She stands in the corridor, breathing deeply. Just a moment. That’s all she needs.
She knows what this will mean—for her, for her family, for everyone.
“You must banish them.”
They must leave the material plane and never return.
She exhales slowly. There is no choice. There never was. But in following this path, she will lose everyone she has ever loved.
Everyone except the child.
The child can be protected. Must be protected. There has to be a way.
If there is, she will find it. No matter the cost.
“Mummy, where are we going?”
The child’s voice is small, uncertain. She is twelve, just on the cusp of becoming her own person—curious, kind, full of life. She loves to dance. She loves to help others.
And she must be kept safe.
The mother quickens her pace, and, as always, her daughter follows, taking four steps for every two of hers.
She knows where she’s going. It has to be done.
The Dreamers’ Crossing.
A sanctuary, the last one left. Her daughter will be safe there—though she will remember very little of it.
Even in Caislean Oir, there is always a cost.
The Dreamers’ Crossing stands at the farthest edge of Caislean Oir, beyond the reach of elven hands.
The city hums behind them, its golden spires glittering in the distance. But here, beyond the final threshold, all is quiet.
Below the chasm stretch the ever-shifting forests of Síorghlór—a wild, untamed land of magic and mystery. Few ever see it, fewer still step foot into it. Most skip this path by magical means, never stopping to witness the breathtaking sight: the pulsating currents of magic, the shifting hues of violet, emerald, and amber dancing like living fire.
For a moment, the child watches in wonder. She smiles, and something inside the mother softens. A fragile peace, a fleeting mercy. Then the guilt returns as she realises:
This is the first time she’s explored outside the walls of the castle.
She never wanted this.
Never wanted to lock her child away.
But it was the only way to keep her safe.
The city believed it was because of her half elf blood—their disdain for half-breeds was thinly veiled at the best of times.
If only they knew the truth.
If only they knew what she really was.
They would shudder in fear.
Her thoughts of her daughters secret are broken when hearing a voice state calmly:
“Are you ready for the promise.”
She glances up at the fey towering over her, the one who’ll protect her…
The Dreamer.
Dark leather-like armour with specks of blood on their cloak?
A fey in humanoid clothes is a strange sight — a dark brown hood is covering the face of this person, creature… fiend.
No — she thinks to herself, A protector… but why would a protector hide their face.
She glances back at her daughter, one last time; seemingly oblivious as she’s dancing around the branches, trees. She’s talking about the ball…
Of course — that’s tonight.
That makes a lot of sense… today is the best day for it I suppose.
She looks up at the stars… the glowing green stars shooting across the sky.
Yup. I’m ready… Will she remember?
It’ll be nothing more than a dream to her…
Below you’ll find the Story Engine prompt(s) I used to inspire this story…
