[AW] the brighter the stars, an announcement

[Official Night Account]

“The sky grew darker, painted blue on blue, one stroke at a time, into deeper and deeper shades of night.”  ---- In Denocte it's not one raven that appears but many.  The sky is littered with them and it seems that almost every roost in the entire court has been emptied of its citizens. They dive down like black stars and the world is alive with the whispering songs of all those bird-feathers and it clashes with the music in a darkly lush melody.  Some horses look up all those ravens and their scrolls and wink knowingly at those closest to them. Some of them already know the secrets carried in those scrolls even if they cannot guess at the words still tucked away.  One unicorn, tucked away in a hidden garden, smiles when she looks out over her court and watches all the ravens land like wishes.  Here the raven's aren't coordinated in their reveal. One is distracted by a pygmy dragon who snaps at all that shiny golden paper. Another has landed too close to a fire and he screeches when an ember catches on a breeze and brushes against his perfect, black feathers.  But eventually they all use their wicked beaks to untie their scrolls and that unicorn on the roof laughs to hear the silence, before all the noise breaks over it like a wave. Nothing has ever sounded as lovely to her as that sound of joy tainted with a little caution.  The letters on these scrolls are as black as night and stuck through with pieces of silver glitter. The ink looks like the night sky, like a dream made into language and eternally caught on paper.  Soon the night will be at its shortest hour But lament not my shadows -- and my stars For the moon will swallow up the sky  And even the sun will not chase it-- down past the mountains We will rise to meet the summer,  unafraid of all the mysteries that it carries We are dreamers, and every night no matter the length of the hours Belongs to us.  Let us remind them, what wonder the darkness brings. There is no blot of ink at the bottom of these scrolls. Denocte needs no hint but the ink and that joyous laughter of a unicorn that peels out like a bell-toll over the capital.  Gladly do they share their joy and their secrets with all the citizens of all the others courts currently mixed in with them. Tonight with the letters they are only mortals readings words, there is no division.