It was winter, it always seemed to be winter here, despite the city’s name attesting to the contrary. A young girl, no more than six years of age stared distractedly out of a window on the upper floor of a many-roomed mansion. The house was situated in one of the city’s more well-to-do districts, and Morrah found that she had been spending more and more time in this place as of recently. Up until then she had lived with her mother and father in a series of small camps throughout the wilderness and had begun to think of those dusty trails as home.
Her parents were her whole world, and existing with them out in that vast wonderful wilderness just seemed right, like this was the proper way to live, just you and your family traveling the winding roads of a vast nameless forest without a care in the world.
They would, of course, stop occasionally for a week or two, posting up with “relatives” as her mother called them, though, Morrah couldn’t understand how anyone could be related to so many people. What was more, they all had much sharper and more angular features than she, much more similar to her mother’s and less so to her and especialy her father.
Such concepts would have been lost on her in those days, but now looking back she thought of how all of those supposed relatives treated her rather poorly, looking down their long noises at her not-so-pointy ears. Occasionally she would catch whispers too, when they didn’t think that she was around.
“It’s a pity, to think that our lady would waste her purity with a mortal man.” “I don’t understand what she sees in that oaf, and with such impressive suitors practically lining up for her hand.” “It’s a shame”
Shame, shame, shame. She didn’t know it then, but that is what they thought of her all those years ago. Those relatives, elves she now realized, were ashamed of her. They were ashamed of the fact that her wonderful mother had chosen to love a human man and to bear her, their only child, a half-elf.
This memory had no business dwelling in her mind, by all accounts those days were filled with joy and laughter, the only truly happy days of her life, but now the memories, long set aside, had resurfaced, and they made her feel uneasy. Everything after that had been so hard, her mother and father going away without warning and leaving her with distant relatives on her father's side. The change in scenery from the vast open wilderness to the stuffy confines of an overcrowded city filled her with despair. Neverwinter was no place for a child in those days, and all of the hardship that followed as the House of Moonshadow slowly declined over the years only enforced her pessimistic worldview.
All of it was so upsetting, so unfair, and now her mind was forcing her to relive these earliest days, the ones that she cherished and held most dear with such disparity, resentment, and, scrutiny she realized. It was as if some other force was focused solidly on this past detail of her life, way back at the beginning of her memory, and stuck there on one particular instance.
“Remember my love, whatever happens, your father and I will always love you. You are the light of our lives, and someday you will be the light of the world too.” Morrah remembered this moment, it was the last words that her mother ever spoke to her. Just before she and her father left her life and never returned.
But something was different, usually, this was where the memory ended, with the events that followed fading into obscurity as the commotion picked up all around her and she was pulled away from her mother. She had blocked out this part, it was too painful, she didn’t want to remember it, but something was compelling her to keep going. It was like she was locked here being forced to re-live the memory in full.
“Come on my love there is no time.” She heard a man’s voice say. “They’ve finally caught up with us, we have to go!” It was her father she realized. Through the crowd of figures, her mother turned to Morrah once more and gave her a sorrowful look, one that practically broke the poor girl's heart, and the memory began to fade then, her recollection all but played out. Before it had gone completely though she thought she heard one last thing, at the edge of her consciousness, a name she realized, the name of her father, but what the name was she could not be certain.
Then there was an audible gasp, as her mind’s parasite registered the word, letting slip her grip on Morrah as she did. In that moment it became clear that something was wrong, that someone had taken over her mind, and that this momentary lapse may be her only chance to escape. Morrah reached out with all of her willpower, fighting through the haze of a mind still half asleep, and she screamed.
Carric awoke with a start as Morrah cried out, and the astute wizard immediately realized something was amiss. The dark presence looming over Morrah was unmistakable, something had posed her and in a moment of clarity, she had cried out in terror. Without hesitation Carric began to chant the incantation to a counter curse, the syllables rolling off his tongue with practiced focus. His concentration did not waver as the apparent assailant attempted to throw scattered countermeasures his way, and the wizard managed to pry loose the creature’s hold on Morrah.
The first enchantment was dispelled and Morrah broke into a cold sweet as her face turned pale. A latent second enchantment took hold of her then, and Carric continued his work with the same practiced focus. “He he he, if I can’t have her no one can,” a wicked voice cackled with glee, and a third spell went off, a spiderweb of blackened veins shot up Morrah’s neck as necrotic waives of energy coursed through her. Morrah began to cry uncontrollably, her emotional anguish mixing with physical pain so horrible she was barely able to remain conscious.
Rory was up as well, only a split second after Carric, and recognizing the spell for what it was, a powerful incantation, but one that required close proximity to the target. They swung their flail seemingly directly towards Carric head, but the wizard, seeming not to notice continued concentrating on his counter curse.
The bladed head of Rory’s brilliant flail sailed cleanly past the wizard and made contact with a sickening slice. It landed right in the place where the assailant was most obscured by Carric, and just where Rory had suspected. They were dealing with a willy one that much was certain.
As the creature's concentration was broken, and her invisibility hex disrupted, she staggered backward several steps away from Morrah.
The form of an old crone wrapped in weathered rags stood before them with a pail, blue-tinted face that looked like it had long since succumbed to frostbite. A long crooked noise topped off the fearsome figure, and it was obvious what they were dealing with.
A hag of some kind, and a powerful one apparently, to be able to inflict such damage with a single spell.
“While I would love to stick around and play, my dearies, I’m afraid I must take my leave” and she let out a bone-chilling cackle as she finished.
“Until next time, he he he” and the hag seemingly faded into nothingness as she drifted off of the rocky ledge and evaporated into the brilliant mist above the water’s surface.
The party set two to keep watch after that, with none eager to go back to sleep after the unsettling encounter, and the remaining party members resumed a restless slumber until it was time for their shift, with Morrah being the only one they allowed to rest uninterrupted. This was a kind gesture, but it was perhaps a wasted one. Practically the whole night had passed before Morrah was able to get any sleep at all, and the party eventually thought it best to resume their march rather than linger in that place any longer.
The path continued for another two days, seemingly stretching on without change, until finally at noon on their fourth day on the sea, they arrived at the place they were destined to find.
They thought it was some trick of the light at first, a mirage caused by the dancing mists that wreathed them on all sides. A great palace rising from the sea appeared to be completely isolated from the cavern that they supposed they must still be inside, though only the distant ceiling above their heads presented itself as evidence to confirm this suspicion.
The palace was ancient in construction with an architectural style unlike any they had seen in the world they called home. It had soaring buttresses that supported thin, threadlike struts and seemed to reach upwards and outward to the heavens like strings of ribbon suspended from a vast ceiling. The whole structure looked incredibly light with its features seeming to be more firmly tethered to the heavens rather than any foundation that might be below it. This effect was reinforced by the mirror-like surface of the sea in front of it, the path to the entrance curving out wide to circle back so that on the approach one was afforded a full view of the structure and its glorious reflection.
The composition was further reinforced by the image of that reflection, which was so tall that the upper portion of the structure where the buttresses branched out like a tree, was so high above the surface of the sea that the edge of the path obscured the branching portion. The effect was that the building’s reflection only served to elongate the lower, straighter, section of the building, thus lengthening the tree-like form of its design. It was truly a sight to behold, and undoubtedly the destination that was intended for them.
As the party approached the enormous structure, the jagged stone path they had been following faded away and a pale cobbled floor took its place. The new path extended onward and towards the great vaulted entryway of the structure. The vast archway that marked this entrance seemed to emerge from the columns and struts that drifted down from above like ribbons of stone, and the arch and supporting architecture were adorned with the motifs of nature. These took the form of floral arrangements and vines and were clearly carved into the stonework by a master's hand. The effect was that the structure seemed strangely alive despite its solid material, and the group marveled at its craftsmanship as they continued onward
They walked through the threshold, which was left wide open without even a door to mark it, and stepped into a vast darkened space that somehow struck them with its enormity. It was the strangest thing, there was very little light in this space, without a single window marking its perimeter, yet its vastness was palpable, an enormous vaulted ceiling that sprung upward and away from them with an almost dizzying scale.
It was dark until suddenly they began to notice pillars emerging from the gloom, and then the walls that marked the outer perimeter became clear to them. Finally, astonishingly, they noticed the source of the pale light, a large glowing crystal that came into view at the far end of the hall suspended from a section of the ceiling where the vaulted structure came down on the other side. The crystal was tied down to the ground as well and though none of them had ever seen anything like it, they knew exactly what it was, a prison.
As the group drew nearer a faint voice called out. "I have been expecting you."
You hear the voice again, now clearly coming from the crystal. "I am the Goddess Sehanine, or as you may know me, the moon that illuminates your night sky. I have been imprisoned here in this cavern by the prince which you seek, doomed to linger in perpetuity bellow this desolate land, but I ask that you not concern yourself with me, for I have a request to make of you on behalf of my daughters. The very stars that you saw as you travel through this wondrous realm."
"Our sky was once much more brilliant, during my reign as queen and with my three most magnificent daughters by my side. There was Velayn, the Morning Star, keeper of the dawn and harbinger of day, Loralae, the Evening Star, commander of my rear guard and the keeper of night, but more magnificent than they, My eldest, Sharaea, The Northern Star, sentinel and steadfast guardian of the sky and sea. For even as the sky whirls and changes, she remains still, solidly grounding the heavens. Or at least this is how it was in the old days."
--Excerpt from Issue 374 of Dragon Magazeen, Court of the Stars: The Prince of Frost--
"For you see, In a time now forgotten, no winter ever gripped the Feywild domain known now as the Vale of the Long Night. The region was a place of light and joy. As home to the Summer Queen’s eldest son, it reflected the Summer Court where the vale’s inhabitants spent most of their time. In that court, the children of summer passed the long days with song and celebration, basking in the bright beauty and the company of friends. My daughters were three of the court's brightest lights in those days, scions of my domain.
"The greatest and loveliest, the Lady Sharaea, had been betrothed to the Sun Prince, a decision that I regret in retrospect. The eldest son of the Summer Queen, his true name now long forgotten, loved Sharaea with all his heart, and for a time she loved him in return. However, Sharaea grew disillusioned with the endless revelry of the court, and she began to spend her days in the mortal world, seeking to make a difference. Her summer lover grew jealous, but his attempts to pull her back only drove her farther away. She found new love in the arms of a young mortal named Hayne Kasar, a brave and selfless warrior, and together they fought to defend the innocent and battle the forces of darkness. Sharaea traveled at the side of her beloved. Their deeds and great love inspired songs, some of which survive to this day. In Sharaea’s absence, the heart of the fey prince grew colder, and in time he demanded that his betrothed return to the court. He insisted that she honor her vow and be wed to him. When Sharaea refused, the prince swore to capture and marry her, even if he had to keep her a prisoner in his domain. Sharaea knew she could not resist his power, and she feared for the safety of her mortal lover. So it was that she and Hayne ventured to Letherna and made a deal with the Raven Queen. In exchange for a favor to the goddess of death in the future, their souls were drawn from their bodies and cast forward in time, and one day they shall be reborn."
--End of Excerpt--
"Sharaea, while lost to the chasms of time did not suffer the same fate as her sisters. They now lay imprisoned by the prince in temples contrived by his twisted sense of fairness, to “safeguard them from the woes of loneliness,” the prince’s own words. Their they will lay in slumber until their older sister should return to him.”
“As you can see, I am a prisoner here too, and I also await the salvation that you wayward travels may offer.”
“Please, I beseech you, free my two daughters, and return here with them. With their combined might we may be able to break my chains and perhaps even challenge the Frost Prince.”
