WHEN THE FACE of the World was tilted more fully towards the sun at a certain time of year it bathed certain lands in a warm glow that enlivened the spirits and brought joyful benisons of welcome to the surface.
It was the time of the Summer Pause for many, a time to relax, to take things a little easier. It was a time of optimism.
Curiously this particular year the season seemed somehow dampened by an indefinable tincture of dread even though it was also the enlivening Era of the Dove Star.
That particular sparkling light in the night sky was a fiery orb an unknown distance away and during a certain astronomical period it would for several summers in a row dominate the night sky and bathe lovers and late convivialists in its pink flames, though by the time they reached the Face of the World the heat of them had diminished to unfeeling cold. It was the thought that counted.
Of course in places like Greetiyah where heat was an everyday occurence summer time was more about digging deeper caves to keep cool in and planning journeys only at night where the Dove Star might act more as a guide in the desert. In the Highly Romantic Wilds of Xenia summer was about fewer snow flurries and weird light shows in the sky as well as the great skating competitions on frozen lakes made accessible by spring storm scourings unburying their slick surfaces.
The sight of the Dove Star in such cloudy skies was a rare thing but one night that fateful summer a brief glimpse of it was to be had on the peak of Mount Icicle which sent Informers scurrying around to the various fortresses to tell tales of what they saw, but also of course to enjoy the warmth of roaring fires.
'The sky!' an eager Informer informed his audience as he thawed out gratefully. 'I saw the sky!'
'What was it like, old man,' one of the gathered notables in the crowded hall asked in breathless tones.
'Hey, what's with the old man stuff? I'm only thirty. Had a hard life is all.' It was the vocation of Informers to bring knowledge to benighted and snowdrifted settlements for in such a land travelling was a near-death experience for some.
'As have we all,' came a rejoinder from a graceful lady who no doubt had been born and brought up next to roaring fires for she looked her age, a serene and flawless ice princess.
'Enough banter,' a stern individual cut in with dagger-like viciousness. 'Tell us what you saw, or I'll skin you where you stand.'
At this the man sat down upon a bench provided for him, as if defying the angry speaker, but he knew well enough not to cross him. This was after all, a highly romantic scene where anything could happen, even crimes of passion or melodramatic face offs. Such were the people of Xenia.
'It was,' the Informer gulped, for the other had produced a knife and was scraping his thumb with it noisily until an accidental nick made him suck on it in sullen silence. He was after all only a boy. 'It was dark, with sprinklings of diamond dust to point the darkness.'
'We get that a lot at night,' someone observed. 'Darkness.'
'No, sire, this was a darkness of another order. A black darkness, a darkness so without light, so cold and frozen and infinite it hurt the eyes to focus upon.'
'Tell us more of the diamonds,' the serene lady inevitably said, leaning forward so the light of the fire shone through her hair, seemingly setting it aflame in a way that made the Informer gasp. He must remember to write that impression down somewhere, for someone was bound to be impressed by it, such as that rather buxom and splendid kitchenmaid he saw briefly when he staggered into the fortress on informing intent. He'd like to share a bun with her later.
'They were tiny points of light, alive with distant fire. So delicate and impossible to envision as anything but infinitely small living flames, restless yet perfectly still. And amid them was their courtly queen, the Dove Star. A pearly iridescence seemed to crown her rosy majesty in a nimbic glory, though that was probably high altitude ice crystals refracting the light a little.'
'Huh?' someone said, waking up suddenly for the fire was warm and sleep-inducing and even the voice of the Informer, though droning in highly romantic style as expected, added to the soporific effect. Except just then, when a little hard science was thrown in mischievously to make sure everyone was listening.
'And then,' the Informer said, standing again, having forgot the former skinning threat in the heat of the moment.
'And then what?' the lady gasped breathlessly, almost consumed by flame by this time, so eager was she to hear the Informer's words.
'And then the clouds passed over again and the vision was gone.'
Everyone visibly deflated at this anticlimax.
'It was good, though, while it lasted,' the Informer insisted cheerily, partaking of a goblet of wine without ice.
'What say you this vision, so briefly glimpsed and so inadequately described, might foretell?'
'End of the world, probably,' the Informer said offhandedly. 'Usually does. Lot of that going round, so I heard tell. Any more of this wine? Tastes good. Might not have long left to enjoy it though.'
And that was the strangeness of the Era of the Dove Star during this particular Summer Pause.
It was the most optimistic time of the year in an era blessed by a glorious night time delight, yet people across the Face of the World felt some dread, some foreboding that it would not last, not just the summer, but the whole world itself.