> Sternmelos

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> Noun

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> Translation: Star Mushroom

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> Definition: The "Sternmelos" are a rare variety of mushrooms known for their bioluminescent properties. These fungi emit a magic glow and are typically found in regions rich with the ley lines energy, known as "Ormsaat." The Sternmelos is a catalyst for powerful hallucinations that weave together the realms of dreams and nightmares. Ingesting Sternmelos can precipitate a journey through the psyche, revealing visions that oscillate between the reality of the now and the fabric of the Veilla, often leaving the user in a state where those boundaries are temporarily dissolved.

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> CAUTION: Sternmelos are highly addictive! Please, consume them with moderation! If you consume don’t operate in heavy machinery, don’t consume while pregnant, and be sure to be with someone sober. Stay safe!

Every morning, Noctavia could smell the scent of flowers, particularly golden lilies that covered the house from ceiling to floor. Yeso's happiness was present with every step he took. More flowers seemed to sprout from him. She was unaware of why. Why would Yeso sprout these flowers? They would sometimes stick for days, if not for moons, and other times, they would vanish in the blink of an eye. But still, it was clear evidence that her Hexe was happy, and she loved them, each petal of them.

They had been secluded in Faewood for three moons now, blissfully detached and unaware of the happenings of the wider world. The cold and news from Whitestone had not yet reached Faewood.

Noctavia woke up on their bed as usual, which was actually more of a nest than anything else, ingeniously woven from branches, silks, and vines. Dangling from the ceiling, it possessed a delicate balance, swaying ever so slightly with her every movement. This gentle rocking motion was unexpectedly comforting. Cocooned within her blankets, she felt akin to a little bird. A very spoiled little bird.

Her days unfolded in a series of rituals meant to pamper her. Mornings greeted her with breakfast in bed, typically an assortment of fruits and seeds prepared by Yeso's godmama. Then, Howl would lead her on walks through the forest, but these were no ordinary woods; it was an astonishing landscape, dreamy even. They were a symphony of glowing lights and unfamiliar flowers, creating a spectacle like light bubbles floating under the forest canopy. In the background, there was always the voice of a faerie singing in chorus with birds or winds. It made her feel like walking inside a dream that she couldn’t understand to its full extent.

In the afternoons, Yeso would hunt game for her, and together, they would enjoy a picnic in a secluded spot, a respectful distance from the vegetarian, sort to speak, faeries that hosted them. It wasn't so much about concealing their actions as it was an act of courtesy towards their gracious hosts.

Every day brought Noctavia new knowledge, pieces of Yeso's childhood, new experiences, and a growing sense of contentment. But above all, her happiness stemmed from seeing Yeso so happy and at peace. She now understood why he cherished this place so deeply.

As the days passed by, Noctavia found that walking had become increasingly challenging. The weight of her growing belly and the persistent ache in her lower back were constant reminders of her advancing pregnancy. Despite this, she endeavoured not to complain, aware of how attentively Howl and Yeso watched over her, always ready to drop everything at a moment's notice to come to her aid.

"Master?"

"I'm okay, Howl. We can walk a bit further," Noctavia reassured him, even as she supported her back with her hand.

"Let's go home."

"I'm fine," she insisted. Her determination stemmed from a deeper need. She wanted to return to a specific clearing in the heart of the woods, a modest spot marked by a lone stump. It was there, less than a moon ago, that a vision had come to her, and it was essential for her to revisit the place.

She needed to see it again, to delve deeper into it and grasp the meaning of what she had witnessed. The entire sequence of events was set in motion by a seemingly innocuous bowl of soup – a mushroom soup, to be more specific.

Unbeknownst to Noctavia, she consumed it as a normal part of her breakfast routine. In the absence of Yeso, who might have cautioned her otherwise, she had no reason to suspect anything unusual about it. The soup contained star mushrooms, named not for their shape but for their distinctive blue glow, reminiscent of a starlit sky.

Only later did Noctavia learn about these mushrooms' unique properties. They grew on ley lines, imbued with energies that rendered them powerfully hallucinogenic, especially to those unaccustomed to their consumption.

The effects they induced were not just simple hallucinations; they tore through the fabric of reality, transporting the consumer into an entirely different realm of experience. Present, past or future, it didn't matter.

The faeries, familiar as they were with the peculiarities of their forest, couldn't provide much insight. Being intrinsic creatures of the ley lines themselves, they had never undergone the effects of the star mushrooms. As a result, their understanding of the experience was limited, offering little guidance to Noctavia in her unexpected journey.

Noctavia chose not to tell Yeso about her experience. Her reluctance derived not from the accidental consumption of the mushrooms but from the nature of what she saw during the vision. The revelation was disturbing, unsettling, and deeply biased, compelling her to grapple with its implications alone.

Upon reaching the clearing, Noctavia leaned back against the stump, her gaze lifting to the sky, veiled by foliage radiating a soft, green glow. Beside her, the Howling Night, who had been unusually quiet, signalling his concern, rested his head in her lap.

She closed her eyes, hoping to rekindle the vision that had so profoundly affected her, but nothing materialized. The notion of deliberately using a hallucinogen during her pregnancy was not something she considered prudent, but it started to be tempting.

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Gently patting Howl's head, her mind wandered back to the haunting vision. It featured a young man with golden hair akin to her own and bearing a striking resemblance to Mediah, yet cropped unevenly near to his scalp. He had a golden infinity symbol between his eyebrow, and his eyes and lips were sealed with crude stitches, presenting a visage both haunting and pitiable. He leaned wearily against the stump beside her, and in his arms, he tenderly held a baby, a menschen with delicate wings. It was evident in his demeanour that his time was drawing to a close, his tears and murmured words all directed towards the innocent child he cradled.

His eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, held the baby with an intensity that seemed to transcend time itself. "You promise you'll be strong, right?" he whispered, his voice a soft caress in the still air. "Everything is going to be okay. I've made certain of it." A wistful smile danced upon his lips, bittersweet and tender, “This is the right one; we did it, you’ll see. Everything will be alright.” He coughed some blood stain on his arm but still smiled. “No more End of Time, right?”

His voice started to crack, "I'm just sad that I can't stay by your side, but at least you're free from our hex. You can meet other guys or, … maybe girls? Though they won't be as handsome as me," he added with a playful tone, trying to hide his trembling voice.

"But please," his tone shifted, an earnest plea colouring his words, "stay away from dragons. And... and... I don't have a single regret. If given the chance to do it all again, I would embrace every moment, every step." His gaze softened, a gentle laughter escaping him, lightening the gravity of the farewell. "Perhaps I would have stolen that kiss from you a tad sooner..." he mused, his eyes twinkling with unspoken stories translated into tears. “Like very, very sooner!”

Gazing at her, a cascade of memories seemed to pass through his eyes. "Even as a baby, you are adorable, damn you… Do you imagine how our kids would be... I truly love you. I know these words might fade from your memory, but I love you so much." His voice trembled slightly. "I just want you to find happiness. The world," he paused, his expression turning solemn, "needs golden lilies like you more than you can fathom. Be happy, Eura. Please be happy as much or even more happy than I was with you."

And as he spoke these final words, his body began to disintegrate into a myriad of golden butterflies. Each butterfly, glowing with soft, ethereal light, fluttered upwards, creating a swirling vortex of luminescence. They soared gracefully, guided by an unseen force, toward the direction of Yeso's godmother's house, leaving behind a trail of shimmering light and the echo of a love that defied the bounds of time and magic.

The name 'Eura' reverberated in her memory, a name he repeated over and over with such love and such devotion that only a hexe could feel.

The vision filled Noctavia with an inexplicable sadness. Why was she witnessing the final moments of a man losing everything dear to him? The sorrow was overwhelming, fracturing her heart in a way she had never experienced. She felt his loss as if it were her own, yet knew it was not. Or was it?

Despite this turmoil, Noctavia hesitated to share this with Yeso. His joy upon their arrival at Faewood had been more than obvious. So, she remained silent.

A sudden shadow enshrouded her, coaxing her eyes upwards. His soaked dreadlocks cascaded around his scarcely clad form, except for the short trousers that ceased just above his ankles. "Why are you sad?" Yeso asked while nestled beside her, draping her with a wing drenched yet comforting, and his gaze intensely fixed on her, probed once more, "Why are you sad?"

She felt the urge to deny, to mask her truth, but it was a futile endeavour against her Hexe. "I had a vision," she confessed, her voice a mere breath in the air.

"Was it so troubling?" he gently pressed.

She nodded.

"Do you wish to talk about it?" he asked, not forcing but subtly drawing her closer. His skin, though wet, was a refreshing contrast, radiating a scent of pine mingled with the essence of rain-soaked earth.

"Not at this moment," she whispered, "Why are you drenched?"

"I went on fishing, prepared our lunch, and then sought you out," he explained, a chuckle in his voice. "I thought you might be tired of meat yet still in need of protein, so I turned to fish..." He paused, his laughter softening, "It appears I'm not very good at it. But I tried!"

She leaned closer to him, "Thank you."

"I want to help you as best I can," he said, "I can feel you are tired, that your feet are swollen, your back hurts, and you're sad. I hate to feel you sad and not knowing why."

"I had soup!" she blurted.

"So, you're not hungry?" he asked, slightly puzzled.

"No, I mean, I ate soup the other day," she clarified, "The one your godmama made."

It took a moment for Yeso to comprehend her reference, his eyes widening in realization. "Are you okay? Do you... know where you are?"

"Yes..."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was unaware myself," she murmured, "And then..."

"Then, what exactly did you see? Something you're reluctant to tell me?" His kiss was gentle upon her hair's crown. "Is our child in danger?"

"No," she assured.

"Could I be the one facing danger?" he probed softly, his hand tenderly brushing hair from her eyes.

She shook her head, a silent negation. "I don't believe so."

"What about our friends?" His question was a whisper, a feather-light touch on her cheek.

"I don't know, Yeso," her voice wavered, betraying her internal conflict.

A thoughtful hush briefly enveloped them, a serene pause in their conversation. Yeso, guided by an almost otherworldly intuition, shattered the silence. "Is Eura implicated in this?" he asked.

"I think she might be," she admitted.

"We journey through lessons of the past, embrace the reality of the present, and often harbour fears for what the future might hold. But, I'm not entirely sure that Eura will ever cross our path," he mused thoughtfully, his embrace around her tightening.

"Why are we experiencing these visions, these fleeting peeks into an unknown?" she pondered aloud. "Visions of creatures that don't seem to exist in our reality."

"Perhaps it's not us who are haunted by these visions. Maybe we are the visions haunting them," Yeso suggested, his voice laced with a subtle smile as if attempting to dispel the shadows that clung to her heart.

"It's not just her, though... her Hexe is also intertwined in this," she reflected a hint of perplexity in her voice.

"I don't know, my love. I don’t…"

"But somehow, that idea is strangely comforting," she confessed, nestling closer into his embrace, finding solace in his presence, seeking just a few moments more in the safety of his arms. "His name is Esra. Esra Ann."

"But our son will be Orlo," Yeso gently corrected, "So, we are good."

A smile, soft and tender, touched her lips at the sound of Yeso uttering their son's name for the first time.

> "Both humans and elves, believe in a higher entity, a deity reigning over the common mortal. It's a shared understanding among the other creatures – gods, in the traditional sense, do not exist in our realms. Spirits, contrary to ancient beliefs, don't exist to be served by us. Instead, they aid those who carry within them the seed. I think I have explained enough in the previous manuscripts what those seeds are. Yet, there lies an intriguing contradiction in our collective consciousness. We, beings of diverse origins, are inexplicably drawn to transcendental phenomena. Take, for instance, the profound significance we place on the meanings of dreams, the transformative visions induced by a simple star mushroom, or the deeply rooted belief that, in one way or another, our paths will intertwine again in another life. We don't bow to a deity, yet we invariably, and perhaps unconsciously, follow the enigmatic guidance of our hearts. The only truth that we all agree upon." ——The Hexe - Book One by Professor Edgar O. Duvencrune, Special Edition, 555th Summer