Page 25 of Triadic

"Show me what you want to," I said to the winking stars, "then please show me the way home to Marit and Corbi."

As soon as I got back, I was going to hug both of them with all my might and tell them how I felt. Even if they brushed it aside and my wounded pride had to accept just being their friend, I wanted them to know that I had fallen for them over the weeks we'd spent together, and that I didn't want to leave them.

Even though dusk fell too quickly for the natural world, it still transitioned too slowly for me. Right away I realized that if I was still in a magical pocket of some sort, Dunu having led me through some kind of barrier, then time would be moving in different ways. Ceridor had returned from my home village just tonight and informed me that I had been in that forest for five years, when it had only felt like months. I did not want to lose any more time, or leave Corbi and Marit to worry about me.

Human voices carried from far away. The candle flames rose in front of me, hovered for a moment, then spread out and sailed far and wide, winking out of sight in the trees. Yet like a magical mirror, I could still follow them and see where they led. Across the mountain range, theseven little flames became lanterns, each one carried by a traveling mage headed in a different direction, following the path laid down by unknown gods.

The mages kept walking, generations of mages through multiple lifetimes, until at the end of their journeys, they each found a community that celebrated the winter solstice in their own way. Seven towns had some version of a bonfire or great communal fire either in their town square or removed on the fringes. On the darkest night of the year, they danced and sang, shared food and drink with each other, the children squealing and relishing getting to stay up late and wear fun and fanciful costumes modeled on magical creatures. Other towns and villages had ceremonies around the fire before their feasting.

All of these were sights I had never witnessed before, and yet something felt deeply familiar about them. As I watched, I placed these scenes in my history lessons at school. In ancient Helvetica and the Danubian region to the east of here, three thousand years ago, five hundred years before the birth of the Christ of a Thousand Ages, the Alpine Celts had celebrated the return of the light in the heart of winter in such ways. Indeed, similar celebrations had taken place all over ancient Gaul, a Celtic conglomeration of civilizations that stretched the whole of Europe before the Romans came.

"This is beautiful," I said aloud. "What am I meant to know from this? A history lesson?"

I watched the joyful people, some reverent toward certain nature-based deities, but most just having a grandold time and inviting everyone to join in. I relaxed my mind and allowed these impressions to sift through my consciousness and tell me what they had to say.

We lived in such a dark time. In my life, most years we were just grateful to have skirted around any plagues or illnesses, and to not be left starving through the winter. Yet as the ages of the world turned over, there was an opportunity to look back and reflect. Like the celebrations of the ancient Alpine Celts for thousands of years before they were conquered and driven to extinction, moving forward, we could choose what we took with us, what we preserved and made our own, and what we could leave to be folded into the sediment layers of history.

Dazzled by the bonfires, I wondered whether these were the hidden lantern gods that Wren went to go find.

"Thank you," I said to the scenes of dancers floating in front of me on the inky black backdrop of the darkest night. "I am not a mage—not yet—but I know two mages, and I will tell them of this. We will endeavor to remember those who came before us, and to honor nature as we move through our lives."

Corbi's terrified shout cut through the dancing celebrations, banishing them. "Peter!"

I shot to my feet. "Corbi?"

Grabbing the beaded chain—the vision of the candles disappearing as I wrapped it around my wrist—I charged into the black forest, heedless of the fact that I couldn't see anything. Surely it shouldn't matter, he had sounded so close. "Corbi!"

"Wait!"

Iwhipped around to find—of all people—the angel Ian charging out of the trees toward me, lit somehow by his own light so that I could see him.

"Ian?" I barked, fear stabbing through me as the angel gripped my shoulders.

"Wake, now," he ordered. "You are in danger. This is a vision. Return to your body, now! Don't go further into the forest—you're in the snow."

And just as Ian disappeared, someone tackled me to the ground.

I yelped and thenwhoofedas the air rushed out of me. Desperate just to breathe, I thrashed and kicked, landing a punch to someone's painedoof.

"Peter, it's me. Peter, wake up. Corbi!Corbi!"

Everything felt so cold. Even as I regained my breath, my body moved as if of its own accord to fight my attacker off.

"Stop struggling. You're okay. It's me, Marit. Peter!"

The words finally sunk in. "Marit?"

"Yes,Schatz," he said between pants, his voice filled with tears. "Get up. I tackled you in the snow, I'm sorry."

I struggled to my feet, my eyes still black with visions. "I can't see."

"Hier," he said, wrapping an arm around me from the side. I slid my arm around his shoulders, and he helped me trudge through the snow. I couldn't feel my feet and walking felt like lifting blocks of ice attached to my legs.

"Marit?" Corbi called from nearby.

"We're here," answered Marit.

I started to fade, but Iremembered Corbi sliding me onto his back and his soothing life force sweeping over me as they rushed me back to the monastery. I kept wanting to fall asleep, but Corbi prompted me to stay awake so he could check me over. Blearily, I got out of my clothes and warmed up in a robe in Ceridor's room, which was already nice and toasty from the wood stove.