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Description

Mother Gaia had decided to overhaul her Seasonal Council.
This was a well-known fact, and most of the magical populous of Crystal Springs had agreed with her. The Fae War had gone on for too long, and it was about time things changed.
They would be retiring, as it had been announced to the continent, to a place called Rosehaven. It was explained as a sort of afterlife for those who decided to retire as well, or those who may take injury directly to their core and “die”, as it were.
They had expected this.
What they hadn’t expected was that something would go…wrong.
---
Mother Gaia had a plan.
As the Snow Queen ran, her daughter tight in her arms, the one thought that came to mind was that this was not part of Gaia’s plan.
“Winter!” she shouted, watching the pink light in the distance finally cover the sky.
“I’m here, Momma. You’re holding me.”
“Indeed you are, snowflake. But your father is not. Winter!” she shouted again, behind her. She couldn’t see anything through the blizzard. She couldn’t hear anything either. She knew she was the cause of it but she was too frazzled as they ran to do anything about it.
It was unlike any she had ever made before.
It was fuelled by fear, she could tell. Her own fear. Her daughter’s fear. There was anger, too. Some of it her own at being sent away, not being able to see her daughter grow…most of the anger was not her own, however. Somewhere, Snow was flying away from The Call, angry and displeased at being forced into “retirement”, as they were all calling it.
There was sadness, too. Her own sadness. Her daughter’s sadness. The Winter Warlock’s sadness.
So much sadness.
“I’m here, darling,” Winter’s voice reached her. She stopped, letting him catch up to them. He was breathing heavily. “I’m here.”
“We can take a breather,” the Snow Queen said, touching his shoulder gently.
“No. We cannot. I’m afraid something has gone wrong, Bianca.”
“That’s what I was thinking, too,” she replied, looking back at the fast approaching pink light.
“We have to reach the drop point before The Call reaches us. Keep running, and if I get left behind…then so be it.”
“Winter! No, I don’t want to leave you behind,” she said, gently caressing the side of his face.
“It will be fine,” he said, pushing back her dark hair. “I love you, Bianca, my Snow Queen.”
“And I you, my Winter Warlock.”
“Now little one,” he began, very fast, taking their daughter from her Mother’s arms. “I may fall behind, and if I do, remember that your father loves you very, very much. “
“But why do you have to go?” she asked, blue eyes scared.
“If your Mother and I don’t go, the balance will not be reset.”
“But how do you know that?”
“Mother Gaia told us,” Winter replied. “It’s all part of her plan.”
“When we’re gone darling, you will have a very important job. You must stay safe until Tara finds you.” Bianca pitched in, taking the girl in her arms again.
The child nodded, the fear in her eyes betraying what really lay between her otherwise calm exterior. Her lips wobbled, tears beginning to fall. “I don’t want you to go! I don’t want either of you to go!”
“But we must,” the Winter Warlock replied. He wanted to tell her that they, too, had participated in the Fae War; they, too, had to go, least the dark forces seize the moment to sway the balance fully towards their side.
Something the Fae had already begun to do for them in their petty war, before Gaia had put a stop to it in the harshest way both sprites could possibly imagine.
But he couldn’t bring himself to tell her. Despite all that had happened, he wanted their daughter to have a positive memory of them, if she retained one at all once the Rosehaven magic began settling. Perhaps when she was older, she would learn the truth. But for now…
“Go Bianca. Keep running. Get Winter to safety.” He kissed her head, leaning on his staff. He looked like he had aged centuries in the past few hours.
He looked wonderful to Bianca.
“I’ll see you soon. In Rosehaven,” he reminded her.
“I love you,” she said, unable to say anything else. There would be time for that later. In Rosehaven.
Bundling young Winter into her cloak once more, Bianca gave the Winter Warlock one last kiss and began to run.
The light pink magic had covered the sky now. She could see the wall of pink light that had hit the ground rushing towards them–The Call. In the distance, she saw her lover wave before the pink light touched him. He began to fade in a glow of pink, until his form had disappeared.
She switched to flying (no longer needing to keep up with him), a tear escaping her eye despite the knowledge that she would see him again very soon. She would join him, too.
It was only a matter of time for her.
---

A beam of sunlight shot through the once blue sky, now covered in a pink glow.
Out of the beam stepped a man, landing on the beach, the soft sand a comfort under his feet. He held his hands close to his chest as he approached the shoreline, the tides gently lapping onto the sand.
He had absolutely waited until the very last moment to do this, and he knew it; Mother Gaia had given him the ball of life light ages ago. But he didn’t want to give her a form just yet; he didn’t want to grow close to a physical being only to have to leave her so soon.
He touched the ground, where the sand met the sea, a small spot of sun from his finger lighting up the ground and calling her to him.
The sea and the sand glowed, twirling together into a vaguely humanoid shape, the sunlight he had let touch the ground helping the girl take form.
His daughter.
“Dad, what’s going on? Why is the sky pink?”
“I have a gift for you,” he began, opening up his hands.
“That’s a glowing green ball,” she said.
“It’s a ball of life. It was given to me by Mother Gaia…many, many moons ago. I should have done this much sooner but…I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”
“A ball of life? Wait…you’re giving me a proper form?”
“Yes. Something is happening.”
“The pink sky.”
“Yes. Mother Gaia has decreed that the Fae War has gone on for too long; she decided to retire the Seasonal Council. All of us…we’re headed to a place called Rosehaven. It’s like an afterlife.”
“But we can’t die.”
“Technically, no. She is calling this retiring. She has created this place with the greatest powers that be in order to preserve the balance. Us sprites who participated in the events of the Fae War are all going, as well. We must.”
“So why the ball of life?”
“Mother Gaia has a new system of balance planned. Smaller, and easier to manage…but more powerful than us current sprites.”
“And I’m suppose to take your place?”
“Yes. I know I should have told you earlier. I know you probably don’t want all that responsibility…”
“But Mother Gaia said so. So now…you’re making me a full sprite,” she realized. After all, she was only a wisp–how sprites originally came to be; elements who grew a consciousness. With the ball of life light Sol could give her a form, a form that wasn’t just sunshine and water and sand.
She should be excited…but she found herself feeling so many things that she wasn’t quite sure what she should be showing.
“Yes,” Sol confirmed. “That’s exactly it.” He looked up at the sky, frowning. “I don’t have much time. I should have done this sooner but…I was afraid.”
“Of what?” she asked.
“I was afraid that I wouldn’t want to leave if I gave you form so soon. But now I’m realizing that it doesn’t matter when, nor does it matter how you look–whether you are an amalgam of sun and water and sand and warmth, or all of that within a humanoid form. I still don’t want to go.”
“Then don’t,” she insisted. “Can’t you just skip out on it?”
“They way it’s looking, I don’t think I could even if I tried.”
Before she could say anything, Sol brought his open palms up to his face, the ball of life light sparkling. He blew on it, and it glowed. It glowed a bright, brilliant yellow–like the sun–and tendrils of life giving magic began to reach out, finding her form.
She felt warm. She was encompassed by a bright light; she could feel the water and the sand turning solid and…fleshy. She definitely felt fleshy. She felt so, so warm deep inside. The feeling encompassed her; she was sure that this is what the sun itself must feel like. And then, as suddenly as the feeling arrived, it left all at once.
She let out a breath and felt lungs, lungs, pumping out air. She could feel a heartbeat–she had a heartbeat! She fell to her knees, burying her hands in the sand. It felt…warm. And squishy.
She pulled her hands out of the sand, and looked at them. They were dark, and corporeal. In fact, all of her was.
Equally dark hands, much bigger and rougher, grabbed hers, helping her up. Sol smiled. “You have a form now, my dear.”
“This is wild,” she said, still transfixed by her hands, by being able to hold someone else’s hands!
Sol laughed. “It does my old heart good to see you happy before I leave.”
The girl blinked, looking up at her father. “Already? But I only just got to properly see you! Who’s going to help me now that I’m not just…sandy sea air and sunshine?”
“Ah, you will manage. You’re strong. Like me,” he said, flexing and grinning.
The girl laughed. “I’ll miss you, Dad,” she said, as a wall of pink light began to approach them.
“And I you, my wonderful daughter. But I’ll always be in your heart. And if your memory of me stays, then perhaps we will meet again one day.” His hands moved to her face, holding her cheeks. “You’re going to be great, Summer,” he said.
The pink light came. It washed over them. Summer watched as Sol was covered by the light and began to fade, his dark, smiling face disappearing slowly until he was gone.
Summer blinked. Something wet ran down her cheek.
---
They had reached the drop point. A safe space for Winter to stay until the Rosehaven magic dispersed and the continent was once again blue and hopefully, if all went well, rightfully balanced.
That being said, Bianca was unsure all was going well. She glanced once more up at the sky. The wall of pink light was approaching fast; she didn’t have much time.
“You remember what we told you?”
The young girl nodded. “Yes Momma. I’m to stay here until there’s no more pink. Then I wait for Tara to find me.”
“What matters most is that you stay safe, Winter,” she said, placing her daughter in the small cave they had found. It was padded with the warmest furs and rugs they had had back in the castle. Despite the suddenness of The Call, she and Winter had had time to prepare young Winter’s safety spot.
The Call would bring anyone who had contributed to the Fae War into Rosehaven, and both Bianca and Winter did not want their daughter to be claimed by the call because of the wrongdoings of her parents.
She was integral to Gaia’s new system of balance. The one that Tara, who would take up the mantle as Mother Gaia, would head.
The Call was approaching.
“I love you, Winter,” Bianca said, tears escaping (as hard as she tried to keep them in). “I love you so much,” she hugged her daughter tightly before placing her in the cozy cover.
“I love you too, Momma,” Winter said.
The Call came. Bianca’s smiling face, bathed in pink and wet with tears, faded from view until Winter was left alone.
Winter cried. She was afraid. Her parents were gone.
She was alone.
She felt a weird pain inside her. She watched as her pale hands took on an icy blue tone. She cried harder, unable to stop her heart from freezing over.
---
Harvest stood in the middle of her fields, hands folded in front of her as she looked up at the pink sky, the wind fast picking up. Her bountiful crops were bent backwards; but her clothes, her hair, barely moved in the fierce wind.
“Something has gone wrong with The Call,” she noted.
“No. Nothing has gone wrong with The Call.”
Harvest turned, startled at first; their voice was always like that. Startling. Coming from everywhere around them at once.
“Hallow. What do you mean?”
“The Goddess. She is angry.”
Harvest’s breath caught in her throat. “The Fae War…”
Hallow nodded. “It displeased The Goddess greatly. Mother Gaia’s decision…Rosehaven…she would have had to consult with the Goddess, to create a space such as Rosehaven.”
“Did she go through you?”
Hallow Eve shook their head. “No. She consulted me. I told her of the deepest part of the Springs. I would assume she went there to consult with the Goddess.”
“Is that how you do it?”
They laughed, the sound ethereal. “I have told you countless times, I do not speak directly to the Goddess. I am but one of many Hallows who guard the barrier between worlds. Semi disgraced, I might add.”
The pink had coated the sky above them now. Harvest smiled. “Is being with me really such a disgraceful thing?” she teased.
“Not to me. Not ever.” Their hands squeezed her shoulders gently. “The Call will be coming next. Fairly fast, I imagine.”
“Then we must make sure Autumn is safe. I know she played no part in the war but…The Snow Queen and The Winter Warlock are doing the same with their child. A safe spot. Until the Rosehaven magic clears.”
Hallow nodded. They pulled down their hood, grey eyes steely–and yet, sad. Not sad for the souls of the other world, like most Hallows eyes apparently looked. Sad for themselves. For her. And for their daughter.
She would be alone. And both Hallow and Harvest did not know how long she would be alone for.
Harvest grabbed Hallow’s hand. “Let’s go say goodbye to her.”
The safe spot for their daughter was on their homestead. A large evergreen tree had been found by Harvest. She had shown Autumn and immediately, her daughter had made it her own cozy nook. Autumn had a wisdom to her. Harvest assumed that was Hallow’s influence and was grateful Autumn had inherited that from them.
“Stay safe,” Harvest told her daughter, helping her settle into the nook. Now, Hallow was watching the distant horizon. The wall of pink drew closer.
“The Call approaches,” they said. Hallow had chosen long ago to stay with Harvest. It was not too long after they decided to stay that Harvest had found what she needed to perhaps sow another like her. Hallow had supported her in every way they could. Harvest had been successful…for the most part. But the young life she had grown did not have life, and Harvest did not have a life light to give to the child.
Hallow could not bear to see Harvest weep in such sorrow. So, they had done something forbidden by the other Hallows: they had given the child the touch of life.
They had been banished by the other Hallows, but they preferred that. Hallow loved Harvest, and loved Autumn, and much preferred being on the surface and in the physical world than in the spirit world, helping ferry souls back and forth one night a year, choosing instead to promote celebration amongst the living of the deceased ones.
Autumn was Harvest’s daughter. But she was also Hallow’s daughter, and they were just as distraught as Harvest was to have to say goodbye to the child both Hallow and Harvest loved so much. “Be safe, Autumn,” they continued, looking down at the young sprite.
“I will,” Autumn said. “I will stay right here until there is no more pink. Then, I will find Tara, just like you said to.”
“Good girl,” Harvest said, hugging her once more.
“I’ll miss you both very much,” Autumn said.
“And us, you,” Hallow replied, as The Call hit both them and Harvest. Autumn recoiled, having been warned about the Rosehaven magic. She bundled into her tree as the two parental figures began to fade from view.
“I love you,” Harvest said again, blowing kisses.
“And I as well,” Hallow said, barely visible.
Autumn caught all of Harvest’s kisses as the two parents finally faded from view, disappearing.
She put the kisses in a safe spot and snuggled deeper into the tree, hugging her stuffed bunny tight.
She closed her eyes, hoping that when she opened them, the sky would be normal and she wouldn’t be scared anymore.
---
The pink light exploded with a force like no other. Mother Gaia would have been thrown back, were it not for Tara whipping her hands up, strong vines wrapping around both of them, keeping them from being thrown back.
The wind howled as the light reached the sky, and began moving outwards…fast. Much faster than Gaia and Tara had thought.
“Something’s gone wrong, Mother,” Tara said. The wind blew her long, dark hair back, while Gaia’s green hair did not move despite facing the same strong winds.
“No. Nothing has gone wrong.”
“This is happening much faster than we thought,” Tara continued. “We can’t stop it, can we?”
“No. It is the will of the Goddess.”
Tara’s eyes widened. “You knew.”
“Unfortunately,” the short, elderly woman said, pain in her eyes. “The Fae War has displeased the Goddess…more than it has myself.”
“So she’s decided to make The Call apocalyptic.”
A smile ghosted Gaia’s face. “More like instantaneous. Though I will admit, this is quite apocalyptic.”
“I suppose it’s fitting,” Tara said. “We’re ushering in a whole new system. We’re forcibly resetting the scales of balance.”
“It is the only way. The longer the Fae fight amongst themselves, the easier it is for darkness to win.”
“And you will have to go with The Call.”
“Yes. I may have been one of the biggest instigators of the Fae War. I favoured the sprites.” she chuckled. “I am one.”
“So am I, and yet, I stay here.”
“You must take up my mantle,” Mother Gaia said, watching the sky. The pink nearly covered the continent. “You will be the next Mother Gaia.”
“Mother Tara doesn’t sound as nice.”
“Then perhaps add to the title, my dear.” The pink coated the sky now. “The Call begins,” Gaia said, as the pink sky rippled. “It will start at the edges of the continent.”
“So we still have time.”
“Yes. You know what you must do.”
“Yes. You’ve decided to put all of the seasonal needs in the hands of one sprite, each. The Seasons. I am to find these four sprites and bring them here, train them, raise them, and help them learn the vines.”
Gaia chuckled. “Yes. And where will you find them?”
“In each of the provinces. Mother, can’t you just tell me who they are?”
“The Seasons.”
“But, they must have names–”
“They do. The Seasons. Winter, Summer, Autumn, and Spring.”
“How will I find them? When will I find them? I can only handle all four seasons on my own for so long, Mother Gaia.”
“I’m…not sure how long it will take. This information was not revealed to me. Tara dear, we are running out of time. Look at me,” she said, finally turning away from the approaching wall of pink light and looking at her protégé, her daughter in every sense of the word. She closed her eyes and folded her hands together. Slowly she brought them apart, a ball of green light in her encircled hands.
“A life light.”
“Just light currently. You will give it life. A sprite has been forming in the garden the past few decades. I can hear her laughter sometimes. I..I do not know if she has a semi-corporeal form yet. But when she does, you will know. I have lain out the elements she will need to become the sprite she is.”
“Spring?” Tara guessed, taking the ball of light.
“Exactly,” the elderly woman’s face cracked into a smile. “You’ve grown so much, Tara. Do not underestimate what you can do, my child. You are ready for this,” Gaia said. “I hereby pass on my title to you, Tara, my dear daughter.”
“And I will take up your title, and honour what it means and what you have entrusted me to do.”
“The Call is here,” Gaia said, as the wall of pink closed around the garden, fast approaching. “I must leave.”
“Farewell, Mother Gaia.”
“Farewell, Mother Tara.”
“Nature. Mother Nature,” Tara decided. The pink light had covered Gaia, and she began to fade. But Tara saw the woman smile as she faded, and heard her voice, a quiet whisper.
“Farewell, Mother Nature.”
And with that, her predecessor disappeared into the pink light. The Rosehaven magic had claimed its last resident.
Tara was Mother Nature now.
And Mother Nature was alone.

Description

Mother Gaia had decided to overhaul her Seasonal Council.
This was a well-known fact, and most of the magical populous of Crystal Springs had agreed with her. The Fae War had gone on for too long, and it was about time things changed.
They would be retiring, as it had been announced to the continent, to a place called Rosehaven. It was explained as a sort of afterlife for those who decided to retire as well, or those who may take injury directly to their core and “die”, as it were.
They had expected this.
What they hadn’t expected was that something would go…wrong.
---
Mother Gaia had a plan.
As the Snow Queen ran, her daughter tight in her arms, the one thought that came to mind was that this was not part of Gaia’s plan.
“Winter!” she shouted, watching the pink light in the distance finally cover the sky.
“I’m here, Momma. You’re holding me.”
“Indeed you are, snowflake. But your father is not. Winter!” she shouted again, behind her. She couldn’t see anything through the blizzard. She couldn’t hear anything either. She knew she was the cause of it but she was too frazzled as they ran to do anything about it.
It was unlike any she had ever made before.
It was fuelled by fear, she could tell. Her own fear. Her daughter’s fear. There was anger, too. Some of it her own at being sent away, not being able to see her daughter grow…most of the anger was not her own, however. Somewhere, Snow was flying away from The Call, angry and displeased at being forced into “retirement”, as they were all calling it.
There was sadness, too. Her own sadness. Her daughter’s sadness. The Winter Warlock’s sadness.
So much sadness.
“I’m here, darling,” Winter’s voice reached her. She stopped, letting him catch up to them. He was breathing heavily. “I’m here.”
“We can take a breather,” the Snow Queen said, touching his shoulder gently.
“No. We cannot. I’m afraid something has gone wrong, Bianca.”
“That’s what I was thinking, too,” she replied, looking back at the fast approaching pink light.
“We have to reach the drop point before The Call reaches us. Keep running, and if I get left behind…then so be it.”
“Winter! No, I don’t want to leave you behind,” she said, gently caressing the side of his face.
“It will be fine,” he said, pushing back her dark hair. “I love you, Bianca, my Snow Queen.”
“And I you, my Winter Warlock.”
“Now little one,” he began, very fast, taking their daughter from her Mother’s arms. “I may fall behind, and if I do, remember that your father loves you very, very much. “
“But why do you have to go?” she asked, blue eyes scared.
“If your Mother and I don’t go, the balance will not be reset.”
“But how do you know that?”
“Mother Gaia told us,” Winter replied. “It’s all part of her plan.”
“When we’re gone darling, you will have a very important job. You must stay safe until Tara finds you.” Bianca pitched in, taking the girl in her arms again.
The child nodded, the fear in her eyes betraying what really lay between her otherwise calm exterior. Her lips wobbled, tears beginning to fall. “I don’t want you to go! I don’t want either of you to go!”
“But we must,” the Winter Warlock replied. He wanted to tell her that they, too, had participated in the Fae War; they, too, had to go, least the dark forces seize the moment to sway the balance fully towards their side.
Something the Fae had already begun to do for them in their petty war, before Gaia had put a stop to it in the harshest way both sprites could possibly imagine.
But he couldn’t bring himself to tell her. Despite all that had happened, he wanted their daughter to have a positive memory of them, if she retained one at all once the Rosehaven magic began settling. Perhaps when she was older, she would learn the truth. But for now…
“Go Bianca. Keep running. Get Winter to safety.” He kissed her head, leaning on his staff. He looked like he had aged centuries in the past few hours.
He looked wonderful to Bianca.
“I’ll see you soon. In Rosehaven,” he reminded her.
“I love you,” she said, unable to say anything else. There would be time for that later. In Rosehaven.
Bundling young Winter into her cloak once more, Bianca gave the Winter Warlock one last kiss and began to run.
The light pink magic had covered the sky now. She could see the wall of pink light that had hit the ground rushing towards them–The Call. In the distance, she saw her lover wave before the pink light touched him. He began to fade in a glow of pink, until his form had disappeared.
She switched to flying (no longer needing to keep up with him), a tear escaping her eye despite the knowledge that she would see him again very soon. She would join him, too.
It was only a matter of time for her.
---

A beam of sunlight shot through the once blue sky, now covered in a pink glow.
Out of the beam stepped a man, landing on the beach, the soft sand a comfort under his feet. He held his hands close to his chest as he approached the shoreline, the tides gently lapping onto the sand.
He had absolutely waited until the very last moment to do this, and he knew it; Mother Gaia had given him the ball of life light ages ago. But he didn’t want to give her a form just yet; he didn’t want to grow close to a physical being only to have to leave her so soon.
He touched the ground, where the sand met the sea, a small spot of sun from his finger lighting up the ground and calling her to him.
The sea and the sand glowed, twirling together into a vaguely humanoid shape, the sunlight he had let touch the ground helping the girl take form.
His daughter.
“Dad, what’s going on? Why is the sky pink?”
“I have a gift for you,” he began, opening up his hands.
“That’s a glowing green ball,” she said.
“It’s a ball of life. It was given to me by Mother Gaia…many, many moons ago. I should have done this much sooner but…I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”
“A ball of life? Wait…you’re giving me a proper form?”
“Yes. Something is happening.”
“The pink sky.”
“Yes. Mother Gaia has decreed that the Fae War has gone on for too long; she decided to retire the Seasonal Council. All of us…we’re headed to a place called Rosehaven. It’s like an afterlife.”
“But we can’t die.”
“Technically, no. She is calling this retiring. She has created this place with the greatest powers that be in order to preserve the balance. Us sprites who participated in the events of the Fae War are all going, as well. We must.”
“So why the ball of life?”
“Mother Gaia has a new system of balance planned. Smaller, and easier to manage…but more powerful than us current sprites.”
“And I’m suppose to take your place?”
“Yes. I know I should have told you earlier. I know you probably don’t want all that responsibility…”
“But Mother Gaia said so. So now…you’re making me a full sprite,” she realized. After all, she was only a wisp–how sprites originally came to be; elements who grew a consciousness. With the ball of life light Sol could give her a form, a form that wasn’t just sunshine and water and sand.
She should be excited…but she found herself feeling so many things that she wasn’t quite sure what she should be showing.
“Yes,” Sol confirmed. “That’s exactly it.” He looked up at the sky, frowning. “I don’t have much time. I should have done this sooner but…I was afraid.”
“Of what?” she asked.
“I was afraid that I wouldn’t want to leave if I gave you form so soon. But now I’m realizing that it doesn’t matter when, nor does it matter how you look–whether you are an amalgam of sun and water and sand and warmth, or all of that within a humanoid form. I still don’t want to go.”
“Then don’t,” she insisted. “Can’t you just skip out on it?”
“They way it’s looking, I don’t think I could even if I tried.”
Before she could say anything, Sol brought his open palms up to his face, the ball of life light sparkling. He blew on it, and it glowed. It glowed a bright, brilliant yellow–like the sun–and tendrils of life giving magic began to reach out, finding her form.
She felt warm. She was encompassed by a bright light; she could feel the water and the sand turning solid and…fleshy. She definitely felt fleshy. She felt so, so warm deep inside. The feeling encompassed her; she was sure that this is what the sun itself must feel like. And then, as suddenly as the feeling arrived, it left all at once.
She let out a breath and felt lungs, lungs, pumping out air. She could feel a heartbeat–she had a heartbeat! She fell to her knees, burying her hands in the sand. It felt…warm. And squishy.
She pulled her hands out of the sand, and looked at them. They were dark, and corporeal. In fact, all of her was.
Equally dark hands, much bigger and rougher, grabbed hers, helping her up. Sol smiled. “You have a form now, my dear.”
“This is wild,” she said, still transfixed by her hands, by being able to hold someone else’s hands!
Sol laughed. “It does my old heart good to see you happy before I leave.”
The girl blinked, looking up at her father. “Already? But I only just got to properly see you! Who’s going to help me now that I’m not just…sandy sea air and sunshine?”
“Ah, you will manage. You’re strong. Like me,” he said, flexing and grinning.
The girl laughed. “I’ll miss you, Dad,” she said, as a wall of pink light began to approach them.
“And I you, my wonderful daughter. But I’ll always be in your heart. And if your memory of me stays, then perhaps we will meet again one day.” His hands moved to her face, holding her cheeks. “You’re going to be great, Summer,” he said.
The pink light came. It washed over them. Summer watched as Sol was covered by the light and began to fade, his dark, smiling face disappearing slowly until he was gone.
Summer blinked. Something wet ran down her cheek.
---
They had reached the drop point. A safe space for Winter to stay until the Rosehaven magic dispersed and the continent was once again blue and hopefully, if all went well, rightfully balanced.
That being said, Bianca was unsure all was going well. She glanced once more up at the sky. The wall of pink light was approaching fast; she didn’t have much time.
“You remember what we told you?”
The young girl nodded. “Yes Momma. I’m to stay here until there’s no more pink. Then I wait for Tara to find me.”
“What matters most is that you stay safe, Winter,” she said, placing her daughter in the small cave they had found. It was padded with the warmest furs and rugs they had had back in the castle. Despite the suddenness of The Call, she and Winter had had time to prepare young Winter’s safety spot.
The Call would bring anyone who had contributed to the Fae War into Rosehaven, and both Bianca and Winter did not want their daughter to be claimed by the call because of the wrongdoings of her parents.
She was integral to Gaia’s new system of balance. The one that Tara, who would take up the mantle as Mother Gaia, would head.
The Call was approaching.
“I love you, Winter,” Bianca said, tears escaping (as hard as she tried to keep them in). “I love you so much,” she hugged her daughter tightly before placing her in the cozy cover.
“I love you too, Momma,” Winter said.
The Call came. Bianca’s smiling face, bathed in pink and wet with tears, faded from view until Winter was left alone.
Winter cried. She was afraid. Her parents were gone.
She was alone.
She felt a weird pain inside her. She watched as her pale hands took on an icy blue tone. She cried harder, unable to stop her heart from freezing over.
---
Harvest stood in the middle of her fields, hands folded in front of her as she looked up at the pink sky, the wind fast picking up. Her bountiful crops were bent backwards; but her clothes, her hair, barely moved in the fierce wind.
“Something has gone wrong with The Call,” she noted.
“No. Nothing has gone wrong with The Call.”
Harvest turned, startled at first; their voice was always like that. Startling. Coming from everywhere around them at once.
“Hallow. What do you mean?”
“The Goddess. She is angry.”
Harvest’s breath caught in her throat. “The Fae War…”
Hallow nodded. “It displeased The Goddess greatly. Mother Gaia’s decision…Rosehaven…she would have had to consult with the Goddess, to create a space such as Rosehaven.”
“Did she go through you?”
Hallow Eve shook their head. “No. She consulted me. I told her of the deepest part of the Springs. I would assume she went there to consult with the Goddess.”
“Is that how you do it?”
They laughed, the sound ethereal. “I have told you countless times, I do not speak directly to the Goddess. I am but one of many Hallows who guard the barrier between worlds. Semi disgraced, I might add.”
The pink had coated the sky above them now. Harvest smiled. “Is being with me really such a disgraceful thing?” she teased.
“Not to me. Not ever.” Their hands squeezed her shoulders gently. “The Call will be coming next. Fairly fast, I imagine.”
“Then we must make sure Autumn is safe. I know she played no part in the war but…The Snow Queen and The Winter Warlock are doing the same with their child. A safe spot. Until the Rosehaven magic clears.”
Hallow nodded. They pulled down their hood, grey eyes steely–and yet, sad. Not sad for the souls of the other world, like most Hallows eyes apparently looked. Sad for themselves. For her. And for their daughter.
She would be alone. And both Hallow and Harvest did not know how long she would be alone for.
Harvest grabbed Hallow’s hand. “Let’s go say goodbye to her.”
The safe spot for their daughter was on their homestead. A large evergreen tree had been found by Harvest. She had shown Autumn and immediately, her daughter had made it her own cozy nook. Autumn had a wisdom to her. Harvest assumed that was Hallow’s influence and was grateful Autumn had inherited that from them.
“Stay safe,” Harvest told her daughter, helping her settle into the nook. Now, Hallow was watching the distant horizon. The wall of pink drew closer.
“The Call approaches,” they said. Hallow had chosen long ago to stay with Harvest. It was not too long after they decided to stay that Harvest had found what she needed to perhaps sow another like her. Hallow had supported her in every way they could. Harvest had been successful…for the most part. But the young life she had grown did not have life, and Harvest did not have a life light to give to the child.
Hallow could not bear to see Harvest weep in such sorrow. So, they had done something forbidden by the other Hallows: they had given the child the touch of life.
They had been banished by the other Hallows, but they preferred that. Hallow loved Harvest, and loved Autumn, and much preferred being on the surface and in the physical world than in the spirit world, helping ferry souls back and forth one night a year, choosing instead to promote celebration amongst the living of the deceased ones.
Autumn was Harvest’s daughter. But she was also Hallow’s daughter, and they were just as distraught as Harvest was to have to say goodbye to the child both Hallow and Harvest loved so much. “Be safe, Autumn,” they continued, looking down at the young sprite.
“I will,” Autumn said. “I will stay right here until there is no more pink. Then, I will find Tara, just like you said to.”
“Good girl,” Harvest said, hugging her once more.
“I’ll miss you both very much,” Autumn said.
“And us, you,” Hallow replied, as The Call hit both them and Harvest. Autumn recoiled, having been warned about the Rosehaven magic. She bundled into her tree as the two parental figures began to fade from view.
“I love you,” Harvest said again, blowing kisses.
“And I as well,” Hallow said, barely visible.
Autumn caught all of Harvest’s kisses as the two parents finally faded from view, disappearing.
She put the kisses in a safe spot and snuggled deeper into the tree, hugging her stuffed bunny tight.
She closed her eyes, hoping that when she opened them, the sky would be normal and she wouldn’t be scared anymore.
---
The pink light exploded with a force like no other. Mother Gaia would have been thrown back, were it not for Tara whipping her hands up, strong vines wrapping around both of them, keeping them from being thrown back.
The wind howled as the light reached the sky, and began moving outwards…fast. Much faster than Gaia and Tara had thought.
“Something’s gone wrong, Mother,” Tara said. The wind blew her long, dark hair back, while Gaia’s green hair did not move despite facing the same strong winds.
“No. Nothing has gone wrong.”
“This is happening much faster than we thought,” Tara continued. “We can’t stop it, can we?”
“No. It is the will of the Goddess.”
Tara’s eyes widened. “You knew.”
“Unfortunately,” the short, elderly woman said, pain in her eyes. “The Fae War has displeased the Goddess…more than it has myself.”
“So she’s decided to make The Call apocalyptic.”
A smile ghosted Gaia’s face. “More like instantaneous. Though I will admit, this is quite apocalyptic.”
“I suppose it’s fitting,” Tara said. “We’re ushering in a whole new system. We’re forcibly resetting the scales of balance.”
“It is the only way. The longer the Fae fight amongst themselves, the easier it is for darkness to win.”
“And you will have to go with The Call.”
“Yes. I may have been one of the biggest instigators of the Fae War. I favoured the sprites.” she chuckled. “I am one.”
“So am I, and yet, I stay here.”
“You must take up my mantle,” Mother Gaia said, watching the sky. The pink nearly covered the continent. “You will be the next Mother Gaia.”
“Mother Tara doesn’t sound as nice.”
“Then perhaps add to the title, my dear.” The pink coated the sky now. “The Call begins,” Gaia said, as the pink sky rippled. “It will start at the edges of the continent.”
“So we still have time.”
“Yes. You know what you must do.”
“Yes. You’ve decided to put all of the seasonal needs in the hands of one sprite, each. The Seasons. I am to find these four sprites and bring them here, train them, raise them, and help them learn the vines.”
Gaia chuckled. “Yes. And where will you find them?”
“In each of the provinces. Mother, can’t you just tell me who they are?”
“The Seasons.”
“But, they must have names–”
“They do. The Seasons. Winter, Summer, Autumn, and Spring.”
“How will I find them? When will I find them? I can only handle all four seasons on my own for so long, Mother Gaia.”
“I’m…not sure how long it will take. This information was not revealed to me. Tara dear, we are running out of time. Look at me,” she said, finally turning away from the approaching wall of pink light and looking at her protégé, her daughter in every sense of the word. She closed her eyes and folded her hands together. Slowly she brought them apart, a ball of green light in her encircled hands.
“A life light.”
“Just light currently. You will give it life. A sprite has been forming in the garden the past few decades. I can hear her laughter sometimes. I..I do not know if she has a semi-corporeal form yet. But when she does, you will know. I have lain out the elements she will need to become the sprite she is.”
“Spring?” Tara guessed, taking the ball of light.
“Exactly,” the elderly woman’s face cracked into a smile. “You’ve grown so much, Tara. Do not underestimate what you can do, my child. You are ready for this,” Gaia said. “I hereby pass on my title to you, Tara, my dear daughter.”
“And I will take up your title, and honour what it means and what you have entrusted me to do.”
“The Call is here,” Gaia said, as the wall of pink closed around the garden, fast approaching. “I must leave.”
“Farewell, Mother Gaia.”
“Farewell, Mother Tara.”
“Nature. Mother Nature,” Tara decided. The pink light had covered Gaia, and she began to fade. But Tara saw the woman smile as she faded, and heard her voice, a quiet whisper.
“Farewell, Mother Nature.”
And with that, her predecessor disappeared into the pink light. The Rosehaven magic had claimed its last resident.
Tara was Mother Nature now.
And Mother Nature was alone.