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The influx of a tide of information it washed up upon the shores of Aicheil's mind, shifting about the arrangement of his thoughts, like sand disturbed by water. Gazing out across the Subtle Weave, the Dreaming God pondered the many things which he had come to know and understand in recent spans of time. The Love and Sorrow of the Lovebound Goddess; the dreadful sensation of air, driven to perfect stagnance; the many-minds of Klaar, ever-learning, always reaching out for more; and the avatars of many who had been borne unto the world.

As if absently, Os-fhireach reached out a shifting strand of thought, and as it passed into the Dream it faded. Still, it remained, a thread of intention, and it wove down to Galbar and touched a place of cold and desolation. It strummed the cords of consciousness and found that for many miles there was little to be had--the glacier was all but barren, no mortal minds upon its shifting sheets of ice. This displeased him, and so he reached into its center and began to work.

Lidded eyes revealed themselves and a sliver of strength slipped out, empowering his actions. The caves of glacial ice were born the sheets of frozen liquid gathered elsewhere to be prepared. Roused now from his drifting slumber, the weight of his vast and cosmic mind rested upon Galbar. His open eyes which gazed down from afar, they beckoned and so arrived his avatar.

[hr]
Faireachan A-staigh dripped outwards from the Dream, entering the newly wrought caves of Khesyr's frozen glacial plains. Its form coalesced, each particle of moisture arranging itself according to its will. Shifting idly it glided forth, its silhouette humanoid in form, its gaze eyeless much like its master's former form.

The Watcher gazed about, taking in the shape of this ice wrought place, coming to know it intimately. Though these things were solid, Faireachan found them rendered as ideas, each individually reflected within the many droplets of moisture that composed it. Soon it understood and so touched by Aicheil's dreaming mind, it lit up with light divine. That prismatic glow shot out in all directions and refracted from the many flawed facets of the glacier's ice so that in scarcely moments it was blinding like the sun.

Flexing then its tremendous will, the Watcher bent the light. Thus it came to illuminate a massive gathering of ice. The great crystal rose taller than a tower, its many tips--measured end-to-end--easily wider than a house. Yet as the light then struck its form it seemed to shrink until it was no larger than a mouse. Moving then, the Watcher approached the glowing artifact and took it in their hand. It carved into the crystal's reflection an utterance most magnificent and grand.

With their blessing the crystal sang and the Watcher held it aloft, before--his work done--he vanished and was off.

[hr]
That beating heart of light and ice it hung in Aicheil's mind, a gleaming testament to his power in the world. It brought to his eyes and mind a smile of great contentment. With this done his eyes shut closed and he retreated into himself.

[hr]
Cutting winds tore through every layer of clothing that he had as he answered the call of madness. He'd been hearing it for weeks, months perhaps, and knew he'd lost track of time and reason. The others in his village had denied hearing it even when he'd asked and begged that they tell him the truth, and though they lied...he saw that same strange longing in their eyes. So he had set out from his small settlement unable to resist any longer.

Fèin had trudged through woodlands, across rivers and streams, as he made his way to the base of the Great Glacier. Unsure how to proceed he'd dallied a score of days before preparing a makeshift sled and gathering as much food as he could manage. That done, he'd traveled until he'd found a cave shorn of ice, which he'd promptly entered.

With only remembered songs of warmth, his hides, and his strong will had he managed to keep a light to illuminate his way. It had taken him a long time to reach the top of the glacier, but when he did so, his conjured flame--and the song which had helped sustain it--were torn away by the shrieking wind. Flecks of ice and flakes of snow battered at his hood and face. He quickly wrapped his scarf more tightly and pulled down the brim of his clothes. So he had come to traverse the barren ice of the glacier and in time he came to foster regret at his foolishness.

Yet, he knew he could not turn back, for he had not known the way, and found now that he could not recall it. At the thought, he might have frowned if his face had not been frozen in a scowl already. Against his flesh the constant gale was like a thousand blades...but like it, he would not stop, knowing that his only chance was to find whatever it was that called him. At times--when he tired--he would be lucky and would find a cave or even an outcropping of stone or ice which shielded him from the horrid wind.

Today was such a day. Settling into the dip behind a jutting blade of ice, Fèin set up a small camp and set to warming himself and some food. There was little left. Quietly--his eyes closed--he breathed and then began to hum. His song had no words, but it guided his will, and it uplifted his spirit. It was something that had been passed down from generation to generation in his family. [i]'Spiritsinging'[/i] his grandmother had called it, though his grandfather preferred [i]'hogshit'[/i] instead. The thought of their bickering elicited the smallest of smiles on his thawing features and it brought further strength into his song.

It was never quite the same, he knew, but the core of it, the emotions and the cadence always held true and after perhaps a minute or so a gentle flame was coaxed out of the cold. Working swiftly he removed a small amount of what remained of his wooden sleigh, and set it upon the fire, all the while continuing his spritely hum. As the flame began to catch he took in a breath and split his focus faintly. His iron will--stronger now than it had been before he'd begun his journey--called upon the flowing currents of energy in the world and, ever so slowly, he forced a shred of that strength into his body and the flame. Another couple of minutes passed and finally, his fire was warm and hearty, and he could feel a glimmer of warmth in his weathered flesh.

Sighing contentedly he kept up his humming and set about preparing his food--mostly salted meats now--and when he'd finished he ate. Only then did his humming stop--though the fire remained as if hoping he would continue. While he scarfed down his pitiful meal, he marveled at his luck. If he had not encountered that sorcerer all those years ago he could not have made it this far. If his family had never felt him worthy to inherit [i]the song[/i] he could not have lived for long, not up hear in the biting, killing cold. All the little skills he'd picked up in his life...they'd served him well on his journey, and he felt blessed to have them.

The meal finished, Fèin offered up a prayer to the gods, one and all. He did not know many of their names, but he praised their spirits hoping they might hear him and know that he was grateful. When he had finished he glanced up at the sky, considered the few hours which remained, and decided he might as well hunker down for the night.

[hr]
Flashes of color. Biting cold. Dancing flames, and the image of a faceless starlit facade. A great droning echo, the piercing silent scream of knowledge impossible to hold. The cold sweat of fear, then a sudden movement and images of a place not too far off, a cavern that went down into the ice...but was lit from within. The air was heavy, he could not breathe...he was suffocating, but there was air. Confusion.

[hr]
He awoke suddenly and all at once, bolting upwards into a sitting position. His fire still burned, but it was pitiful and small. The sun was just coming over the horizon and a whisper of its warmth touched his face, though its light pained his hazy, sleep-dazed eyes. Fèin gathered his wits, taking deep gulping breaths, before he slowed them down, the ice biting at his lungs. It took him a score of minutes to fully calm down, and in that time he gathered what remained of his fire and tools, set them in his pack, and set out on the ice on a new tact.

In every direction, there was only blue and white, ice and snow and sleet and the clearness of the sky.  He wasn't quite sure how long he'd been walking, but he knew that he would be happy when he was done. Still, something greater than simple comforts pushed him forth that day, and he discovered what soon after midmorning had passed him by. Simply put, before him was a maw of frost, with strange light emanating from within. It tickled at his senses and reminded him of song--though he was yet to hear a single note. He hesitated there for a long moment, then pressed on into the cave, assured that it led to his destination.

It wound, always down, into the glacier, but its slope was slight and he never felt that he would lose his footing and slide the rest of the way. Still, he was careful and so it was not until well into the night that he reached the unknown hidden haven. The place was beautiful, Fèin knew, for it was filled with glorious light and there was a weight in the air that he'd only heard of in stories. Though the walls were frozen, it was warm here and he felt his skin relax. As he scanned the great cavern--eyes glancing over the perfect curves from floor to ceiling--he noticed just how many caves led off and up. There must have been several hundred different caves that led to this place and at the thought, he realized something else. The place was strangely stable. Here, the ice did not creak, and though it seemed slick to the touch, it never seemed to change.

However, perhaps most strange was the tiny shining crystal that hovered in the center of the cavern, as if unbound by gravity or any other law he knew. As he stared upon it he realized he was moving, his feet carrying him forwards. With each step, tension grew and so when he touched the shining gem of ice something finally gave out.

It was pain and ecstasy in equal measure, which rolled throughout his mind as if he too were ice, and by contact alone, the divine artifact had sundered him. For seconds, or maybe years, he remained in that state and--distantly--realized he'd fallen onto his back. His eyes were filled with colors and so he could not see. His mind was filled with knowing, and so he had no awareness beyond himself.

Thus, without his notice, the Watcher lifted his mortal body and whisked him across the dream. In time they reached his settlement and upon their emergence, the people were surprised and terrified. Faireachan ignored them and laid Fèin upon the ground.

Then, without words, the avatar gestured and people retrieved the man, soon coming to recognize him, despite his beard and weathered appearance. With the passage of time, Fèin's mind would return and he would know what he must do.

So it was that the Watcher departed and Aicheil's first true hero was brought into the world.

[hider=Summary]Aicheil is in his realm, pondering what he has learned in recent times, and he absently begins to affect Galbar with his musings. He creates a set of caves by shearing away at the ice of the Great Glacier in Khesyr, gathering it for some other task. He becomes aware of his actions and focuses, creating a great cavern within the Glacier, and condensing the ice into a large formation.

The Watcher Within--Aicheil’s avatar--then arrives, so-called by Aicheil’s will, and finishes the work, creating the Heart of Ice--a small crystal that glows with the illumination and warmth of divinity. The Watcher slips back into the Endless Dream and Aicheil withdraws--though the location is consecrated as he does so.

Fèin, a man in a far off village, several hundred miles from the glacier, has been afflicted with the strange desire to venture onto the glacier. With the power of Spiritsinging passed down in his family, and an ironshod will, he makes his way from his village and finally--after a long arduous journey--to the Hall of Impetus and the Heart of Ice within it. There he comes into contact with the Heart and his mind is fractured. Having awaited the first mortal to reach the Holy Site, the Watcher Within emerges and carries Fèin back to his village and communicates--in its own way--to the village that they are to take care of him.

In time, Fèin will wake to find himself empowered.[/hider]
[hider=Might Summary][hider=Àicheil][u]Start:[/u] 4MP, 3DP.

-1DP [Discounted: Tessellation] -- Significantly change landscape/feature of the world: Gather ice within the Glacial Region and condense it at its center.
-1DP -- Consecrate an Artifact: The Heart of Ice | Awakening I(1 Towards Astral Portfolio)
-3MP -- Purchase Astral Port.
-1DP [Two Free Title Weights: Astral] -- Consecrate a Holy Site: Aras Ròiseal(The Hall of Impetus) | Soulsong III
-1MP [Two Free Title Weights: Astral] -- Consecrate a Hero: Fèin | Willcaster III

[i][u]Awakening I[/u] -- Causes a spiritual and psychic awakening to anyone who comes into direct contact with the empowered. This awakening makes the World and Dreamsongs easier to hear, and the Endless Dream easier to comprehend. The effect damages the mind somewhat, but it heals. During the healing process, the affected cannot care for themselves and are largely lost to the world.

[u]Soulsong III[/u] -- Casts a subtle siren call out for many hundreds of miles, calling mortals to the source. The call is more potent and difficult to resist if one is more attuned to the Worldsong or Dreamsong or the Endless Dream. Those unattuned are slower to be affected and can resist for an extended period of time, perhaps even many many years.[/i]

[u]End:[/u] 0MP, 0DP.
[i]5/5 Astral Portfolio - Acquired.[/i][/hider][/hider]