Last day of Winter-1st Spring, 512 Avanthal It was supposed to be a celebration. It was never intended to be a horror story. We had been setting up for days for tomorrow's special event. Huge ice sculptures of beasts, snowflakes and Vantha history have been transported to the Windward Boardwalk as the day inches into sunset. Food has been prepared, tested, improved and set out; furnishings laid out into place and crystal wreaths hung over every canopy, doorway and arch. Sparkling icicles infused with ever-changing lights dangled amongst the park, instilling captivation, shining down on the eager faces of the townsfolk. The trees were slaughtered with stormgems, a luminous haze throughout the garden. There was an ugly, looming overcast far off into the distance, but the city of Avanthal mystified like a mirage in the desert. A gentle end-of-winter breeze surrounded the city, as frozen water swirled about, kissing everything it touched, ever so gently. The Polar Bear Guards slowly turn up, sporadically placed amongst the park, conversing with the people, awaiting the arrival of their Queen. Tomorrow is the Coming of Spring, and Queen Morwen's return to Avanthal. We hold this festival bi-annually, once at the beginning of Spring and once at the end of Fall. This festival illuminates the city for three days, bringing a welcoming return of Morwen and celebration for all. Children and adults alike prepare for this day, making and bringing all types of special dishes and decorations, Hold by Hold, family by family. I never really understood the day. It was often, to me, simply a large party-gathering, filled with food, music, dance and lights. However, last Coming of Winter I finally caught up with it's significance, and this Coming of Spring celebration, I was determined to ensure my place in Morwen's return. I would never admit it to my father, but I secretly was eagerly awaiting for tomorrow as well. The sun had nearly shattered completely into the horizon. This signaled the coming of a hazel-green, blue twilight, shimmering the skies above. I saw the lights peaking through the tall, evergreen trees and woodland canopy, slithering beneath the stars, vivid with memory. The sweet pulp aroma drifting amongst the forest filled my nostrils. I turned to the edge of the forest and saw the blinding, beautiful festival thrive with energy and waiting anticipation. Anyone to my knowledge, from any Hold, never slept the night before the Coming or Going of Winter, for it was a common fear that one might miss Morwen's magnificent arrival. I closed my journal swiftly and ran through the shadows, darting back and forth, careful not to step on the invisible, fragile thread of the universe. My father hates when I'm in the forest for too long. He fears greatly for my safety, often scolding me on irrelevant misdemeanors. I see through his voices; he sees no colour in the usage of plant research and beneficial application. He sees no life for aspiring healers, ones much like myself. If he only understood what this journal meant, not in ink or writing, but in future progress and experimentation. I dare not to venture off far into the wilderness, straying not far from the edge, only until when the stars begin to rise. Tonight was special, it was an Eve for the preparation of prolonged efforts. My father was waiting for me at the edge of the Boardwalk, clumsily hanging the last of snowflake, emblematic decorations. "Aurrealis, there you are, I've been worried sick. Did you not see the storm clouds? You should of returned earlier, everyone's retreating indoors." To my surprise, he was actually taking down the decorations instead. "We can't stay out tonight," he said with a rough voice, "that storm is rumored to be disastrous. We just got word The Spires are in chaos. Because nobody in this bloody Hold tells us anything," he continues bitterly, his eyes turning rich red, "the Eve of celebration is cancelled. Sorry bud, but we need to go." I looked around, shocked with disappointment, my eyes the color of air and ice, mixing with contorted confusion. My father had already seemed to finish packing up the rest of the fragile decor, stuffing some handmade ornaments in a basket for me to carry, quirking an eyebrow at my dumbfound expression. My head drooped as I made that long, tedious walk back to Whitevine hold, passing smaller settlements and shops hastily closing up and removing breakable, expensive decorations and hangings. When we arrived, I crawled into bed silently and closed my eyes, bundled up beneath a few Vantha knit wool quilts, dreaming of my disappointment. Just as I was slipping away out of my conscious mind, I heard the crackle of wind and snow blistering at the window. I don't remember what happened prior to me going to bed, nor did I remember that I left my cherished medical and research journal on a park bench, as it sits, alone and forgotten. ~~~~ I woke as the sun stretched out it's first morning rays onto Avanthal, as do most Vantha on common days. However, something didn't feel right. My heart beat fast, my head pounded and my entire body sweat with exhaustion. I was burning. I threw off the wool covers, finding instant relief as I began to breath easier. My throat itched and my mouth chapped with thirst. I went to the sink and gulped down large quantities of -warm- water, wiping my mouth with my sleeve and looking in the mirror on top a small step stool as mellow, earthy green eyes stared back at me; my usual normal morning colour. How odd, though. Heat exhausted in sleep and drinking nuke warm water, for it was only the start of Spring, and Avanthal stays covered in ice and snow. Just then, my father calls an east window. He stares outside, his stance tired and full of bizarre fear. "Aurrealis...come here my boy, and tell me what you see." I was expecting to have missed Morwen's return, but his frail voice suspected otherwise. I slowly turn, walking without knowing haste to the window. As I looked out into the continued storm, for wind still raved outside, water droplets dotted the window. The view of the once beautiful snow-covered street was now washed away, replaced with wet slush and water, depleting the snow as more rain came down. I have never seen such element to fall from the sky, I have heard about it, but never experienced such amazement; it was if our drinking water replaced the snow, melting the town to pieces. A great snowflake ice sculpture, once beautifully twinkling in the starry night skies, filled with intricate designs and carving, was half gone. Melted away, forever destroyed. I looked at my father, a dark blue bled from his iris as he looked out onto our beloved, dripping world. |