Pan was tired from running, the visions of murder dancing in his head. He’d run away when they’d asked for others to step up and help, not sure of where he could truly add value. The adults talked over him with a plan of action, and Pan could do little more than stand and gawk at the bodies. There is a shame that washes over him at the thought of his own inadequacy, for the boy had always talked a big talk… but when push came to shove, Pan was a difficult type to keep a level head under pressure.
And so, he’d run from that place, too scared to stick around even within Delumine, the place which was his home. He’d gone to his cave, afraid to step inside but more afraid to return to its dark corners alone. As he stood among his treasures, the boy had picked only his favorites – Oriens’ shell, a brilliantly white feather which Cirrus had dropped, a mysterious vial of stardust liquid, the pirate coin he’d offered once to Somnus, his thick tome on healing plants and the small collection of the plants he’d harvested. The rest, he could not carry. Pan spared only one forlorn look back at his belongings before leaving the cave behind, his satchel weighing heavily against him.
And so, the boy finds himself drawn to the sea cliffs again – his chest tight as he struggles to breathe a ragged breath to quiet his beating heart. Tears sting at his eyes and flow freely down his face, even as the boy beds down in a soft patch of long grasses, tucking his prized possessions beneath his leg as he looks out to the roaring sea. There, they would find him – scared and alone, with nowhere in the world to go. For Pan would always find his way back to the water’s edge, in some way or another, like a moth to a flame. And as he waits for what comes next, the boy weeps bitterly in silence.
Every time she witnessed the tears of another, Runaveig felt as though an unfathomable force of crushing anguish grasped her heart and simply would not let go.
She had been wandering along the cliffs and the ocean, letting her impromptu stroll carry her along the shorelines of Denocte. Umbra glided lazily above within the autumn air, always careful to never let his charge out of sight. He had just suggested turning back, that maybe they had wandered too far, when she had spotted a crumpled, wretched form tucked curiously upon grass and soil.
A pallid figure lay perched and coiled upon the cliffs overlooking the churning ocean and the crashing waves down below. She watched him, her pretty head turning slightly in curiosity and concern, round golden eyes shining with genuine concern. Why… He appeared to be no larger than a child, and there were tears that fell down his cheeks, his small frame wracked with sobs. Immediately her heart went out to him, aching with a familiar grief. Stranger though he might be, this emerald-scaled boy seemed in need of assistance, and she could not even fathom to walk away and leave him be.
Tearing her gaze away only long enough to glance up at Umbra, Runaveig regarded the opalescent black dragon with a look of pain. We can’t leave… Let me speak to him. What if he needs me? From there, the petite woman moved carefully along the cliffs, picking her steps with balance and ease. A breeze blew from the ocean down below, toying with her hair and causing the glistening gems of her mantles to clink like chimes against one another. Every step pulled her closer to the weeping child, and as she grew closer, her heart clenched tighter. But what could have made him so heartsick?
Fearful of startling the poor boy, Runa paused a few steps away. She frowned, swallowed hard, and spoke gently across the distance between them, her words a song on the breeze. “Why do you cry, dear heart?” There could be a million reasons. He could have come here for privacy, and here she was, thrusting herself where she might not be wanted… But the fear of rejection paled at the urge to act, to help someone who so clearly was in need.
The breeze from the sea calmed Pan, carrying the scent of brine and sand to him. Here, on the cliffs, the boy could sit and watch the waves roll in forever. As he lay upon the soft grass, he could almost put the horrors of Delumine behind him. Almost. Still, there is a nagging each and every time he pauses to close his eyes, driving the image of Casper and Moore’s bodies back into his psyche. He shivered in the warmth of autumn, not sure that he could ever find warmth again. Or at least, it seemed this way for now. In time, of course, the shock would fade and his pain would subside with it… but for now, the boy is simply raw.
He almost misses the approaching sound of Runaveig, until the thrust of wind from Umbra’s wings beats down upon him. Turning toward her, the boy’s silver tears catch beneath his seafoam eyes, holding there instead of free flowing (but daring to stream down his face once again). He sniffles and tries to offer the mare a smile… but happiness cannot come, not in a time like this. Still, the boy is curious about the twilight hued mare and her winged companion. But curiosity had to wait for another day.
Something terrible has happened. The boy’s initial words are cryptic as he struggles to find a way to explain what he had seen. How could he explain such a thing, really? They didn’t know what had happened… what sort of monster would rip a creature, limb from limb. Though he was far from it now, the scent of rusty blood still clung to his skin, despite his attempts to bathe the stench away in the river. Clutching his satchel tighter, he gives the mare a forelorn look.
We’re not safe… we’re not safe… He just repeats these words, again and again, rocking back and forth to comfort himself. As Pan closes his eyes, the sea calls him home once more. Breathing deeply, he draws relief from the distant crash of waves against rocks, and the more distant call of the gulls. Visibly, the boy relaxes as he tries to steady his nerves, as his cool green eyes flash open once more. I’m not going back…
He turns to look at her, this boy of alabaster and emerald, and she meets his gaze of seafoam green and tumultuous inner turmoil. Oh, but does her heart ache for his tears. He tries to smile, to reassure, although Runa is quite uncertain if his attempt is for her sake or his own.
She wonders which of them might need it more.
Her face twists in a look of genuine concern and empathy, but she does not try to speak. Not yet. Instead she shuffles closer, picking her steps with silence and reverie for the sheer atmosphere looming around them. The ocean beneath the cliffside crashes against the earth with a mighty force, the sound echoing in her ears, but it did not distract her. Nothing would distract her, not from this boy who so clearly needed assistance.
Eventually he spoke, and Runaveig listened. Umbra remained nearby but did not stay in the air, not wishing to intimidate or scare the boy. Instead, the opalescent black dragon landed upon the grass and soil at Runaveig’s side, yellow-green eyes peering quizzically at the teary-faced child. The twilight entertainer could feel the pygmy dragon’s concern, and their thoughts were the same; could they offer assistance? Or would they simply have to leave the boy be?
Regardless, his words are alarming. ’Something terrible has happened.’ Oh, but indeed it has. The Night Queen has been stolen away from Denocte, presumably by a murderer. There are rumors of more murders to the north, within the province of Delumine. Runa has no idea if they are true, but why would someone lie about that? The boy, however, continues on, repeating a mantra of quivering words from equally quivering lips. ’We’re not safe, we’re not safe…’ She didn’t understand, but she knows that she won’t find out anything if she holds her silence.
Clearing her throat, Runa speaks softly, keeping her voice gentle and soothing in an attempt to soothe his grief. “It’s quite alright, dear heart. Please don’t cry. You don’t have to be afraid right now; Umbra and I are here and we will keep you safe.” Or, they would try at least. Umbra was fierce and formidable when he wanted to be, when it came to her, but surely they could both help in whatever way would be needed. “My name is Runa. What has happened? Can you tell me…?”
In the back of her heart, however, she wondered if she already knew.
Her voice is a calming thing to Pan, and the boy closes his eyes once more, drawing the sea air and her melodious words into his mind. He forces away the thoughts of death, drawing on his memories and dreams, trying to think of the happiest thought. Long ago, there had been nothing to sway the boy from his happiness and jovial demeanor. As he’d left the comforts of Neverland behind though, Pan had been exposed to the truths of the world around him. The truth was, life is seldom as kind as it seemed in fairytales. Slowly but surely, Pan was adjusting… but despite the darkness which existed in the world, nothing could drag him down for long.
His green eyes seem steadier now as they find hers, finding warmth and trust. Though the boy was always too trusting in strangers, there is something which beckons him to open up to Runa and her dragon friend. He needs to talk with someone, truly… he needs to get the feelings off his chest. Drawing a breath once more, he pushes through the shock to find his words. I was playing in the river, looking for the dolphins… Somnus says there are dolphins… and there was blood in the water. He shivers before continuing.
It was awful… something killed those poor horses. And they thought it was me, but I swear it wasn’t me! Whoever did this is still out there… what if he comes for us next? His eyes are wide with concern as his child brain considers the consequences. It was true that Novus was under attack from multiple angles – both from outside forces and from shifting politics within. These matters were usually inconsequential to the boy of stories and adventures, but even he cannot be untouched by the events of late.
I had to leave my treasures behind. His voice is a breaking whisper, as sadness washes over him. So much time and painstaking love had gone into his collection, and though it would sit untouched in his hidden cave, he still missed the comforts of his home. Without a place to go or a home to speak of, Pan had simply resigned himself to staying as far away as he could. But the boy could hardly run forever.
There was a lot to his story that she didn’t understand. Despite not truly following along, since she did not have all of the details, Runaveig listened to the absolutely best of her ability. Sometimes people just needed someone there to listen, and while she might not be able to right the wrongs that the boy had suffered, perhaps her presence alone would be enough to at least help him a little bit. Tilting her head, the dusk woman remained silent and thoughtful, trying to place names and faces together.
She did not know who this ’Somnus’ was, but that was alright. It did not seem he was the root of the problem. As the boy went on, quivering as though suffering and reliving the very moment which caused his breakdown of turmoil, Runa shifted a little bit closer and shushed him softly. “Shh, now. Shh. You’re quite alright, I promise. Nothing will harm you here, I promise you, dear heart. Umbra and I will keep you safe.”
Still, Pan went on and Runaveig listened. He explained the blood in the water, the death of the horses, perhaps north in Delumine, and how he had been blamed for the murders. She gave a start. Truly? What kind of monster would blame a child for a murder? Indignant rage ignited within her breast and Runaveig chewed on her tongue to conceal her growing ire. Why, if she ever encountered the fool who dare lay such a horrendous crime upon the shoulders of this innocent youth, then she would give them a piece of her mind!
“Shh. I know that you are innocent, dear heart. Whoever said that you weren’t must be terribly selfish or afraid to blame such a horrible thing on a child. There, there. You’re quite alright…” Golden eyes flashed around them as the gypsy looked around, just to ensure that they were alone. There were no hulking monsters looming on the horizon, no betrayer-kings or queen-thieves lurking on the cliffsides. For the time being, it seemed that they were safe, yet Runa wondered how reassuring Pan might find her words.
“There is nothing here that will hurt us. Whatever creature it was, it isn’t here. I’m… So, so sorry you had to go through that, but perhaps things will calm down when the thing responsible is found. Perhaps then, you can return home to your treasures? I’m certain they miss you.” If treasures could miss something. Runa thought that if she was a treasure, she would miss Pan very much.
Clearing her throat, the dusk colored woman shifted a little again from hoof to hoof, breathing in deep. It smelled of sea water and brine, a scent she was used to by now. “... May I lay with you? Would you like to learn a song? Singing has always helped me to calm down when I am scared.”
The more Pan spilled his story, the more he seemed to relax. Perhaps she was right, and talking was the best way to let his heart be truly free of the horrors that ensnared it. He offers her a watery smile once he finishes, still shaking but visibly steadier as he draws deep breaths into his lungs. His tear-streaked cheeks turn toward the sun, willing the warmth to stave away the cold that grips him, even as he tries to focus instead on the kindness of the mare and her dragon. For several moments, he simply stands with mute silence, nodding at her suggestion that they should lay upon the soft grass, as his legs fold neatly beneath him.
What kind of song? he asks at last, forcing another smile as she settles beside him and offers to take his mind off of things yet again. I know some songs… pirate songs mostly. He would sing for her, but knows his voice is off kilter… which normally wouldn’t bother him, but today he is more interested in her own song than his. Umbra is lovely, by the way… I have a friend too…
As if on cue, a furry brown creature poked his head out of Pan’s satchel, previously unnoticed in the chaos of the moment. The otter blinked at the mare, chirruping an introduction of sorts before diving back into the bag and fishing out a silvered fish skeleton, offering it to the dragon with an outstretched paw. This is Oliver, Pan offers simply, glad that his friend had made his way here for another round of adventures… and gladder still that Oliver was safe from whatever monster haunted the North. He is my oldest friend, and found his way here from Neverland too.
While the unlikely quartet of creatures lie together on the cliffs, somewhere far away, something lurks in waiting. He couldn’t know what the monster wanted, only that it sought their blood and had not been found thus far. But here, Pan felt far away from all that had come to pass, lost to the whimsy of Runaveig’s song as he grew brighter and more himself by the minute, eager to put it all behind him.
