From the Personal Logs of Queen Fyora
When I was very young, I went outside with my best friend, late at night. We looked up at the sky and saw the sun, still high, bright, and shining. She looked at me and said, "Fyora, I have always wondered... why does the sun never set?"
I asked my teachers this the next day, since she was too timid to ask for herself.
"Why, because of the light faeries, of course," replied my teacher. "Could you imagine the light faeries living in a place where it gets dark? Why, then they would be no better than dark faeries! Soon they would start playing tricks on us, and then the tricks would turn dark the longer they stayed in the dark, and then they would go from dark to evil..." Like many faeries, she believed the dark faeries to be true beings of evil. Maybe it was because of the sun. "And the other faeries too, of course," she continued. "The earth faeries need the sun to grow, to sustain the life they carry in their hands. The water faeries need the warmth of the sun on their faces to inspire them when they tire, to help their healing abilities stay strong. The fire faeries need the bright heat of the sun to light the flames that make up their lives. Why, Fyora, dear, could you imagine how horrid life would be for us if the sun set?"
"I don't know," I replied then. That night I flew up to the highest tower and watched all night, watching the sun make its way across the sky, watching as the stars shone in the same sky as the brilliant sun, and wondered how it was possible for us to see all of this.
Because we are blessed, one of my teachers said. We are the faeries, and we have been given the sky. I thought then that she was right, and I felt the sun against my cheeks, and it was warm, comforting, soothing. It reminded me of what we were. We are faeries, we are creatures of life. It has been many years since then, since I first watched the sun all night. The stars have changed since then, so many years it has been. The skies have changed. The earth below us has changed, giving rise from wild creatures to great and beautiful civilizations.
But the skies now have changed.
I looked up at the stars last night. There was no sun that rose with them. There was the moon, a strange, pale shape in the dark night sky. I wonder how others of my kind grew used to this... if Taelia ever thinks, yes, the sky may be beautiful now, in its cold darkness, but I remember when I lived in the Palace and it was always daylight. I wonder if Illusen finds it beautiful, for she could find beauty in anything. I wonder if Jhuidah finds it relaxing, for it was always too busy for her at the palace, full of hustle and bustle and no room for her to perform her cooking experiments.
They grew so used to it that they stayed. They made the land their home and said yes, this is my place, this is my world, I will call it home.
And what of us, now?
We woke to ruin. I remember the moment the magic was lifted and I could move my arms again, and the first thing I did was look up at the sky and notice it was different; it was not the skies of home. The sun was low on the horizon and there was a chill creeping across my bare arms. I looked over at one of the light faeries, and for a moment I saw fear written across her beautiful features.
I did not know what would become of us.
We have faced many things in our lives. We have seen civilizations rise and fall. But still, while change happened below us, it never touched us. Our skies remained the same.
We will rebuild, of course. We always will. We've already started, trying to take the wildness of the Haunted Woods, our small part here, and turn it into a home, a place where we can live and rebuild and recover. It will be difficult, of this I have no doubt. We have faced many things in our lives, many of which have been difficult, and come out of them with our lives and livelihood intact.
Tonight, I could not sleep. It has been difficult for me since we awoke to find ourselves here. I've taken to wandering the castle when I've had trouble sleeping. I thought at first it would settle my mind to see the familiar, make me forget (at least for now) about Xandra until we've recovered enough where I think of her. But the castle is so different now that it has hardly helped me. It makes me feel worse, to look out at what I have known for thousands of years and see it destroyed, in pieces, while my faeries work diligently through the nights and days to make it look like a proper castle again.
They are doing well, better than I expected. Jhudora, she has taken well to our new home, already making the bluffs to the northwest her place. The water faerie who runs the healing springs has found a pool to make her healing waters run free. It surprises me how well they are doing, how quickly they are adapting to this strange new place. I am proud of them all, to see them wake from the stone and take on this new world with vigour. Why, we are faeries, said the fountain faerie to me. This is what we do. We live. We grow. We do not fall.
Ah, they are so strong, and I feel so honored to be called Queen of them all.
But still. I know it is difficult for them. I know it is hard for them to forget where we came from, the beautiful clouds of home, the way our buildings rested on them for thousands of years. And oh, is it ever hard for me. The clouds were second nature to me. I could look out at the vastness of... I suppose I should call it Old Faerieland now... and know I was home. The clouds cradled us. The skies allowed us refuge in its endless expanse. We could fly freely, our wings touching the wind and carrying us into infinity. The palace stood on the same clouds as it had for thousands of years before, and we did not change while the world below us did. We were constant and our land was constant. The same sun looked down on us as it always had, and the same stars shone in what could be called night, night such as it was in a land where the sun never set.
And in only an instant, our world was changed.
Of course we will rebuild. Of course the faeries will never perish, not if they, or I, have anything to say for it.
But I look up at the skies and the sun, and it is not the same.
Homesickness is a concept foreign to me. But I suppose that is what I feel now, a desperate yearning for the clouds, for the open expanses that laid before us. Worse it is that I know there is hardly a chance that we will ever see our home nestled safely in the clouds again.
I suppose that all I can say, at the end of the day, is that more than anything, I miss the skies.