Chapter Text
O Seeker Still Seeking
Through the black of the night and tear in the sky
The tongue of the righteous asks questions of why.
The Veil has been rent and the Maker undone.
Bright servant comes seeking the light of the sun.
O Seeker still seeking, your heartache resplendent,
Foregoing your heartbeat in struggle transcendent.
O Seeker still seeking for safe harbor home
One the Maker has marked you have marked for your own.
" O Seeker Still Seeking" by Raven Sinead
Prologue
The world explodes in glorious green light. She finds herself on the ground; has no memory of why. The world around her is strange, all glimmering stone devoid of color. Everything is green. The air is green. Her breath is green. It comes in hot, humid gasps. Her heart pounds faster than she thinks it has ever beat before.
A pain, hot like coals, slithers from her hand up her arm. She cries out, holding up her arm and gawking. It is made of green light. Her muscles feel weak, like when she's had a fever. How is her arm made of green light?
A sound like a blade sliding on stone; she drops her arm, turning to find some creature bearing down on her. It has many eyes, many legs. It is the stuff of her nightmares. She runs.
Her heart miraculously beats faster, her arms and legs pumping furiously. Never has she run like this. One does not run like this in the forest. It would frighten all the animals, all the game, and besides that, there are too many obstacles. But never before has she been chased by giant spiders the color of the slick, black tar she once saw in a pit, full of animals' bones. She runs so they do not get her. Better for her heart to give out than for those creatures to capture her.
Ahead there is a light. It is different from all else around her. It is gold. It is pure. She knows it is safety. She veers for the cliff between herself and the light, taking a running leap. She has climbed her fair share of cliff faces, sometimes needing to do so in order to get the lay of the land, or to see if it is worth it to find a way to move the entire clan to the cliff top. This cliff is somehow easier and more difficult. She cannot delay, cannot take her time, cannot find the steady rhythm she is accustomed to. She must move as quickly as possible, and trust that she finds the hand- and foot-holds that she needs as she needs them.
The light clarifies. It is… a woman? A hand reaches for her as she runs out of hand-holds, and she launches herself, hand stretched out, reaching, reaching…
The world explodes in green, and pain bites into her face. The last thing she sees before the blackness takes her is the green light of her hand, pulsing, silhouetted against the black stone of a castle.
The air and everything it touches is still inexplicably made of green light. The woman made of pure gold light is gone.
