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Well, I suppose I should finish the story, and tell you about my encounter with Threnody which changed my life yet again.

*chuckles* She has a nasty habit of doing that to people, I'd say.

I think I was about 3 centuries old at the time, give or take a few decades. I had been running the Shop of Wishes for about 100 years, and was quite successful. I'd "inherited" the shop from my "mother" several times, taking on a new guise and impersonating my own daughter. It wasn't terribly difficult, and I did a lot of good for people, so if the folks of the little town in England where I worked knew what I was up to, they never let on.

In any case, it was a relatively misty and wet day, and I was on my way back to my shop when I noticed a bundle of rags laying upon the ground outside my door.

It was unconscionably rude, and I admit I indulged in a minor fit of temper- I think the patch of ice I conjured beneath my feet stayed in the road for three whole days. It was foggy, and cloudy as the dickens, but even then I don't think it would entirely justify the appearance of a patch of ice in the middle of July.

It was at that moment that a single ray of sunlight peeked through the haze and shone, as if by divine providence, upon the pile of rags at my doorstep. A pile of rags which had, of all things, a face.

A familiar face.

It was Threnody.

Needless to say, I gathered up my dearest friend, and brought her inside. I bathed her, and gave her a healing draught to drink, and then I laid her to bed. I had a conversation with one of my spirit-companions to find out the horrible things which had happened to her.

She had gone mad, refusing to eat or sleep, and just... wandered until she found something familiar. As odd as it may sound, that didn't take as long as one might think- she was a witch of no small power, even considering her lack of wits. Her feet guided her to me, as perhaps the one person who might be able, and willing, to save her life and give her a future.

And after everything she'd given to me, after all she'd done to help me and to bring about the fruition of my Arte, how could I not?

That was the day my Shop of Wishes closed its doors. I called upon my spirits to send many of my treasures away, to those who would value them and keep them safe. Some I sold, some I gave away in exchange for a favor to be owed. And some, I kept. I too have a wish, a hope. I hope that one day I can begin again.

In any case, I sacrificed my chosen life to give her a life of her own. The spells upon the Shop which kept me alive were powerful. They gave her health and youth again, although they couldn't restore her sanity. I fear that very little can do that, and certainly not any Arte of a witch.

She vanished the same morning I departed. We were both gone by dawn- I had fell asleep on the floor after making a pact with an angel whom I knew well, who offered to give me eternal youth and health in exchange for the guardianship of his progeny. I'd gone from shopkeeper to nanny in one night.

It's surprising, I'd say. Things change very quickly in this world- one never knows quite what Fate has in store, even when one is a witch. I might have lived a long and prosperous life as a shopkeeper. If I'd turned Threnody away, who knows what might have happened? Things might have been very different.

But, even so, I don't regret that day. And I, Suantrai of Nocturne, granter of wishes and bringer of dreams, will make a confession to you about the wish I hold deep in my heart.

One day, I wish and hope and pray that I might see Threnody again. That one day I might find her again, healed and whole, and that she and I may walk forward once more as sisters of the Arte, ready to bring the dreams of mortals into life again.


I remain,
Suantrai Nostram