Foreward from Nine:

Welcome to the first (and hopefully not last) installment of “Tales from Mythos”. These are going to be a series of narrative snippets, shorter than short stories, that give insight into the lore and history around Mythos; something that will cast light on a part of the setting while not being a spoiler for anything coming up in the the game. You won’t figure out Lisa’s murderer through any of these. Or maybe you will… 

“Rain’s Promise”

July 17th, 2005
2:21 PM
Baltimore – Highlandtown

It was a slow day at Gaia’s Cradle — then again, almost all of them were. Rain Sunbeam was lazily examining a wilting fern with a slight frown on her lips. As she gingerly lifted one of the browning fronds, she heard the jingling of the bells from the door behind her. Somewhat startled, she half-turned to see who was interrupting her plant-doctoring.

The visitor closed the door behind herself, the top of her blonde head nearly grazing the doorframe. The woman was tall, dressed in a casual flannel shirt and jeans that did well to conceal the toned musculature Rain knew lay beneath. Her attire also hid the scars scattered across her body, though not the red mark that marred her left cheek. The woman was only beginning to show the signs of age, looking to be in her late thirties, with the beginnings of crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes, and faint laugh lines around her lips.

Rain knew, however, that her guest was far older than she appeared.

She offered Rain an upraised hand — partially a wave, partially to signal she wasn’t here to harm the Fae. Now that she’d laid eyes upon the taller woman, Rain visible relaxed into a slight smile.

“Edda! I was startin’ to wonder when youse was gonna stop in.”

Edda smirked, her hands moving to her waist to hook her thumbs through her belt loops. “Sorry about that, Sunny,” Edda replied, somewhat sheepishly, “as you know, things back home are a little… chaotic.”

Rain couldn’t help but smile as Edda referred to her by her old nickname, turning back to her work bench to pick up a small, flat box. “Oh, yeah, hon. That’s why yer even here, ain’t it?”

As she turned back to face Edda, Rain noticed the blonde woman had a far-off look. She quizzically watched for a moment, letting Edda bring herself back to reality naturally. Once she did, she noticed the box Rain was holding.

“This is it, then?”

Rain nodded, handing over the package. “Sure is, just like ya wanted. And ya know you can come on back if it don’t work out.”

Edda took the box and peeked inside, examining the contents before closing it and tucking it into her back pocket. “I can’t thank you enough for this, Rain.”

“I know how much it means to ya,” the Fae replied, smiling gently up to Edda, “but it looks like ya got more on yer mind.”

Toying with the end of her blonde braid, Edda froze. Her body language had surely given away her discomfort – she was never very good at hiding her emotions. “Yeah… yeah, I do. It’s about this… I don’t even know what we’d call it. Magical evolution? Does that even make sense?”

Rain sighed, leaning back so that her butt rested against the edge of the work bench, crossing her arms over her chest. “No, it don’t make sense. You’ve been ‘round even longer than me, though. Y’ain’t never seen nothin’ like this before?”

“No, never. Mortals with magical powers have always, always had the spark in their souls. Mages and Wild Talents were the only ones that could ever do things like this before. These ‘special’ humans are just spontaneously manifesting abilities… where are they getting it from?”

Shrugging helplessly, Rain cast her gaze to the floor. “I don’t know hon. I really don’t. It don’t even show up in their auras. They look completely human to me – which means we don’t even know how many there are. Or how long they’ve been ‘round, I guess.”

Edda pursed her lips. “I’m sure that if this were possible earlier, we would have seen something like it before now. This had to have happened in the past 20 years, I’m guessing.”

“Of course it started after you retired, eh?” Rain teased, slightly grinning.

“Hah! It hardly feels like I retired at all. Though I definitely feel the years weighing down on me.” Edda smiled sadly before adding, “I don’t think I have long.”

Rain’s grin faded, her eyes softening. “How long are you thinkin’, hon?” she asked quietly.

“Ten years. Maybe fifteen.”

The two stood in silence for a moment, letting that knowledge hang in the air.

“Hey,” Edda finally continued, managing a smirk, “this is what I signed up for. We both knew it was coming.”

After a long exhale, Rain nodded. “I know, I know. It don’t make this any easier, though. Hell, I was finally getting’ the hang of callin’ you ‘Edda!’”

Both women laughed at that, with Edda rolling her eyes. She reached to her back pocket again, as if making sure the box was still there. “I’ll do what I can until then,” Edda assured Rain, though she made sure to meet the Fae’s gaze directly, “but when I’m gone… please make sure she’s okay?”

Rain nodded, her eyes getting a little misty. “You know I’m gonna, hon. I promise.”

The tall blonde smiled, closing her eyes as she heard that very specific phrase: “I promise.”

Edda Norwood — as she was called these days — knew that a Fae was bound by their oath.