The path was known to him now, and Pan sidesteps brambles which reach out to tear at his skin with ease. He knows the juts of the rocks, the places where sand gives way and leads to slippery footing. He knows the way the sun beats down (and specifically chose late afternoon when the sun was setting for exactly this reason). As he climbed, the sky began to tint a palette of pink and gold. In many ways, his journey was two fold. Of course, Pan came to study the gods… but he also climbed the mountain to see Novus from the top. Without wings, Veneror Peak was the closest he could get to the heavens, and the breathtaking view was worth every inch of the climb. The boy was not particularly athletic, but what he lacks in brawn he makes up for in zeal. Pressing onward even as his breathing labored, he climbed higher and higher toward the gods. Only once he’s reached the top does he stop for a breath, laying on the soft loam of grass, rolling with his belly to the sky. Here, he could watch the clouds and almost touch them. They formed pictures, and with a little imagination, Pan could see a great whale, a ticking clock, and a tree laden with acorns in their fluffy forms. He smiles easily, at peace with the world as he draws a juicy apple from his satchel. Crunching down, the sweet juice licks at his tongue, and Pan gives thanks to the gods… for he knows this land could not be without them, even if others saw things differently. The vagabond adventurer had no reason to follow any specific god, and since returning to Novus, he had only be re-introduced to Caligo. Rolling to his side, Pan stared toward the Night Court, thinking fondly of his time there at the festival. He’d met many friends in the short time he’d been there – Saphrax, the boy of flames and pride – Katniss, the warrior who’d taught him about Caligo – Isra, the mermaid with a cool dragon. He didn’t know the lore, but wanted to know what had happened here before he’d arrived. After all, something had caused the residents to turn quiet when asked about their goddess. He intended to get to the bottom of it. He rises to his feet, walking to the dark goddess’ statue first, a crude thing jutting into the earth and tipping toward the north star. As the sun begins to fall behind the horizon, darkness falls over the peak, bringing the chill of the autumn wind to sting against him. Beneath the moonlight, Caligo’s obelisk is even more enchanting, and Pan sits quietly before it as if begging the demi-goddess to appear. Caligo he offers, I enjoyed your festival immensely… Drawing the music box he’d purchased from the night markets from his satchel, he lay it at the base of her stone, winding it and letting the gypsy music soar into the air. And this is how they would find the boy, sharing a moment of music with the faceless goddess he wanted to know so desperately, waiting for the greeting that would likely never come.
