Recorded by Finnegan Lionhartt,
Of events which took place on the 14th eve of Radia, year of Pinnikle: 1,216.

We were children of carpenters, whose parents vanished from the world in an untimely, and mysterious fashion. The disappearance left us: a pair of little ones, alone, to grow up in a village by a winding, glimmering river in the woods. The place was called Luca village and was only a small place, in the vast and wondrous land we call Pinnikle. It is a marvelous place inhabited by a type of people who call themselves nix.

The most peculiar thing about Pinnikle is this: At night, stars come down. They look like people, but they glow brilliantly. Some have said they counsel Kings and Queens, others have claimed they guard the land; upholding wonder, beauty, and mystery. I would come to conclude something very different, and much more wonderful about them.

As for the nix: Their most differentiating factor was this: they were unfamiliar with Fear. It was not even a myth to them. They were not a perfect race by any means. Many of them preferred to shy away from adventure, but not for reasons of overcoming, nor for finding courage. Adventure after all, is most relevant when there is some Fear to overcome. And this thing they lacked - whimsy to explore - causing them to stay in their places and miss out on the beauty offered by Pinnikle.

Most nix would say: "Things like whimsical adventures are unnecessary, and deter us from work, which needs doing!"

They are, to this very day, inventive and wonderful people. Above all things, nix have always loved to learn, and to create. They have never had a squabble about doing so from their own villages, in places and communities they are familiar with. They prefer not to travel about their world.

As for us orphaned children: Our parents named us Sophie, and Fin, and stories are told about us to this day. Even Time, himself, remembers us fondly. Our tale begins in a way that is very sad, but leaves room for much hope.

It was on the night of a fond day. Sophie was three, and I: seven. Inside a hut made of sticks that overlooked the village below: Our loving parents tucked us into beds which were separated by a small table. We were lit by soothing candle-light. Mom and dad preferred to sleep outside, under vast and incredible glittering stars.

That night, as all the ones before: Mother read from our favorite storybook, about a well-known star who glimmers like rainbows. The chronicles told of many fantastic adventures between the star and children. Each night there was a new tale, though mother only ever opened it to the first page. When our eyes grew heavy, and fought against the last waking moments of the day, father blew out the candle by our bedside. Before long, we slept soundly.

On that very eve, Sophie and I were given dreams - and in dreams alike, we saw this scene: The very star from the bed-time story came down, she skid like a rock being skipped along the surface of the river which wound through our village. The star came to our hut, and we heard her twinkles, like glittering jewels.

She stepped through the threshold into our room, where she danced, and flipped, and made us giggle happy sounds. I was sure she would wisp us away on a caper, like those mother would read about, but it was not so. The star leaned over us - two bundles in our beds, under cozy blankets - and began to speak. She said words that did not belong in good dreams.

With sounds like crystalline echoes, the star spoke, "Darkness is coming, and time himself shudders!"

The two of us, still asleep, began to breathe heavily. Sophie began to wince and murmur, and in dreams alike, we saw: The wonderful star began to glow dim, and her face became burdened with sorrow. She leaned in to caress my little face, and her touch felt warm. As she held my cheek, a faint shadow crept around her collar bone like a dark arm. It began to creep and twist around her body - a wispy suffocating spiral. She exhaled sharply, and tried to breathe in, but the breath was futile! I wished to help, but I was terrified; even if it was only a dream. I had never seen such darkness, let alone had I witnessed the dying of something so bright and wonderful.

The star glowed brightly and fought, but she was soon enveloped. The ominous arm had spun into a swirling cloud of darkness and cocooned her! From within the shadow, rainbow bursts of light erupted like silent lightning. There was not a sound to accompany the events, but only the terrible sight of a raging star quietly battling for life, as she was asphyxiated by whirling darkness. It spun, until it encased her tightly like new, dark skin. The star's mouth could be seen moving under the dark skin: Her last words came out in a muffled whisper.

"Be brave," she choked the words out, "Though you may be alone at the start."

They were her last words, as her glow from inside turned to pure blackness. Though it was only a dream, it felt as if hopefulness itself was speaking to us about the way our lives would be. What was once magic celestial glowing skin became something like hardened ash. She stood, lifeless, reaching toward my face... I felt she could have crumbled if I dared a poke, though I would not have done so out of concern the darkness might overtake me as well.

From behind the blackened star, a dark head rose over her shoulder to peer into our eyes. He peered, with things not like eyes, but dimples in a wispy dark face, atop a wispy black body. He was made up of pure darkness, and from the spaces where eyes should have been, we felt glares of terror. I cannot tell you how, but I felt as it the stare of the creature rudely crept into our very souls. Terror, a feeling I had not known, rushed into me, and I began to quiver.

A bright silver chain wrung something round his neck, but I did not know what it held. The odd shape of a dark smile curled on his face where lips should have been. Like a specter, his form encroached around and through the blackened star, then his body recollected in front of us. A pretty wooden box hung oddly round his neck, and dangled by the jangling chain. It swung as he swayed his body to survey us each, in our separate beds.

With some vicious intent, he took time to covet our lives, swaying back and forth between Sophie and I. After some time, he leaned over my bed. I wriggled away, and pulled my bedding to my eyes. I trembled, but did not make a sound - only breathed quick, shallow breaths through my nose.

With a voice darker than a shadow, he growled the words lowly: "Come now, dear one. Come into my box. You will find it very... spacious."

I thought to myself, but I could not speak, "Spacious!? It is only a small box, not larger than your black head!"

The creature heard my thought (I suppose it's because I was dreaming, and he was in my dream. I do not think he can hear my thoughts when I am awake.).

"It is my box!" he said defensively, then took a very ominous tone: "Inside, I keep all my treasures: the things that don't exist." Some strange smile curled as he concluded in wicked whisper, "You will be next!"

I swatted his box away, but he was not phased. He only turned his gaze to Sophie. She whimpered as a dark arm reached for her. The creature's long hand clutched her neck, and I dashed out of my bed, round its backside. I pulled the chain down his back, until the attached box smacked against its face. He turned, and pinned me on the ground with his shadowy hands. They were cold and solid, though they were made up of pure shadow. I did not think such a substance could hold me, but I could not escape.

Sophie screamed loudly as she saw the thing lean over my body. The box touched my face as he held me, and I felt as if I would slip through the slit of its lid and be gone forever. The shrill shriek of Sophie filled the dream, until her screams woke us both. In our waking, we found ourselves in our separate beds, drenched in cold sweat. I heard the thrumming of a box dangling by clangoring chains, to the beat of running steps. The shadow had been in our very midst.

Our parents had been outside, not far away. They rushed to us at the sound of Sophie's terror. Mother came to hold us closely for comfort, as we cried. She looked to father, still at the doorway, and instructed him desperately, "Your wish, dear. Use it now!"

The wishes - I should explain: Every nix in Pinnikle gets to wish upon a star, at least once in their life. Mother had used her wish to procure a book of bed-time stories. It was a magic book that gave children sweet dreams of its new tales each night. As for father: All his days, he had not wished for joy, nor security. Unlike many other men, he gained those things the true way, and had saved his wish to accomplish something he could not.

He would have wished for us children to find true love, but in this moment father used his only wish like this: "I wish upon a star..." the words came gently, and gruffly. A pause silenced the air, except for the sounds of our breathing. The night began to light up, as if the stars were consulting someone even greater than them about whom they might send to answer father's wish. Then, with grit and confidence he yelled up to them: "Raise these dear ones up against all harm!"

A brush of wind stroked about our home. I had never seen the process of wishing, and I wondered if it was granted by the soft wind. Then then air grew thick, and it felt as if something very powerful - something so grand that I should never even look upon it - were coming. Suddenly, a great blast of light erupted outside the opening of our hut! Through little slits in the roof, I saw a trail of stardust like soft lightning.

The bolt faded from atop a massive purple guardian who had crashed down just outside. Sophie and I rubbed our sleepy eyes, and peered past our parent's silhouettes through the doorway of our little branch-dwelling. We saw a purple star - some ancient guardian - past the threshold. Only a portion of him could be seen. His width covered the entire doorway, and then some. He faced away from the entrance, and his back was turned to us. Father appeared very small, standing before the giant: His height only reached the small of the giant's back. The star's skin glittered deep purple and glimmering dark blue, and from him waves of those colors danced like an arora, lighting up our little space.

Then he spoke. His deep voice bellowed from the giant, into the night air. It was not an angry voice, but one of tremendous age, and power.

"My name is Lumin Strakken. I am old as the sun, and older. Why do you call upon me?"