Shadows and Mist

There are thin places in the world, places where the boundary between the sunlit world of life and energy and whatever lies beyond is little more than a thin cloth draped over the landscape. At least, that is what Inari’s mother had always told him, but here, in the Forest of Shadows, he believed it. It was a forest within the forest: a remnant of the old growth with a much newer wood grown up all around it. The newer wood held no mysteries, but this... this was something special. Geneva Prime was several hundred kilometers further north, but that was not his destination. The Cheldrun logging operations were closer than that, but they was not his concern, either. Not yet.

A perpetual dusk clung to the forest floor. The sunlight was a dim and faded thing; something there was in the shadows here that resisted revelation; something there was in the shadows here that denied illumination. A thin mist clung to the forest floor, drifting slowly through the underbrush, over root and under bough. Shadows lay across his path in every direction; deep, shifting shadows and shaken, shattered sunlight. A gleam here, a gleam there. A sense of Presence. Inari did not know what would happen when the logging efforts of the Cheldrun reached this part of the forest, but he suspected it would be bad.

Very bad.

The young Prill made his way through the mist, piercing it like an arrow. It took nearly a minute for it to close in behind and vanish his trail. Even as mist and shadows gathered menacingly under the roots of a nearby tree, Inari voiced a quiet prayer, hoping for Karia’s protection, hoping not to offend the spirits that haunted this place.

TeeShee. Were there really such things?

There were two Karian settlements close to the Forest of Shadows, a Zipsum village and a Gogajin encampment, but though the Jevuum were known to prowl the lands around the forest’s heart, Karians did not come to this part of the wood. The old tales spoke of ghostly lights in the mist. It was said that to see these lights was to know the hour of your death. It was also said that when the lights came, a wise Karian could make a bargain with the spirits of the dead. Knowledge could be gained, and secrets learned that had not been spoken since the world was new.

Inari was not a very wise Karian, but he hoped that daring would do just as well.

He came out of the forest all at once, stumbling slightly as a single step carried him through a veil of mist and shadows and into a vast clearing at the very heart of the land. Though the young Prill knew that it was several hours yet before sunset, here, it was night. The stars gleamed like jewels in the black, and an unearthly chill hung heavy in the air. Before him was a vast, cold lake, its waters glowing with a faint blue light, refracting off of the trees, and the brush, and the shadows, and the mist with every shift and every ripple of the wind. Mist clung faintly to the surface of the water.

He stared.

A pathway lay before him, great rocks rising up from the depths of the glowing lake, their tops serving as humble stepping stones. He wondered at the justice of it. Such mighty boulders surely deserved more than that, but there they were. In the middle of the lake was a green island. Green moss, green grass, trees with green leaves, a stark contrast to the purple forest all around the lake. A stone altar sat a short way from the island’s shore.

Inari stepped forward. “I have come seeking the wisdom of those who went before,” he announced. He produced a small knife, cut his hand, and spilled three drops of blood into the lake. “I make my offering. One for those who went before. One for those who dwell in the sunlit world. One for those yet unborn.”

The red of his blood seeped through the lake, colouring its water, colouring its light far in excess of what was offered. A red haze sprang up, and a voice whispered from the shadows like the wind through the leaves, “Go back. You are not of the ones we seek.”

Inari nearly dropped his knife. He had not until this moment actually expected that anything would happen. “I have come seeking wisdom. My quest...”

“Is not our concern. You bear not the Mark. The way is shut. Leave us, Fox-child.”

The red light began to fade.

“Wait!” Inari called. To have come so far and get nothing? This was intolerable. He stepped onto the first of the stepping stones, then the second. “Wait, you can’t just send me away! Elder Winter sent me on a sacred quest.”

The red light went out, and for a moment Inari stood in pitch darkness, only the stars visible overhead and yet illuminating nothing of his surroundings. Then the stars too faded, and he knew no more.

When he returned to his senses, he lay facedown at the border of the Forest of Shadows. The sun shone brightly, and the air was clear. His head hurt like it had been beaten on by a horde of sugar-high Zipsum. Groggily, he sat up and rubbed his head.

“Well,” he said. “That could have gone better.”

3 comments:

Aric Clark said...

GM's Disclaimer - this story isn't necessarily canon. I may use it in the game, I may not. It's cute so we'll leave it up, but don't necessarily expect it to come up in the next few sessions.

Paul Wise said...

I didn't think there was a very large chance of it ever coming up in game. I thought of it more as a neat little 'elsewhere in Karia' sort of thing, and figured that on the off chance that it did come up, I may as well put in some hooks that could be made use of, but is sufficiently vague that it could be unrelated to the player characters. There are many kinds of marks, after all, and not everyone in the world is busy with our business.

Douglas Underhill said...

I wish I had more time to write stuff for this blog. But that in and of itself is a good thing, right? Seven hours before I have to be up and I just now got around to finishing skimming my theology reading. Ah well. I like the ongoing storyline outside the "canon". It does give a sense that the world is populated by more than a couple dozen movers and shakers :)


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