Black Browed Night

2nd Aeon - Age of the Fae Chapter One

Hast thou forgot the foul witch Sycorax, who with age and envy was grown into a hoop? Hast thou forgot her?

- Prospero, The Tempest

Act 1 Scene 2

It was a high fluke of nature for a fairy to evolve into a witch, as such was told in nightly hidden childhood chambers. It served as a warning to keep to the long-trekked footpaths of old traditions, to never stray from the course, as predators lurked waiting for their feast. For evil hungered for any fairy's angelic soul. Even the thought of abusing our capabilities with magic could stain the soul of a fairy, threatening the entire interlocking family tree of all Fae. It was a stain that would only fester the longer it corrupted the host, as mother believed. Rot could never be rid of, for some compromised branches and twigs of family had to be cut from the rest to save the rest of us from the disease. No rot would find its infectious clutches in the trunk of the Fae, until I too succumbed to its conquest by one spell. I attempted to cure my infertility, to no avail and thus allowing the rot to find a new home. None knew of my disease, save for Mother and my sisters. My life was forever tainted, and in solitude was I at peace and could dream my selfish fantasies, especially from the most recent vision.

The wide-open eyes of bewonderment swirled in naïve pools of lapis lazuli; the rarest hues of Illyrian blue belonged to the cheerful babe, laid in my arms, smelling of a midsummer night and blossoming pine. Fitting perfectly into the arch of my steady arms, smiling up at me in the cheekiest toothless manner and blushing cheeks. He was my world and I was his. Hope flourished like the harsh summertime breeze, demanding joyful reception to its presence, alas I couldn't fully believe the babe in front of me. I had fashioned no child, nor could I. The infested rot that charioted through my veins heated at the acknowledgment. Yet the unique appearance of the child caused doubt to plague my sound reason, until I caught the edges of the babe's fragile, smooth skin. Iridescent light reflected out from his silhouette proved that this was indeed a vision. But one I desperately wanted to become my reality. The babe was perfection and encompassed everything I desired. He was what I was designed by Illyrian to be, my purpose accomplished. After all my toil and years of waiting, I was a mother.

In the corner of my vision, a tall, muscled figure came closer; however, I didn't want to relinquish my view of the babe. His scent of salted sapphire spice engulfed my remaining sense, along with his raw mouth-watering masculine aura. Torn between the two, I gazed up to find the identical lapis lazuli blue of the babe in his encapsulating gaze. Struck by the male's lack of fae characteristics, he was no less handsome. I was a mere particle rotating around two powerful forces of nature, their gravity too strong to resist. Nor did I wish to be anywhere else. Yet my disease heated in warning, grounding my intoxicating fantasy.

"Is this real or a vision?" I dared to break the silence. Dreading that if words pierced this world, I would be sucked from its clutches, never to return to this paradise.

The male palmed the babe's head, stroking away the fair thin whisps of ebony hair. My exact shade. "That depends on you," he answered. His deep voice rolled through my core as a dominate wave that I would gladly be carried away on to drown. "Find me." As he leaned down to kiss the sensitive pulse point of my exposed throat, the vision faded as quickly as it came.

Left in the cold dark of my bedchamber, no part of the physical room's existence reassured in comfort. The visionary babe's warm body still lingered in my arms, and clutching tight I could still detect the child's scent of midsummer night pine. Yet I couldn't have a child. Not since my dark entombed entrapment when I was but a maid and too young to understand the consequences for survival. Having believed of an herb that would cure me from other fae sharing tales, I went to find it. Only to fall in the dark tunnels of the abandoned flesh of Illyrian. To escape from such an underworld, I was forced to consume a different element of nature, a glowing rotten mushroom. Its nutrients bestowed the sight I needed to escape from the tomb but the rot also joined in the liberation.