D. Hale Rambo

But What of the Night?

I have seen glimpses of a beautiful flower that blossoms into something you would not believe brother. Something so precious and so valuable that my life would be forfeit should I try to take one for myself to show you upon my return from the isle.

Its stem is like pearlescent blanched wood that splinters in small pieces from root to head. The petals that bloom on it are a deep vibrant violet. So deep that when you stare into one of them you feel as if you are falling through the sky. Inside the flower, the center of its core is a swirling ebony nugget of some sort. It is hard, rough, and cold to the touch.

In order to take it from the flower, you must grip the stem, the splinters pressing and piercing your flesh. One drop of blood and the center is yours.

The Night Fae call this verume trempa. Night metal, brother. They name it after themselves and in deference to the Night Bringer. How something like this grows on this isle I don’t quite understand. It melts over hot fire like ore and I have seen them smooth it into sheets to use. I’m not quite sure for what. I tried to get closer but they heard me at my quietest and I ran.

Have no fear, I am safe back in Stercosta and surrounded by more polite creatures. But I dream of the flowers. I can still feel the coolness of the small plum as if I stroked my own finger over it. Maybe I did? Memory can be a tricky thing in this dark and shadowed island.

~ discovered letter from Ioana to her brother Marius


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