After a while, weariness came over her, and she closed her eyes. In her dreams, the song continued. Sweet and distant, like good memories. Eibhlin sat on someone’s lap. She rocked back and forth, and a voice sang along with the music. The voice was terrible: off key, breaking constantly, and almost comical in its effect. But Eibhlin loved the voice. She lay back and listened. Soon another, deeper, richer voice joined in. Still she rocked, finding safety in the arms enfolding her. A hand touched her head, stroking it gently. The girl looked up. Two faces smiled down at her, a man and a woman.

The man she knew. How could she ever mistake those sparkling eyes and that dark, bushy beard? He turned to the woman and kissed her hair, whispering something Eibhlin couldn’t hear, but she understood that expression, had seen it many times before. It was strange, though, lacking the sadness she always saw within that soft smile. Even so, she knew this man.

The woman on the other hand… for just a moment she thought the woman was Yashul, for the kindness in her smile was the same, but the woman was different. She was human, with eyes like the ocean and hair the color of early morning sunbeams.

Tears pricked Eibhlin’s eyes. She knew this woman. She knew she should be sad, should miss her, and sometimes she did, but most of the time she simply couldn’t remember this woman enough to feel those emotions. Here in dreams, however, memory took hold and dead loves rose again.

What was this woman’s name? What… what….

The dream faded before the answer came.

Her waking was no less dreamlike than her sleeping. Eibhlin opened her eyes to see beams of violet-tinged silver cutting through darkness and multi-armed figures standing as black pillars around her. She sat up. The sharp play between shadow and light chilled her, for the light was cold and the shadows endless. Wherever they stood, a void appeared, and not so much as a breeze came through to disturb the reflections in the black and silver water.

When she couldn’t bear the sameness of the swamp, she looked up, and she gasped. Staring down at her was the smooth face of a giant, full moon. It looked unnatural. No dark shapes along the surface, just bright silver with a violet tinge to its glow, and the darkness beyond. There were no stars.

“Mel,” she said, fighting back a cry. Her heart pulsed in her chest, the keys shivering against her skin.

“I am here, Milady.”

“The moon. It’s full.”

The instrument made a sound of agreement. “Yes, she is, but then, she always is in the Fae. Ever since her rebellion. The Moon is full every night and proclaims herself ruler of the visible heavens, and every dawn the Sun struggles to climb above the horizon.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I cannot do justice to such an epic without reciting it in full,” said Mel, “but in short, the Moon became jealous of the Sun. She did not want to remain his queen, so she gathered an army and rebelled. The Sun, for all his wisdom, loved the Moon too much and fell. Since then, the Moon has ruled the Fae, and the world became ill beneath her wicked, false light, for though she claims to rule the Heavens, she still only reflects the Sun. She was meant to complete him, complete the heavens, but she wanted more, a wish that by her very nature she cannot fulfill. The Fae has always been dangerous to the foolish, but it used to provide clarity to the wise and healing to the humble. Now, it drowns in chaos. It is a place unfit even for its own people.”

“Then what about me?” asked Eibhlin. “How do I… how can I….”

“Do not despair, Milady,” said Mel. “One thing you must never do is despair. This darkness is deadly, but there are ways to fight it. Your keys are one, formed by one whose power predates the rebellion, and the light they give repels the Moon’s shadows. The elven blessing, too, shall help, as it is under a Sun in his proper place. There is little the Fae Moon can do against you directly, but I still advise caution.

“After millennia of her rebellious light, those used to or born under the Mortal Sun find the Fae Moon’s light and the air she touches poisonous. Even with your protections, this effect can only be slowed. If we tarry too long, the poison shall spread and overtake you. Furthermore, do not think the Moon your only danger. The Fae was dangerous before, and as the Witch of Hours shows, it has only grown more so since. But we have waited too long already. Lo, the Moon continues her vain march across the sky. I suggest we not rest while she does so. Her servants bathe in her light and so move in awareness as if it were day. You should not sleep while they wake.”

Eibhlin nodded and pulled her things together. As she took a few items from her pack to eat, she remembered Callum’s gift. Finding the iron penknife, she tore the hem of her dress and tied the knife to her arm. That knife was her only protection. It was too dangerous to keep it in her bag.

When she finished eating her soggy bread, she asked, “Should we try and mark this place, Mel?”

“Do not bother,” replied the kithara. “There is no door here, and even if there was, the woods likely would not let us find our way back. No, best find Arianrhod first, then figure out how to leave. Just head toward the Moon. I know it sounds strange, but remember where we are. This is the Fae, and what is more, the realm of the Witch of Hours. Now, toward the Moon. Always toward the Moon.”