four cities of the Fae. These are Gorias in the East, Finias in the South, Murias in the West and Falias in the North. There is, unbeknownst to many, a fifth city that exists within the centre of them all, heart shaped, absolutely hidden, and is quite central to the other four. This centrally located city is only spoken of as being the Glen of Precious Stones. The way to this place is necessarily secret, as is its True Name – just as the Fortunate Isle itself is hidden from the view of mere mortals. It is no wonderment to me now that the stone I was given in the forest on that windy day when I was four, a heart-shaped, uncut emerald, alluded to that very place. It took me another twenty years to ascertain what it meant and to actually reach the Glen of Precious Stones, but the gift had been with me since the beginning.
Each of the Seven Realms of Existence must not only had to be perceived but traversed before I could enter any of those cities, indeed the Fae Lands at all. Morgienne herself never was able to reach the cities, though she coveted being able to do so for the whole of her life. The Sidhe, neither Seelie nor Unseelie, though they dealt with her, never would allow her to pass through those realms and undertake the journey. These worlds are like jewels, exquisite and shimmering, lambent and mysterious. I remember that when I first entered them, I moved slowly and was joined by one of the Host, the King of the Goblins himself. I took in each and every detail with a hunger, as if they were something to feast upon. I found that if I glanced peripherally, I could actually see much more than if looking at something directly. The King studied my concentration and had appeared visibly amused by it.
All the while we were picking our way through the lush gardens that were neither completely in form and never completely disappeared, I would smile and caress some of the plants, or place my hand upon the gnarled and ragged trunk of a tree in a gesture of greeting and respect. The path or what was to even be considered one, wound through the forest that was paved with stone. I heard birds and the cries of strange beasts that sounded unlike any I had ever heard before, yet curiously, this did not fill me with any sort of trepidation.
Glancing up at the horizon I saw the a great structure even from this distance seemed quite imposing. Atop the mountain the Castle of the city of Gorias glittered like a pearly gemstone with tiny surfaces of peacock iridescence. The towers were not like those of castles back in Scotland but more like the spires, domes and minarets of the distant Eastern lands of the Indus Valley. The structure seemed far too beautiful, even for for this place. As if it had been plucked from the imagination of some Eastern Princess and put there within this world that was little more than vision, and yet much more than light upon shadow or reflection upon water.
The wind, that smelled of juniper and the deep earthy scent of moss and forest floor blew my hair against my face as I walked deeper into the well appointed gardens that were quickly becoming forest along a trail that seemed to stretch into nowhere and everywhere at once. The frustrating twist and coil of the pathways that seemed to back upon themselves and I remember pursing my lips with the frustration of trying to keep even my thoughts from tangling up in them. I was about to turn to my Host and ask him about them when suddenly I realised that he had disappeared into
Muse: Fanny Fae / Faelyn
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore / Mythology
Word Count: 628