Aveera Nyaalie: 01 - "The Dreamwalker is Born"
Rumors floated through the court of the Nyaalien sithen. The words whispered down the hallways of cold, black marble. The murmurs slipped between the cracks beneath doors like the sigh of a foul wind. However, no breeze ever reached the plane where the Nyaalien sithen existed. The only time sunlight touched the dark marble was when the doorway to the Material Plane opened, but the ruler of the Nyaalie family rarely encouraged such action. Brecbrennoch preferred her people where she could monitor their actions.
The inner workings of the Tuatha de Danaan family had been at Brecbrennoch’s fingertips since her husband Aberdare’s death during the early eleventh century after a human man attacked the unsuspecting Fae for supposedly stealing away a human baby and replacing it with a sickly, changeling child. After the queen lost her husband, she chose never to take another consort. Instead, she began to run the lives of her descendents. According to the newest gossip and judging by the noise emanating from the audience chamber, one of those children was preparing to break free of the queen’s reign.
The queen of the Nyaalien sithen, Brecbrennoch Nyaalie, made her presence felt in the entirety of her home without her physical attendance. Thus, as she stood in the center of her audience chamber—a room three times the size of a football field--, the space reverberated with her incensed power. Barely five feet and six inches, the Tuatha de Danaan somehow created the illusion of a greater height as her waist-length, ebony locks shuddered and careened about her body like the enraged snakes of Medusa. The only other occupant of the room was the instigator and recipient of the queen’s rage, an eerily beautiful Fae woman holding a swaddled, sleeping infant.
“I forbid you, Eirienwyn Siliena Nyaalie. Mother of Aveera, daughter of Eilien, granddaughter of Siwan, great-granddaughter of Yasquire, great-great-granddaughter of Maighoa, great-great-great-granddaughter of Laoghaios, your queen directly orders you to remain within the Nyaalien Sithen until your child reaches the adulthood of our race. As your queen and your great-great-great-great-grandmother, my word is both the law of your family and the law of your clan. Should you defy either, you are gan treibh,” murmured Brecbrennoch.
Eirienwyn’s emerald eyes gleamed in an answer to the swirling mist of power pervading the chamber, the green orbs of her ancestor and ruler. She had remained defiant as she confronted the matriarch of her line. Even when Brecbrennoch’s power washed over her and the infant after she stated her decision to leave the babe in the care of her family as she explored the Material Plane, she had not faltered. Only when the queen had heartlessly threatened gan treibh, a punishment surpassed by either stripping one of one’s gifts or sending one into the Void, had the new mother realized that—finally—she had pushed her Fae grandmother beyond the limits of family ties. Brecbrennoch would not await the interference of “karma.” Should Eirienwyn desert her daughter, she would receive the consequences back one thousand-fold. She would become clanless. Eirienwyn’s daughter would be Eirienwyn’s mother’s only child. Her name would be erased from the genealogy of the Nyaalie family. The Fae took a step closer to her queen.
Equal in height with mirrored eyes, Eirienwyn was otherwise noon to Brecbrennoch’s midnight. Eirienwyn’s wheaten gold hair hung barely to her shoulders with white blonde and light brown highlights permeating the strands. Her skin was as warmly tanned as a bright, summer day beside the moonlight pale of her grandmother’s. The young Fae held the curves of her mother, while the elder was as slender as the branches of a whippoorwill. Eirienwyn’s power reflected the vivacious draw of a warm day after a season of snow. Brecbrennoch’s felt like the forbidden pull of the full moon when one knows that creatures are roaming the night. The defiant Tuatha de realized from lessons of history that the strength of the darkness always overcame that of the light. Yet, she doubted not the sincerity of her queen’s words, only the sureness of her temper. “Grandmother,” she began to protest as she stared across the space separating her from the person who had taught her everything she knew about her Gifts.
Brecbrennoch smiled, the image a mask of cruelty against the frightening display of energy. “Doubt me, descendent?” With a question, the noose tightened around Eirienwyn’s slender neck. Since she had gained the ability to speak, she had learned one extremely important lesson. Brecbrennoch’s base of power lay in falsity. Her grandmother could detect the most carefully worded lies better than any polygraph test. Lying to Brecbrennoch made her distrustful and certain truths enraged her. This time, Eirienwyn’s silence and hesitation decided her fate. “Leave, trespasser. Be gone from this sithen. You are not family. You are gan treibh.”
The queen expected an argument, a denial. Never had she banned anyone from the Nyaalien plane, though she had threatened to do so a handful of times over the centuries. Instead, she watched her great-great-great-great-granddaughter gently lay the sleeping infant upon the hard, stone floor and exit through the small side entrance of the chamber. Only moments passed before the tiny girl-child began to wail at the newly discovered discomfort. Instantly, the power within the room died as the Fae pulled the energy back into herself. Brecbrennoch crossed the distance to her five-time great-grandchild without hesitation, and she lifted the baby to her bosom with a grace and skill bespeaking experience. “Quiet,” she purred as she rocked the calming babe. “She did not desert you, Beauty. She simply ran to a world unaccepting of a child with violet eyes who may be a pup in her crib one morning. I will always love you, Aveera Nyalie, daughter of Eir…” A sob shook the petite woman as she sank to the floor. The infant fit protectively between her knees and chest.
The queen wept for herself, for her lost descendant, and for the babe in her arms. For the first time since the death of her husband, Brecbrennoch shed tears for someone she loved. And, she wondered if the event was a sign of the babe’s life to come. What would life hold in store for Aveera Nyaalie, daughter of Eilien, granddaughter of Siwan, great-granddaughter of Yasquire, great-great-granddaughter of Maighoa, great-great-great-granddaughter of Laoghaios, great-great-great-great-granddaughter of Brecbrennoch?
© J.M. Mackin
The inner workings of the Tuatha de Danaan family had been at Brecbrennoch’s fingertips since her husband Aberdare’s death during the early eleventh century after a human man attacked the unsuspecting Fae for supposedly stealing away a human baby and replacing it with a sickly, changeling child. After the queen lost her husband, she chose never to take another consort. Instead, she began to run the lives of her descendents. According to the newest gossip and judging by the noise emanating from the audience chamber, one of those children was preparing to break free of the queen’s reign.
The queen of the Nyaalien sithen, Brecbrennoch Nyaalie, made her presence felt in the entirety of her home without her physical attendance. Thus, as she stood in the center of her audience chamber—a room three times the size of a football field--, the space reverberated with her incensed power. Barely five feet and six inches, the Tuatha de Danaan somehow created the illusion of a greater height as her waist-length, ebony locks shuddered and careened about her body like the enraged snakes of Medusa. The only other occupant of the room was the instigator and recipient of the queen’s rage, an eerily beautiful Fae woman holding a swaddled, sleeping infant.
“I forbid you, Eirienwyn Siliena Nyaalie. Mother of Aveera, daughter of Eilien, granddaughter of Siwan, great-granddaughter of Yasquire, great-great-granddaughter of Maighoa, great-great-great-granddaughter of Laoghaios, your queen directly orders you to remain within the Nyaalien Sithen until your child reaches the adulthood of our race. As your queen and your great-great-great-great-grandmother, my word is both the law of your family and the law of your clan. Should you defy either, you are gan treibh,” murmured Brecbrennoch.
Eirienwyn’s emerald eyes gleamed in an answer to the swirling mist of power pervading the chamber, the green orbs of her ancestor and ruler. She had remained defiant as she confronted the matriarch of her line. Even when Brecbrennoch’s power washed over her and the infant after she stated her decision to leave the babe in the care of her family as she explored the Material Plane, she had not faltered. Only when the queen had heartlessly threatened gan treibh, a punishment surpassed by either stripping one of one’s gifts or sending one into the Void, had the new mother realized that—finally—she had pushed her Fae grandmother beyond the limits of family ties. Brecbrennoch would not await the interference of “karma.” Should Eirienwyn desert her daughter, she would receive the consequences back one thousand-fold. She would become clanless. Eirienwyn’s daughter would be Eirienwyn’s mother’s only child. Her name would be erased from the genealogy of the Nyaalie family. The Fae took a step closer to her queen.
Equal in height with mirrored eyes, Eirienwyn was otherwise noon to Brecbrennoch’s midnight. Eirienwyn’s wheaten gold hair hung barely to her shoulders with white blonde and light brown highlights permeating the strands. Her skin was as warmly tanned as a bright, summer day beside the moonlight pale of her grandmother’s. The young Fae held the curves of her mother, while the elder was as slender as the branches of a whippoorwill. Eirienwyn’s power reflected the vivacious draw of a warm day after a season of snow. Brecbrennoch’s felt like the forbidden pull of the full moon when one knows that creatures are roaming the night. The defiant Tuatha de realized from lessons of history that the strength of the darkness always overcame that of the light. Yet, she doubted not the sincerity of her queen’s words, only the sureness of her temper. “Grandmother,” she began to protest as she stared across the space separating her from the person who had taught her everything she knew about her Gifts.
Brecbrennoch smiled, the image a mask of cruelty against the frightening display of energy. “Doubt me, descendent?” With a question, the noose tightened around Eirienwyn’s slender neck. Since she had gained the ability to speak, she had learned one extremely important lesson. Brecbrennoch’s base of power lay in falsity. Her grandmother could detect the most carefully worded lies better than any polygraph test. Lying to Brecbrennoch made her distrustful and certain truths enraged her. This time, Eirienwyn’s silence and hesitation decided her fate. “Leave, trespasser. Be gone from this sithen. You are not family. You are gan treibh.”
The queen expected an argument, a denial. Never had she banned anyone from the Nyaalien plane, though she had threatened to do so a handful of times over the centuries. Instead, she watched her great-great-great-great-granddaughter gently lay the sleeping infant upon the hard, stone floor and exit through the small side entrance of the chamber. Only moments passed before the tiny girl-child began to wail at the newly discovered discomfort. Instantly, the power within the room died as the Fae pulled the energy back into herself. Brecbrennoch crossed the distance to her five-time great-grandchild without hesitation, and she lifted the baby to her bosom with a grace and skill bespeaking experience. “Quiet,” she purred as she rocked the calming babe. “She did not desert you, Beauty. She simply ran to a world unaccepting of a child with violet eyes who may be a pup in her crib one morning. I will always love you, Aveera Nyalie, daughter of Eir…” A sob shook the petite woman as she sank to the floor. The infant fit protectively between her knees and chest.
The queen wept for herself, for her lost descendant, and for the babe in her arms. For the first time since the death of her husband, Brecbrennoch shed tears for someone she loved. And, she wondered if the event was a sign of the babe’s life to come. What would life hold in store for Aveera Nyaalie, daughter of Eilien, granddaughter of Siwan, great-granddaughter of Yasquire, great-great-granddaughter of Maighoa, great-great-great-granddaughter of Laoghaios, great-great-great-great-granddaughter of Brecbrennoch?
© J.M. Mackin
posted by J. Mackin at 4:32 AM
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