[seasonal event] the chorus will come in

MELITA

Fangorn hadn’t survived the entire autumn, amidst hunters, trappers, and mutineers, to suddenly be bombarded and mutilated by the likes of three young children. He might’ve been a runt, but he was clever, swift, and devious, slipping along crags and alleyways amidst the ruins as if he’d been born in its very annals, tucking himself into shadows, eerie stare pinpointed on the next escape, the next evasion. Their footsteps were loud, not trained in the arts of duplicity and hiding, and the gourd was a master – ducking into the parallel darkness, until he’d rounded out the side of the many old, ancient columns, a wily grin pinpointed on the cracks and grooves of his face. Melita spotted him and muffled her laughter, watching as he bounded along the back, starting the entire process over again with a haughty growl and roar to lure the boys out again.

She turned back to Roana, pleasant smiles and amusement evident. “Thank you for all the information. Every season brings something new.” Her gaze twinkled and scintillated, catching on the air of the arcane world, inhaling, exhaling, the ether of what once was, and what would come to be. Hopefully the upcoming festival would be as diverting and wonderful as Fiat Lux’s; with the enchantments and ethereal qualities igniting and enthralling.

This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight