Our love bore the wildest sea
Islands spoke to her as a lighthouse upon a pier.
Were she a lost ship, it was inevitable that she would catch the flickering eye of a crimson glow upon the horizon and come crashing into their bay, a moth to the lure of light. Islands beckoned her in tongues of hearth and home, reminding her of an archipelago that’d been left behind, or a continent awash in shadow. The kiss of a seaside breeze, or the pad of a fabled wildcat’s paw upon the shoals of a beach.
In so many ways, they were a trap to her ocean foam eyes. And she, like the sea, lapped insatiably at the welcome invitation of their shores.
Even wreathed in fog, Aelin knew she would not be denied. Neither an issue of safety nor the wondrous terror of the unknown could keep her at bay, and the leagues that spanned between she and nostalgia were nothing the finer nuances of her curiosity couldn’t map to memory. Or so she told herself, when the ocean spray at last kissed her skin upon the cusp of the sea and the void.
Arrival had been simple enough, but it was peering into the vast, impenetrable unknown that left her motionless. It was in her nature to question everything, to pepper the roiling fog with voiceless queries after its origins, its purpose, its intent. To ask if it would swallow her whole, were she to dare stepping too near—or if its endless miasma might cleanse her of sin and shortcoming. There would be no telling, no answer, unless she dared to take the leap.
Once, she had been a girl that threw herself into the throng of the sky with little more than a thought. Once, she’d possessed enough faith in her own strength to catch herself.
Somewhere along the lines, Aelin had lost her assured nature. And peering into the opaque wall that billowed with preternatural liveliness, she knew she would, one day, be steeped in courage again.
When to start, other than now? She had come this far, after all.
A giggle that rode upon the bridge of hysteria bubbled from her lips, and her silvery tail dusted the earth beneath her as she dared a step forward. Forward, forward, forward.
Nightmares had taught her to never look back.
Two lengths in, and the world had faded into a grey abyss of nothingness. The fog was damp upon her skin, saturating herself in the brimming question of whether it should be panic, not keening interest, that overtook her. The world turned directionless as she pushed onward, and Aelin was left with the dizzying expectation to be spat back out the way she’d came. It would be too simple to be turned around in here, or else lost forever.
And Aelin knew too much of magic, of otherworldly whims, to believe this was any ordinary fog.
It spanned onward, and the Fair lost track of how long she’d walked. The grey unfurled like a blanket, an impenetrable fortress of the world’s nothingness come to fruition, gathered at a crux of absolute emptiness. It was unfathomable; inevitable in how it consumed the ground beneath her. Telling, however, in how harmless it hugged her silver hide, swallowing up the ethereal glow of her wings.
She had never felt so uncertainly small, and though the tiniest itch prickled upon hoary hide, Aelin did not heed the compulsion to turn back. Something called to her beyond the void, a sing-song melody that tugged upon an invisible cord. It yanked beseechingly upon her navel, ushering the track of her slate hooves to match up with the opaline ringleader.
It was a testament to character that she might be hypnotized, even, by the untold splendors of nothingness.
A forelimb reached, seeking contact with the ground, and her delicate face pushed through the curtain—
Aelin yelped.
“Oh!” At long last, the fog unveiled her hunted prize, and the silver woman was suspended in shadow.
Her knees ought to have knocked in terror, or a spasm of reflexive fear surely should have seized her croup in preparation for flight. Panic was the feeling that instinct sang to her, and yet her body answered the blackness pliantly.
For it was so much more than just the darkness she had known. More than snatchers or demons, more that an abysmal cloud that sought to suck worlds into its hungry jaw. It was starkissed and wondrous, and though the moon was mysteriously absent from attendance with her children, Aelin was drawn into the irresistible question of what dream she’d been swept into.
Had the night finally descended upon the world, to take up residence on this lonely island and swaddle it in jet, sun-spattered cloth?
A comet streaked by, impossibly close and yet painfully out of reach, and Aelin stepped after it with the invigorated desire to touch it. It was gone too quickly, riding upon the wake of its otherworldly swiftness, and her heart stuttered with joy.
The tether invited her to leave, and though pungent sorrow crept upon the vacant places in her heart, she dared to stay a while longer.
She thought of so much as she chanced a step forward, waiting for the night sky to swallow her whole; to deposit her upon a frothy white cloud.
And yet the ebony plateau upon which she stood, whether upside down or right side up, remained sturdy beneath her soles. It felt as though she stood upon water, and for a breath, Aelin dared to wonder if her wings would even be needed to fly through this heaven.
"Quid est hoc mundo," even the lyrical eloquence of her native tongue seemed frail in beauty when juxtaposed with such wondrous starlight, "ut inter omnes vos ambulare?"
They did not deign to answer, and yet Aelin hardly minded. To have come so near and bless the mortal world with their breathless virtue, she could ask nothing more of the constellations than to enjoy their company a while longer.
As tempting as it was to lay upon her side and watch them drift idly onward, she dared instead to walk forward, mingling in their company with soft spoken words.
The pieces of her that still sought wholeness wondered if answers lay here; if the invisible lines of distant suns might connect to create the face of her miscarried child; if she might see the billow of her father's crimson cape written upon the infinite, ebony fields.
Though her wonder remained, it coexisted with melancholy.
"Or are you here to show us what we have lost...?" she wondered aloud. An airy, humorless laugh left her lips.
"I am happy to meet you at last, my many friends."
Islands spoke to her as a lighthouse upon a pier.
Were she a lost ship, it was inevitable that she would catch the flickering eye of a crimson glow upon the horizon and come crashing into their bay, a moth to the lure of light. Islands beckoned her in tongues of hearth and home, reminding her of an archipelago that’d been left behind, or a continent awash in shadow. The kiss of a seaside breeze, or the pad of a fabled wildcat’s paw upon the shoals of a beach.
In so many ways, they were a trap to her ocean foam eyes. And she, like the sea, lapped insatiably at the welcome invitation of their shores.
Even wreathed in fog, Aelin knew she would not be denied. Neither an issue of safety nor the wondrous terror of the unknown could keep her at bay, and the leagues that spanned between she and nostalgia were nothing the finer nuances of her curiosity couldn’t map to memory. Or so she told herself, when the ocean spray at last kissed her skin upon the cusp of the sea and the void.
Arrival had been simple enough, but it was peering into the vast, impenetrable unknown that left her motionless. It was in her nature to question everything, to pepper the roiling fog with voiceless queries after its origins, its purpose, its intent. To ask if it would swallow her whole, were she to dare stepping too near—or if its endless miasma might cleanse her of sin and shortcoming. There would be no telling, no answer, unless she dared to take the leap.
Once, she had been a girl that threw herself into the throng of the sky with little more than a thought. Once, she’d possessed enough faith in her own strength to catch herself.
Somewhere along the lines, Aelin had lost her assured nature. And peering into the opaque wall that billowed with preternatural liveliness, she knew she would, one day, be steeped in courage again.
When to start, other than now? She had come this far, after all.
A giggle that rode upon the bridge of hysteria bubbled from her lips, and her silvery tail dusted the earth beneath her as she dared a step forward. Forward, forward, forward.
Nightmares had taught her to never look back.
Two lengths in, and the world had faded into a grey abyss of nothingness. The fog was damp upon her skin, saturating herself in the brimming question of whether it should be panic, not keening interest, that overtook her. The world turned directionless as she pushed onward, and Aelin was left with the dizzying expectation to be spat back out the way she’d came. It would be too simple to be turned around in here, or else lost forever.
And Aelin knew too much of magic, of otherworldly whims, to believe this was any ordinary fog.
It spanned onward, and the Fair lost track of how long she’d walked. The grey unfurled like a blanket, an impenetrable fortress of the world’s nothingness come to fruition, gathered at a crux of absolute emptiness. It was unfathomable; inevitable in how it consumed the ground beneath her. Telling, however, in how harmless it hugged her silver hide, swallowing up the ethereal glow of her wings.
She had never felt so uncertainly small, and though the tiniest itch prickled upon hoary hide, Aelin did not heed the compulsion to turn back. Something called to her beyond the void, a sing-song melody that tugged upon an invisible cord. It yanked beseechingly upon her navel, ushering the track of her slate hooves to match up with the opaline ringleader.
It was a testament to character that she might be hypnotized, even, by the untold splendors of nothingness.
A forelimb reached, seeking contact with the ground, and her delicate face pushed through the curtain—
Aelin yelped.
“Oh!” At long last, the fog unveiled her hunted prize, and the silver woman was suspended in shadow.
Her knees ought to have knocked in terror, or a spasm of reflexive fear surely should have seized her croup in preparation for flight. Panic was the feeling that instinct sang to her, and yet her body answered the blackness pliantly.
For it was so much more than just the darkness she had known. More than snatchers or demons, more that an abysmal cloud that sought to suck worlds into its hungry jaw. It was starkissed and wondrous, and though the moon was mysteriously absent from attendance with her children, Aelin was drawn into the irresistible question of what dream she’d been swept into.
Had the night finally descended upon the world, to take up residence on this lonely island and swaddle it in jet, sun-spattered cloth?
A comet streaked by, impossibly close and yet painfully out of reach, and Aelin stepped after it with the invigorated desire to touch it. It was gone too quickly, riding upon the wake of its otherworldly swiftness, and her heart stuttered with joy.
The tether invited her to leave, and though pungent sorrow crept upon the vacant places in her heart, she dared to stay a while longer.
She thought of so much as she chanced a step forward, waiting for the night sky to swallow her whole; to deposit her upon a frothy white cloud.
And yet the ebony plateau upon which she stood, whether upside down or right side up, remained sturdy beneath her soles. It felt as though she stood upon water, and for a breath, Aelin dared to wonder if her wings would even be needed to fly through this heaven.
"Quid est hoc mundo," even the lyrical eloquence of her native tongue seemed frail in beauty when juxtaposed with such wondrous starlight, "ut inter omnes vos ambulare?"
They did not deign to answer, and yet Aelin hardly minded. To have come so near and bless the mortal world with their breathless virtue, she could ask nothing more of the constellations than to enjoy their company a while longer.
As tempting as it was to lay upon her side and watch them drift idly onward, she dared instead to walk forward, mingling in their company with soft spoken words.
The pieces of her that still sought wholeness wondered if answers lay here; if the invisible lines of distant suns might connect to create the face of her miscarried child; if she might see the billow of her father's crimson cape written upon the infinite, ebony fields.
Though her wonder remained, it coexisted with melancholy.
"Or are you here to show us what we have lost...?" she wondered aloud. An airy, humorless laugh left her lips.
"I am happy to meet you at last, my many friends."
Art by Rhiaan, Table by Rayoflight
