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As Valerian tumbled through bright, rushing waters, was swept to a shimmering gate…

As elf and orc ventured into a cold, silent airship, its cabins thick with the dust of time…

As V47 Pilot spotted that hurtling claw-bucket…

As Kaazin shadow-stepped out of his (not very well) warded cell…

... It was a very fine day, with brilliant sunshine, brisk wind and a following sea. Their ship took the whale-road, turning her back to the perilous Blessed Isles. Everyone aboard had experienced trial there, and all had been subtly changed. Even Elmaris and Andorin, who’d stayed near the vessel, had felt trouble back home; sensed the stirrings of Chaos as Order surged forth to meet it. War was coming, sooner than anyone wanted.

Here and now, though, the doings aboard were less fraught. Late in the morning, everyone gathered on deck. They’d had a sumptuous breakfast provided by the ship’s invisible servants (whom Lady Alfea politely thanked, seeming to see and hear them). Alfea had promised to teach the three girls to fly, and this was to be their first lesson.

The lovely air-sprite finished nursing her daughter with manna and life-essence, then handed the sleepy infant back to Katina. The nanny bowed as she accepted Bean, murmuring,

“Nap time, Wee Love. Mummy’s got work to do.”

Katina seemed filled with a new, quiet joy and deep strength. The Isles had been kind to that good, loving soul, promising something that made her face glow.

Lady Alfea’s trial had been quite other, leaving her ready for battle and troubled for her absent young husband. Van was off in Karellon, facing great danger without her. She could not have gotten there faster by flying, though. Not with a baby and pup to care for. She had to be patient, trusting the gods and their plan. Now, the air-sprite manifested her beautiful wings. They flowed from her shoulders and back like a butterfly’s; brightly colored, translucent as glass.

“Come, little maids,” she beckoned, as their audience sat or leaned in a circle to watch.

The girls rushed forward as one, giggling and whispering. Ready (they boasted) for anything. Meanwhile the sun rose high in a bottomless sky, so blue and so pure that it blinded the eye (or, so Andorin put it, lightly strumming his dulcimer). Alfea smiled at them all, brushing a strand of drifting amethyst hair from her face.

“I have promised flight lessons, and so it shall be. Van has already taught you to ground yourselves in the flow and to summon up manna. Here at sea, there is much raw power, but first we must connect, greet Father Ocean, and then ask for his strength.”

The girls gathered near, eager and happy. Zara screwed her blue eyes shut obediently, reaching out with both hands as if trying to clutch something. Like a child, she gabbled,

“Hi, Father Ocean! It’s me, Zara… Papa and Mamma call me ‘Scamp’, and you can, too, if you wanna. I’m learning to fly, so please, please, pleeeease can I borrow some manna? I promise to give it back, Father Ocean. Thank you!”

Nobody laughed, though Lerendar had to bite his lip and look aside at Bea, his wife. Beatriz fussed with his braided gold hair, hiding a smile of her own.

Mirielle was next. Taking a deep breath, the little half-drow stepped forward. She was disguised again, sporting crackling flame-hair and multiple eyes rather than showing her own hated features. Keeping her voice firm, Miri said,

“Greeting to you, Father Ocean. I’m... going to look like myself now, if that’s alright. Lord Val says that it's fine to be me, sometimes, too. Even… even if half of me ’s dark-elf. So… so… here goes.”

And with that, pulling forth a small mirror and peering into its magical depths, Miri dropped her disguise. Her friends Pretty and Zara gathered close in support, as Mirielle shifted to storm cloud blue skin, violet eyes and curly brown hair. They knew, and they loved her anyway. With Zara and Pretty One patting her back, Miri went on to say,

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“This is me, but I guess you already knew that, Father Ocean. It’s our first lesson with Lady Fee, and I want to do good. Please, may I have some of your manna?”

Wind seemed to play with her chestnut curls as spindrift hissed over the bow, wetting everyone. (And possibly, that was an answer.)

Pretty One took strength from her very best friends. The trial on Epona had given her sorrow and courage, both, for much of their trouble was somehow her doing. Her fault, and her people’s. Said the young goblin, very quietly,

“S’ jus’ me, Ocean-lord. I bain’t one ter lift my head ter the ‘igh ones… that’s fer grand folks like Zara n’ Miri… but if yer listenin’ an’ it wouldn’t trouble y’ none… I’d like jus’ a bit o’ manna, Sir. Please?”

Pretty’s red eyes remained fixed on the swaying deck, while her own skinny arms wrapped the goblin-girl up in a hug. Mirielle and Zara were right there, too; lending the comfort of scent, nearness and warmth.

Lady Alfea smiled as all three young girls flared with sudden power, each of them showing a flash of silvery scales, dark round eyes or a very brief flutter of gills. Their greetings and prayers accepted, Zara, Miri and Pretty One seemed to shine with the ocean’s strength, ready to take the next step.

Alfea nodded approvingly, saying,

“When petitioning the god of a place… especially a mighty titan like Father Ocean… it is good to be very respectful, and Van has taught you quite well. Now, we shall focus this power to manifest wings, but that magic comes from within. At first, they will be mostly illusion, not lifting you well.”

Here, a chorus of anguished groans interrupted the air-sprite, who laughed at them lightly.

“Trust me that it is better so, little ones,” she told them, over the sea wind and spray. “Free flight, too soon, is a terribly dangerous thing. Your master, Valerian, was early to learn the spell Misty-Step, and he kept his entire family in constant alarm for his safety.”

Lerendar snorted in agreement. Off to one side, Katina nodded feelingly, remembering.

“Now,” continued Lady Alfea, when the storm of pleading and promises finally ended, “to the task at hand. You must have a clear mind, and hearts that seek of this gift nothing but freedom, safety and joy. Take the manna you have received gratefully, happily. Welcome it into you, and then slide it forth from your back or your arms… methods vary… seeing a magical extension that mirrors your soul. Go ahead… try.”

Each girl’s face was a study in fierce concentration and effort as they closed their eyes (blue, purple, red) and did as Alfea bade them. Mirielle was the first to succeed. Red-golden phoenix wings sprouted from her shoulders and back, their plumage lined in bright sparks. Not just seeing but feeling them, the young half-drow cried out in surprise. Her wings disappeared at that, but she’d done it. She had… and she could do it again. More than that, they weren’t ugly or evil, and maybe (just maybe) neither was she.

A very determined Zara next budded a pair of lacy, delicate dragonfly wings; two to a side. The excited small girl buzzed a short way into the air, shrieking,

“Look! Mama, Papa, look at me! I gots wings!”

Zara got halfway across to her parents. Papa and mama rushed forward, breaking the girl’s concentration. The deck tilted up to meet her when the wings disappeared, saving a bruising fall.

Everyone else was busy, distracted, and that was a good thing for Pretty. She’d drawn a little aside, had been quietly focusing, feet crossed sole over toes for good luck. At first, there was nothing. Then a slight warmth at her back and a tingling sensation. She hardly dared look, but…

Her wings were dragon-like; ribbed and membraned with gleaming and swirling soap bubble colors.

“Ohhh…” she breathed softly, spreading them out to cup wind. Rose a bit off the deck, murmuring, “Oh, Grampa, Kittlings… wait ‘ll yuns see.”

Then little Bean lifted up and out of Katina’s arms. Not with wings of her own, precisely. Boosted into the air by a swarm of fey-lights; a sparkling shower of tiny fairies that formed little birdwings for the chuckling babe. She reached out to Lady Alfea with both tiny, still-crumpled hands, blue eyes shining.

Miri, Pretty One and Zara at once shot across deck (well, hop-flew) to Bean, surrounding the baby and guiding her back to Katina.

“We have to look after her,” confided Mirielle. “That’s what they told us back on the island. ‘Take care of the princess, always!’ Right, Zari?”

Her friend nodded fiercely.

“It’s our quest,” she said, backing Miri. “Pretty knows, too, ‘cause we told her. We’re the honor guard for Her Majesty.”

Katina had taken the baby back. She was too startled to stop Bean when the infant stuffed a big fistful of her long copper hair into that toothless rosebud mouth.

“Her Majesty? Our wee little Bean?” wondered Katina, shooing fey-lights like gnats.

“Uh-huh! That’s why we need to learn more, quick as we can, Miss Katina,” said Miri, a bit anxiously. The phoenix wings lit up her face with their dawn-glow, bringing rich depth to her eyes. “Darkness is going to come after her, and we got to be ready to fight.”

Lerendar glanced around at the sunlit sea and bright sky, suppressing a sudden cold shudder. The elf-lord embraced his wife, then strode over to scoop Zara up in a fierce, tender hug.

“Right. Lesson concluded,” he announced firmly. “Cloud cream for everyone, then Life Skills practice. Sea Biscuit, here, will teach you to dance-fight.”

Andorin sighed, made a face, but then nodded agreement. Strumming a sharp minor chord, the dark-haired bard ambled forward.

“They shall need weapons and mage-armor,” he warned (raising cheers from the girls). “Preferably blunted and very much safe.” (Now there were boos and hisses and long, wet raspberry noises.)

Good humor restored, shadows chased off, Lerendar grinned at his heart-brother.

“That, I can arrange,” he laughed, visibly sorting his faerie pockets. “Still have all of my practice stuff in here, someplace…”

It was a very fine day, with only the first questing tendrils of danger to come.