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How the Sand Slips Through Our Fingers

Chapter 7: [Temporary] Sequel Announcement: To Be Made Unto Millefiori

Summary:

This is a temporary chapter to let those still subscribing to this fic that there is now a direct sequel, To Be Made Unto Millefiori.

Notes:

Hi everyone! As described in the chapter summary, this is a temporary chapter (that I will delete in a month or so) to let those still subscribing to this fic that there is now a direct sequel, To Be Made Unto Millefiori. This one primarily covers the fallout of the Naku Kubel decision, and so it is full of spoilers for the third area of the game onwards. It's also a very different mood from the previous two installments within this series, so mind the tags and content warnings!

I hope you enjoy!

Chapter Text

As a child, Stell dreamt often of waking up without any horns growing from her head, or with soft, dark brows like her mother and father’s instead of the grotesque gilled growths around her eyes. She dreamt of brown freckles that didn’t glow in the dark; of friendly neighbors and welcoming smiles. She dreamt of marrying the baker’s boy who was one of the few people willing to look her in her yellow eyes.  

But the dreams were not to be tamed. She could not simply decide to have only sweet ones.

 

It was during one such dream that she woke up alone in her childhood home. At first, everything seemed normal. The hearth still crackled. Her serving of breakfast still steamed in its clay pot. The rising sun filtered in through windows covered in ivy,  casting rainbow petals of light against the walls. The birdcalls outside invited her to hurry through breakfast and greet the day alone, as she so often did. 

She was late for her chores. Normally she would take her headscarf and cover up her woody antlers and speckled skin, but this morning it wasn’t on its hook.  

Perhaps Mother did laundry and hung it up to dry on the clothesline? 

Stell cracked the side door open to look for it. But before she could squint into the billowing sheets for her scarf…

We see how you grow. We see how you blossom.

Stell looked around for the source of the voice, but the only other person in sight was the new farmhand, Tallin. He had been civil with her, but —

— So did this one. His eyes always lingered too long, did they not? With disgust. With desire. We do not know why. He does not know why. But maybe he will soon. Maybe he, too, will bloom.

As the door slammed shut, the farmhand straightened up and removed his hat. Stell opened her mouth to greet him, but before she could make a sound...

...he turned. 

Fungi unfurled like flowers from his eyes. They were once brown as mud but now they are blue, blue, blue…

Stell gasped and recoiled from him as he reached towards her, his mouth curving into a smile. 

“Beautiful,” he breathed. “Reborn.”

“Get away!” Stell shouted, stumbling backwards. 

The boy tilted his head in confusion as she fled. 

In no time at all, she was at the well where another familiar figure stood, braced against its stony wall. 

“Mama!” Stell called in relief, scrambling towards her. “Mama… Tallin, he—!”

Her mother turned towards her with jerky movements, whimpering. Twitching. As Stell watched in horror, her mother’s forehead split open with a sickening crunch, branches of fungi like her daughter’s bursting out from within. 

“MAMA!” Stell shrieked. 

“It’s alright, my flower,” her mother gurgled, spasming as she clawed at her opaque, unseeing eyes. “See? Like mother… like daughter…”

The world blurred, and Stell found herself stumbling in a daze along the main road of the village. Moss, roots, fungi, and flowers had burst up from between the cobblestones, cracking open the earth and swallowing up entire carts and homes. The village square was colorful like a festival but only because of the vibrant colors sprouting from the buildings — as well as the bodies of the whimpering and howling villagers. 

All those who tormented Stell. Reviled her. 

Now they looked like her. 

Now, from every drop of their spilled blood, flowers bloomed. 

Ducking behind a statue, Stell watched the villagers shamble in a vibrant parade towards the village square. 

Look, child,  that serene voice whispered from above her.  Now you are no longer alone. Now I have made everything beautiful for you.

Stell stared up at the statue of Hylea — at her proud, avian face. 

“I didn’t want this,” Stell whispered. “I didn’t ask for this!”

Hylea’s face was unreadable, having already become completely obscured by the creeping moss. Verdant leaves have sprouted from the stone, replacing the carved feathers of her mantle.  

We don’t understand,  the voice murmured.  You wished to be ‘normal.’ Is this not… normal?

“St…ell…”

She turned slowly from the statue to see a familiar, redheaded girl — swaying where she stood.  

“Kat…?” Stell squeaked. 

The other girl smiled, and between her teeth thin tendrils of green began to creep out, twisting up her jaw and tangling in her flame-bright hair. 

“Look…” Katerin Aelfyr croaked, sunflowers flaring out from where her eyes should have been. “…look, Stell… I’m per…fect. Like you.”

Her smile grew toothless and slack just before a bright blue butterfly inexplicably crawled and fluttered out. Even so, her words rang clearly. 

“…just… like… you…”

 

“STELL!”

She woke up in a sweat, tangled in her sheets. 

“Wake up!” that same girl hissed. 

Shaking her was the lanky girl from her dreams, though her red hair wasn’t visible in the shadows. 

“Stell!” Katerin dropped her hands, sagging into a seat upon the bed. “By the oath… another nightmare?”

Although her memory of the dream was already slipping away like the tide, Stell babbled what she could remember. None of it made sense, but still Katerin listened. Afterwards, she wordlessly climbed into her friend’s bed, holding her close beneath the covers as they passed the rest of a thankfully dreamless night. 

 

 

That next day, however, Stell entered their classroom to find herself alone. 

“Caelatorri.”

She turned to see their teacher, the paladin Lödwyn, gazing out the window. The morning light illuminated wisps of golden hair that floated from beneath her crimson hood. 

“I hear you have been troubled by dreams?” Lödwyn beckoned her over. “Perhaps the Burned Queen can provide some clarity.”

Stell approached tentatively. Part of her was indignant that Katerin would blather about something shared in confidence between them, but another part of her couldn’t help but be grateful. Hopeful. If anyone could make sense of the disturbing dream, it was their mentor. 

Lödwyn listened silently to Stell’s recollection of her faded dream. Then, when she had trailed off at last…

“And what do you make of this dream, girl?”

Stell hesitated. 

“I believe it is a product of my own vanity,” she admitted. “I believe I still hold resentment towards my village for how they treated me. Part of me wished to punish them. Another part wished for them to accept me. Normally I would imagine myself to look like them, without these unsightly features… but perhaps part of me wishes I could keep what makes me… me, and instead they could be the ones to change.”

Lödwyn nodded solemnly, still staring out the window. 

“The Burned Queen tests you, child. Will you use your righteous anger against injustice for the good of the world, or will you let it consume all you know for the sake of your own comfort?”

Stell gawked at her. 

“For good, of course!” she sputtered. 

Lödwyn turned slowly towards her. Her pale, stony face could be unreadable even without her metal mask. 

But to Stell’s surprise, Lödwyn smiled at her. 

Stell always liked when she smiled — she knew few people in the entirety of Eora were lucky to witness such a thing. 

“May you retain this clarity with age,” Lödwyn urged her. “The world will challenge you, child. But you must remain true to your people. To your oath. Do not give in to the chaos. Trust in the order that saved you; the same order that has made you strong.”

Her words continued to guide Stell long after the distance grew between them over the years. 

After all, just as it became clear to her that there was insanity within Woedica’s order, the court augur Lestelle Ròs Caelatorri could understand how one might find order amid insanity.

 

Notes:

In case you were wondering, here’s what Stell looks like!

Thank you so much for reading! Kudos and comments are always appreciated.

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