Siara stared beyond the canopy of trees, the rain pelting everything in sight.

 An unnatural storm wreaked havoc on the street below, the city of Floodbound drenched in seconds. Not unusual for a city surrounded by canals instead of streets but for the weather controlling elves of Neridia, even this was a little more rainfall than they were used to.

The Stormspell mages with their sea green cloaks stood warily before the storm, several of their apprentices fleeing at the sight of lightning headed their way. The marbled arches overflowing with water began to crumble under their very feet. They had stood for centuries, withstood even dragonflame yet the precision aim of lightning was too much for even arkalite stone to handle. Whoever was wielding the storm to their will was a formidable force of nature. No Forecaster elf could do such damage. 

Yet despite all this carnage, here Siara was wrapped up tight within a small hidden cabin on a hill. Her family had protected this plot of land for generations and here it still stood, invisible to even the harshest of storms. No one truly knew why but as long as the next generation of Sunspell elves chose to call this place home, here the cabin would stay on Daybreak hill.

Averting her gaze from the storm she brushed her hand over the glass window pane to dim it from view. The flecks of sunlight dappling the trees disappeared at once, the Ironwood trees bowing without the fresh nutrients the sun provided. 

Siara sighed, returning to her work despite the looming chaos outside and lingering sun magic on her fingertips. There in front of her was a piece of everyday scrap of cloth, grey and sickly after being scavenged from a cobalt cloaked individual seen scouting beyond their borders. She had heard rumours of their powers but none had truly dared to experiment with them beyond the desert walls of Caldor. Perhaps that was why the storm was so harsh today.

But as the royal Sunstress of Neridia, it was her job to do the impossible.

Running her hand through the soft, silky material she tugged at the hair pin holding her hair up with her free hand and let her hair fall loose. It was half dry with scraps of thread and endless tangles of silver but it was exactly the way she liked it. Laughing, she swiped her fringe away from her face, turning the flower pin around in her fingers. 

"Ringent."

Siara's hand glowed with sunlight, the hairpin snapping in two as the bejeweled flower on the top of the pin began to open, its snapdragon maw peeling away the whittled wood to reveal three sewing needles. One pearly gold, the middle a dull silver and the last a blackened tinge of copper.

"Sorry, Grandmamma. I know you worked hard to get these for us. Do forgive me."

Gingerly picking up one of the treasured needles, Siara pricked her finger on the tip and rested it on the top of the material. Everything important was bound in blood regardless of race. It proved she was who she said she was. Blood couldn't lie to the light of the world: be it sun, moon or stars. Every elf had a purpose and every purpose was aligned with the will of the past.

Waiting for her chance to weave the sunlight spell into the cloth, the needle glowed and dimmed once more: barely potent enough for a single stitch. The cloth instantly turned hard and brittle like armour before remaining rigid, her handprint being mockingly mirrored back at her. Siara gasped, dropping the piece at once, staring at her hand as she realised the flecks of sundust coating her skin. The material, whatever it was, hadn't just reacted to her Sunspell. It had rejected it.

"That's…impossible. It can't be, surely it can't be beyond my Casting. Unless…is it Astral magic?" 

A loud noise startled Siara out of her daze, a quiet, childish giggle muffled by the walls between them. Despite her failure, she couldn't help but smile, the corners of her mouth tweaking up in amusement. Setting aside her work, she frowned at the conundrum one last time before gathering her prized possessions. It would do her any good to let her daughter see her frown on a horrid day like today.

Quickly tying up her hair, Siara tucked the spare blanket under the crook under her arm before heading towards the door. Another giggle was muffled by the wood but the elf held in her laughter to knock quietly on the door before announcing herself.

"Syb-bear? Can I come in?"

The door opened ajar entirely on its own, mildly startling the wise elf at the sight of a young bunny, no more than a few weeks old made entirely from light. Siara had never seen light wielding like this before, the most she could do was enhance sunlight but this? This was beyond even a High Mages capability.

"Momma?"

Siara froze, acutely aware of her daughters distress. It would do her no good to panic. The Sunspell elf let out a deep breath and with shaking hands clamped to her sides, she knelt down and gingerly opened her arms wide towards the bunny. She didn't need to say anything. 

The cowering bunny saw her reassuring smile and made one large hop into her arms, causing Siara to fall backwards in surprise onto the floorboards. At that moment, all the fear she had felt for her daughter's future bubbled up into euphoric laughter, it was like holding sheer happiness. 

"He likes you, momma!"

Siara looked up to find a young elven girl almost identical to her, clinging to the door weakly but with the biggest smile on her face. Her nose and cheeks were red while the rest of her was pale and shivering. Sunspell elves were highly susceptible to rain storms and Siara's daughter Sybil was no different. 

Siara's happiness soon turned to concern as the bunny she was holding disappeared into flecks of sunlight, Sybil's grip on the door slackened at the effort of simply staying upright. In an act of sheer desperation, Siara conjured all the strength she had left in the dwindling Sunspell and cast what speed she could on her legs. 

"Burstia!"

Flinging the door open with her body Siara jumped up and dived over to her daughter before she collapsed on the floor. In a mess of cotton and silvery hair, Siara wrapped her daughter in the spare blacket she had saved for herself and sat slumped at the foot of her bed. Sybil's head peeped out from the blanket as she let out a giggle and a sneeze before noting her mother's exasperated expression.

"...Dewdrop was scared, momma. I wanted him to meet you to help him feel better. That's all."

"I know, Syb-bear. But it's just you and me here now. No grandmamma to keep an eye on your mischief." Siara said, gently poking her daughter in the nose.

Her daughter grinned knowingly, eying the burn marks in the wood. An untrained Sunspell mage was bound to find something to ruin. Sybil's room was a calm forest green surrounded by a painting of trees. When any latent Sunspell touched it the leaves would grow or wilt depending on the seasons. Right now it was supposed to be spring but with the changing winds and the chaotic weather, storms were a daily occurrence and Siara couldn't keep working from home forever.

"Where is grammy? Is she with papa?"

Siara winced, not wanting to make the Chilling any worse for her daughter. The illness could kill hundreds of Sunspell elves in a single night but for some reason Sybil kept catching it long after the storms had passed and the medicine had been taken. She was only nineteen years old and for an elf, it was still infancy. But although Sybil looked like her in appearance, she still had her father's eyes and his unpredictable curiosity that couldn't be sated by a simple made up story. She always knew when a lie was being told.

"No, Syb bear. She's with the Laia now." 

The expression on the young elven girls face was not of sadness or grief but understanding and acceptance. A soft smile graced her features, her green eyes now closed in bliss but only for a moment. It was like she was conjuring a memory from hope alone, a faint trail of sundust forming into a ridge of a familiar creature's back before gently slipping away again.

"Could you tell me the story about the Laia? The one grammy and papa used to tell?" Sybil asked quietly, startling Siara with her sincerity.

She felt her face grow hot with embarrassment, blanking at the simple question. With her work as the royal Sunstress, Siara hadn't really had time to dwell on looking after her daughter. Sybil's father came and went as he pleased while her grandmother looked after her while she worked. It was only when the Chilling took her mother late last year did Siara have to step up to the role of being a mother.

"Oh...well, they never really taught me that story while I was working." Siara admitted, waiting for her daughters face to fall and tears to start.

What she didn't expect however was a bright, beaming smile.

"That's OK. I can tell you the story and then you can tell it back to me." Sybill announced, giggling at the thought.

"Oh. You can?"

Siara's bewildered expression made her daughter laugh harder, coughing quietly despite the unmistakable joy she exuded. Pulling the blanket away from her head and around her shoulders, Sybil responded by resting her head against her shoulder. She smiled, stretching her legs, still sparking with Sunspell residue from her hasty Casting.

If it was to make Sybil smile, she'd gladly injure her legs a hundred times over.

"It's why they call it a story spinner, right? Grammy was a Nightspun like papa, remember?" Sybil said softly, exhaustion creeping into her voice.

She remembered. Of course she did. It was one of the reasons why she fell for him. Her mother could talk for hours about dragons and droughts and the demons and hellbound creatures of the night. They never saw eye to eye except when exchanging myths and legends for local rumours at the tavern.

 Just like the tales they once told, both Siara's husband and her own mother had been more than the stories that were told about them both good and bad. But the name of Nightspun was more than the name of a storyteller. So much more that not even the elves of Neridia could comprehend. Sybil would just have to find out when she was good and ready.

"Alright then, Miss Sybil Nightspun. I'll listen to your story."