Recorded by Finnegan Lionhartt,
Of the events which took place around the 17th sunset of Radia, year of Pinnikle: 1,229.

Among things known but never articulated: life itself is a gift full of moments to be lived in - and moments are not stolen away, but given up. Whimsey comes with the caper's call... do you hear it?

— Words written by time, himself

Thirteen years had passed since the two of us were taken by stars, the week we lost our parents. There is not much to be written about those years, but there is one very important detail that I have not yet told you. Before the stars brought us back to Luca village, Sophie was mysteriously revived by an old man in a pointy hat. Some called him a sage, and others a prophet. We know his name to be Lofi.

Tales about Lofi were always told in the way of wild and unbelievable rumors. They started only after Sophie and I had come back, and none of them were good. It had been said he had counseled many kings and queens, but only in their poor choices; or that he was a very old magician who ate children. Many have heard that he somehow knew the stars (a conclusion that a nitwit could put together, since Trynity mentioned Lofi by name) and it had been believed that Lofi stayed alive for many ages because, "He was actually the dark monster who would eat stars,". Nonsense.

I did not have a stake in any of these assumptions though, perhaps except that I believed he was magical. All I knew was this order of events: Sophie died, I fell asleep, we were taken by stars to the one named Lofi... And... When I woke, Sophie was giggling in a happy fit from stealing the man's hat and playing keep away from him and the stars, with that pointy hat pulled over her entire head! And his house: it was somewhere in Plummet Valley.

Lofi's house was magic! I cannot remember all the details of it, but I will tell you this: Inside, there was a fireplace off to the left and a well in the middle. The inside was circular, and books filled every inch of the wall. I did not know how anyone would have the time to read so many books, or why they would even want to! As for the magic: Lofi's house grew, and rooms appeared in it: wide open rooms with great windows! There were places that had walls like a normal room, but the floors were made of grass, and it's dew would glow and float like happy tears of stars! The ceilings were made of sky: half of it day, and half of it night. It seemed as if we could have asked Lofi to make any kind of room for us! Anyways, the best thing was not even his house. It was him.

At the moment of Sophie's very first breath of new life, Lofi laughed like some old and happy herald. He was the first to help us (that is, the first kind of normal being), and his rejoicing for us showed that he cared deeply. After some celebrating, Tryn & Lumin helped Sophie sit up from bed, and the man in the pointy hat delicately tied a little green ribbon into Sophie's hair. The good old wizard fed us for two weeks before sending us home by way of star-flight. Some say: whatever happened in Plummet Valley changed us and made us odd, but that is not where the change came from. If we were strange at all, it's because we had been given a second chance. Neither of us know how Sophie was brought back to life, but she has never gone a day without her ribbon: It's not magical, nor is necessary anymore, but she wears it as a symbol of gratitude.

Since those events, Sophie and I have had a peculiarity about us: lasting and deep gratitude. Sophie became especially grateful for each new day, and after returning to Luca Village nothing particularly odd, dangerous, or even anything inordinately good happened. Sophie and I continued to grow, and became adults. A little older, a little different - Sophie and I would have told you we were changed by daily choices of gratitude after our loss.

We heeded the last advice of our parents, which Jack had left us in writing. I read it every night before sleeping, and every morning before setting out. Mother and father had told us to be brave, among other things. Bravery was an instruction, and boldness was the result - the foremost marker of our differences amid all others in Luca village. It seemed like: for each day we did not experience tragedy, there was something to celebrate. So if there was any difference in us at all, it was perspective.

Without fear there is often no bravery, but I discovered courage when I stopped at nothing to save Sophie (I only failed, because I was not old enough, nor well-equipped enough). Over the years, I have taught Sophie how to be bold, too. The only mystery that remained for us: Where did our parents go? And how did they know we would need to be reminded of bravery, captivation, and love each day? I did not know.

Sophie grew into a slender redhead teen. Her hair became wavy and she kept a braid hanging down her left shoulder, tied off by that sentimental little green ribbon. She grew to have the biggest blue eyes, was brave, silly, and innocent - always joyful - always a true gift to anyone she encountered.

As for me, I had grown to be a fiery eyed young man with shoulder length brown hair. I kept a short beard, and freckles dotted my cheeks above it. My virtues were: strength, humility, and grit. Most nix always took me to be sarcastic, because my virtues shined through the sadness I had overcome. I never related to their small complaints.

Like many of the forest-dwellers in Luca, the two of us did not wear shoes. Our clothing of choice: simple green shorts, and splotchy grey tops - the most common clothing made in the village. Though our clothing was mostly like everyone else's, we did have two things which set us apart.

I toted my knife, strung by a rope around my waist. It was my tool for daily tasks. Sophie made a sheath for me from leather, and embossed it with dots. She says they represent stars... but they were just different sized dots. I was proud of it though, and always carried my knife in the sheath my sister made.

Sophie carried a lasso on her hip. Instead of keeping it in a strap, she coiled it off a big curving tooth from half a lion's jaw bone! It was a gift from me. I made it for her shortly after she presented me with the sheathe. I spent two whole days boring a hole in the bone, so Sophie could string a rope through it. No one has ever asked how I came about a lion's jaw-bone, though one time a lion came through the village - only one time.

My sister proudly carried the lasso on her hip, and flaunted the bone as a fashion statement. She used the lasso for odd things, like tying herself off to a tree so she could float in the river; or trying to loop stars that came down at night. One time, she looped one by the ankle! It was only for a moment though. Stars, you see, are only half-solid when they want to be: The loop slipped right through her diamond foot after only a moment, and the star giggled then shot off in a blast of light!

For thirteen years we did not speak with Lumin and Tryn; neither with Lofi, nor the sandman. We tried to use the hourglass he gave us, but neither of us could ever get the thing to work... After some time, we finally left it to be a decoration on the table between our beds. The sand inside was nice though: it glowed golden at night, and became bright every so often after good dreams were dreamt.

I think the stars and the sandman let us alone because we wanted to be among our own kind - let alone there was no great threat in those days. The condition of father's wish was, "Raise us up against all harm," and I supposed the time had not yet come for us to be raised up: I think that's why they all kept their distance. I wish it hadn't been so, but I suppose being raised by three Luminaries would not have been understood by other villagers.

We went about our days learning in school, just like every other nix in Luca. I became old enough to choose a profession, and chose hunting because it was satisfying to bring the villagers food; though I did not fit in with other hunters. I would chase prey in new ways, and challenge myself. Many times, I would disappoint my fellow hunters by sparing an animal and foraging instead. I did not like to kill, but I enjoyed sustaining the village. Learning to use a blade also made me feel safe against the darkness.

Sophie had trouble sticking with any trade. She did not enjoy hunting, building, or foraging. She did enjoy teaching and maintaining the wood around the village, but there were problems in those areas too. If she was working in the woods and went too far in, she would be easily frightened by any shadow. One time, the entire village searched for her. She was found within earshot of the river, huddled on the ground, and would not look up until she heard my voice.

Quite on the contrary, if Sophie was teaching, she often mentioned things the nix opposed:  capers, quests, or bravery to overcome. Her fellow teachers would throw a fit about "How Sophie taught unnecessary lies," and how, "Nobody needs to be filled with notions of overcoming, only with being content and peaceable in every situation,". Needless to say, Sophie was not allowed to teach children in Luca village.

Neither of us were popular due to our differences, so we often worked with our heads down. Every time the sun came up, we could not wait for it go back down. Avoiding conflict was impossible, but every night before it got dark we would set out to a secret place where we watched the first few stars come out. We would stay until the night sky was lit completely and brilliantly. It's how we remembered our parents. After all, the letter Jack had left from them included: "Even though we've had to be leaving, you'll find that when you close your eyes on a starry night - that's every night - we'll be there,".

Being that the hourglass never worked, every night we went, hoping our parents would be there in the night sky. I longed for them to wash me from days of contempt with their gleams of adoration. Numerous were the times we went to our secret place: the conversations we had, and the bonds we shared in our differences from others. I don't remember all the times, but I will never forget the last. It was the night before everything became very strange.

Having little hope but not defeated, Sophie and I met at the edge of town and set out to our nightly routine. We passed the third bridge and exited Luca village, leaving the last of the little huts set up by the river. From there, the river End's Spill and its white banks curved, but we walked straight into the jungly wood. We walked on our own path, made by our own nightly foot-traffic. Orange and pink twilight sky above would quickly fade to a night-scape of luminary wonder, shining and twinkling through the trees.

Side by side, the two of us crunched over the forest-floor through wide and tall moss covered tree trunks. About half-way into our walk each night, Sophie would feel the weight of the day fall off her shoulders. I alone had the privilege of seeing her become excited. That night, about mid-way along, she ran ahead of me and taunted back: "Hurry up Fin, or we're gonna miss them!"

She was not referring to our parents when she said, "We're gonna miss them," but to stars of the night - one in particular. Sophie ran ahead, through pines and large leafy trees to an opening that led out to a wide riverbank. But she did not step out of the wood, onto the bank. She stopped at the edge and waited for me: Together, we would exit the wood in same-stride each night.

Sophie was getting antsy about my mellow pace, so I shot a calming call back to her through the woods: "Ey Soph, hold up! We won't miss 'em... we never do."

Its white sandy shore was our special place on the glimmering End's Spill. Sure, we were only a short walk away from the village - so close we could still hear sounds from there - but no one else ever ventured out past dark; especially since the monster had come.

She tilted her head back at me to watch me saunter up to her. I gave her a little nod and said, "Eyes closed, it's the nightly routine!"

"Mhm!" Sophie nodded, and put her arm out like an escort.

I linked my arm with hers and we closed our eyes to walk out onto the sandy bank. The sound of our steps progressed from crunches to soft pads on sand. Once our toes hit the sand, Sophie stopped - eyes still closed. She lifted one leg straight out and instructed: "Ten paces, Fin," then she counted off our steps, "One, two, th—"

"Ya know... I can count," I told her sarcastically.

"Well, one time you just kept stepping, right into the river!" Sophie retorted, and she was right.

"Yeah, okay..." I gave in, "Seven... eight... nine —"

"— Ten!" She exclaimed loudly and with a hop, then gently reached for the ground to lay down with her eyes still closed.

I ungracefully plopped down by her side, partially because my eyes had been closed as well. We were waiting until just the right time to peer into the majesty of the night sky! It was not about allowing our eyes to adjust, but waiting for the right star to be the first thing our eyes would see each night.

Another perk of having our eyes closed was the heightening of our other senses: Over the mellow babble of the river, sounds of people we knew were heard in the distance. Through our closed eyelids, glints of orange fire-light could be made out from homes and lanterns, just a wide river-curve away. We could smell the river, and smiled at its good scent. It did not expect us to fit a certain mold; pressure us to adhere to a certain kind of life. It was just flowing water. Wind rustled our clothing and brushed our skin, but our attention was quickly drawn back to the rhythm of water rushing close-by, as we awaited sights of the night sky in anticipation.

On the other side of closed eyelids, the star-scape glimmered - thick as mist and gentle as goodness into the never-ending sky. Some stars - the close ones - appeared individually. Others lit up the reaches like stardust sprayed out like some great work of color. Altogether, innumerably, they all made up that pinnacle sight out there in the yonder.

Perhaps the most wonderful thing about nights on Pinnikle, as the very night I speak of: some stars glide down to hover over the land. Solely to light up vistas, valleys, and everything in between. Sophie and I had come to the same river-bank each and every night to see just one of them - Sophie's favorite star.

"Ready Soph...?" I asked over the babbling waters and chatty village in the background.

She responded through a smile, "Ready!"

We counted off together, "Three... two... one..." and each of us open our eyes to peer.

Even though we never saw our parents in the sky, we continued to go to that very spot each and every night. Thirteen years later, we had kept our nightly routine for this reason: We discovered the exact moment, each night, that Trynity Everglade would descend over the river; on her way to relish the night atop End's Drop. Seeing our old friend was a comfort we could always count on.