… And it’s important you say it like that. If you try to go after HER claim, she might just say no, and then you’re in a puddle.

But if its YOUR claim, and she doesn’t outright reject it, then she’s implicitly agreeing you have one.

AND, Barnibus, Taking the children then would be rude.

Guest rights. Host rights. The Fae are crazy about them. One of the only things everyone agrees about on the subject of the Fae. Bind and catch.

— Wizard Barnibus Jefferson Montgomery Barnwinkle’s Hat

* * *

“Thine own claim, Hatted One?” The Forerunner asked cooly.

She hadn’t frozen per say, but it felt like she’d slowed somehow.

She gazed at Barnibus with cold, white-grey eyes, as etherial and unapproachable as the loneliest mountain peak mid-winter, and her mouth was set in… something.

It wasn’t stretched into a delighted grin, or in a cruel smirk. It was not frowning or pursed or even pouting. It was just closed, and small and almost… sad.

“Dost thee have a claim?”

Barnibus had seen many faces from The Forerunner this night. He had seen her enthusiastic and merry. He’d seen her cruel. He’d seen her punitive and petulant and curious and frustrated. He had seen her glorious. He had seen her Terrifying.

He had not seen her sad, and it held his tongue… for a moment.

But only for a moment.

“Mine guests they be. I can not let thee take them from me” He said, and despite himself, despite knowing that the figure in front of him was cruel and capricious and that she had come to take the children for her own indecipherable ends, Barnibus realized that he was regretful.

The Forerunner was Beautiful.

Beautiful, from the very frozen tips of her snow-white, flowing hair curling just so over her shoulder-blades, to her lips like the reddest cherry or spilt blood on white satin. Beautiful from her moonlit eyes to her perfect pale skin. Beautiful in how she moved and walked and laughed.

Even her ire was beautiful.

She was Beautiful. And Beautiful in an Other way. More than man — More than human. Much More.

The Forerunner was Beautiful the way the moonrise and the sunset were Beautiful. The way a hurricane and an earthquake and lightning and a tsunami were Beautiful.

And if you could but stop them you would, but before that, you could watch, and glimpse Enormity watching.

The Forerunner was like that, Barnibus thought, as his mouth moved. And they had spun each other in their wiles this night.

Games and Games, Grand and Beautiful. They’d fought and laughed and played as time stretched to breaking and the moon glowed and stars sprinkled their timeless rays upon the glade.

The Forerunner looked at him with glowing moonlit eyes and Barnibus thought they looked sad.

Sad, Barnibus thought.

Then she said “Nay, Wizardly One.” And Barnibus rocked back with the force of those words. “Thee make an’ meddle, but thou knowest not what fate thee peddle.”

“I dub thee Wizardly as they of eld, but thee knowest not how they were felled. Thee cometh from elsewhere same as I, an’ if had’st thee claim thee’d knowest why.”

‘ — I come with wroth and sundered tears…’

And she had. The Forerunner’s face dripped tears like shattered moonstones as she spoke.

But then she turned…

* * *

And looked full at Leinan, “But what of thee, Daughter of Man?”

As always, Leinan’s eyes made their quick skitter back, away to the fi —

“Nay! Look! At! Me!”

And… she did.

“Played thee games with Fae this night, an’ brought thee me a terrible fight. An’ so once more dost I ask of thee. Has’t thee not else to say to The Forerunner of all the Fae?”

Leinan licked her lips and felt the waves of Otherness crash against the Blades honed by conflict and deceit and games with the Fae, and she felt it part along the Blades edge.

Aemon stood at her right gripping her hand tightly. Keimen at her left.

Leinan licked her lips, and drew in a breath, and recited as she had over and over and over again in her head…

“Thee shalt take not these children mine.

My path hast crossed and holdeth this day.

I stand against thee! Thee, an’ —”

Leinan gagged.

Leinan gagged on the words that would not leave her throat. On breath, trapped by Terror in her chest. She froze like a rabbit in the face of those words. The Fae….

“I stand against thee and — I — I stand against the a —”

NO! WHY? She needed to! Keimen. Aemon!

Leinan jumped up. She ran screaming around and around the camp fire. She hit herself. Slapped herself until her face was red.

This was it! This was where it mattered. All of the night. EVERYTHING that happened this night. THIS was where it counted. This was her chance to make EVERTHING right.

She turned and faced The Forerunner, stared her full in the face and weathered the flood of Otherness.

“Thee shalt take not these children mine. My path hast crossed and holdeth this day.” Leinan closed her eyes and focused all of her thoughts on those nine — no, eight. What about just eight. Eight words!

“I stand against thee! An’ —An — all — Istandagainsttheeanda—” That flood of otherworldly, existential terror washed her away.

“NO!” Leinan screamed, sobbing.

The Forerunner just watched her, unmoving, like a frozen statue.

“NO! WHAT WAS THE POINT!” Leinan raged. “Of all of this? “I stand against thee! An’ — all…. I stand against thee! An’ — all”.

‘No. Nonono. You played the The Forerunner, tens, hundreds of games! You won! Over and over again, you won! No matter the magic. No matter the tricks! No matter your own Shadow Damned self.’ Leinan raged at herself. ‘Do it again. Please. Just once more.’ She begged.

“I stand against thee! An’ — all”. No. ‘Blades,’ she thought. ‘Grand. Perspective.’

“Thee shalt take not these children mine. My path hast crossed and holdeth this day. I stand against theeTheForerunnerofalltheFae!”

And finally The Forerunner moved. She shook her beautiful and Beautiful head. “Nay.” She told Leinan. “Not ne’er enough. Not by live’s worth.”

The Forerunner looked at Leinan’s tear stricken face, and Leinan looked back at The Forerunner’s lovely one and it too had tears and…. And The Forerunner had no business being sad! Not when… Not….

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And The Forerunner continued. “But I shall play thee for mine claim all the same, an’ then thee shalt have only thineself to blame.”

‘A game. One more game.’ Leinan thought. ‘O-ok. That she could do.’ And Leinan knew, that all of the games they’d played through the night had been leading up to this one.

* * *

Nothing happened this game that had not happened ten — hundreds — maybe even thousands of times this night.

The Forerunner sat like an icicle.

Leinan sat across from The Forerunner, and at her feet were littered potion bottles, and vials and paper wraps that had contained powders and candies.

She played at her best. Her eyes were their sharpest, honed over games and games across stretched time. Hundreds of them. She had played The Forerunner again and again and again. Learning every wile and trick. Learning how The Forerunner thought, and moved.

But hundreds of games was quite a lot even for an immortal.

Play the person, not the game….

But they who stare too long into the abyss, often find that the abyss stares back into them. And as Leinan had honed her Blades against those tricks, The Forerunner had learned to play against those same Blades.

They played Grandly.

And when the game ended, The Forerunner’s pieces stretched the length of the board in a straight, white, pearlescent line.

* * *

‘— lost’. The thought was numb.

Exhausted and numb.

They had played. And played and played and played. And now she played for her children, and she had lost.

‘I. Lost.’ Leinan dimly realized she was trying to generate something other than Exhaustion.

Fear had a shelf life. Every hunter knew that. Eventually the prey just stopped. Eventually they just watched the end come.

And… it was a relief. To finally know. To finally get to the end of the harrowing.… ‘I — I’ll go with them.’ Leinan thought numbly. ‘I’ll —’

And as The Forerunner’s mouth stretched into a sharp toothed smile, Leinan wept bitterly over the game board.

Relief. And she hated herself for it.

‘The end.’ She thought in numb, Exhausted Relief.

The end….

…

And then a Wizard who had lost almost every game he had played this night Thundered —

* * *

— “Nay!”

Barnibus Snapped his fingers, and Sighed in Satisfaction as three pieces, including the piece The Forerunner had just shifted, changed colors.

His eye’s twinkled and his mustache quirked happily.

The abyss looked back. Every Wizard knew this.

Wizards poured through books all day, and SOME books, made even Darkest Night look bright. Every wizard knew to take care. It was fundamental.

Barnibus had spent the longest night of his life casting trickery against a Fae’s eyes filled with cruel moonlight.

And he had lost! But — his eyes twinkled as if he’d placed the North Star behind his eyelids — but Pure Mana Casting was hard, and The Forerunner had forgotten to take care, and Barnibus had learned what it took, to cast trickery against the Fae.

“The children remain with Leinan of Landsend! We beat thee we… two.”

Barnibus blinked, completely ruining the momentous statement. ‘We beat thee we… two.Something felt decidedly wrong with that statement,’ he thought worriedly. ‘Something —’

And The Forerunner glared coldly at him, as Leinan’s head snapped between them, not understanding.

Then The Forerunner smirked. Wide and thin and not at all friendly. “Nay.” She said. “Nay, Wizard of mine Ire. Nay.”

And The Forerunner giggled her frosted, winter stream giggle, clapped her hands —

And the board changed again. One piece hidden in the shadow of another suddenly seemed to squeeze itself back into perception.

“I bandied words with thine elder’s elders, an spoke Fell Words unto King Artur himself. Thee art not Grand enough for me Wizard One. Ne’er yet.”

The Forerunner flipped up to her feet and dusted her hands and then… thought for a moment, her finger tapping her chin… once, twice, thrice….

Then her eyes widened, and she exclaimed, “An’ yet! I dare say, thee hast surely cast magic as thine elder’s failed. For entertained indeed was’t I this night.” The Forerunner grinned and beckoned. “Come children! Winter awaits and so dost thine eternal fates!”

* * *

And then a hat who had spoken barely two words in an age of stretched time….

Who had been quite forgotten about by all, including the rather mediocre Wizard who’s head he sat upon….

Who had been passed down from Barnwinkle grandchild to Barnwinkle grandchild dating almost as far back as The Merlin himself…

One very old hat said….

* * *

“Nay!”

“N-Nay?” Barnibus stuttered. He had almost forgotten about his Hat, he thought dully, something he also thought, was a very odd thing for a Wizard to think.

His heart stuttered in his chest and was suddenly beating very hard and very quickly.

“Why of course its Nay!” Hat grumbled irritably. “What do you think — Oh! Let me adjust that for you."

And from, Completely Absent but Dawning Comprehension Hat drowned out Completely Absent with… something and then —

— “Words Unspoken, are so hard to keep track of —” Hat was muttering as he worked. “A touch here… there maybe? Ah. Found i —”

And Barnibus stumbled as words which had absolutely NOT at ALL been spoken, suddenly were.

Distantly Barnibus was aware of The Forerunner pausing where she stood and her eyes narrowing. Of the children and Leinan staring at him. Of the sounds of the forest falling silent.

Very distantly… because word’s which HAD NOT BEEN SPOKEN suddenly were and Barnibus… slowed… and froze.

“You… Hat….”

There was something in Barnibus’s throat. It tore and scratched as he tried to get it out. This was… This….

“ — D-Dreams?”

His heart felt leaden in his chest, and Barnibus felt himself blinking quickly. “You said you… you… you took my dreams from me? All those years ago? Hat…”

“Your… your dreams?” Hat sounded confused, and not a little impatient. “Why, of course I… we already had this… we won, Barney!”

Hat paused, then moderated his tone slightly. “Borrowed.” He amended. “I borrowed your dreams. Just a few!”

“You…”

“Oh, come now, Boy. I couldn’t help it! You try attending that dratted wizard’s Basic Wizardry course for the forty-third time! He reuses the exact same rant about Witches every year!”

“… All that time ago?” Barnibus felt faint. “My first year?”

Hat sighed. “Barnibus,” He said with Utmost Patience. “I was sewn, when Magic was Many and MORE than Two. I sat on heads greater than Grand Wizard Meliborbackus The Wanderer. I was there when the The Grand Wizard Emanuel Mordechai Menovchinsky's Memorial Library wasn’t much more than a hut in the middle of a desert and the Chalant Coven of Revolution and Witchcraft was not at all revolutionary….”

“I have hatted Wizards for nearly as far back as there have been wizards,” Hat said, still with that same Patience.

But his voice was quickening and growing louder and Barnibus had a sinking feeling that this was what Hat had wanted to say to him from the very beginning.

Every time Barnibus lost a manuscript in the shelves, or miss-derived a potions ingredient. Every time his existential math wasn’t quite right or when he couldn’t see the Mana to make his spell craft work. Every….

“And you are so small. So… mundane. You were content to wile away your time in grander wizard’s libraries and read manuscripts and tomes which you did not write!”

“B-but — I… What was I supposed… I —” Words weren’t stringing themselves together. They just twisted on themselves as they tried to leave his lips.

Hat rode over him. “What was I supposed to do? Sit through another one, Barney?!”

Hat sighed. “You were so small.” He said quietly. “But at least your dreams were big.”

“Grand even. To be great. Grander than The Merlin. To grow a beard so weighty with knowledge it brushed your feet and wear a hat as tall as the tallest tower. To have eye’s which twinkled with more than Knowing and wear a Robe surpassing mere Mystery. They were wondrous!”

It felt like Hat shrugged. “Enough viewing material to watch for the next century while you finally grew up! And then I was going to give them back. I swear! By my stitching — You weren’t even using them!”

“… I had nightmares! For decades…. I was content to be a mere Apprentice Wizard! Shuffling books around shelves for elder Wizards. I…”.

“Achem — That may not have been… I…. You don’t know that — This helps us!” Hat stuttered. He coughed again. “Barnibus,” Hat said reasonably. “Look. Don’t you see? I — We’ve won! We beat The Forerunner of all the Fae!”

And Barnibus did see.

As he looked passed Leinan watching him with Hope just barely glimmering from behind her eyes.

As he looked passed Aemon, watching him with Barely Concealed Excitement and Keimen watching him inscrutably but with just a tinge of Sadness at the edges.

As he looked passed The Forerunner standing stock-still, and the trees surrounding the glade, carpeted in frost.

As he looked beyond the night, and the Moon and the Stars themselves.

He looked passed them all and saw the weave that Hat had woven, spun of dreams so Grand they beggared the mind and stitched with that single, stretched and fragile thread of Mortally Naked Immortality.

Something big, Hat had said. Something big, once.

Hats couldn’t spin magic. Not normally. They had Wizards for that.

But this Hat was greater than the wizards who had worn it…. This Hat was in a realm twixt two others, where normally Metaphysically Stable was in fact, rather malleable, and here he could create Grand rooms out of Memory and Whim. Here…

Wizard Barnibus Jefferson Montgomery Barnwinkle looked beyond the beyond and saw the Magic which had spun this Longest Night and it wasn’t Fae Craft.

They’d won. They’d… what a win.

And numbly, with a heart almost more leaden than lead, and tears which felt like brimstone, Barnibus raised shaking hands in the air, wiggled his hands in the air just so, spun Firelights Flickering Dissonance into his voice and intoned in a quavering voice “Up Flames, Up Fire, Dance and Play this Night Away”.

That long, long, long thread of Mortally Naked Immortality burned away in a flicker of firelight, Dreams of Grandeur fluttered and flew away like the dreams they were, and the night dissolved around them.

* * *

It was light out. That early morning grey light before the sun had sufficiently burned away the mist, and the fire had long since gone out.

Treasure shuffled around.

Barnibus had won somewhat more than he had before, and Leinan lost a somewhat more appropriate number of times for a human girl playing a game she had never learned against an Immortal Fae. Even if she was a rather gifted human girl.

And two stunned boys who had watched insanity unfold in front of them, suddenly appeared, stuck, bound and gagged and tied to tree branches, guarded by two winged monkeys who had also glimpsed insanity unfold and decided that they needed front seats.

But most importantly, the board changed not at all, except that The Forerunner had played this game with black, and it was Leinan’s white stones which spanned the board.