Nightspun (#ONC_2020)

Chapter 5 - Crush

"Really? Wow, I had no idea. I bet he loved that." Amira said, her sarcasm making Sybil snort with just how cold it sounded.

"Yeah. He was like a sylph with a sugar rush." 

"A rare, sparkly one." Amira quipped.

She giggled at her own joke, making the Sunspell elf smile just a little, while Dewdrop nudged her hand with his nose. The Nightspell elf gestured to her to keep going, struggling to stop herself from laughing.

"After that, I had no choice but to perform after he got the crowd on his side. I planned the day on our Five Moon ball not his, Mira." Sybil said, outraged at his gall for being able to pull off something so ridiculous and self centred.

"I know, Sybil. I know. It's OK. I know how good you are as a storyteller. No one can tell me otherwise. Least of all that preening priss of a Nightspell elf."

Garrett had always been the shining star of Floodbound, known for vaulting himself off trees to practice and being one of the select few to actually leave the small waterlogged city. It was trapped between an immovable border and an impossibly famous city called Folktale, the home of every performer's dream. The moving, Moonlit Stage.

Floodbound however was on the very edge of Neridia, caught on both sides by mediocrity and rumours most foul. The Ironwood Forest was the cause of such a thing, a deadly natural habitat leading to another world, another country no sane elf wanted to venture into. Nocturus.

"All of the Inner Circle was there and it was my mother's only day off for months. I wanted to patch things up with her, I really did. But after what she did. What they both did..." Sybil faltered, unable to finish any more and buried her head in Dewdrop's fur, attempting to drown out the sadness.

But no happiness emerged from the jackalope's moon dappled coat. Amira hugged her best friend from behind, desperate to give her some kind of comfort in her solace. All Sybil felt was empty melancholy. Her hands shook with nerves while she sat, embraced by the only two people she could even attempt to call family.

"They knew I had chosen the stage name Jackalope after Dewdrop...and once the Inner Circle requested a tale on the Astral Three it was like grandmama was looking down on me. So...I overcame my nerves and told the story exactly the way she taught me." Sybil said flatly, the joy from her voice died out like a spark.

"Apparently, that way was considered wrong."

Amira gasped in fear, both hands over her mouth while her ruins dimmed at the sorrowful news. Elves took stories very seriously and none more so than the Inner Circle of Nightspun. One false recollection could shape generations of hatred for a single family, the story wiped from existence and banned forever more.

"Oh Laia, no…"

The three original Forecasters weren't of Stormspell or Nightspell. They were called Sunlight, Moongaze and Starshine. One brought hope for the present. One depicted the importance of the past. The last showed the light of a bright future. These three elves paved the way for generations to come and it was this that the Inner Circle of Nightspun deemed her unworthy of telling.

The Forecasters coincided with the other races, even allied with dragons to adapt their abilities to something akin to Sunspell and Nightspell by combining Moon and Star with Sun to allow not only possibility but even greater hope for all of the word, not just Neridia. It was this very story that connected her with her grandmama, her mother and it was the catalyst that started her dream towards becoming a Nightspun. It was this inclusion of dragons that had ruined everything.

Suddenly, Sybil felt compelled to stand at the edge of the jetty and look down at her feet, her two companions at her side in case she decided to do something drastic. The Sunspell elf knelt down as if ready to jump but stopped herself at the last possible second and decided to scream at the top of her lungs so everyone could hear.

 Her family's broken legacy. The unfairness of the Inner Circle. The insensitive actions of a boy she could have loved. Her ruined crop of mandraroot. All of it was crushed against her throat and the only way she could breathe again was to let it out with the words she could only admit to them. 

"I told an age old tale to the biggest storytellers in all of Neridia and I botched it! I retold an original rendition of a classic and both of them knew about it! I can't be a Nightspun. Not now, not ever!"

Sybil fell to her knees and broke down, the loud sobs echoing into the night, tears dripping into the murky depths below. Dewdrop, her faithful companion could no longer stay sentient with his friend in such disarray. He was not only the guardian of the Ironwood forest. He was the one who brought Sybil closer together with her family. 

But he had one last task to achieve. With a single stride, he leapt onto the water and allowed his form to disperse over the Stone Bouy. Gracing the two with a final flick of his antlers, the sunlight he left behind granted one last hope filled gift for the Sunspell elf who had lost everything.

In a matter of moments, Dewdrop cast away his form into sundust and left in his place a field wide crop bursting with mandraroot.