"The Withering Sanctuary? That does not inspire the kind of awe the King surrounds himself with. Does he truly dwell inside such a place"
"The awe our King inspires isn't tied to the material wealth he can demonstrate" With three of them standing on the platform, with an intricate carving of a Sol'ruaig Stag, a Greathorned Owl and a beast neither Fionn or Varjo could recognise, all at the foot of King Anu.
The carving was illuminated with a sable glow the moment Robin revealed a similar carving in his possession.
Standing behind the younglings, the strewn brush of wintered leaves swopped and swirled into a converging mass, wrapped around them— before all three of them vanished from sight.
Taken by the sudden flash of light, they each found themselves beneath of stream of brilliant light, for Fionn, the light that washed over him was a perfect blend of azure and violet, wreathed in smoke of shimmering darkness, while Varjo was embraced by a prismatic blend converging above him at a singular white point.
From where the light streamed, they each heard the unmistakable voice of Robin.
"You're calm, that's good. It means you're ready to listen and listen well"
"You may be surprised to know, but the home you call Fis is fairly young. It was born from the union of Queen Aisly and King Anu, in a time long before the seasons of Autumns and Springs were brought into the world, there were only blinding Summers and biting Winters. Our king ruled the Winters from his Sanctuary, a home for all his subjects, where under his might, they could preserve. This is his first home" Robin was all too eager to remind the young noble.
"If it is as important as you say, why is it not the capital of his kingdom?" Fionn questioned, tracing the streams of light that danced around him.
"The Golden City was built by the first Faefolk, neither was a child of the Summer or Winter Courts during that time. But the Withering Sanctuary, the oldest abode of his people just as the Queen's own homeland became sacred, and as such, entry is rarely granted to them, it must be earned"
"Now, the two of you, breathe deeply" The air around each of them grew thick with the same shimmer accompanying Varjo's shower light, they both heeded the knights words and took a large breath before speaking the following words:
"Gu geatachan na cathrach òir" Neither one questioned where the knowledge came from, the words spilled forth from their mouths along with their breath, the shimmer that surrounded them swarmed the converging point above them like a lake swarming with excited stars, the glimmering stars encompassed them before vanishing entirely.
"Well, are you going to keep your eyes closed? I'm sure you'd want to see this"
"What?" Fionn scoffed, finding his sight still embraced within a veil of deep shadows.
"Oh, it seems like our little prodigy still needs some time. Why don't you go and help him, Varjo" Robin voiced. With a firm hand, he urged the dark-haired boy forward, through the listless hold of the starry sea returning to his sense of self.
"Just like this?"
"Yes, and don't forget to say the words" But their exchange was not known to Fionn, for it was not one of words, rather of intent, felt through the celestial waters they were sailing through. Varjo moved on their guardian's guidance, following the mystery that grew inside of himself instead of fighting the unfamiliar force.
"Bhon rìgh againn, thoir dhuinn sealladh"
At the touch of Varjo, Fionn's sight was cleansed of darkness and what he witnessed stifled any attempt at petulance.
Finding himself, Varjo and their guardian, Robin at the head of a grand golden gate across an impressive bridge woven from gold-tinged branches wreathed around polished stone slabs to lock the threshold out from entry.
"Now I'm not so certain who is the magic prodigy between the two of you" A comment that brought a frustrated scowl to Fionn's face.
"Before we can make for the Sablespire, we must pay our respects. You two will accompany me"
"You wish for us to see your fallen comrades?" Asked Fionn, though his expression questioned more of the reason for their presence while Varjo continued to explore the gate and the construction of the bridge, looking over the sea of stars the bridge spanned over.
'The longer I remain with either of them, the more time that I end up wasting when I could have spent it developing my talents. Father would be furious if he heard how frivolously I was gallivanting with these commoners.'
"You believe you are above a brief meeting with your predecessors? Fine. Be my guest, our Queen brought me two fledglings but I believe our King only really needs one. It would have been easier for you if I was there to offer some guidance, but the youth of today are always so impatient"
"Gu gàrradh nan darach airgead is purpaidh." Robin pulled out his mark and whispered those words before he waved the pair away.
With the knight's act, the auric majesty of the golden gate, though more grey and dull, before the metal itself began to flake, as the sable leaflets of grey filled the air around, rising into the skies in a cloak of grey that separated the pair from the knight.
It was in its ascent were they finally took notice, the sky here was a blessed warmth of amber and yellow tones, singing in concert the majesty of a beautiful spring, but it wouldn't last as the halo of golden light high above fell under the grey-cast of a clouded sky, one that brought no sense of the withering chills married to the snow.
Falling in a surly dance that found itself forming into a mound.
Time passed with far greater capacity, but almost mirrored semblance as the Varjo witnessed the grasp of Autumn retreat before the dawning of Spring, as the leaves returned to their home trees.
For Fionn, the passage of time moved onwards with him along it, the discarded auburn leaves laying buried beneath thickening mounds of snow, while the last of the evergreens stood resolute in the face of that cold.
As he walked onwards, he found the only sound accompanying him were that of his own footsteps. With a pace that began to rise in vigor as the snow cover lessened, he found himself approaching an unmistakable sign of a burning struggle.
The ground was now hard and coarse with muddied patches littered about, nearing the remaining pools of standing water, reflecting the battle of amber and smoke above.
The way opened before him was a charred and smoking forest impressive in its grandest, had it not been touched by flame.
Fiona felt like a passage, as though the vision was meant for another but he was permitted to see.
"What disaster would bring such ruin— ruin, no— " His words shook him once he understood where he stood.
The pools held the shimmering mystery he had only known from one place, and now, this forest, the wood smoke with a known smell and the path that laid ahead wasn't a path—
He approached, kneeling before the ash heaps and broken beams, through the mud, and ash and smoke, he found his answer.
Dusting himself off before he continued to walk, the path began to narrow, leading him away from forest, to where a single tree stood among the dead bark and burnt oak.
It was here that he finally remembered it all, the time he loosened a bolt of thunder crackling aimlessly at a target, that same target now stood over him, torch in hand and a bloodied hand in the other.
The hand was soaked but what it held fiercely, a lock of hair as golden as the dawning sun.
"It was you, you caused this–why are you showing me this, Robin, what does this all mean?" Fionn cried as witnessed the unmoving figure stand by the tree, the last untouched tree before putting it to the torch.
"Cuirfidh sé an domhan seo trí thine, ag scriosadh gach uile rud mar an ainmhí gan chiall atá ann, mura mbeadh tusa ann."
" Cad a dhéanfaidh tú agus bagairt mar sin os do chomhair? Cad atá tú sásta a dhéanamh chun an domhan a chosaint uaidh?" The words could be heard from all directions carrying unmistakable intent.
Once the force of the command ripped through his beings he could assert its origin, the great tree, now turned to cinders.
"I would stop it"
"Ach ní féidir leat, óir is lag tú — gan bhrí ar fad i bhfianaise a leithéid de olc"
"What— "
"But you will be"