Summerfaire is upon us once more! Festivities and seasonal cocktails abound, and friendships are forged or reinforced beneath the bright rays of the 'rifter.
I've seen many seasons in these lands and attended numerous Summerfaire events. But this is the first time I've enjoyed the privilege of participating in the opening ceremony. The words spoken by myself and others gave me a deeper understanding of the nature of the season, the reason behind our celebrations. Since that ceremony, I've found, in quiet marcs, time to reflect, and to give thanks to the gods who watch over us in our labours to preserve the freedom of the lands.
Miranda - whose grace and patience have often guided a rogue sometimes lost
Kane - whose freely-lent strength and fury allowed me to regain a weapon lost in service to the High Queen
Zeric, who pointed the way, to myself and another, to a place and time of rebirth and renewal
For these gifts and others, I've spoken of my gratitude in meditation and prayer. And even unspoken, I trust that those who guide and protect us know that those thanks are within me.
I hope that I might be honoured again at some future time to take a part in the ceremonies of Summerfaire. And I hope too, that many others will also take the opportunity so that they in turn will feel a deeper appreciation of the season.

She dreams - pleasantly and peacefully for the most part. But sometimes there are other dreams in no way pleasant or peaceful. I recognise the signs - the way she twists and cries in her sleep, the words of fear, or mumbling I can't quite make out - and I know she sleeps in torment once again. Her father, those dreams are always of him, carrying on in the sadistic way he did in the past. And all I can do is to hold her, to whisper that she is safe and loved, and to hope that my words will somehow reach into the dreams to soothe her.
But we burned the tower to the ground. And in my frequent returns I've made sure that not one stone still stands atop another. The work I've done should have been enough to cleanse the place. I believe what I saw and heard, what Tam had to say on the matter. He's cut off from this plane and there was no way to return.
Speaking of one of Ellyana's dreams a couple of turns ago, she said her belief is that in the same way the darkness comes from another place, her father has been able to somehow latch onto the darkness, to ride with it back into our world. I reassured her as best I could, reminding her of what we did, of what we saw, of what Tam said ...

And yet ... sometimes while Ellyana sleeps, I just sit, looking around at darkened corners of the loft, listening out for a voice I never truly heard. And wondering if I've been wrong all this time.
Ellyana can at least rouse from her dreams, unpleasant as they may be:I sit and watch in the darkness of the night marcs and my thoughts are all too real, sometimes just as dark as the sky above.

But for now, we can put aside thoughts of darkness. Summerfaire is almost here. A time of celebration, a few turns of friendship and enjoyment. Time enough after the season is done to perhaps have to once more face a figure I thought long gone.

We spent every marc of Sunrifter's passage across the sky in the hollow, swimming, playing, chatting about all manner of things as we floated around in the water. Eventually the cold night air forced us from the water and back to the place we rest, and as we settled it was clear neither of us would be able to stay awake for long. It had been a tiring, but exhilarating and enjoyable, turn.
There's a characteristic smell to a swimming-hole. A combination of water and vegetation, earth and clean air. It's not unpleasant, but is certainly very different from the smell of a beach and the wide ocean. That odour must have been with us as we drifted off to our rest, and along with the marcs spent at the hollow and a couple of things we'd chatted about it was, I suppose, almost inevitable that my dreams would take me back there, though to a different time, and to how things could have been. How they should have been.

I drifted above and around the hollow. A thick mist was closing in around the hollow, an unnatural darkness gathering. There was no reason in my sleeping mind to be there. In waking, at that point in time I'd not enter my hall from one moon-cycle to the next, but it seemed something had drawn me to the place. Something that had happened - or was about to.
Ellyana and the wolf-pup were sitting at the edge of the hollow, talking. They broke off and looked to the surface of the water as a ripple formed and rose, as if disturbed by something below. Even I, though not physically there, felt a deep chill that sucked heat from everything around. The wolf-pup cried out in alarm as the ripple formed into a spiralling tentacle that rose from the water, lashing about as though seeking anything alive before fastening onto Ellyana, wrapping around her throat as it dragged her back toward the darkened depths of the hollow.
She was struggling, clawing at the tendril that was slowly choking her. But it sucked her hands into itself, writhing and twisting itself as one by one it bent and broke each of her fingers. The sound was terrible, the snap of each breaking bone going through me as though a shard of each of those shattered bones had pierced my heart. And still I floated above the scene, helpless to do anything but watch. I saw the wolf-pup finally react but the tendril was clasping Elyana so closely he'd missed the chance for a clear strike at it. His innefectual slash with a blade cut deep into Ellyana's shoulder and gouged a deep wound all along her arm.
I saw her face becoming discoloured, marked her bulging eyes, as the tendril rose and tightened its grip around her throat as it started to shake her around like some child's rag doll. She was able to let out one despairing cry ... and that cry shattered the bonds of incorporeality that had held me, hopeless and helpless, until that moment.
I felt a sensation of falling, twisting so I'd land on my feet, breaking into a run as my feet hit the ground. I was half-way around the swimming-hollow from Ellyana, alternately swearing and praying as I run, unsheathing a blade as I closed on the foul tendril that held her, now trying to cloak her and itself in darkness. Of the wolf-pup there was now no sign, he must have gone to ground on realising he was of no use.
So I ran, and I jumped, throwing myself onto the thing that held Ellyana, momentum just making it possible to run along and up its writhing length. After what seemed an age I almost reached the point where it held Ellyana still in a choking grip. I slashed at it, and was almost overcome with nausea as a gash opened up and black and stinking ooze slipped out through the cut I'd opened in its outer covering. This was no time for weakness though - and no time for blind hacking at the thing. It held Ellyana too close to risk that. So I watched, and timed my blows for when I could cut at the thing without endangering Ellyana.
The tendril was writhing as black ooze ran from it, and a hideous screeching sound was filling the air. It tensed as though preparing for one final twist that would surely snap her neck. I was able to make a few quick strikes, slowly hacking open an ever-deepening gash, and suddenly it seemed to lose strength. The tendril collapsed into a limp heap, dropping both Ellyana and I clear of its coils,
Blade still raised and ready, my eyes firmly fixed on the tendril, I put my free hand to Ellyana's throat, and was overjoyed to feel a pulse, faint though it was. I heard a louder scream from the tendril as its withered form slunk back into the dark depths from which it had emerged.
I turned my attention back to Ellyana, calling her name, wiping water and foul ooze from her face, preparing to see to the wound on her arm and the shattered fingers - but my work at that place, at that time, was already done. Though I fought against the movement I began to drift up and away once more. Struggling against silence that again sought to wrap around me I was able to call her name once more ... and then I was forced to leave her care to others.

Did she hear me? I don't know. Was she aware that I was there? Again, I can't say. Perhaps though, at some later time, she saw the sign I left right next to her where she lay. As I fought against drifting away from her, I scrawled a hasty message, for her to know I watched over her.
Cut into the ground next to her, a few simple letters she'd hopefully recall and understand.
'SR - OP'