The Maeve, still saddened by the untimely death of her Consort, sat on
her throne as she always did, stoically and with the dignified air of a
queen in mourning. The world around her slowly returned to normal and
the Faethorn Court, once teeming with confusion and despair, became a
quiet reflection of its monarch's regal poise. All around the Ethereal
Realm, the fae tended to their rightful roles, and the mortals who cared
for them did the same.

Until the earth shook and an otherworldly glow lit up the sky.

Avechna's Peak bloomed with a brilliant light that ignited the heavens.
The ground quaked and the sinister glow burning in the sky stretched
outward until it engulfed the horizon entirely. Practitioners of the
Wiccan arts felt their craft fade away, as if their knowledge of the fae
was erased entirely, and Dreamweavers felt their connection with reality
waver. This went on for several long moments before the Maeve, desperate
and harried, called upon the followers of nature to join her in her
throne room.

Mortals arrived to chaos. Queen Maeve displayed how the brand had
returned, as a ghostly spectre of itself, and it was clear that her slow
descent into a state of dull confusion was returning. Addled and barely
coherent, the Fae Queen rushed about, her mind periodically wracked with
pain that transferred partally to Wiccans. Something was seriously
wrong, she admitted, but she could not fathom what. It was then that the
gathered mortals began to notice the emerging patterns of these
goings-on.

The lights in the sky, they deduced, came from the seals that began to
burn with a corona of strange light.

The phantom brand did not outwardly harm Queen Maeve, but it resembled
her former scar.

The fae reacted with a different kind of aggression.

The disconnect between the knowledge of Dreamweaving and Wicca happened
only when the strange glow appeared in the sky.

It was not long before the gathered mortals concluded that these
separate events were, quite obviously, connected, but even more
concerning was the theory that the dreams never ended. That, perhaps,
the world was still hidden behind a veil...

Days later, Queen Maeve grew frustrated. She summoned her Court,
including the mortals of both nature communes, to the throne room to
announce that she would attempt to contact with Laeroc, her recently
deceased Consort. Her mind was failing faster, she explained, and the
fae were resisting her control. Only her Consort was of any comfort in
this, and she longed for his advice. With finality in her voice, she
declared her plans sound and strode toward the Tree of Memories.

Calling upon her ancient power, she attempted to bend the Tree of
Memories to her will, using it as a means to reaching Laeroc. As she
reached forward to touch the tree, her mind reeled with pain, and she
fell backwards against the ground. Stunned, she asked the gathered
mortals to touch the trunk that had so recently tossed her about like a
child's play thing, and they hesitantly obliged.

Although the tree always reminded passersby of Laeroc's brave sacrifice,
it now showed a much darker -- and sickening -- image of the fae's
demise. Horrified by the vision, the Maeve withdrew into her throne room
once more, leaving the mortals to discover another dark secret: the
memories held within the tree's sacred leaves were warped and changed,
and now reflected the terrible thoughts of another being. It was then
that Dame Maeve made her first appearance, as a nightmare forced upon
the world through the Tree of Memories's connection to the Dreaming.

As the sun's rays burned through the days, bringing the cloak of night
across the land, the struggles of the fae worsened. Nymphs rode pookas
through the Faethorn Court, as if in battle, pixies tormented mortals on
the Prime Material Plan, maidens claimed the children of despairing
mothers -- on and on, the fae acted more irrationally than ever, despite
Queen Maeve's weak, but still firmly resolute, grip on her sanity. For
all intents and purposes, the fae should remain under her reign, she
explained, but it was almost as if they were taking orders from another.
Discussion of Dame Maeve erupted, and eventually, the ethereal monarch
explained a way to potentially thwart Dame Maeve's plans.

Memories. If these are truly the imposter queen's thoughts imprinted
within the Tree of Memories, then, Queen Maeve explained, it stands to
reason that the mortals could instill new thoughts within the demon's
mind of their own making. Perhaps then, the imposter would strive to
break through the veil herself to confront the opposing power, thus
preventing her from carrying out her nefarious deeds. After begrudgingly
asking for help from the cities, as well, Queen Maeve warned that it is
yet unclear what would happen when the veil weakened. She shared a spell
that would wrest the Tree of Memories from the control of Dame Maeve's
darkness, allowing mortals to once again add their memories to the
sacred bough's leaves.

It was right she gave warning. Shortly after Queen Maeve's declaration,
Everiine Silvermoon placed the first memory -- a lengthy, impassioned
reminder of the past and a tale rife with the challenging road to
victory. Then, the true test of the Basin's ability to confront its
nightmares came to pass in the form of a twisted, demonic fae-like
creature as it crawled out from between the thin line between Reality
and the Dreaming.

Again and again, this happened. Each time a new memory was placed within
the tree, a nightmare fae would materialize, as if sent by Dame Maeve
herself. As if sent to bring harm to the operation, fearless members of
Magnagora stormed the relatively peaceful gathering of commune members
to flood the Tree of Memories with new offerings, thus causing dozens of
nightmare fae to appear. After suffering a few fatalities, the communes
beat back the plague of darkness and continued onward with its mission.

Until, instead of nightmare fae, Laeroc, the Dame's Oblation, lurched
through the veil.

He stepped forward with disjointed footsteps and a menacing issuing from
the stump where his head should have been and issued sinister
admonitions to the gathering. To add insult to injury, Queen Maeve felt
the presence of her consort and called out to him, and then realized
swiftly that this, too, was an imposter. Although she attempted to pay
him no mind, the zombified Laeroc made his way to the Maeve's throne
room and hurled foul abuses at her. Each time he opened his mouth to
hurl a barrage of vitriol at the Fae Queen, she responded, meekly, with
a reminder that he was not real. Finally, the demon Laeroc wore down
Queen Maeve by telling her that she was alone, her purpose finished, and
that the Elders Who created her had moved on, leaving her to rot in the
Faethorn Realm.

Defiantly, Queen Maeve called upon her subjects from both communes to
rise up against Laeroc, declaring that she was not alone after all.
Laeroc laughed as the gathered mortals seemed to ignore her commands,
pointing out that no one would dare lift a finger against their precious
Laeroc; that no one would come to the Fae Queen's rescue. Bandeon Ladyn
of the Serenwilde stepped forward and, after stating "Actually, I will,"
led the charge against the demon. The mortals made short work of the
Dame's Oblation and returned to the original task at hand, but only
after consoling a deeply wounded and almost comatose Queen Maeve. It
seemed seeing her Consort so twisted and tortured broke her completely,
and the mortals shyly left her to prepare for the coming fight.

The veil was thinning rapidly now. Flashes of Dame Maeve's clawed hand
tearing through the veil appeared after each offered memory, and it was
only a matter of time before the veil fell completely. Like glass
shattering, the thin membrane that separated the Dreaming fell away,
allowing the Basin's nightmares to pour through like a black cloud of
despair, anguish, torture, and pain. Mortals all across the Basin of
Life faced their worst fears over and over again until they were
condensed into a terrible prolonged second, which only broke when Dame
Maeve herself stepped forward through the veil, her black eyes wide and
staring.

Without hesitation, the gathered mortals tore into her. They fought and
won, and then realized her wounds healed instantly. They fought some
more, only to see the same demonic flesh stitch itself back together
over and over again. Finally, her voice booming through the din, Queen
Maeve stepped forward and challenged Dame Maeve herself. A poisonous
laughter filled the air as the Dame cemented the terms of the duel: if
she won, then the fae -- and the rest of the natural world -- would be
hers. She also mocked that Queen Maeve would never strike first, that
she would never hit Dame Maeve, for she knew it was futile.

Borrowing from Bandeon's words of courage, Queen Maeve uttered,
"Actually, we will," and, in a single radiant blast of power, destroyed
Dame Maeve completely. All that remained of her was the brand, the
Weeping Amaranth that hung suspended in the air, spinning faster and
faster. The same otherworldly glow ignited in the heavens and grew more
brilliant with each passing second, like a bonfire left unattended.
Soon, it was clear that the Seals of Nature and Beauty were the focus of
Dame Maeve's insidious plan to claim their power as her own, and the
brand, left unchecked by the Dame's control, carried out its new purpose
well -- until the Seals broke completely.

The world lurched and then stopped completely. Reality froze and then
sped up, until finally, thousands of hungry eyes leered at the Basin of
Life and a thundering roar echoed from the air itself. Estarra the
Eternal appeared in the sky and warned mortals that the Seals had been
compromised and that it was once again time for mortals to enter the
Trials of Ascension.

When the pandemonium eased somewhat, Queen Maeve reached forward,
claimed the brand that plagued her for centuries, and, with all the
power of the Faethorn Court behind her, ripped it apart, petal by petal,
and banished its dark magic for good. As the Weeping Amaranth dissolved
into the air, the Queen of the Fae smiled, knowing that she could
finally know peace again.


Penned by My hand on the 7th of Estar, in the year 432 CE.