Star-crossed

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Far away, there is a land where stars fly down each night to dance upon

the surface of the lakes, leaving the sky so dark as to make the heart

weep for the beauty of it. Each twilight the grand masquerade begins, as

they wake and stretch and twinkle, sparkling defiantly against the last

glances of the sun over his shoulder as he departs. When the night

falls, they dress up in glorious gowns of shadow and step a stately path

to the waters below, dimmed in radiance until they seem but a breath of

pale flame within a shroud of smoke.

In one valley, an ancient caldera, was the most beautiful lake of all.

The clear waters were a jewel admired every passing night by the stars

above, and they clustered there upon its surface so thickly as to

obscure and bar it completely until they flew away once more in the

morning to their home in the firmament. The creatures that dwelled

beneath the surface and those who dwelled above each viewed the dusky

caperings with awe, each from their own perspective but all with the

same joy and delight.

In the grand shadows of an ancient, blackened willow tree, just near the

lake, lived a particularly beautiful dryad. Dark as the aphotic boughs

of her monochrome forest monarch, she walked with grace and emanated the

beauty of the void to all who laid eyes upon her. So great was her

loveliness, this quiet ruler of the valley, that even the very stars

themselves paid homage as they alit upon her lake. The intricacies of

the tribute they danced each night were astonishing, mesmerizing. Every

twilight performance, all the creatures of the valley and those of the

lake gathered near the surface of the waters to watch in awe as they

wove their muted, glittering geometries. The dryad stood at the edge of

the shore, each and every time, as close as she could come without

falling in.

Many creatures lived in the beautiful waters, from the simplest fish to

the glorious undine bonded to the lake itself. He, along with the others

that dwelled in his demesne, assembled faithfully each night to witness

the dancing of the shadowed stars above the waves in the brutal dry air.

The undine was palest blue with scales of diamond, with silk-lace fins

and dorsals of surpassing elegance, a jewel as bright as his lake and

equally fair. His greatest pleasure was the arrival of the stars each night,

but not for their own magnificence. No, he delighted that they brought

the dryad into view upon his shore. Her visitations were the focal

point of his existence, the thing he anticipated more than all else.

While others gazed upon the celestial entities, his eyes were only ever

for her.

Above all else, he desired to meet her. She was a creature of the night,

however, retreating back into her tree when morning broke and entering a

deep sleep until twilight returned. No matter how hard he tried, he

could not manage to make his way through the throng of stars that danced

atop the water. Over and over, he was repelled and swept back under the

surface, unable to move fast enough or make sense of the flow. The

undine was patient, though, and observant, and noticed one day that the

bits of shadow that trailed from the umbral attire of the celestial beacons

followed them in their intricate maneuvers even beneath the waves,

where the hems dipped beneath. Slowly, over the course of many years,

he gathered these tiny scraps of gauzy shade and sewed them into a

resplended cloak.

The night finally came that the last piece of shadow fell free from the

tenebrous star shrouds above the waves. Collecting it carefully, he

attached it to the hood with a needle wrought from meteorite and thread

crafted from the precious few sable hairs that blew into the lake from

dryad's head. Swirling the garment around himself, he found his body

pulled and moved in patterns of unimaginable complexity. He gave himself

over to the rhythm of the stars, and rose to the surface, melding easily

into the press of shade-veiled dancers and making his way to the shore.

She stood there, slender and lovely, enraptured by the dance with eyes

that shone as bright as any fire might. When one of the figures detached

themself from the press and stepped upon the shore, her heart leaped in

astonished joy, which quickly became surprise as the undine lowered his

hood. The two sat by the shore all night, watching the barrier of stars

between their worlds and speaking of everything and nothing, falling

farther and farther in love all the while. As the stars drifted back up

into the sky, chased by the first beams of the morning sun, the dryad

began to droop and fade despite herself, and hurriedly fled back to her willow.

The undine left the cloak upon the shore, in hopes that she would take

it up and visit him beneath the lake.

And so she did. Back and forth, they would cross through the dancing

stars to delight in the company of the other. Soon, they begin to dance

along with the celestial visitors along the shore and beneath the lake.

As their love grew, so too did their radiance in the presence of the

other, until it rivaled the magnificence of the luminous lake

performance. The stars slowly began to notice that the attention of the

valley shifted increasingly toward the lovers and grew jealous,

discontent to share the admiration of the mortal beings with any others.

They plotted amongst themselves during the days when they hid above in

the brightened firmament, and finally hit upon a plan to steal the cloak

from the couple.

When the undine left the umbral garment upon the shore the next morning,

a last lingering star snatched it up and fled to the skies, tearing it

to shreds and scattering them across the earth as it went. The dryad

awoke at twilight and ran eagerly down to the shore to take up the

cloak, crying out in confusion when it was not to be found, save for a

few bare scraps caught in nearby bushes. The sound of her distress

summoned the undine, but it was too late for him to reach her- the stars

were already far too thick upon the water. All night, they stayed there,

hungrily and despairingly savoring every small glimpse of the other

through the celestial barrier as it swirled over the lake. Days past,

then months, then years. Having grown wise to his method, the hems of

the atramentous shrouds never again were allowed to trail into the

waters to be collected.

Casting out her misery to all her sisters of the trees, all the dryads

of the world determined to watch and search for the pieces of the torn

cloak, sending a bird with each piece to drop into the lake for the

undine. The dryad still waits there, her tears of glittering jet

tumbling into the lake and providing the cruelest irony of all: as they

gradually coated the lake's bottom, it became more beautiful than ever

before, drawing so many stars that now they scarcely dance at all. To

this day, though, the undine waits, never giving up hope. Each day he

sews his cloak back together, bit by minuscule bit, ever watching for a

glimpse of his love upon the shore.