Children and adult alike sat and watched as the man before them cast his small magics. Blue mist streamed from his hands as scenes of great heroes and battles laid out before them. The man spoke of histories long since past, as the figures in the mist shifted with each scene. Men clad in armor raced toward towering dragons that swatted them away like flies. Armies clashed into one another, soldiers raising their blades into the air in a silent battle-cry as they charged forth.

As the last vestiges of the sun were dragged over the horizon, the aethereal glow of the mist grew more intense with each passing moment. Shadows deepened, contorting as the scenes shifted. Shadow enveloped the man until he disappeared into nothingness. The mist grew, rolling through the crowd and into the town square. The crowd sat in wonder as they watched, curiosity nearly dripping from their mouths, but none dared speak, as if speaking would break the spell.

As if a giant inhaled deeply, the mist drew in upon itself into the town square, coalescing, at first into an amorphous form. It rose over the buildings, limbs becoming solidified. Taloned claws raked through the ground, a tail snaked through stalls that littered the area and wings spread wide in all their glory. A nightmare of teeth and claw stared down at the crowd, blue smoke escaping its maw. Children stared, a few flinched, seeing the monstrous sight.

An even brighter glow grew and shone through the beast’s chest, traveling upward into its throat. The beast reared back and in a silent roar, its maw opened, unleashing azure flames that erupted over the town. Wherever the monster’s breath touched, mist crashed into walls and building alike in turbulent waves. Adults laughed nervously as their children backed away into them as the tide rushed toward them. As the beast released its final breath, it craned its head over the crowd, striking out at them like a snake.

Before it reached them, it erupted into a spray of blue sparks that floated wistfully down onto the crowd, melting away like snow in sunlight. Hanging lanterns throughout the town ignited in blue flame whenever one mote of light landed upon it, beating away the now prevalent darkness in their otherworldly glow.

The small crowd stared frozen at the spectacle before bursting forth with applause. The man materialized from the shadows, rising from his seat, removing a flat-brimmed hat and bowed marginally at the waist, letting his raven black hair tumble before him. As if on cue, music flooded the air, the children springing from their seats on the ground and ran for their newest form of entertainment. The man chuckled to himself at the ever shifting attentions of children. Parents approached, thanking the man before they too wandered off toward the music.

Energy thrummed through the town as the festivities began. Like ants, the townsfolk streamed out of buildings and congregated in the town’s center, where they discovered stalls arranged in layers, a stage for the musicians set up at its center. The scents of roasted meets and baked good flitted nimbly through the air as the breeze carried it ever further to every nose. Mead and beer flowed readily into tankards and goblets, spreading warmth and courage to their eager recipients, fueling the joyful abandon of dancers.

As the celebrations began, the man watched from afar. Seated upon an abandoned barrel, he tapped his foot to the rhythm of the music and twisted a ring on his right hand, a smile upon his face. A lone figure approached him, leftover from the already depleted crowd. She walked to his side and if he sensed her; he did not show it.

“That was quite a spectacle you put on. I always enjoy getting to hear your stories.” He turned, smiling at her, removing his hat and placing it on his lap as he gave a slight bow of his head to her.

“Very kind of you to say, madam. It is your encouragement that always sees me back here to Kirwen.” His smile never faltered as he spoke, his eyes gleaming with sincerity. Her cheeks coloring at his words, she turned away as if to hide behind her fair hair and looking out upon the celebrations.

“Even with the festival upon us, it always feels so dreary when you must stop your stories. I always wish to hear more.” She dared not look back, but she could feel his gaze upon her. She heard shifting as he slid from the barrel and paced around it to face her properly.

“Well, can you tell me why we celebrate the Festival of Stars?” She scrunched her brow as she scrounged her mind for answers. Seconds passed as nothing substantial came to mind. She looked at him as if slightly embarrassed at that fact.

“Because it is beautiful?” She pondered aloud. “I guess I have never truly given much thought to it.” Again, his smile never failed, never judged her.

“Aye, it is quite the spectacle to behold, its true meaning and histories long lost to the annals of time for the majority of folk of these lands. Like the destiny of all, only a few will remember it until, they too, disappear.” The same glowing blue mist seeped from his palms like a waterfall of honey, slowly reaching the barrel’s lid and stretching out to its edges.

The mist condensed and rolled away, leaving behind the forms of two figures holding one another.

“Many centuries ago, the Princess Miralen fell in love with a commoner, Anduin. Their love burned bright and fierce, yet it was a forbidden one.” From the edges of the mist came a third figure, one with a crown upon his head. “Her father was king of these lands and more—a tyrant who would rather see the blame fall on his people for the kingdom's failed systems than lift a finger to help those in need.” The crowned figure walked toward the two embracing and pulled them apart.

“When he learned of his daughter’s affairs, he took this as a betrayal, locking away Anduin as her punishment.” The crowned figure dragged the other and disappeared from the edge of the barrel, leaving the lone figure who collapsed to her knees. The sound of distant crying echoed through the air, making Ariadne check her surroundings. “However, this unjust cruelty had shown her how monstrous her own father could be. Miralen inherited her father’s fierce will but had twisted it to do good for the people.” The lone figure rose, the mist shifting to a scene of a crowd watching another standing atop a stage, moving her arms animatedly with conviction.

“Loved already by the people for her fair treatment of them. She was able to rally a force to challenge her father.” Once more, the scene shifted. A king sat upon a horse, staring down as soldiers charged one another. The sound of weapons clashing rang through the air. “For seven long years, both sides won and lost battles, until ultimately, someone betrayed the princess’s forces and the king achieved a sweeping victory, decimating her forces and capturing her.” The princesses’ figure appeared in chains in front of the king and on his other side, a caged Anduin.

“For her punishment, he sentenced Anduin to death. She promised she would never stop and so requested to be sentenced alongside her lover. And in his blind fury, the king granted the request without thought.” The king’s form waved his hand, and the scene changed to the two figures upon a pyre, flames racing toward them.

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“They stood within the flames and did not cry out. In their last defiant moments, they held one another’s hand and welcomed death as the flames licked at their bodies. While the Gods vowed never to interfere with mortal affairs, they could not save them outright, but rather, could alter their fate.” The two figures began to glow, their brightness ever growing until they shot forth from the flames and into the sky. “The Gods gave them an eternity together as stars that race across the heavens together. They too took the souls of their fallen followers and now, every seven years, we are to remember their sacrifice and they gift us with the knowledge and peace that love can grant us if we will it to be.”

The mist sank and faded into the barrel as he finished his tale. He lowered his arms and looked at Ariadne. As she looked up at him, her eyes became partially misted.

“What happened to the king?”

“After everything, the dam of hatred broke and the rest of the people rebelled. With no line of succession, the kingdom broke apart into many kingdoms and then finally into the two we have today.”

“What a beautiful and tragic story of love. While I do not wish for such an ending, I hope to find a love like that someday.” Her eyes met his, and she shifted on her feet. As the silence stretched, it was broken by a barking voice came from the festival.

“Oi! Bard! There ye are. I have been lookin’ every which way for ye since I saw those children come running into the grounds.” His eyes shifted and landed upon Ariadne.

“Why hello Bailiff, your daughter here was asking about the history of our Festival of Stars and so I obliged with a tale.” The Bailiff looked back to bard and laughed, giving him a slap to the back that would have knocked him over the barrel if he had not already braced for it.

“Well, ye would not be much of a mythwright if ye did not answer all pleas for a story!” He spoke with mirth, but as he looked at his daughter, something shifted within and he grew serious once more. “Ariadne, why do ye not go and join the festivities, I need a word here with our mythwright for the moment.”

Ariadne looked to Bard and took his hand in hers.

“When you finish here, you must at least come and find me for a drink,” she said, her bottom lip sprouting as she pouted at him. He simply laughed and nodded. He simply laugh and nodded.

“I shall seek to accomplish your request, my lady.” She smiled up at him and looked at her father and glared at him as she walked off toward the music and dance. The Bailiff looked off after his daughter as she disappeared into the crowd of people and stalls.

“She be a fierce one, but a good lass none the less. Just as spirited and direct as her mother.” He turned toward Bard with a wink. He reached into his coat and withdrew a letter bearing the broken wax seal of the royal offices of Amberfell, handing it to Bard. As Bard unfolded the parchment, a wave of shock nearly overwhelmed him. He read on while the Bailiff continued speaking.

“The king summons all scholars of arcane lore - mythwrights, historians, and chronomancers, whatever the term - to the capital for urgent questioning. There are whispers of treasonous ideas circulating by their hand.” Bard shook his head as if to waking from a harsh nightmare.

“They should know that is untrue. They should know we only seek to show remembrance of lost histories. Not one of us would knowingly seek to corrupt that use.” Bard felt a deep sadness bubble up from within him, his thoughts ran wild. He breathed heavily and released a weary sigh. He felt a hand gently rest upon his shoulder and, as if remembering where he was, the turmoil within him slowly calmed. The Bailiff reached out and took the notice from Bard’s hand.

“There be no worry from us. None here would willingly turn ye over. However, it may be best ye leave, and soon.” The Bailiff reached into his coat pocket and produced a leather purse and handed it to Bard. “Day after every festival, soldiers come to check on us. That there is the pay for yer services and a little extra to help get ye a little further, hopefully cross the border to Eldheim.”

“Thank you Bailiff, I shall heed your words.” With the payment in Bard’s hand, the Bailiff gave one last friendly pat to his back and walked back toward the festival, the merriment a contrast to Bards own internal turmoil.

Placing the coin into his own pockets, he tried to steady his thoughts. Breathing slowly and rolling his shoulders back to straighten himself. With a long sigh, he looked toward the celebration.

“No use letting dark thoughts ruin the night.” With that, he walked into the festivities. The music and the heat of many bodies enveloped him. Bard walked from stall to stall, sampling the wares that were offered to him, and cheerfully rejected his coin. Seasoned meat sticks, sweetbreads, and honeyed mead filled his belly. By his third tankard of mead, the music called to him. Like a sirens’ song, it pulled him closer. He wound through the layers of stalls and weaved through the people.

As he exited the last ring of stalls, a sea of drunken dancers greeted him, their fluid and haphazard moves joyfully defying a collision. They swayed, dipped, and twirled, swept along by the infectious rhythms that pulsed through the night air. Bard leaned against a nearby stall, transfixed by the scene.

The light from the hanging lanterns bathed the town in blue light. The more he stared, the more it seemed the scene before him slowed in time. Shadows danced independently of their owners and the motion seemed to blur all together. The aethereal sheen cast over the dancers turned the bustling square into a realm of enchantment. As he gazed upon the otherworldly scene, he felt as if he had entered a dream - reality touched with a subtle magic.

A hand landed softly on his shoulder, bringing him back to his senses. He looked from the hand to the owner, only to see Ariadne at the other end, two tankards of mead in her free hand. She offered one tankard, which Bard graciously accepted, giving a mock curtsy in response, drawing a laugh from Ariadne that was swept away by the music. Their tankards collided joyously in cheers and they each sipped at their amber fuel.

After downing more than half of his drink, Bard looked to the sky. Looking back at Ariadne, their eyes locked as he raised his right hand above his head. With a snap of his fingers, a wave of sparks washed over them and in an instant, all of the blue flamed lanterns extinguished themselves, letting the full majesty of the night roll over the festival. A hush befell the crowd, and the music stopped with a dying vibration in the air.

Two brilliant stars passed gracefully by, igniting the night sky with their radiant glow before anyone could voice any complaints. All eyes watched as their luminous displayed intertwined one another, holding each other in their embrace. A shimmering trail of stardust seemed to ripple like a pond disturbed by a single pebble. As the two nearly reached the opposite horizon, a procession of stars followed in their wake. Each star softly painted the night in ever-changing hues until the canvas erupted into a mesmerizing kaleidoscope of color.

The spectacle enraptured the crowd. Minutes went by, and with each passing second, the display seemed to cleanse the weariness of the world from the onlookers. Shoulders lifted and backs straightened as if they had been carrying a monumental weight that suddenly lifted. Sighs of relief filled the air and eyes glistened as the display quelled the worrisome emotions that were bottled in one’s chest until it felt like they would burst forth. They knew deep down everything would eventually return, but for tonight, they were reborn anew and the coming days no longer seemed bleak.

As the display of stars slowed to a trickle, their magical affect dwindling, eyes unhooked themselves from the skies above. Festivalgoers looked from one another. Not a single eye was dry. Some only sported misty eyes they could easily wipe away, while others openly wept with the joy they felt inside themselves. Ariadne touched her own face and felt the cooling tears on her own cheek. Laughing to herself as she wiped them away, she turned to face Bard. Yet when she turned, she faced only empty air. She spun around in search of him, but could not wade through the immobile crowd around her.

Bard had already exited the town’s eastern gates.

They will be better off not knowing where I go from here, he justified to himself, trying to erase the pang of guilt that rose into his heart. He shook his head to clear the lingering thoughts, looking back only once at the now distant darkened town walls. He turned and continued his advance into the awaiting copse of trees and thicket, disappearing into the shadows of the forest as thunder rolled across the sky, dark clouds snuffing out the starlight.