Chapter One- The Gathering(sign ups)

[Jackel]

The line where the water meets the sky appears hazy, just before the colors begin to warm with the promise of a rising sun.  I find myself atop a ragged cliff,  overlooking the coarsely fragmented coast on the other side of the Sylvan boundary mountain range.  It took me quite the long while to get here, treading tirelessly up and down the narrow switchbacks of the unforgiving mountains.  Several times I had to work my way backwards, having come to an impassable dead end.  A time or two I had nearly slid off the face of the crags, my rounded toes having found no purchase on the slippery slag, though I had caught myself with an uneasy ferocity and determination—I had a goal today and I was not going to meet it too early.

Some may have gotten unnerved by where I stood standing now as I line my chipped hooves up with the edge of the rock face.  I drag my eyes from the misleading, warm hues of the sky to the raucous, gray waves retaliating against the cliffside with watery fists.  Whatever has angered mother sea today, I do not know, but I will use the phenomenon to my advantage.

Raising my head back upwards, I close my eyes ceremoniously as a smile of utter contentment splits my face.  I am at peace, for however slightly that moment may be, and I find a brief moment of internal silence as the voices are drowned out by the rush of waves.  In fact, it is almost as if the water is cheering for me, applauding me, beckoning for me to kill the suspense, for they know what is about to happen as I do.  But I enjoy their torture for now, revisiting the  thought of how the act of death or sex seems to be the only saving grace I truly have.  It’s not much, but at least it’s something.  There are simple, consuming feelings associated with each appropriately.  Where death brings upon a quiet, floating calm, sex brings a ravenous, pleasurable ecstasy and these two simple acts are enough to help me focus my thoughts, if only for the briefest of moments.  But it is enough.

Muscles coil and release then, launching myself off of my perch and into the awaiting rocky sea crown.  The pain is magnificent, but brief, and darkness wraps me in her familiar feathery embrace once again.  Quicker than I had hoped, I am upon the tangible threshold between limbo and the other side.  Like the sickest game of keep-away, I am teased and taunted as I approach the flickering light, because I know all too well what will happen next.  As I reach out and am just about to pass through, my vaporous body will go heavy and weighted, before being ripped backwards though a vacuum and spat back out into the reality of this disgusting world.  Though I know this cruel game, it does not stop me from trying to touch the light each time, and now is no exception.  But my reach hesitates, considering what would happen if I didn’t try to pass through and stayed in limbo instead.  Looking behind me, all I can see is varying shades of blackness and shadows.  I blink before I snarl uncharacteristically, ”Fuck that.” That’s no way to live.  Turning back to the light source, I reach out again with quiet resolve, ready to be catapulted backwards, but imagine my stunned surprise as whatever is left of my body continues to ascend toward the light.  There is no heaviness or disorientation, no, there is only a sudden lightness and brightness as my fallen smile grows wider realizing that I was finally passing through at last.  The brightness continues to grow in intensity and I have little choice but to shield my eyes against the blazing white.

Somewhere in the distance the muted sound of metal upon metal is enough alarm to cause my eyes to reopen, though they are only met with the sight of more stark whiteness.  In rapid succession I blink my eyes, trying to focus on something, anything.  A minute passes and I begin to relax when outlines of shapes begin to appear.  But I do not have to wait for the shapes to completely materialize because a familiar twinge in my gut is telling me this is not Beqanna anymore.  The white frame of a rounded metal bed appears in front me, and I don’t have to lay on it to remember how uncomfortable the lumpy springs feel upon my back.  An angular desk and chair is pushed into one of the corners of the room, but I don’t have to look to know it’s there.  I am sitting on the cold floor with my back pressed against the wall as I rest my chin upon my skinned, pale knees.  The thin white gown I wear does little to protect me from the frigidness of this place and I use my long white-blonde hair as a shawl to blanket my shoulders.  I hadn’t realized I had closed my dark eyes until they slowly reopen on their own accord.  It’s nearly impossible to focus on the bed nearby as the lines begin to blur while my vision becomes marred by unshed tears.  The sound of my own voice is grating in my ears as the whisper is enough to shatter the bitter quiet, ”Not again.”

[Pond]

Pond has been enjoying her new life on the island of Ischia, wandering through the jungles and relishing the feel of sand beneath her hooves again. It’s not the same as the Dewdrop Deserts where she was born so very long ago, but it is at least somewhat familiar. She particularly likes the nighttime, when the ocean wind is cool, the waves are gentle, and the shores glow gently blue.

But there are still times when the wanderlust takes hold of her heart and she gazes across the ocean and dares to traipse across the sandbars at low tide. There are times she longs for her true home, for her parents, for her family across the channel (all of whom she hasn’t even met yet). Sometimes she imagines herself flying with her mother and father, cloaked in warm winds and bathed in sunshine as they glide perfectly over the dunes, but then the water laps around her hocks and she remembers the true reality of her new life.

Tonight, she is wandering along through the tidepools, sniffing and snorting at the starfish and crabs and sand dollars that scoot lazily through the froth on the beach. Her family and her former life are far from her mind for now and instead she is enjoying the breeze along her shoulders and combing through her short mane. She has grown quite a lot since her arrival here on the island - longer legs, stronger heart - and sometimes she takes pride in herself for that. It hasn’t been easy adjusting to a world some decades older than the one she was born into, after all.

Tonight is a little different, however. After she clambers out of one rocky little tidepool, she finds herself on the pale white sand again… except this time it feels a little different. Rather than cradling her weight like usual, the sand seems to sink below her hooves. It grows softer and less solid, swallowing her slowly until she can’t seem to pull herself free. Before she knows it, she has sunken down to her knees.

With a sharp squeal of surprise, she tries to fight back but by now it is too late and she cannot lift a single leg free from her sudden plight. It swallows her up quicker and quicker until suddenly she has disappeared beneath the shore.

But then, as suddenly as she had vanished from the Ischian shore, she finds herself standing on a nearly mirror-opposite shore...except this time the sky is below her and the ground is above and she fears that she is falling. Her feet remain planted on the ground, however, and although her heart is racing she quickly realizes that she is in no danger. It’s as if she is looking at her reflection in one of the clear freshwater springs back on the island she’s come to call home.

Hesitantly, she takes a few steps forward and finds that everything is just the same except for her gravitational orientation. The waves still slosh gently beside her, the stars still shine over her head (or below, depending on how you look at it) and the sand still crunches quietly underfoot. When she looks out over the ocean, though, she notices a strange movement nearby - a swirling sort of movement that shouts at her instincts to turn away and flee. She stays, though, and watches, fixated.

In just a few more moments, a massive figure breaks through the surface of lapping waves - it is flat and shiny and looks slimy to the touch with two giant golden eyes on either side. “Hello,” it hisses and it takes a moment before she realizes it is speaking telepathically; its fanged mouth is still hidden below the waves. “Will you keep me company? I have traveled so long and so alone. I chose you, Pond, to come along with me.”

Pond stares in shock and disbelief, jaws locked closed and limbs frozen in place. The creature chuckles in her mind before it clambers up closer to the shore. Its great jaws part wide, its snake-like tongue reaches out, and before Pond can even react, it has taken her gently into its mouth. She catches one last glimpse of the upside-down shoreline before the toothy maw closes around her and with a single, quiet gasp, she is taken away.