#baronyofthesilverwolf

"And it makes him smell like he's a good guy, not whatever is happening. So - get the magic thing, smash it."

"Or he's got fae help. this sounds a lot like our fuddles and veils"

"This is going to take some juice. And I don't have a lot left. Do you need to bring your horses?"

"....No." She frowns.

Turning her face up to the sunlight... she can't see it, but even the wan winter rays playing across her face seem to soothe the wounds as she exhales slowly.

"Then tie them up or leave them loose.... I wouldn't tie them, if you can find them again. These are wild woods."

"I'm sorry, Snowthorn" She hugs her horse

"Star... stay hidden, protect Snowthorn. If we aren't back by dawn, find your way to the place we arrived."

Star paws the ground and snorts.

Texting instructions to Gerd - horses to go to gas station in the morning, possible Darkgate rescue?

If not Gerd herself!

"I know. I know. But Spark needs you, so you have to stay safe."

Snowthorn nickers and obeys.

Txt from Gerd : Noted. Watch yourself

A nicker, and she turns her head to Snowthorn. The horses seem to converse, and come to an agreement. No argument.

Dag slips off Star's bridle and ties up stirrups so the horse won't risk entanglement.

And doing the same "Let's get closer.. I'll veil again" D"lorean says "We need to snoop so.. his might be the best way to do it"

"This mirror is too small... there should be a pond, that way..." She directs them. "We need to step sideways, and for that, we need something reflective. I can guide you across."

"Step..sideways..."

"They have, like, their own spirit world."

"Can we even go there?"

Still, heading for the pond...

"This is.. wow." And she follows.. but veils t hem as best she can on the way

She feels the ground with booted feet, until she can tell they are at the edge of the pond. She stomps a few times, breaking the thin coating of ice... they float away and leave a rippling, clear surface.

"Give me your hands...."

"...okay?" She does so.

And D'Lorean does the same

Her voice takes on a dream-like quality. "Look into your reflection, and see..." She continues on, her voice an odd croaking mix of what sounds like half human, half raven dialect. Their hands warm in hers, and the surface of the pond ripples... then falls still...

She looks into it... and...

As they stare into their reflections on the water... their reflections stare back. Nothing seems to happen, other than the sunlight glaring off the ice as well, too bright and making their eyes water - and then it feels like the world starts to spin...

"..dude..."

"It's the mushroom shavings in my joint all over again.."

It's only a moment - or was it hours? The sun is still in the same place - oh, the sun! It's brilliant and glowing, warmth despite the chill of winter. And the ground... it shows winter's snow, spring flowers, summer grass and autumn leaves, all at the same time, in glorious congruence.

To the fae, it feels like, yet unlike the dreaming... a mortal might go mad trying to comprehend, but in their Changeling duality, seeing the true spirit of every rock, branch, and tree is not unlike understanding how one can be mortal and fae, one and the same. It is glorious...

Looking back, they see Nevara standing a few steps behind. She is a woman, she is a Raven, she is a glowing figure of sunlight and shadow, feathers and talons... And as she tries to follow, she gets stuck.... pressing against an invisible barrier... until she releases their hands and falls back, exhausted, the light within banked and dimmed.

"Where do we.. right, look for the source of the lies" the satyress says

"Try not to see everything at once. You'll get a massive headache... I can't see you... even if I had eyes, that is. You're.... fuck, what did they call it in that book with the whiny Russian guy? It's a level of the Twilight, the Penumbra. You're behind a spirit wall.... you can see us... but I can't see you.

"Wow..."

"Where do we go from here? To find them?"

"This is going to sound nuts but.." she checks the maps she was given, the notes

"Look for the Caern... you should be able to see it."

From here, their destination is obvious - a glowing beacon of energy, beyond the line which Aiden's map marked as where they should not tread.

Her voice wistful. "I'll follow. I can call a guide..." A croak of a crow.... and a spirit forms from nothingness before them, and slides over to the mortal side without effort, perching on Nevara's shoulder.

"Oh, that's cool."

"Okay. Well, I got long legs, you got goat ones. Let's do this."

"the light is the Caern... then we should look for distortions of the light, or darkness. I think. " She moves on following the path And kens

As they move along the path, hints of spirits appear and vanish within the aethyr. A hind leaps, and disappears before it can land... leaves rustle in songs that only a dryad may understand, and a squirrel curses at them in her own language, before disappearing into the limbs of a tree that has long since fallen.

"Well, we didn't do it" the hoofed woman says ot the squirrel

Here an acorn is also an oak tree and a fallen log... they could spend lifetimes just contemplating the ripple of the streams... but the beacon beckons, and voices come into hearing as they approach. Voices that are raised in argument, and are at the same time the tongues of men, and the howls of wolves.

They keep moving... and close

"Chief would love this..." She murmurs as they get close.

"I'm going to try kenning" And she does

They approach a clearing ringed in large boulders, each carved with cryptic runic symbols that glow and pulse with power. In the center of the clearing is a huge stump - or so it appears on the wavery mortal side. Here in the umbra, the memory of the massive tree remains, growing tall into the sky, beyond the clouds.

An entire pack, it seems, in attendance, in a loose ring around the two whose voices ring loudest. At least a dozen figures, mostly humans.... some crouched as wolves... and the two in the center are beasts that are beyond comprehension. Massive, taller even than the Shacklebreaker, one frosted in fur as white as snow, the other black as night, each proudly scarred. They circle each other, in their Man-Wolf form, the form that drives mortals mad with fear, and even now Sam feels a hint of terror, though Dagmar's presence tamps it down and leaves her settled.