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How long had it been since the blaze left her? A day? A winter? Millennia? Eons? She did not know, nor did she truly care. Time was always fickle for the divine. At least, Wyn thought as much as she awoke, dreamlike, under warm satin. The silky softness of the fabric tickled her skin and the warmth was comforting but it was not like it had been when her bed had been shared. Whimsically she spread her arms out but found no one, as she expected. Still, it left her with a frown and it only proved to be a reminder of what had once been. As ever a fleeting moment could be, it had been a comfort. The Goddess clutched her chest, curling into a ball. The blaze now smoldered beneath her bosom. Like embers turning to ash. Almost gone, but stubbornly holding on. The only thing she could do was let it linger in memoriam. 

She sighed and sat up, pulling her knees close to her chest now. Wyn rested her head upon her knees and listened. A heavy breath lay over her castle, as if it had been waiting for her to awake. Now that she had, the quiet stagnation was giving way to a calm breeze carrying the scent of roses in bloom. A drip of water somewhere far off caught her ears but it was nothing serious. All was calm within her realm.

But what of herself?

The humiliation of Ivory by the Abyssal Goddess had kept her brooding and when that brooding gave way to anger so malignant and cruel that Ebony ushered forth, all had seemed lost for a time. But the little flaming goddess broke the beast with compassion, and now it slept with hurt pride. She was who she ought to be, A Crimson Wyn, for the time being. She hoped it would last for just a while. Just so she could keep that request of her true. And there was no point in waiting, the time to usher forth was now. 

So the goddess crept from her chambers, donning upon herself something tight fitting and colored a deep red to contrast her skin and hair. Her mind had bent to make it appear upon her, such was her will to at least be clothed in an inkling of finery, if it could be helped. More pressing of a concern was where she had left her ribbon. She had not been wearing it when she awoke, nor did she sense it in her chambers. Had it been lost in her fight? Had Desire taken it as a token of Wyn’s own affection? It was possible but very doubtful all the same. She crossed her arms and caressed her chin in thought as she strode into the throne room. Her vision allowed her to see that much had not been changed in her absence. Dried blood now coated everything in shades of red and deep black.

With a flick of her hand the room changed, cleansing itself of any impurities and absorbing the blood into the depths. Once things were cleaned and she could still not find her ribbon, Wyn let out an exasperated sigh and sat down to lament its loss. She had grown fond of that ribbon. It brought her a small amount of comfort, not to mention it hid her presence from unwanting eyes. Without it, what would she do? She leaned back in her throne, stretching an arm over her eyes. 
“Woe to me.” She murmured. “I could just make another one. It would not be hard but what would be the point?” She asked herself aloud. “Should I keep hiding? To lament the loss of myself? To wallow in self pity?” She clutched her fist and leaned forward. “No. No more hiding. For better or for worse.” She sprang forth at once and her feet carried her to the steps before the throne. Wyn, with a fiery determination spreading across her face, knew in her heart what she had to do. 

With a single clap of her hands, her realm began to shake. 

“Spring has come.”

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The bloodmire had been itself unchanged for far too long. In and of itself, it was an unforgiving hellscape. The Mireborn within, those once-elves, had severed their mortal coils to the lands of their ancestors, choosing instead to fight for what little of elfkind they could find and was foolish enough to journey within. Such was their war, bloody beyond belief in that crimson squalor.

None had ever been truly victorious. Try and try as they did to snuff out one another entirely, resilience was a trait unique to them all. Yet the great dying of their kind was a slow insidious thing. They had numbered so few in the beginning and such numbers had never grown above several scores. Plagued with infighting and the curse of the beast, within but a fraction of time for the divine, there would be no more. Gone from the earth, never again to walk the lands. Yet, even they could be saved from certain doom. All it took was a change. A push.

And that push came as the Bloodmire heaved and shook with such terrible force, it was as if the world itself was breaking. Multitudes of Ivory mosquitos took flight, turning the sky to a strange white haze. Wyntrees in their sacred groves groaned and creaked. All manner of beast alighted in terror amidst the chaos. 

From the sinkpool where the mire flowed into the earth there came a great mountain with a palace of marble etched into it like a miniscule painting. The mire around it was pushed outwards. Land and blood alike flattened anything in its path but before this violence could break upon the land and destroy everything, even as the mountain became a pinnacle of height within that land, the mire began to order itself. 

The blood rearranged itself, forming a lake around the mountain. The discarded land began to reform and rearrange itself. Instead of a bog like structure, with numerous islands of peat and rock, a long straight road formed starting from the base of the mountain, going north to south, to connect with the rest of the Bloodmire. A central highway that didn’t just stop at the Bloodmire, but ran, forming as it went, until it reached the great grassland outside its borders. 

When this was at last completed and the land calmed, did the creatures take comfort and return. Several changes coursed through many. All of which the Blood Goddess had sought to enact. Chief among these changes had been to the Mireborn. No longer did they have to live within fresh blood, no longer could they no take shape, no longer were they to die out. Thus the call blew upon the breeze to them, ‘Come to the wellspring, come and see, come and be with me.’ 

So began the long walk towards the Mountain.

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For once Wyn was satisfied with her work. She wondered whether or not any of it would stick but she shook her head and buried the doubt within. Right now she was content with herself. She took a deep breath of the air and looked up into the blackness of her vision. Another sacrifice was made, for the view would be lost upon her. The true vista. Except, something did come to her upon the salty breeze. It was enough to give her pause. 

The world had changed in her absence. It was subtle, yet growing in evidence. She felt a fire somewhere out there, growing larger. The currents of the unseen were lesser, divinity corked and chained by some unseen hand. Was anyone left? Had it all been some dream? Celestine, Ashevelen, Oa, Desire… What of the mortals? She could hardly feel a thing, even at the top of the world. A strange thought fluttered into her mind. 

[i]This is what you had wanted, isn’t it?[/i] 

“Yes…” She murmured. “But perhaps… Some still exist?” 

She spun around and from where she stood and called forth her Basin of Want. It flew towards her on some invisible string and came to a stop before her. She was about to cut herself to see what she desired but stopped. It was too small. Too fragile and she sought too much. Thus the Goddess struck her hands forward, gripping either side of the basin and then she pulled. At first there came a sound like the shattering of glass, followed by a great pouring of water. Next she felt the basin slip away and form into something new. Tall it was, shimmering as it came to be. Wyn could not see it take shape, could not see the great glassway that stared back at her in infinite serenity. She was blinded to its majesty but how could the world ignore it? It shone like a beacon for the briefest of moments, before it cooled and caught the light of the sun, illuminating the Goddess of Blood, Beauty and Beasts like never before.

If she could have seen it as she had been, Wyn would never have looked away. Such was its power upon the vain. But she was not that Wyn, she was new and changed and she hoped it would work.

“Come to me…” She whispered.

[hider=Summary]
Wyn awakes from a deep slumber, reflects on her meeting with Desire and changes her world. A mountain with her palace now sits in the heart of the Bloodmire and she then creates a mirror. Whereupon its creation it illuminates the world, calling any to come that still exist.
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