Sybil shifted from foot to foot, staring up at the moon. She was wary of its power and ability to to drain so much Sunspell without really knowing why. It was strange, considering the stories of the Astral Three. Banishing the thoughts from her mind she clenched her fists, determined to keep her promise to Amira. To Dewdrop. No matter how much it hurt her to do so.

"It was an early Five Moon present that Siara said she hand painted herself. It had her signature and everything. I was happy, overwhelmed even that she remembered but I knew. I knew deep down that there was something wrong with this situation."

"Don't tell me…" Amira began, putting the pieces together far quicker than Sybil could tell them.

The Sunspell elf shook her head. Amira Lightbane was the smartest person Sybil knew but no amount of common sense could explain how and why this came to be. Every elf, be it Sunspell, Nightspell, Stormspell or any other Forecaster kept some false belief in their hearts that helped them to overlook the unfairness within their society. Order was key to success and within that order there was structure and stability in whatever they did in life. But this? This was order disguised as chaos.

"Siara wanted it to be a surprise but Garrett blabbed first. He used his position on behalf of my mother to move my Nightspun audition up to match with his Five Moon dance. He said it so humbly, like I should've been so thankful he changed it on my behalf. Even though I was never even consulted, never even asked." Sybil said, undone by such a notion.

"What? Why on Neridia would he do that? How?" Amira exclaimed, her Nightspell runes on her arm turning the peeling, white paint to burnt, ashen crisps.

Sybil pretended not to notice her barren right hand, the attempted runes that had been carved into it flared uselessly beside her. An angry Nightspell elf was worse than receiving a Sunspell to the face. With a laser, you could at least attempt to duck if you were quick enough but a Nightspell was an entirely different matter. Be it carved on wood, metal, skin or stone: runes were highly unpredictable and those who wielded them even more so. Never cross a Nightspell elf with a grudge.

"Since his mother is the High Suncaster of all people, they agreed to his change, thinking that was what I wanted with the backing of the royal Sunstress. It couldn't be rescheduled for another century." Sybil muttered quietly, trying to quell her best friends rage.

"It's your choice! Not his or Siara's or anyone else's! Why the hell did they...surely she'd have known how much of a slimeball he was? He's more of an attention seeking, drama queen than the High Nightcaster on a rune inspection!

Sybil laughed, her morose expression masking the stupidity of such a tactic. Garrett was once her most treasured friend but when he said he loved her at the tender age of nineteen, Sybil didn't know what to think. She was young and her grandmama had always warned her of the difficulties with their powers clashing. Sybil was honest with him about her feelings but that wasn't what he wanted to hear. He grabbed her, his runes flaring in the heat of the moment and that's when Dewdrop last appeared. No longer a helpless bunny but a proud jackalope and defender of the Sunspell elf who would do anything to protect him.

"My mother thought Garrett bloody Moondancer was my boyfriend and I wanted to celebrate with him. Apparently she thought I still had an elfling crush on him like I did when I was younger. Far younger than I was when she saw him last." Sybil reminded her, the cold, bracing chill of his hand making her shiver. 

Siara had seen nothing wrong with the boy next door, finding her daughter's crush nothing short of adorable. When in fact it was the other way around. She had never seen Garrett look at her like that, like she was some kind of endangered creature he was supposed to protect but when he helped her calm Dewdrop's ire by being near, Sybil couldn't help but rely on him. It was only after her Second Moon when he moved away that the Sunspell elf truly realised how wrong that was. When he finally returned she apologised profusely to him for her youth but by that point it was like talking to a wall. He didn't care. Or at least, he acted like he didn't.

"Really? Wow, I had no idea. I bet he loved that." Amira said, her sarcasm making Sybil snort with just how cold it sounded.

"Yeah. He was like a sylph with a sugar rush." 

"A rare, sparkly one." Amira quipped.

She giggled at her own joke, making the Sunspell elf smile just a little, while Dewdrop nudged her hand with his nose. The Nightspell elf gestured to her to keep going, struggling to stop herself from laughing.

"After that, I had no choice but to perform after he got the crowd on his side. I planned the day on our Five Moon ball not his, Mira." Sybil said, outraged at his gall for being able to pull off something so ridiculous and self centred.

"I know, Sybil. I know. It's OK. I know how good you are as a storyteller. No one can tell me otherwise. Least of all that preening priss of a Nightspell elf."

Garrett had always been the shining star of Floodbound, known for vaulting himself off trees to practice and being one of the select few to actually leave the small waterlogged city. It was trapped between an immovable border and an impossibly famous city called Folktale, the home of every performer's dream. The moving, Moonlit Stage.

Floodbound however was on the very edge of Neridia, caught on both sides by mediocrity and rumours most foul. The Ironwood Forest was the cause of such a thing, a deadly natural habitat leading to another world, another country no sane elf wanted to venture into. Nocturus.

"All of the Inner Circle was there and it was my mother's only day off for months. I wanted to patch things up with her, I really did. But after what she did. What they both did..." Sybil faltered, unable to finish any more and buried her head in Dewdrop's fur, attempting to drown out the sadness.

But no happiness emerged from the jackalope's moon dappled coat. Amira hugged her best friend from behind, desperate to give her some kind of comfort in her solace. All Sybil felt was empty melancholy. Her hands shook with nerves while she sat, embraced by the only two people she could even attempt to call family.

"They knew I had chosen the stage name Jackalope after Dewdrop...and once the Inner Circle requested a tale on the Astral Three it was like grandmama was looking down on me. So...I overcame my nerves and told the story exactly the way she taught me." Sybil said flatly, the joy from her voice died out like a spark.

"Apparently, that way was considered wrong."

Amira gasped in fear, both hands over her mouth while her ruins dimmed at the sorrowful news. Elves took stories very seriously and none more so than the Inner Circle of Nightspun. One false recollection could shape generations of hatred for a single family, the story wiped from existence and banned forever more.

"Oh Laia, no…"

The three original Forecasters weren't of Stormspell or Nightspell. They were called Sunlight, Moongaze and Starshine. One brought hope for the present. One depicted the importance of the past. The last showed the light of a bright future. These three elves paved the way for generations to come and it was this that the Inner Circle of Nightspun deemed her unworthy of telling.

The Forecasters coincided with the other races, even allied with dragons to adapt their abilities to something akin to Sunspell and Nightspell by combining Moon and Star with Sun to allow not only possibility but even greater hope for all of the word, not just Neridia. It was this very story that connected her with her grandmama, her mother and it was the catalyst that started her dream towards becoming a Nightspun. It was this inclusion of dragons that had ruined everything.

Suddenly, Sybil felt compelled to stand at the edge of the jetty and look down at her feet, her two companions at her side in case she decided to do something drastic. The Sunspell elf knelt down as if ready to jump but stopped herself at the last possible second and decided to scream at the top of her lungs so everyone could hear.

 Her family's broken legacy. The unfairness of the Inner Circle. The insensitive actions of a boy she could have loved. Her ruined crop of mandraroot. All of it was crushed against her throat and the only way she could breathe again was to let it out with the words she could only admit to them. 

"I told an age old tale to the biggest storytellers in all of Neridia and I botched it! I retold an original rendition of a classic and both of them knew about it! I can't be a Nightspun. Not now, not ever!"

Sybil fell to her knees and broke down, the loud sobs echoing into the night, tears dripping into the murky depths below. Dewdrop, her faithful companion could no longer stay sentient with his friend in such disarray. He was not only the guardian of the Ironwood forest. He was the one who brought Sybil closer together with her family. 

But he had one last task to achieve. With a single stride, he leapt onto the water and allowed his form to disperse over the Stone Bouy. Gracing the two with a final flick of his antlers, the sunlight he left behind granted one last hope filled gift for the Sunspell elf who had lost everything.

In a matter of moments, Dewdrop cast away his form into sundust and left in his place a field wide crop bursting with mandraroot.