Side A – Yasgrid
Yasgrid knew she was walking in circles. She’d been walking in circles for days. Maybe a week even. Ostensibly, she was searching for either someplace safe for her small crew to setup a more permanent camp or signs to show the direction of Elshira’s evolving plans. In truth though she was looking for neither of those things. In truth she was looking for the Darkwood itself.
On its surface that seemed ridiculous. Everything around her was the Darkwood. Since she’d fallen into her life as an elf, she’d never even been close to leaving it. But even with that, she wasn’t sure she’d ever really seen the Darkwood.
The trees, the mosses, the streams, and glens, and flowers, peoples, and Troubles. A god and the next best thing to a demon, though for Yasgrid the difference between the two was separated by the barest of gaps.
As a Stoneling, Yasgrid hadn’t thought about the land overly much. Certainly there were Stonelings who felt a deep and abiding connection to the world around them, and the mountains bore their own sort of life, not quite so teeming as the Darkwood, but hardy and wild all the same. For Yasgrid though, it had been the connections with her friends she’d found herself in, and, if she was willing to be honest with herself, playing the Shatter Drums when she didn’t try to compare herself to her mother, that brought her delight.
Her friends were part of another world though, as were Shatter Drums. A world she’d walked away to follow the siren’s call of a life that held its own special relationships and its own remarkable magics.
She hadn’t looked for one of those relationships or a part of that magic to involve the very land she walked on though because it was absurd. The only relationship one had with a mountain was that it agreed to be nice a solid and when it wasn’t there were serious problems. The only magic to be drawn from a mountain was struck forth with pickaxes or drums. Mountains offered and asked for very little
The Darkwood was different though. It was as alive as any of the beings which walked its shaded paths and as powerful as the loudest Shatter Drum.
And it was not happy.
That was part of what made getting in tune with it difficult. Yasgrid wasn’t thrilled about a number of things, not the least of which being some of the divine work which was fundamental to the creation of the Darkwood, but her anger was not the Darkwood’s anger.
The Darkwood’s anger ran deeper and older than anything Yasgrid could summon. Where Yasgrid’s anger was focused on the specific people and problems before her, the Darkwood’s was wrapped all around itself. Wrapped around the parts it refused to tolerate, and the parts it refused to see.
Yet still it reached out to her.
It wasn’t alone, not with as full of so many lives as it was, but no one else had ever spoken to it as Yasgrid had.
No one else had ever promised that it too could change.
Side B – Nia
Saying she was going to help the Trouble who was trying to kill her and actually helping the Trouble should have been two different things. Sometimes though what people need is simply a kind word.
Other times, it’s a kind word backed by the magic powerful enough to rewrite the fabric of the world and imprison the gods themselves.
Helping the Trouble was more the second sort of thing.
What are you doing? the Trouble asked, its voice filled with trepidation and longing.
You need a place to sleep, a refuge to shelter you so you can finally start to heal,” Nia said, taking the magic of one beat and spinning the two of them together.
She’d been concerned that the diversion would cast her away from the Darkwood. Her song had a specific message and meaning and neither had included dancing with a Trouble. She’d thought that would be a problem that she would have to compensate for, or that Margrada would need to save her from.
As it turned out though that wasn’t quite what happened.
ALIVE! the Trouble was so surprised it nearly became the embodiment of the concept. You’re alive? I’m alive? ALIVE!?
Last I checked, Nia said, turning her thoughts back to reaching her mother.
Except that wasn’t working.
Because she was on fire.
And in agony.
No.
Not agony. And she wasn’t on fire.
It was the Trouble.
It was still suffering.
And Nia didn’t have to worry about losing access to the Darkwood.
She fought to open her eyes ans saw the great trees of her childhood shimmering into view around her, becoming more real than the stone under her feet.
This isn’t supposed to work like this, she said. You’re supposed to be able sleep. You’re should be able to rest within me, like Yasgrid was able to do with hers.
I’m sorry, the Trouble said. I told you. I exist only to burn and burn others. It’s why I was crafted.
No. I know you’re more than that, Nia said. I’ve seen it. I’ve seen what you can be.
Around her she heard the Stonelings who’d gathered to hear her and Margrada play starting to yell and scramble away.
Which meant they could see the Darkwood merging in too.
Nia growled. She was not going to make the same mistake that she had before.
You should destroy me, the Trouble said. You can. You have the power.
Nia growled louder. There was nothing feral in the growl though. It held purpose and determination rather than wild rage.
No one is being destroyed today, and nothing is being broken, she said, slamming both hands onto the drum and grabbing the beat of magic that came out rather than letting it flow through her.
She knew she wasn’t meant to hold that sort of power. She knew she would be days recovering from what she intended to do.
And she knew it was worth it.
With her entire body burning from the Trouble’s fury and the magic she held, Nia reached for and said a single word.
“MINE.”