To the Moon and Back: Diary of Tess Ableton

[LaceAndLeather]

Eleasis...

Can it be?


It seems unlikely to me, but the young boy I asked the date of in the village surely has no cause to fool me. And surely the flowerseller in the market is not complicit in some bizarrely duplicitous scheme.

And the cool breeze on the afternoon air, crisp with the promise of rain, only corroborates this startling truth.

How, then?

Where...?

And what of—?

I have more questions than clear memories, my thoughts scurrying out of reach like shadows that flee from candlelight: dancing, still, at the edges of my mind, taunting me with what mysteries they safeguard.

I dare not appear too inquisitive, lest those here in this village begin to wonder and grow too curious.

First, a meal. I am famished—I feel as if it’s been months since last I ate.

[LaceAndLeather]

I’d nearly forgotten the beauty of the Gate in the rain.

There’s a certain majesty to the way the moonlight shines in the puddles, pools of silver gathering on the cobbles underneath the stormy sky. Everyone ducks in and out of shops and inns, making for the market or home or the roads beyond with a hurried sense of importance that carries them ever on, driven toward a hearth and the promise of dry respite (and perhaps a hearty mug of cider or spirits).

I walked the city streets yesterday, lost and entranced in the beautiful habit of it all. Has it been so long?

I wandered and I searched—but this time, for something more. Is there some part of myself, here, that I can’t let go?

Or is there some unfulfilled purpose that keeps calling me, here, to the place I’ve come to call home?

I can feel the ebb of the New Moon’s approach, the night becoming a thick shadow without the Maiden's mystical gleam. But it is then the stars shine brightest through the darkness.

There is something about this time that brings with it a sense of calm, for me, something renewing: as though nothing is expected and I am allowed to simply "be."

I hear it whisper to me:

A new beginning.

[LaceAndLeather]

For two nights now, after a parting I would neither define as nor deny was a goodbye, I have found solace in the everyday: trips to and from the market each morning at dawn for eggs and vegetables, preparing meals in the small apartment I’ve rented, reading by the fire while the rain comes and goes in the throes of what little remains of summer.

I confess I’ve not thought of these daily routines, these simple comforts, since perhaps before I first arrived in the Gate—a wide-eyed girl, by comparison, wandering across the Realms for a dream.

I think the question brought me fear, then: would I like a simple life, someday?

And, still yet... would I know what to make of one, were I blessed enough to be gifted with it?

Though it’s true I could steal away from the world, I know my work here isn’t done. The stars glimmer in familiar patterns, sparkling as they rise to form autumn’s constellations in the sky: my path forward.

I have decided, privately between these pages and myself, that I will no longer wear the shadows of the past like a mantle trailing in my wake.

The faces that haunt me—of those I have loved and those I have wronged and those I have left behind—will be but stars that shine in my story’s sky, the silver shapes that have wrought the woman I’ve become:

The Harp. The Anvil. The Rider.

The Tempest. The Wolf. The Wave.

I am gracious for them all—but tonight, the New Moon rises.

And I feel, for once, at peace.

[LaceAndLeather]

Child of Light...

That is what the avatar of Night called me, when it spoke upon the road. None could have mistaken the billowing cloud of black for anything but what it was: Her handmaiden, a minion of the Dark.

Its threats were few but spoken with great certainty and gravitas: soon, it said unto me in its vile speech, I would never see the Light again.

I wonder if not one but both Sisters watch me as I sleep—as I toss and turn in the hours of the morning, when I have walked the city streets and roads outside the Gate by moonlight in desperate attempt to tire myself to the point of resting soundly. To no avail.

For the dreams visit me, so often, like visions through a veil of shadow. Like rays of moonlight penetrating that same, familiar cloud of billowing black.

Is it truly Her I see there, perched upon Her throne of Night, eyes black as the void, lips curled like the cruel blade of a sacrificial sickle?

Is it my Lady’s divine voice I hear, eternal with the wisdom of our world, speaking as Her wolf holds me, broken, in his arms?

Are they dreams at all—or something more? Visions? ...memories...?

I cannot let my thoughts grow fretful with lack of rest. I am certain, at least, of one thing:

I do not fear the Dark.

But the Dark will soon fear me.

[LaceAndLeather]

The days pass, as is their way.

I’m thankful for the array of faces, both familiar and new, that have kept me company since I arrived—friendship, even, taking root.

I thought it impossible, once, that the circles of the Coast might welcome me warmly again. I suppose the fault is mine, but looking back, it seems so strange that everything was handled as it was.

But I will not dwell in supposition.

Whatever the future holds, I daresay (aside from the creeping shadows at my heels, which are certainly an aspect of the life I’ve chosen) I may yet find happiness here again. Even if it might be of a different sort than I expected, wanted, for so long.

Perhaps there’s an irony here, that I would feel myself begin to flourish, grow, as autumn waits beyond the horizon, just past summer’s last sigh. I’ll tend this silver blossom in my breast ever so carefully, and with a cautious whisper I shall call it hope.

With a quiet and patient understanding of the path I’ve taken that has led me here, I’m reminded of, renewed in, my faith to the Maiden. The blessed moon has many phases; so, too, do we all.

We wax, we wane.

And—in time—we grow full again.