the skyglass and the light of the stars, this shade moved in a way even the shadows found distasteful. Alive with color the shadows couldn’t conjure, the shade drifted like a cloud but against the short gusts that managed to stir themselves into being. Then, as if the world it moved through stopped existing, it disappeared, only to reappear an instant later much farther down the unseen path if followed. Unheard messages passed between Akajia’s shadows, and the general consensus was observe and report. No need to interfere just yet.
In her brief moments of happiness, Autumn missed all of this, though even if she had been paying attention, the word and language of the shadows would have escaped her notice. She wasn’t Goddess-touched. She would never be, not in her current state of death suspended, but none of these things mattered. It didn’t matter that shadows watched. It didn’t matter that shadows talked. It didn’t matter that the subject of these observations was herself. Happiness, true happiness, drove away the darker thoughts that came with death, and very little made Autumn happy that was left in this world the way her friend baby Candace did. In order to reach her friend’s house more quickly, Autumn was cutting the distance by blinking.
There was a thrill that came with blinking, as if the ghost who did so was momentarily ripped from time and space and existence before being suddenly submerged in the torrent of that trinity again. Somewhere along the way, she had begun dancing though she didn’t remember where or when. White dress in stark contrast to the darkness of the many shadows, Autumn poured her joy into the materialization, and for it, her mists bent to her will a little more readily. As she spun to the rhythm of a music only she could hear, she materialized the hem of her dress, letting it twist and sway around her ankles.
In the middle of another twirl, Autumn blinked, but she had been facing the wrong direction and stopped, disoriented by the sudden backward change of her surroundings. Realizing what had happened, that she had blinked the wrong way, she looked up and down the path several times, then laughed at herself. In the still, quiet night air, her laughter carried and disturbed something she couldn’t see. Looking for whatever it was and not finding it, Autumn shrugged, picked up the tune in her head once more, gave a lavish twirl, and blinked, this time not doing so until she saw her path in her view. Finding herself headed in the right direction, Autumn smiled and worked nonexistent feet to the beat of the music, occasionally humming a few bars of the parts she remembered well.
She was a good way to her destination when the sound of voices stopped her. Disappearing in an instant, Autumn waited for the people to pass, but before they even reached her, she recognized who the voices belonged to. It was Candace’s parents, but the couple didn’t have their usual jovial tone. Their voices were heavy, weary the way they had been when Autumn had first met them at the Catholicon.
If Autumn had blood, it would have frozen. Only one thing made them this way. Candace. Drawing near, her pale materialization invisible in the low light of night, Autumn watched the bundle in the mother’s arms breathe, and her heart, had she had it, would have fallen even more. She was no doctor, but even she could tell that Candace’s breath came too fast and too hard, even for a baby. In a moment, she was by their side, hurrying along with them to the Catholicon once more.
“It was just a cough,” Candace’s mother tried to reason to herself why she had waited so long to take her child to be seen by the physicians at the Catholicon. “A day ago, she didn’t even have a fever.”
With the one hand around her shoulder, her husband squeezed her reassuringly. “This isn’t your fault. We both thought she was fine.” Shivering at the sudden cold of the night air, he pulled her even closer. “When did it get so petching cold?”
“Honey, language.” His wife admonished him.
“What? It’s not like she’ll understand it right now.” He caught her glare and apologized. “Sorry. I’ll do better.”
Realizing she was the reason for the cold, Autumn surged forward, leading the way to Lhavit’s hospital. Mortal pacing was too slow for her. It wasted the precious time that Autumn was sure Candace needed. In an attempt to hurry her parents along, Autumn would blink ahead, then turn around, and rush back to them. It was all a futile effort, she knew, as she wasn’t materialized, though her materialization would have likely only slowed things more. So she jumped and returned the entire length of the trip until they reached their destination.
In her brief moments of happiness, Autumn missed all of this, though even if she had been paying attention, the word and language of the shadows would have escaped her notice. She wasn’t Goddess-touched. She would never be, not in her current state of death suspended, but none of these things mattered. It didn’t matter that shadows watched. It didn’t matter that shadows talked. It didn’t matter that the subject of these observations was herself. Happiness, true happiness, drove away the darker thoughts that came with death, and very little made Autumn happy that was left in this world the way her friend baby Candace did. In order to reach her friend’s house more quickly, Autumn was cutting the distance by blinking.
There was a thrill that came with blinking, as if the ghost who did so was momentarily ripped from time and space and existence before being suddenly submerged in the torrent of that trinity again. Somewhere along the way, she had begun dancing though she didn’t remember where or when. White dress in stark contrast to the darkness of the many shadows, Autumn poured her joy into the materialization, and for it, her mists bent to her will a little more readily. As she spun to the rhythm of a music only she could hear, she materialized the hem of her dress, letting it twist and sway around her ankles.
In the middle of another twirl, Autumn blinked, but she had been facing the wrong direction and stopped, disoriented by the sudden backward change of her surroundings. Realizing what had happened, that she had blinked the wrong way, she looked up and down the path several times, then laughed at herself. In the still, quiet night air, her laughter carried and disturbed something she couldn’t see. Looking for whatever it was and not finding it, Autumn shrugged, picked up the tune in her head once more, gave a lavish twirl, and blinked, this time not doing so until she saw her path in her view. Finding herself headed in the right direction, Autumn smiled and worked nonexistent feet to the beat of the music, occasionally humming a few bars of the parts she remembered well.
She was a good way to her destination when the sound of voices stopped her. Disappearing in an instant, Autumn waited for the people to pass, but before they even reached her, she recognized who the voices belonged to. It was Candace’s parents, but the couple didn’t have their usual jovial tone. Their voices were heavy, weary the way they had been when Autumn had first met them at the Catholicon.
If Autumn had blood, it would have frozen. Only one thing made them this way. Candace. Drawing near, her pale materialization invisible in the low light of night, Autumn watched the bundle in the mother’s arms breathe, and her heart, had she had it, would have fallen even more. She was no doctor, but even she could tell that Candace’s breath came too fast and too hard, even for a baby. In a moment, she was by their side, hurrying along with them to the Catholicon once more.
“It was just a cough,” Candace’s mother tried to reason to herself why she had waited so long to take her child to be seen by the physicians at the Catholicon. “A day ago, she didn’t even have a fever.”
With the one hand around her shoulder, her husband squeezed her reassuringly. “This isn’t your fault. We both thought she was fine.” Shivering at the sudden cold of the night air, he pulled her even closer. “When did it get so petching cold?”
“Honey, language.” His wife admonished him.
“What? It’s not like she’ll understand it right now.” He caught her glare and apologized. “Sorry. I’ll do better.”
Realizing she was the reason for the cold, Autumn surged forward, leading the way to Lhavit’s hospital. Mortal pacing was too slow for her. It wasted the precious time that Autumn was sure Candace needed. In an attempt to hurry her parents along, Autumn would blink ahead, then turn around, and rush back to them. It was all a futile effort, she knew, as she wasn’t materialized, though her materialization would have likely only slowed things more. So she jumped and returned the entire length of the trip until they reached their destination.
