Pig Masks, Portals, and Pocket Watches
Amrynn
The Witchlight Carnival is behind us now, but the night’s conclusion was far more chaotic and revealing than I anticipated. Our carefully constructed plan to acquire Mr. Witch’s timepiece succeeded, but not without significant peril – largely to myself.
Before the main event, there was a brief, almost ludicrous diversion: a giant snail race. I confess, wagering on gastropods is not my usual pastime. My own mount proved disappointingly average, finishing fifth, while Barnabus somehow coaxed his creature to victory. A fleeting moment of absurdity before the true tension began.
As dusk settled and patrons flocked to the Big Top for the Monarch crowning, we took our positions. Fable, poised to be crowned. Barnabus, strategically placed near Mr. Witch in the box seats. Melina and P.B. blending into the crowd. My role was simple: signal Burley to launch the fireworks at the precise moment, creating the distraction Barnabus needed.
Mr. Light commenced the ceremony, his mirrored suit flashing as he dramatically ‘selected’ Fable. Candlefoot presented the butterfly-wing crown. As Mr. Light tapped Fable’s shoulders with the Witchlight Vane and Palacia began her song, I slipped outside to give the signal.
What I found was not Burley ready at the fuses, but Burley frozen – quite literally solid – and beside him, a small, unnerving child in a pig mask, dragging a giant lollipop. Before I could fully process the scene, the child’s attention fixed on me. My attempt to ignite the fireworks myself, while simultaneously dealing with this unexpected threat, proved… unwise. The creature struck me with astonishing force using its oversized confectionary weapon, and consciousness abruptly left me.
I awoke shortly after, thanks to P.B. who had apparently dispatched the creature with brutal efficiency (he later described its unnaturally pale, bloodless interior) and dragged me back towards the tent. Stranger still, while I was out, Northwind, the treant from the dragonfly rides, had come over, fed me a single acorn which instantly restored my vitality, whispered “I’m sorry,” and vanished. An apology? For what? His involvement, or lack thereof? Unsettling.
The commotion, however chaotic, served its purpose. Barnabus, seizing the opportunity, managed to snip the chain and secure Mr. Witch’s watch.
Confronted with the theft, Mr. Witch and Mr. Light finally dropped their facade. Their desperation revealed their true nature – Shadar-kai, elves from the Shadowfell, who traded their old carnival for this one, under a pact with Zybilna. They confirmed the Hall of Illusions is the gateway to Prismeer, where Zybilna has fallen silent and our lost items reside. The watch, it seems, is essential for them to move the carnival, lest they be pulled back to the Shadowfell.
Our friends at the carnival gave us several parting gifts before Mr. Witch and Mr. Light led us towards the Hall of Illusions and Feywild.
Standing before a mirror in the Hall of Illusions – where their reflections showed their true, older Shadar-kai forms – Witch and Light instructed us. “Hither thither, here and there, wander yonder, show me where.” The mirror shimmered, opening into a swirling portal.
We stepped through, one by one, into the unknown. As Fable crossed last, they stopped her, imparting a final riddle: “Mind the rule of three, future, present, past. Find the alicorn and free the dormant queen at last.”
Now, we stand on the other side. Prismeer. Feywild proper. The air hums with a different sort of magic, wilder and less predictable. The Hourglass Coven awaits, and the path forward is clearer, yet the dangers feel profoundly more tangible. That pig-masked child… a disturbing portent. And Northwind’s apology lingers. Still, I feel a renewed sense of strength, a readiness for what lies ahead. Onwards into the fey realm.