As Dio dove into the depths of Daw, he traced it back as far as he could. His senses and being mixed with its history and he journeyed through it as if he had lived it himself.

  In the beginning Daw had not been a village, nor a settlement, nor a hut. All that had existed, near the myriads of pines and beside the endless grasses, were dying purple embers. Remnants of the fires of Sisona. Their journey once seemed everlasting, yet had come to its end.

  They had been carried far, over blood-red shimmering sands and through raging storms, across vast plains and at last through the Voids, until ages upon ages ago they were laid down in their final place. They became a remembrance of things past, already fading, so that only a faint awareness lingered.

  Yet something remained.

  And so the embers of Sisona drew people unto themselves, as at all the other places where their brothers and sisters had torn hearts from desolation and cold.

  The first people who gathered about the small flame, which was scarcely more than a smoldering coal, did not at first look upon one another, for they were no longer accustomed to fellowship after they had all arrived alone in the Dream long ago.

  The Dream itself had been of little account to them, a murmuring that had numbed their senses. Yet now, as they stood by the small licking fire at the edge of the forest and for the first time since their Arrival beheld the vivid colors and the bright light, their spirits grew clearer.

  They sat themselves in a circle about the fire, and it gave them warmth. Warmth they had not known before in awareness, nor cold, nor hunger, nor ambition.

  The Dream had been but a dreary place; it had been mere existence, of no renown. And yet it had always been theirs.

  Their speech began slowly, and they had to remember words, and the shaping of them, and the listening that follows. And while sparks leapt among the embers, they laughed for the first time. Together.

  A new sensation shone within their hearts: the joy of communion.

  Long did they remain together, their time spent together imeasurable. And when at last the first of them arose, it was not to depart and return unto monotony, alone and without aim, but to go into the nearby forest and seek food for the others.

  Hunger was now unto them, and they finally remembered it, and grasped also that the fire of Sisona might aid them in preparing delicacies, if only they would spend sufficient time and creativity gathering and working the ingredients.

  Another went forth to seek stones, that he might grind them smooth and shape other materials with their help, and thereby make life in the Dream more bearable.

  A third began to sing with a melodious voice, and soon they danced with abandon and celebrated the presence of one another.

  And all kept the flame burning, for it was the beating heart of the new life which they now embraced.

  Long was the existence before they built their first tree-tents, simple dwellings fashioned of branches and twigs. Longer still did it take before the first ears of grain sprang forth from the earth nearby, after they had labored with toil and sweat, working the soil with their longing for golden harvest.

  And the ground answered them. Soon wheat and arge, millet and rye and corn rose from the soil, and not many days thereafter the first plain bread crackled above the purple flame in the midst of Daw, which by then leapt strong and high, plain but nourishing.

  The ashen heavens, bathed in dim twilight, were nearly forgotten when the people gazed into the holy flame of Sisona, though they no longer knew what it had once signified, nor what sacrifice had been required to get it to Daw. So that it now rise higher than the trees at the centre of the village and grant warmth and shelter unto all, so far away from the place it had been birthed from.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  The wild beasts kept their distance, honored the flames. And thus from the campfire where once only a few had sat, there came to be a small settlement with countless dwellings.

  After an eternity, there lingered in the air a stirring, a whisper of change that would soon break forth. And not long thereafter, new people came and joined themselves to the old, and Daw increased.

  Yet all who looked into the purple flame at the center of the village began to feel within themselves a yearning for distant lands. Adventure called unto them, and a burning zeal took hold of more and yet more, so that they set out in all directions to explore the strange regions of the Dream, hoping to behold wide deserts and lofty mountains, peaceful oceans and deep jungles.

  The flame kindled this longing within them, and images arose from the depths of their being. They were no memories, but ideas that made their way back into the spirits of theirs, that they might be stirred and inspired.

  Little by little the people departed, leaving behind the small settlement and also the fire that had driven them. And so those who remained forgot that the blazing flame had been the beginning of their fellowship, and it became unto them a curiosity.

  Still it unfolded its quiet influence, and the idea of togetherness endured. Yet in time the flame was but a thing around which men and women danced at feasts. And when most had either gone forth or were consumed in their labors, they neglected the fire.

  It dwindled unto embers, and at last it was extinguished.

  Again new people came unto Daw, yet they were few. And soon Daw diminished once more, until it was but a gathering of empty dwellings and withered fields. Had not the two Sages passed by, seeking those who would stand with them to welcome the approaching newcomers, there might have remained no one at all.

  But the Sages saw to it that Daw received fresh increase, though it was often only one by one that they were added. For there was ever someone who would accompany Eri and Elga, and thus bring new inhabitants unto the settlement and new members unto the fellowship. It was the Light within the Sages that stirred this longing in the hearts of the people now, like the flame once had stirred them, though the Light was of another kind.

  And so came Orn and Fae and Des and Lot. So came Andelion and Avee, and many more besides, until at last the fields blossomed again and the dwellings were filled with people and with their ideas, though their works remained of the simplest sort.

  Then once more all became ordinary. The fields were tilled, the hunt pursued, shelters raised and repaired, and food prepared. It was well with them, and they drifted beneath the spell of contentment, which drew them into another kind of desolation.

  They delighted in being near one another, yet their tasks were dearer to them, and they forgot to speak deeply and to truly exchange their hearts. For all that was remarkable to tell faded into the sayings, “All as always,” “Nothing new,” "Everything is fine," and “Work again, all good.” These words became the heart of Daw, and only the rare return of the Sages brought variation.

  Yet Elga and Eri spoke but little, for their gaze was still fixed upon things beyond Daw, which they kept unto themselves. Even so, the few words they exchanged with the inhabitants in those rare moments were like a fresh breath moving among the dwellings.

  Apart from these brief and precious times, there was only what had ever been: labor, togetherness without true communion, and meditation to gather strength.

  Then Wes brought Brela unto them, even as he had brought others before her. It had never been his will, nor his yearning. It had been but circumstance that Elga had spoken unto him, asking whether he would go with her to the place of Arrival and bring back new members for Daw.

  Ordinarily Wes lost himself in the baking of bland bread and the grinding of the grain that the harvest yielded. Reab had invited him into the hut beside his own when Wes had shown interest in one of the old flatbreads Reab had offered him in greeting. It had been one of the few sparks of curiosity that Wes had preserved since his Arrival.

  And though that spark soon faded, it revealed unto Wes and Reab their likeness, and granted them a long and happy time in the Dream, even though they both soon returned to their accustomed routine, yet now no longer alone, but together.

  Brela herself was something wholly new, a soul that could not be satisfied with dreariness, and yet did not blossom in the Light. Though the Light did not shine in her as it must for one to prosper among the Sages or to behold a clear image within the crystals, she bore within herself the same sparks that had once dwelt in the flame of Sisona, though long forgotten.

  She possessed an affinity for Lucidity greater than the potential of many a Sage. Yet because she did not walk purely in the rays, she was misjudged, and she found herself in a state wherein her spirit was continually besieged by tension. She felt misplaced. And though Daw was a fellowship full of understanding and camaraderie, it was not enough for Brela.