The farmer's market was closed today. I had reserved for myself plenty of elixirs beforehand, yes, for the moon cycle was never predictable. But this journey will cost me many.
Once it happens, there was no reversing its effects, after all. I would remain ghost forever.
Though of course, that is what I am. And it is only by the grace of that sky goddess Aethra that I am now any different. My skin is transparent, but the townspeople seem to have no judgement. It is as if they cannot tell at all.
By the goddess' blessing I can now materialize at will.
That first time I felt the wind caressing my face after all those decades, I truly regretted having died so young.
The first time I held the hand of a young newspaper boy that led me through the bustling streets of Solshire, squeezing between passersby of all races and forms, I relearned the simple pleasure of company in a way no book could have taught me.
But the goddess is gone now, it appears. No one truly knows, nor do these commonfolk have means of inquiring about gods' whereabouts. So it is only by the effects of moon elixirs that I remain in tune with Her magic.
And the moment these effects are lost, dear, you know what happens.
So a choice was presented before me: to either postpone my adventure plans, which I never enjoyed doing; or, to find another moondust vendor.
And you would never guess what the young master I befriended a week ago told me. You never will, and you don't have to. He knows of another vendor!
Which is absurd, really. I could hardly believe him when he first said (and I know you would not blame me, dear). Really thought it to be another one of his distasteful jokes.
But the look on his face, it was dead serious. And that itself was a rarity, but beyond that I could not help but take him seriously in this moment. The sun had risen three quarters its way up into the morning sky, and I hadn't yet a clue whether I could risk going with my adventure plan at all.
And this time the journey would be a long one. The destinations? Well, I only vaguely remember them, but surely you must remember those mountains up north? They always said that mountains were scarce up there, and some thought there to be none altogether!
But we know that as false, dear. That is where we first met, after all. Below the snow summit, in a valley of flowers hidden away. Didn't you say we would meet there again some day?
I've decided, once and for all, that the journey begins today. We will meet soon, dear. I'll honor your commitment.
At least, I was fully decided upon this, before discovering this morning that the young lady whose mother managed the market went missing just this sunrise! Something about exploring that forest she found a map of, that kind of childhood nonsense.
She'll be found before noon, I guarantee. The witches do keep this place safe so honorably. They hardly have any need for patrols by foot, I'd say, after the Coven's arrival.
I've made a few friends since then. They are part of my reluctance to leave.
But nevermind the past! The market was nearly vacant today. Those who managed to get past the locked gates found themselves no customers, and soon left.
And that moondust vendor of mine found any opportunity to give himself a day off, anyways. He certainly would have gone home the instanced he caught sight of those locked gates.
And just this morning when I had found out I set straight for Lady Margret's house (that is the nice lady who manages the market, and sows me my cloaks). But before I could travel even half the distance, that young master caught sight of me and latched onto my limbs like a fairyleech.
I told him of my business, and he insisted he knew a moondust vendor himself.
And at first I suspected he only said so to keep my attention a while longer, but the young master could never feign honesty, and yet honesty was written all across his face.
And it was mid-noon then, anyways. I had no better plans, anyways.
I say so, but perhaps the young master's pleading eyes were terribly difficult to resist, too.
So I did what I never once thought I'd do, and set off on an unplanned journey with a boy of about eleven years old.
And when I say unplanned, I do mean it. Even worse than those spontaneous wanderdrifts I am so fond of. Thank heavens I had my coin purse on me, for the boy would not let me stop to pick up anything.
You have visited the Amber Village once before, dear. But it had changed greatly since our last visit.
After the Coven's arrival, the muddied path of uneven, coarse dirt were transformed into paved cobble streets, stretching far beyond the village borders and into nearby towns.
Unfriendly forests were cleared of threats and friendly even to the younglings to visit, filled with the forest's original fluffy residents.
And when I was following behind the boy eagerly leading me out of the village premises and into the forest depths, I could not help but dream of the time we had spent all those years together, reconstructing the valley wilderness into a homely nook where we resided.
I wondered, as I saw the liveliness of the forest critters, and smelled the freshness of running streams, if the remnants of what we've built still remained, or if they were buried by mother earth. And both would be alright.
And what would be wonderful is if another pair of wanderers found the place and made it their home instead.
Whatever I return to, at the end of this journey, I know would be worthwhile. Because you will surely await me there.
Where was I? Yes, the boy led me into the forest. We had gone on for some while, for I could tell the sky was dimming by the minute.
And yet the surrounding sights captivated me in such a way that I had no concerns for where the boy took me. Intuitively the vines on aged trees, and the flickering dance of grass blades by our scurrying feet, told me that this was the right place to be.
And under moonlight we found ourselves before a truly massive feat of architecture.
"Here we are!" I could recall with exact precision the boy's tone of voice, as he gazed up the blackstone tower before us: overflowing with excitement, and awe, despite likely having been here many times before. He certainly was familiar with the route.
And even I was stunned for a few moments with awe. The pillar of sturdy blackstone was certainly worn by time, yet cracks between bricks only breathed life into the mighty thing.
And above all the tower stretched on seemingly endlessly, that, if I had stood directly below the thing, I could hardly see the sky beyond me.
The resident was a young elven lady, and rather meagre in height for her race. When we had first stepped inside, she turned swiftly around with a beaming smile at the young master's "We're heree!", before quickly replacing any appearance of joy with skeptic dismay at the sight of me.
The warmth of her dwelling did not at all match the cold expression on her face. The roof of the first floor was low. Aside from the floor, and the roaring fireplace opposite to the entrance, all furnishing seemed to be made of a shiny type of wood. A tea table sat stoutly before the fireplace, with several tall-backed chairs placed, facing away from mighty windows that somehow escaped my notice when we were outside.
I gave a sheepish smile. "I am Velda." I gave her a hand. "Nifty Velda."
She returned it with visible reluctance, and murmured something in feyian that I could not quite catch.
The boy, however, had long ran on before us, climbing up a set of stairs winding up the tower's walls, going on about something about a big fluffy creature.
"What is your business?" The elf turned to me when the boy was out of sight.
"Ah! Ahem, moondust, please. I'm here to trade moondust."
Momentarily she looked stunned. "Did that young boy..."
"Yes, he told me about you."
"How did he... Nevermind."
And, dear, how I wanted to burst out in laughter in those moments. Not because of anything she could possibly say, no; I've come to see she is very learned. But simply because of that startling contrast between her mannerisms and stature.