~A Quiet Mu’Reign.

The journey here was longer and harder than I expected. Everything was so much simpler back home near the Palace. When one of the Gods from the Pantheon asked for volunteers for a mission to try and work at solving our children issue, it was so easy to put my whispered name forth.

Now, it’s been months since I’ve heard the Singers and part of me wonders if all those grand vistas and memories were just fantasy. Ruth’Moor has been a constant presence, and the only thing that makes me think my past might have been real.

When we pass through the boundary storm, the pureblood expanded their connections to rest of us. Allowing even the newly found Voices and Heroes to insulate the Quiet of us that remain. For whatever reason, Ruth’Moor herself held my body close as the chaos spilled and churned around us. Enough power in the air to asphyxiate those of us without true lungs to breathe.

Once we’ve passed through the worst of it, she set me back on my feet. I gaze up at her beautiful countenance, “Thank you, Milady.”

When she turns those mesmerizing eyes to mine, I always get lost in their depths, “No. Thank you little one.” When she sings, the sorrow in her song makes me weep. Though I’ve learned not to ask about it or apologize anymore. I just let my joy at serving her shine forth and pray that’s enough.

“We’ll arrive soon,” her wonderous voice trails off before she gathers herself and smiles back at me, “Let’s see what Destiny has in store for us.”

I watch her as she walks away, though when she meets up with those with harsh voices I look away. It’s easier to tune out the noise they make when I’m not looking at them and so I huddle up with the other Quiet and we sing a tune of journey’s end and new beginnings. Though our Quiet choir is soon eclipsed by a new pair of melodies that fill the forest. One with the resonance of an unknown elder and her counterpart a blazing percussion of wrought metal and a depth of heat.

Their voices are a lovely balm against the counterpoint of the harsh static from the human responses, especially after days’ worth of travelling alongside them. Despite this, I feel no Call towards them and so as I soak in their presence, I also look to my final few clutch mates.

It starts small, subtly with him, though soon the rest of us have gathered around to listen to him Speak for the first time, “Not large and forceful. Nor too small to notice. But a blend. Alongside a spark of light, of color…” He reaches out his hand, and at the tip of his finger a new pair of teeny wings unfolds. They flap and buzz, trying to pull themselves out of the cocoon of his flesh when there is a strobe of color.

As several other spots pulse with light and other wings sprout from his hand, he smiles and having found his Voice, tells us what he has discovered, “{Fireflies}.” At his first true word the fireflies burst into flight and dance around in front of us. His delight mirrored on our faces at seeing another one find their Call and grasp it.

The winking lights are such a beautiful ballet I can pretend I don’t notice the flash of realization on his face shift into one of sorrow and pity when his gaze passes over the rest of us. He quickly masks his expression with a smile and bids us farewell, even as he continues the performance before us.

It’s only because Ruth’Moor was so close and that I also hear her words in their conversation, “Congratulations. I was very nearly your Muse, but it would seem our hosts helped refine that into something more.”

I can’t help but turn to Milady and watch her as he speaks with her. For the longest time it was the two of us, hanging onto her every word, and now I’m alone. I see him bow and hear the pain in his voice as he responds, “I’m sorry, Ruth’Moor. There were already so few of us left-“

She brushes aside his apology, “None of that now, Fyer’Fleye. I knew it would be a risk even attempting to bring the Quiet all the way here. Bringing more Voices into the Hymns is task enough. There was never any guarantee my idea would pay off. So, rise and join your brethren. Soak in the rich air and prepare to meet your first Haunt.”

The closer we get to our destination and the fewer of us that remain, the more common this scene. I try to understand the pain, the sorrow they feel, the pity they try to hide, but it always slips away from me. Though now… there is a fluttering just barely out of reach. I feel it, deep within, the beating of wings. But when I watch my old clutch mate and Ruth’Moor, neither of them feels right. Nor too is the new strange not-elder correct.

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Of them all, the closest and yet still too far away is the not-elder’s partner. Not his voice, but there’s something closer about his wings. But it’s not… quite…

Milady calls for us to move out once more. The voice of fires and thunderous clinks of metal takes flight and soars into the distance. Fyer’Fleye asks after the other and she walks with him, singing and sky dancing in their own huddle together.

We arrive at the edge of a bizarre sect of woods. Looking at them makes me dizzy, sleepy and confused. Because I’m both certain the trees are strange and yet cannot find anything special about them to-

“%Whoa there. I’ve got you. Take it easy. Ruth’Moor is having everyone pull back from the barrier to talk with DNA about the strength of the {Drain} in his |Forest of Dreams|.%”

It is the bright one that has hold of me. Her voice is so rough upon my ears, but her touch and light are soothing enough that I can bear it, “What happened?”

She smiles down at me, “%From what they’ve worked out there was an occlusion problem where Life’s new membrane wasn’t overlapping properly with the entry barrier. Thing apologizes for any undue harm they’ve caused, their curiosity at meeting new Mu’Reign put too much stress on you Sleepers. Err, Quiet ones.%”

I shake my head to try to better clear it, but end up frowning up at her, “I don’t understand.”

Her face flushes for a moment and she pauses with a thoughtful expression, “%A newborn God focused too much attention your way and seems to have caused the weak among you to lose consciousness. They are sorry and have offered reparations for the dishonor they have caused. Another God is working with the Dungeon, err, Haunt rather, to better shield the outside lands from their sibling’s inadvertent harm. To prevent such an incident from being able to occur again.%”

Her light has restored much of my strength, but my shock at hearing what she’s spoken spills out, “The Haunt is a Primordial? But Ruth’Moor said its representative Omen was a Hero when she found it mere months ago!” My speech started hushed, even though I shamefully lost control towards the end.

The bright one turns her head and I see her free hand drop to a pommel as a flash of her protectiveness washes over me. Yet, she quickly relaxes and when I turn to look where she did, Milday is there, walking towards us, “DNA is a half-step from being a Primordial, but he’s not yet reached that lofty height. Though even this much growth is unheard of, not even the oldest songs of Pantheon and Palace speaks of such prosperity.”

As she reaches us, I sit up under my own power to better face her, adore her, and she graces me with that brilliant wonderous smile again, “I’m glad you’re okay little one. Of your clutch mates, you were impacted the hardest by Thing’s Gaze. Even as a Quiet one, your strength isn’t in your flesh alone. I’m hopeful we’ll find your Calling within. There are many others like myself and Fyer’Fleye once we cross over. I just pray your Muse is found before your Voice is stolen for good.”

Milady bestows a bow upon the bright one, rising only when lifted up by a hand upon her shoulder, “Thank you Alex. For caring for her.”

Alex shakes her head, “%Everyone has their own role to play. Mine grants me a healing touch and a tough carapace, but I lack the strong jaws and sharp claws that you have in abundance. That’s why we work together. In the Gestalt, we are mighty.%”

Milady nods, “In the Gestalt, we are one.”

I add a verse from our Hymns, “Unity in song.”

I feel so fulfilled when she rustles my hair, each caress sends a trill throughout my body. So happy to have been worthy of praise.

The Quiet spend the rest of the day and the night bunked down in our little campsite. Some of the Voices spend their time rotating between sleep and making sure none of us wonder too close to DNA, while others get the opportunity to symphonize within the haunt.

They tell us they are tuning the orchestra so that we may experience the music as well. But if all it took was a single God looking at us too closely, I’m unsure they will manage to be soft enough to not deafen us with their first note. But if such is my part, then I will play it with all that I am.

I’m startled awake during the night, and for a moment, I’m at a loss. The air is thick with life and heat and there is a chaotic panoply of scents on the breeze. But though interesting, none of that is what woke me. As I sit up and look around, there isn’t anything to see that would cause me to-

There is a heavy darkness behind me now. I can feel its weight, so close it is to me. I hold myself still as it approaches closer. There is a pause, a pail of silence upon the world for just a moment as I feel a rush of hot breath against my neck. The darkness takes in a deep whiff of my head, and I feel so small, so fragile in this moment. I mourn being taken by the jaws of death when I was so close to fulfilling my purpose.

A tongue lashes the top of my head. Hot, damp and rough it scrapes against my scalp, and then there’s another whuff of breath as the light leaves my eyes. A massive, soft paw lands on my shoulder and presses me to the ground. Lost in the darkness before the end, I’m captivated by twin shimmering moons of pearlescent light.

There is a deep rumbling thunder that resonates through me from the paw holding me down. And then a voice, quiet like a far-off storm speaks to me, “^Sleep, little cub. A new dawn awaits.^” The impossible heaviness of his weight moves from me and I close my eyes, but as I’m sinking back into dreamland, “^A Challenger. Finally.^”

When next I open my eyes, it is morning and I wonder at my vivid dream. So unusual in how mundane it felt, yet when I reach up to touch my head I stop. In my hand, between the fingers of the hand I brushed through the fur of darkness itself, there are strands that devour the light. Only a sparse few, but they are real, and I bring them to my chest.

Heart full of joy at meeting the new dawn, I look forward to what Challenges lie ahead.