Icelokk

Dreams

That night, in his dreams, Sebastien floated in the peaceful black void that is restful sleep. It’s usually what he dreamt of if he wasn't having a nightmare. Occasionally he would have nightmares where the King was yelling at him, making him cry bitter tears of shame. Then his trainer would beat him with a leather belt until his screams woke him up in a cold sweat.

But tonight, as he was floating in the void, he began to see a grassy field. The grass was bright green and somewhat short. He turned and saw deer grazing under a blooming tree with elegant pink blossoms. They didn't scatter like they usually do when they see a human.

The sunlight was bright and warm on his skin, pale from years living in dark, cold winters. He walked forward until he was standing underneath the tree as glittery pink petals fell from a light breeze that shook the limbs of the tree. He reached out to pet one of the deer and felt its soft fur in his hand. It’s deep mahogany brown eyes regarded Sebastien calmly as it let him scratch it’s chin. It pulled away then, and began to munch on the sweet green grass below.

Sebastien turned and felt something warm under his hand. It was soft with pure white fur that almost gleemed ethereally. The dire wolf looked up into Sebastien’s eyes, meeting his gaze with bright amethyst eyes and began to pant excitedly. It bowed low in front of him playfully and then ran into the meadow. Sebastien began to chase him, but could never catch up. He began to giggle as the wolf dodged left and right in zigzags. A small emerald green bird darted up to the wolf and they started dancing around in the meadow. The bird would hide in the tall grass and the wolf would sniff him out. Just as the wolf was about to pounce, the bird would fly out of the bush, startling the wolf.

The bird then flew up to Sebastien and landed on his hand. He used his finger to gently stroke the bird before it flew away and began playing with the wolf again.

Sebastien opened his eyes, groggy from his sleep. The dream started to fade as he looked around his chambers. The walls were made of black marble with veins of gold. Hanging on them were sullen paintings of the tundra, some of kings passed, and exotic tapestries. Bookcases and furniture made of oak held books, parchment, and magickal tomes along with crystals and stones he collected from Black Rock mining expeditions. His favorite were the amethyst crystals and geodes, obsidian stones, and pyrite crystals. His bed was sown from arctic fox furs, stuffed with goose down. The floor was laid with hand carved basalt stones. The windows were made from amethyst and lit the room with a light purple glow. Bayberry candles lit his altar where he kept his personal oakwood statue of the Horned God of the Wild.

He sat up as he heard a knock on the door.

“You may enter.” He said irritably.

An ancient woman entered the room and closed the door. She was a witch wearing a crow feather cloak and bearing a black staff with a large amethyst sphere on top. Black ash stained her claw-like hands and fingers. Her wrinkled face was ghostly white with dark black ashes smeared on her eyes.

“Out consulting with the Harpies again?” Sebastien teased sleepily.

“They are more civil and wise in company than you ever were.”

She straightened her shoulders pridefully, but also began to smirk.

Sebastien laid his head heavily into the pillow, huffing in response.

“There’s a letter from the Countess of Hearthfire Village, requesting an audience with you.”

Agatha walked over to his desk and glanced at his parchments strewed across his messy table.

“I know what she wants already. She wants me to perform the Handbinding Ritual with her daughter to solidify her place in royalty. That way she can go to banquet dinners with other nobles.”

Sebastien gestured dismissively with his hand. He could remember the dull pallid face of the Countess’s Daughter, her boring dialogue that only strained to enchant Sebastien but he was no fool in the matters of feminine schemes.

“I see. What shall I send as a response?”

Agatha was smirking again, proud of his wits.

“Send a letter of cease and desist. Tell them I do not wish to bond with her daughter as a corpse could be substituted in her place and I would not know the difference.”

Agatha chuckled.

“I will not be sending all of that message. I would like to keep things civil between our courts.”

Sebastien finally sat up and swung his legs out of bed.

“Do as you please, you’ve kept this Kingdom from falling apart ever since Nodens was too young to feed himself.”

Agatha walked away from the desk, slipping a piece of parchment into her cloak.

“You’ve been performing rituals to attract a woman into your life. Maybe you should consult with Myrtle, the Goddess of Love?”

“Mind your business, you old crone.”

Sebastien walked over to Agatha and pulled the parchment out of her cloak. She grabbed his wrist in her claw and pulled the paper back out of his hand.

She then blinked out of existence.

“Agh! Keep the damn paper then!” Sebstien hissed.

Sebastien got dressed and headed to breakfast. But he couldn’t get the image of that bird from his dream out of his mind. He recognized it from one of his books he must have read a long time ago. He walked briskly into his librarium and searched for a book about birds. He found it tucked away in a corner of an old oak bookcase. He flipped it open and scanned the pages for green birds. There were big ones, with huge plumes, smaller ones, but with big beaks, none of which looked like the bird from his dream. It was emerald green with a bright purple throat. It had fast wings that moved so fast they were a blur and it had a really skinny beak, so thin it looked like a needle.

He flipped to a new page and there it was, like he had summoned it with his mind. An Amethyst Throated Hummingbird, the drawing was old but highly detailed, painted with watercolors.

He looked down at the description and it said:

“A small green bird that darts quickly from one flower to the next, it’s beak is thin enough to reach the nectar inside of flowers. This helps to pollinate other flowers as the Amethyst Throated Hummingbird never drinks from the same flower twice. They build small nests for their tiny eggs. The males have more colorful plumage than the females. Males are an iridescent emerald green with a blue sheen, and a bright purple throat. Females are brown and beige. They can be found inhabiting the Ziggurats of Grun.”

Sebastien looked for a book about Grun and headed to the dining hall with a Travel Guide to Grun. He had never left the borders of Icelokk and was fascinated with this unknown and distant land. He began reading a description about the Ziggurat Gardens of Grun:

“A land known for its lush greenery, the Gardens of Grun attract Sylvens from all across Middleworld. The Mannar that inhabit Grun are natural healers and botanists who worship the Sun as their Father and the Earth as their Mother. Rain is plentiful and given to Grun by the Stars, which are seen as ancestors by the Mannar. Large Ziggurats are formed from clay bricks and terracotta form terraces that support the Gardens of Grun. Aqueducts lined with Lapis Lazuli and Larimar tiles, supported by white limestone bricks feed water to the gardens year round.

Most see Grun as a paradise, where knowledge and learning are prioritized over war. A Librarium, Greenhouse, Apothecary, and Tavern can be found on every street corner. Librariums house books and scholars who dispense wisdom to the youth of Grun. Greenhouses grow fruits, vegetables, nuts, seeds, and grains to sustain the population. Apothecaries sell herbal compounds for healing and Taverns supply food and drink to guests.

The Sacred Blue Flame of Euryphaessa lights the city at night, with mossy aquamarine crystal lanterns. The Hearth of the Blue Flame is tended to by Nine Priestesses who dedicate their lives to the City of Grun and to the worship of Euryphaessa, the Goddess of Light and Knowledge, Mother of the Sun.”

Sebastien was reading when Agatha appeared beside him at the banquet table.

“The Delegation of Grun has arrived with news on the war with the Myrks.” She said with a gravelly voice.

“Is it the General of the Green Glaive and the Sentinels?” He asked.

“Yes, and another.” Agatha responded.

“Another?” Sebastien looked up from his book at Agatha.

“Yes, a Sylven from Grun. The general will explain more at dinner.”

With that, Agatha left the dining hall.