I left on this passage in the hopes of answering a few questions that I've long
possessed, questions about my past. I've been haunted by the shadows of my
memories since I was sixteen... since I first emerged from that portal. Oh, I'm
well versed of It's tendency to blur the memories and thoughts of those that
pass through It, but I'm positive that I'm nigh the only one who's past mind
has not just been blurred, but destroyed completely - Some part of me simply
will not accept that this has entirely been the Portal's doing. I suspect some
inner force... Like how one will mentally reject thoughts that it's
subconscious mind deems far too damaging to the overall psyche. Traumatizing
childhood incidents, brutally horrifying events to one's family, things like
that... which is exactly why I worry.

For most intents and purposes, my memory and life began when I found my way to
my home, Glomdoring. My first images are of the forest and of my novice
teacher, Scios. However, no matter how I struggled or yearned, I could never
seem to recall what had brought me to that place. Even now after I've recovered
my dear Onyx Gem, my darling sister, questions remain. If anything, only more of
them. Eventually I came to the conclusion that a sojourn was in order, a trip to
clear my thoughts and help me focus. And it was upon that idea that I made my
leave.

Staying true to the Mother, I made my exit from the forest in deepest night,
preferring to depart under the beauty of the New Moon. Also deeming it
necessity, I prepared myself both physically and mentally - With the aid of my
beloved barghest, Erebos, and of the Mother, I deafened myself and scourged
vision from my eyes to travel in darkness of both sight and sound. Further
action had been necessary, and I engaged myself further into Her grasp by
weighing both my mind and actions in the shadows. I recall my last clear and
unconstricted thoughts even now, "This," I had mused, "will surely teach me
more of patience and resilience."

It did.

Not fully trusting of my newly hampered faeling wings, I had decided to use my
wiccan talents for the brunt of the travel. Gripping it tightly, I spurred my
broom to the sky. Hovering in silence, however far off of the ground, I waited.
Feeling the soft breeze of the wyrden winds against my cheek, swirling through
my dark hair and rippling across my robes was cause enough to birth a shiver in
my spine. I remember how eerie that sensation had felt, such a usually quick
reaction extended so much longer as a result of the shadows weighing upon my
every tiny movement. My thoughts growing sluggish, I made the decision, for
simplicity's sake, to travel in a single direction as high as I could and as
far as I could. Though my body had been slowed, it seemed my broom certainly
had not - Carrying me through the skies with a speed that rivaled a
bloodthirsty Trill warrior having had his fill of quicksilver before battle.
Wind whipping all around me, I quickly found one of my only remaining senses
becoming dulled as well. The icy nature of wind at that speed and height
wrought terror upon my skin, subduing and eliminating any sensations that it
may have possessed. Unseeing, unfeeling, no sounds to remind me of my life and
naught arround me but Her shadows and the broom I could no longer sense... I
had only managed a single, feeble thought at that point, perhaps wondering if I
was not upon my journey at all, but simply dead. Thus, in utter ebony, I flew.

I could think upon the matter for a hundred years and never know exactly how
far I had gone or how long it had taken to reach the location I had ended up
at, but that wasn't the point. The travel, itself, had become a large part of
my tribulations. It hadn't taken long for every action I tried to take to
become nigh impossible labors upon my body. I remember breathing had become
difficult rather quickly. ( It had been amusing to discover that I no longer
had to breathe at all - perhaps another advantage of supramortality.) Even
thinking had become difficult before long, each sentient thought transformed
into a glorious and vibrant jewel in my inky sea of non-feeling. I taught
myself to avoid errant ponderings, bringing me, even in that state, such an
astounding degree of mental clarity that I surprised myself. When a mind will
only focus upon a single thought at a time, it regards that thought with
nothing short of raging intensity. It "sees" the thought from every angle and
obtains a stark objectionism that could never be realized otherwise. Attaining
such a state was quite taxing however, so taxing that for the first time in
nearly two years I had wished to sleep. I abhor sleep, despise it beyond nearly
all other things, yet at that point it was a simple process in my mind - "You
desire sleep, so you shall sleep."

I awoke confused, wondering with my feebled mind what had happened, where I
was, why I could sense nothing around me. I had attempted to bond with the wolf
spirit and scent out my surroundings, but for some reason found myself unable.
Such a peculiar feeling, awaking from a dark and dreamless sleep into a deeper
darkness. I attempted to move my limbs, tried to wiggle my legs and wave my
arms around me and found myself incapable of that as well. I had begun to panic
then, lacking even the simple ability to keep myself composed, when a sound had
caught my attention. Subtle, soft and quiet - like leaves rustling in a light
breeze. "But I am deaf," I had thought, "And should not be able to hear
ANYthing..." Yet still the sound had persisted, never gaining volume yet
somehow growing in intensity until it became a bitter howl. Then, just as
slowly it had softened once more... changed, it seemed. More like a hushed
whisper. The sound was so inherently alien to anything I had heard before, and
yet... deep within it I had sensed a familiarity, like I should have known it.
Curious, I focused upon it, my previous sense of panic fading rapidly into
memory. It seemed to be repeating itself, a slow rise followed by a rapid
descent. There was something more, something behind the wind. Words. Like the
sound that masked it, it had been repeating itself as well. It was then that I
had realized that I was hearing this not through my ears, but within my head,
inside of my mind. I strained on these words, thought of nothing else but them
and at last heard their message clearly.

"Revhon'ufidair, Revhon'ufidair, always thinking"

Then, just as suddenly as my mind had fixated upon it, the sound was gone
completely - leaving me to naught but the inky nothingness and my thoughts.

Had it been simply a dream? Had I never truly awoken at all? What had it meant?
These questions raged and swirled inside of my head, demanding answers that I
simply did not possess. Still, I could not shake the sense that I should have
known what those strange words had meant, that I'd not only the knowledge of
their existance but even heard or seen them before. But how, and where? Think.

Suddenly, it struck me with all of the fury and rage of Night's Terror, Itself
- Her tongue. I had seen these words previously, written upon the scrolls that
had belonged to the Seer before me. That had been Her language, Mother Night's
own. In the flury of activity that had ensued after I had taken the position of
Seer, I had yet to properly go over all of the scrolls and information that had
belonged to my circle, but I had read enough to know that this language had
long since been lost to even us of the Night Coven, surviving now only in
fragmented and damaged scrolls within the Arcane Library. In fact, few even
seemed to believe it ever truly existed in the first place. Yet, here it was...
But who had spoken it? None even knew of this language save the eldest of the
High Coven. As though to answer my ponderings, that slow wind began to blow
within my mind once more. I shall never forget what happened next.

I knew how to properly listen, this time, instead attempting to focus upon the
words that I knew were hidden beyond the veil of wind. I heard every word as
clearly as if they have been yelled at me from a stone's throw away, yet they
were as soft and light as a shadow sweeping across the forest.

"Revhon'ufidair, what are you doing?"

I had been puzzled. Was this person actually speaking to me? "It was a simple
question," the subtle voice persisted, "what are you doing?" Torn between
confusion and an inexplicable fear, I meekly responded, "I am... on a journey."
The voice sounded amused, "That much is obvious, child, you are far from your
home. Why?" I am not what one would typically call open or a conversationalist,
but something within me told me I would do well to answer these questions. "My
memory. It has been taken from me, by one force or another, and I yearn to have
it replaced." The wind had picked up eerily, and I could have sworn that the
anonymous source of questioning had been sighing. "And why would you seek to
obtain something so worthless as a memory? They do nothing but hold you back
and weigh you down, any fool can see that." What was this, a test? Had a member
of my coven secretly followed me all the way to my current location, just to
throw these questions at me? What business of it was theirs?! I had grown
annoyed, tossing aside my innate sense of respect. "And what is this to you?" I
had demanded. "These memories are my own, and should I seek to have them then it
should be so." The winds in my mind began to whip and rage, growing to such an
intensity that I swear my brain should have exploded within my skull and flowed
from my ears like water. Yet still the voice had been audible, every word
crystal clear. "Do not forget your place, child. Have you still not grasped who
you speak to? I have been with you always, My presence guiding you since you and
your sister crawled from your mother's womb. Always have you been My child, yet
you would show Me such disrespect?"

If my flesh had still been capable of such actions at that point, I would have
paled. The realization had stabbed me through the heart like ice. The Mother,
Herself, had been speaking to me this whole time and I was an idiot for not
realizing it sooner. I had been unable to respond for some time, every attempt
to do so bringing such fierce pain that could I have passed out I would have.
Yet some force, probably my Dark Mistress, had kept me conscious. Finally, the
winds calmed themselves until I was able to possess thought once more. "Now,"
the ever calm voice had continued,"why?" Greatly sobered now, I responded,
"I-I have been greatly troubled as of late, M'lady. Glomdoring is my only home
and nothing can change that, yet... I know not why I am there, what brought me
to that place." There was a slow rise and fall in the breeze, coupled with
something that sounded like the swaying of great branches. Laughter. "Isn't
such a thing obvious? I brought you there, for you are among My chosen. As I
told you, My child, I have been guiding you since you were born" I had
persisted, "There is more, M'lady. When I've tried to meditate, back when I
used to sleep... visions of green, vibrant forest haunted me. I had thought it
the trickery of some fool dreamweaver, yet I could never find the culprit. Now,
I am no longer so sure." Once again that eerie rise in the wind that sounded so
much like mortal sighing. "You have much determination in you, Revhon'ufidair,
one of the reasons I had chosen you. Such strength of will should not go
unrewarded. Very well, you shall have what you seek. I know not what good it
shall do you, however."

The winds rose and fell, rose and fell, finding a peculiar harmony that
resonated to my very core. Suddenly increasing in pace until it became a sharp,
high pitched whistle, rising and rising and rising until...

Greenery filled my mind, a forest, vibrant with life and harmony. Sunlight
streaming down from the branches overhead, even an occasional butterfly
flittering through the trees. All around there were elfen, faeling, furrikin,
tae'dae, even a few of those giant creatures, the igasho. Such a strange, happy
place. A broadly smiling faeling woman was the center of attention, a tall elfen
lord by her side. Cradled in her arms were two small faeling newborns, one with
hair as dark as pitch, a boy. The other with hair as snowy white as any
blizzard, a girl. For some reason I could not make out the features of these
two as they spoke, full of pride. "Are they not the best blessing Mother Moon
could have granted us, darling? Twins!" the woman had said, eyes full of joy.
"Aye, dearest, things couldn't be better. A strong son to follow my steps in
the 'guard, and a beautiful daughter for you to teach the skills of Moon." The
man had smiled.

Some time later, a small faeling boy about the age of ten, struggling with an
elfen blade. Sweaty little hands gripping the ornate hilt, feebly he swings the
sword at a large, grub-like insect, only causing it to become agitated. He
squeals in fright and backs away from the weevil, to his father's laughter. The
tall elfen strides into the clearing, eliminating the creature with a single,
smooth flick of his blade. "I said practice swinging your sword, son, not
tryin' to kill anythin' with it!" The boy manages a weak smile as his father
ruffles his dark hair. "You've got a long way to go afore you're in the 'guard,
boy, but you'll get there yet." The boy's smile becomes wide as his mother
enters the clearing with his sister in tow, seeming to rise right out of the
underbrush. Dropping the sword to the ground in his excitement, he rushes to
his sister's side where they embrace happily.

Nearly six years past, in a small room that seems to have been formed from the
hollow of a large tree. A merry fire roasts in the corner, yet somehow the
scene reeks of despair. It is night. A gaunt looking faeling woman lies upon
her bed in pain. She's been sick for some time now, all of the best herbalists,
alchemists and wiccan healers in the forest unable to cure the disease that
ravages her body. An elfen man lies collapsed in front of the fire, long since
discharged from his position due to his inability to perform his duties through
his grief. A teenage looking pair of faeling twins stand at the bedside of the
woman, side by side. They look at eachother, the dark-haired boy's hand
tightening upon the hilt of his sword. His sister gives him a solemn nod and he
swings the finely honed instrument into his mother's neck with all his might, a
small spray of blood released at the action. Their father is stirred from his
drunken slumber by the noise. Elfen eyes slowly taking in the situation, he
bellows in rage and despair, charging his children. The boy is rooted to the
spot in fear. The faeling girl grabs the sword from her brother's hand and
whirls to face her father, barely lifting the sword in time to plunge it
through his shirt and deep into his chest, right where his heart should be. The
tip of the weapon protruding from his back, the once proud elfen lord's eyes
gloss over and he collapses in death.

Two days later, the pair stand in front of a large portal, strange energies
swirling and flowing within it. They look into eachother's eyes and make a
solemn vow never to forget one another, always remaining by eachother's side.
They embrace eachother for a final time. Holding hands, they leap forward into
a new life.

There it had been, my life, played out before me as though it were happening
right as I watched. I was reeling. Serenwilde? I had been born in Serenwilde?
Valarien Moonbane, the Seer of Rising Darkness, was once a hopeful child
seeking to become one of the Serenguard? Aranya Moonbane, Princess of Darkness,
was once a disciple of Sister Moon, Herself? Furthermore, our parents... A proud
elfen lord and an eager young Moondancer. No, it could not be - The parents that
I had secretly longed for never to be found, and felled by our own hands!? I
just kept repeating that in my mind, into the looming darkness that surrounded
me...

No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. NO.

Who knows how I would have panicked then, were it not for the soothing voice of
Mother Night that brought me to my senses. "Do you see now, child? Memories like
those are useless things. What have you to show for this new knowledge? Nothing.
Perhaps now, you will better understand My judgements, and why I chose to take
your memory from you. Everything I do has purpose, Revhon'ufidair, even if you
are too short-sighted to see it for yourself."

I remembered then, why they had to die. Mother had become weak, no longer
deserving the gift of life. Father wasn't strong enough to handle her loss, so
he had to perish as well. It had been Night, all along. She had taken my memory
from me, no doubt from my dear Aranya as well. But I am no fool, I had learned
my lesson well. "Yes, M'lady, I understand. Never again shall I question that
which does not relate to the growth and advancement of Glomdoring. The time
I've wasted on this journey could have been spent better serving the forest and
Your glory."

"On the contrary, My child, you have learned much through this little passage
of yours and I am pleased. Thus, I shall grant you My favor. Know that this
gift not only extends to you, but to your sister as well, for she has served Me
well."

I had a feeling, my first since the wind had whipped my nerves raw. My eyes, a
slight tingle. No, not a tingle, pain. A fierce, blazing pain worse than
anything I had ever endured before. Though I could not hear myself, I am
positive that I had screamed, for it had felt as though my eyes were being
melted right from their sockets. Then nothing, the pain gone completely.

"Second," Her silky voice had continued, "you should know that the Seer before
you was one of my most devout servants. I had shown her many things, and you
would do well to go through the work she's left behind for you."

"Aye, M'lady."

"That is all, Revhon'ufidair. Continue to serve Me as you have, and perhaps I
shall reveal Myself to you again in the future."

And with that, the wind stopped. Just as suddenly, I realized that my thoughts
were no longer constricted, my movements clear of shadows, and that sound had
returned to my ears once more. Familiar voices. Yet, I could not seem to see
anything, no matter how hard I attempted to cure my blindness. I concentrated,
and found that I could just as easily sense everything around me with equal if
not superior clarity than regular sight, even myself. My eyes, they weren't
simply damaged... they were gone, replaced by inky pools of blackness so deep
that one could become lost in them. So this was the Mother's favor. I quietly
observed those around me - it seemed I was once more within my forest, at the
Master Ravenwood, nonetheless.

/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\~~/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\

I find my sister in the crowd, and I smile the smile of a man who has gone on a
long journey, found exactly what he sought and more. Brushing the bangs from my
face, I reach out and place a hand upon her shoulder. She gives me a curious
look, and I say;

"My dearest sister, my darling. We have been through much in our short lives,
and I feel I've come to know you closer than any other through that. You have
long been afraid, haven't you?"

Confusion fills her eyes as she regards me, perhaps wondering if I had left and
come back insane.
"What are you talking about?" she asks.

"You," I continue, "my dearest, are afraid to truely See the terrible beauty of
Mother Night. I know this, for I was once as well. Your eyes, they blind and
decieve you... come, let me teach you what I have learned on my journey."

A cold, atramentous tendril of nothingness flows from the shadows that writhe
about me, whispering along my arm until it finds purchase upon my sister's
shoulder. A soft gasp escapes her as it rears back, much like a snake, and then
with a sudden hiss dives at her face. I listen to her scream as it burrows into
her eyes, watch her fall to the floor in pain. A slow smile crosses my lips as
she rises once more, and, gazing into the ebony pools of where her eyes once
were, I feel within my being that now she knows, and she Sees as I do.

She smiles a knowing smile and a single thought passes through my mind...

"Glory be to Glomdoring"