Dear Friend;

This is the best that I can send to you. I am sorry that I could not come in person, but I know enough magic that I know this letter will reach you before I die. I will not lie to you, what I have discovered is fabulous beyond my expectations, but has cost me my life.

You must use this letter to warn anyone else who might try such an expedition again. But I can tell you now that the land of Erehwon is as solid as the earth. I will tell you all I can with what time I have.

It is shaped like a disc. Water pours endlessly off the edge, I don’t know what sun shines upon it but it is not ours. Its sky at night is strange and alien, but not as alien as those who live here, or what I have seen. It would make you cry with fear, and awe. The trees in this place talk to each other. They move from place to place, the grass whispers your name as you pass it. The waters are strung through with colours sometimes, and other times they are clearer than any stream you’ve ever seen.

The magic in the air presses on you, like a weight.

The place is divided, from what I can tell, between two societies. One of strange fox-people, curious and quick, hidden when they wish to be. They told me, and tell me now as they sit by me in my death bed, that I should have left when they warned me but as they say as well, the young do not listen. I get the feeling they were talking about men rather than just me. On the other side the faeries dwell, real live faeries with gossamer wings , and strange shining magic. But don’t be fooled – glamorous they are and fabulous, but those words have other meanings. Their glamour casts a pall over your eyes, and they think nothing of stirring buried memories for sport. They hunt wishes and happiness, sadness and pain, through the gardens of your mind and through the gardens of their palaces.

The only thing I can tell you now that is left and quickly, for my would-be rescuers have looked away, is that these fox people have built or found a great floating island chained to the ground on which they built their greatest temple. I reside there now, and will until my breath fails me. If you want to know how it happened, it is simple. I ran afoul of faerie spite, and what’s left of me must use my mouth to hold this pen. I am sorry, I can talk no more. I can write no more. The pain has grown too great.

Farewell, friend. I remain, your faithful servant.

Caelendri Shaya


Embers in the Wind Adymon Adymon