Page 91 of Cursed Shadows 5

She birthed more children.

She then slumbered.

Dark was cruel. He resented the newer children of Mother.

Light was fair. She shone her warmth on all.

Gaia made the twin earths.

Light gave her suns. Dark gave her night.

But Dark was hungry.

Dark was cruel.

Gaia held the worlds in her palms and touched them together, forever connecting them.

She thanked her sister and gave her life. The folk of the light. And four would serve the Light forever.

She appeased her brother and gave him life. The folk of the dark. And four would serve the Dark forever.

Dark wanted more.

Gaia gave him more.

The Light kept her Four.

Dark took hundreds.

But Dark was hungry.

And Dark was cruel.

He reached his hand that dripped with shadows to the first earth, and touched eternal darkness to it.

Light was fair. She touched the other side and blessed it with light that would ward off the dark.

Gaia wept and hid the second earth.

But Dark is cruel…

And Light is fair, but she only has Four.

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Hedda and I venture deeper into Cheapside, further East, this rainy Warmth.

I half-expect Forranach to slam the door in my face, just for the bother of turning up. It’s been three weeks since I was last here. He doesn’t.

The time is too quick to pass. It is sand in my grip; water in my fist. It’s not that time in the Midlands moves differently, somehowwrongly; it’s that the phases are too busy, too full—and the Sabbat is just a handful of falling time away.

I still don’t like our chances of opening the phase after the Sabbat, when tired mourners scour the streets for loaded, starchy foods and coffees; when out of towners wet their tongue before their journeys back home; and, more importantly, when thedrink for the deadbegins.

The Sabbat is a full phase of joy and colour and celebrations, of parades and dance.

Thedrink for the deadis the unofficial sister to the Sabbat, the phase where mourners come together at their watering holes and swap stories. This isn’t about mourning, it isn’t about telling the dead we miss them, weeping for them—thedrink for the deadis a happy time, even in Licht, just fae telling stories aboutthe ones who have passed and all the fun details of their lives before they did.

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