Page 94 of The Ballad of a Bard

It was the colour of everything that he held in the palm of his pale hands, the shade of his hair and one that he loved, if it was possible for him to experience his own power.

He’d known that his name was Heartache, and that it felt right, fit him splendidly. He was vaguely aware of how he looked, and that he was alone.

There were no other Saints to join him in the immortal life-span that he’d been blessed with and he hated that. It was a melancholic blue that made him feel like death. He often dreamed about others and their god-like abilities so that eternity wouldn’t feel so cold, so desolate.

Heartache tugged a string free of his glass heart,admiring it as he twisted it round and round. He took a pinch of moondust and coated it in a thin layer, drawing from the clouds in the sky around him until a small figure was created. With a chaste kiss to her head and a breath of his air, his life, he created another Saint.

The Dreamer.

She grew until she became the same size as him, her chest expanded to fit the new soul that he’d graced her with. She was stunning and lovely and he smiled as he welcomed her to the earth.

A year passed and he was content with the company that Dream provided, until she approached him and explained that she wished for another of her kind. Heartache simply smiled at her once again and pulled another string out from his glass heart, braiding it into a piece of art as he took a dash of light from the sunrise, stole a song from one of the mortals below to compliment the soft nature of Dream.

Heartache added a puff of air into her lungs, brought her to life and created the third Saint.

The Muse.

Together, Dream and Muse laughed and loved and it made his smaller heart feel so full, longing for something similar, aching for a friend of his own to embrace as much as the two Saints had. So he pulled a third string free, struggling as this one fought back for some reason. It didn’t warp or bend with his control, pricking his finger as the tip sharpened like human steel.

Shimmering blood fell into the cord and his anger pulsed, raging and warring into something fierce and horrible. Those emotions blended into the fibers and created the fourth Saint.

The Warrior.

A failed attempt, so Heartache ceased for some time and allowed the four of them to exist in peace, in harmony as the humans learned of their existence. War wasn’t pleased with the peace that the realm enjoyed, causing chaos and creating, well war.

Another year passed and Heartache began to try again, taking two strands this time. He was more careful as he tried to pour life into it, twisting and bending until one of the thin pieces snapped, damaging half of the immortal he’d made. No, not damaging- but adding another beautiful piece of life to them.

Heartache liked this one, adding a breath of his own air into them and adding a fifth to their ranks.

The Imp.

A delightful person that enjoyed them all, loving and laughing with sanity and insanity all mixed up.

For a decade, they were all happy.

They got along, visiting the realm and laying their blessings on those lucky mortals that worshipped them with everything that they had. There were no fights, no wars, nothing but companionship and no more solitude. For ten years, everything was wonderful and he was happy with all of his creations, mortal and immortal.

And then Muse came to him, explaining that she wanted another dreamer, another muse, another artist. Heartache searched his soul and found that he had room for one more. He told her so and she accepted it. One more chance, one more Saint for their small family that he’d created.

Heartache took a shimmer of the brightest star in the sky in hopes that this one would be the most brilliant of them all. He swept up the midnight sky and added it with the sliver of the moon, the fire of a constellation and the exploding passion of a nebula. He put his heart and soul into this one, his very last creation. He had blessed them all with gifts, with magic that allowed them to hold god-like positions.

And whilst he was working on this one, Heartache expressed his fondness for the love of red, accidentally giving away another piece of himself to this Saint. He tucked and pulled and pinched the thread until he was absolutely sure it was perfect, adding life and light until it was brighter than all of them.

So another, the final Saint was made.

The Northern Star.

Six of them in total, with individual powers and looks, with titles that the humans all needed and loved. They worked in perfect harmony and allowed the additional services to help the world along. And as time passed, as they all grew and he came to love them all in their own way, he understood that he’d created gods without any vulnerability.

Because time passed and peace waivered.

As War and Imp took advantage of the gifts that the mortals offered up. As Dream and Muse seduced them and it all became too much. As North became too bright.

Heartache went to each of them in turn, explained the issue and took a small piece of them in return. He had created them all, it was his right to do so. Only War fought against it, as he suspected but in the end he gained five small members of their life, their power. He added a bit of his own to the mix, to make it fair because he was nothing if not fair.

He created a silver moon charm for Dream, that would allow the mortals to control her if they found it. He sent it to Pitrye, lost in the Zaehir. He didn’t make it easy for them to be located, but the humans were smart. Eventually they would find it and then his beautiful Dreamer would learn what it was like.

Heartache created a tiny harp that could fit in a pocket. He explained the reason for it and Muse solemnly understood. He sent it down to hide in Aroontil.

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