Every so often in our lifetime, there comes a person whose spirit shines so brightly they can't help but to have a tremendous impact on your life without even trying. This story is dedicated to the memory of one such person, lovingly known as Dreamspinner.

I am a former Listian. I don't know how many people remember or know what that is, but it was not uncommon, in those days, for various Listians to take on a persona, alter egos we used to play in the Underground. It was a time of great fun; many round robin stories were invented around these personas. Sheyrina was mine, and in the tradition of many of the stories told in that time, I have written this from her perspective.

This was supposed to be the first story I posted on this site before anything else. However, I became unsure whether I should post it, and so it has sat on my laptop. Dreamspinner has been heavy in my thoughts these past months, and tonight, I have decided that I would like this story in my archive, regardless of its reception. This was written to be one part memoriam to honor a dear friend, and one part reintroduction to a world I never forgot.

Dreamspinner passed from this world June 4th, 1999.

I wish you dreams of joy…
~*~ Sheyrina, Labyrinthian Dragon

~*O*~

Disclaimer: All things Labyrinth are not mine.

~*O*~

He was sprawled casually over his throne, one sleek leg resting on the floor, the other resting over the arm. The fingers of his right hand were curled under his chin as if in thoughtful repose, while the fingers of his left drummed absently upon his thigh. It was a position he affected often. He appeared serene, though truly he was attempting to ignore the latest ruckus caused by his subjects.

The source of their amusement lay in attempting to stack chickens into something resembling a pyramid and failing miserably. The topmost chicken let out an indignant squawk and launched itself off the writhing pile of black feathers, beaks, and claws, fluttering awkwardly as she landed on the other side of the room. The four goblins nearest her attempted to dogpile her, but only succeeded in snagging a handful of tail feathers as she squawked again and half jumped, half flew to land at the foot of throne.

The Goblin King fixed his subjects with an exasperated glare, warning them to keep their distance. A riding crop appeared in his hand, which he then used to swat at the chicken, driving her back into the fray. His subjects grinned inanely and prepared to rush the poor bird. It was at that moment that a hush fell over the throne room. The air tingled, and the Goblin King felt the tiniest whisper of a ripple within the magic that permeated his kingdom. Even the chickens were silent. He sat up, surveying the throne room and his subjects with a speculative eye. Nothing was amiss but for the expectant stillness of the goblins as they stared back at their ruler.

Glancing away from his subjects to the crystal now within his hand, he searched for the source of the disturbance. His expression softened slightly, a relaxing of the tension he hadn't realized he'd felt in that moment.

"It appears we have a visitor," he said aloud. In the next moment, he was gone, the goblins staring blankly at the empty throne. They turned to one another, shrugged, and immediately pounced on the chicken who had thought herself forgotten.

~*O*~

She stirred, her chin resting on the cool, earthen floor. The rustle of whispering leaves came to her ears even as her nostrils flared, assailed with a scent long buried in memory. Comforting, familiar. A cool breeze made her twitch, ruffling the soft mane of silken hair against her neck. Drawing her wings closer, she turned her head into the curl of her body, wrapping her tail tightly about her. She purred drowsily before the realization hit her.

Wings?

Tail?

She started, suddenly awake, rearing up in a motion so swift a hind claw caught at her wingtip. Hissing in displeasure, she carefully disentangled the offending limb. Giving her wingtip a disdainful sniff, she rose unsteadily, serpentine tail weaving back and forth in shallow arcs behind her. Arching her neck, she slowly looked herself over in bewildered appraisal.

Smooth, white hide rippled over a long, sinuous body, shimmering with golden highlights. Well-muscled hind legs curved gracefully into strongly arched hind claws, each toe tipped with a delicate silver point, and from her shoulders a pair of lissome wings draped down her back. She flexed these experimentally, noting the play of color across the thin membranes as she stretched them. She sat down on her slender haunches with a huff, curling her long tail about her feet as she studied her front claws. Vaguely resembling human hands, she raised her claws to her head, brushing across long tufted ears and continuing partway down the mane of silken curls that spilled down the length of her crested neck. She lowered her forearms to the ground, relaxing her wings until they draped down her sides in a haphazard fashion. With a little shake, she gave her surroundings an inquisitive glance.

A brilliant sun, aloft in a clear, deep cerulean sky, cast its glowing golden rays over the glade in a warm caress. She had awakened in a hollow at the base of a towering old oak, its aged branches spreading toward the sky, foliage draping back toward the earth in a benevolent display that shrouded her hide in dappled shades of violet and gold. Light breezes swayed through the branches of the ancient trees that rallied around her haven in a verdant display of color and tranquility. From her hollow to the tree lined edges of the clearing, the glade was carpeted with lush green grass, dandelions, little daisies, and buttercups. From there, young saplings, flowering bushes, ferns, and a variety of other, nameless undergrowth disappeared into the depths of the forest.

She parted her jaws, drawing in a deep, measured breath, letting the earthy and primordial taste of the forest brush languidly over her tongue. She detected the scent of wildflowers as well as the hint of something more dark and exotic, a scent unique to this particular forest. Turning her head, she noted the wall that seemed to materialize just on the edge of her glade, the stone warm in beige tones, ivy and moss clinging to its sparkling surface in the midday sun. She knew where she was, of course. Her bewilderment lay in how she had gotten there, inhabiting a once familiar form in a place she hadn't seen in years. She sat quietly, pondering the situation with head bowed.

The sudden glint of moving water and the soft gurgling sound of a stream caught her attention at the furthest edge of the clearing. She rose to her feet and padded the few paces that brought her to the embankment of the little brook. She knew it hadn't been there in her first assessment of the little glade, but it looked for all the world like it had. She crouched, dipping her head toward the stream, allowing the coolness of it to bathe her chin before sucking in a long draught of the pristine water. She closed her eyes in pleasure at the remembered sweetness of it. After a moment, she lifted her head, water droplets sparkling as they fell from her muzzle.

"You honor me," she murmured.

The air shifted, tiny flecks of glitter wafting like motes of dust in the gentle breeze that stirred lazily through the sunlit glade.

"As do you," came the softly accented reply.

She flicked her ears and turned her head, following the sound to its origin. He was lounging against a nearby tree, arms crossed, watching her with idle interest. Tilting her head, she returned his appraising glance with one of her own. He was dressed casually enough, dark grey breeches tucked into tall, black leather boots, a black waistcoat encasing his cream-colored poet's shirt which hung open at his throat. She could see the edges of the leather cord about his neck before it disappeared into the folds of his shirt, hiding the familiar pendant she knew hung there behind folded arms. His hair was pale gold, wild as always, framing his face in feather light wisps before falling to his shoulders. His face was angular, complexion pale, and his mouth quirked in amusement, arching an elegant brow when she finally met his seemingly dual-colored gaze.

She glanced away with a wry snort. "Still trendy as ever, I see."

"Ah, but would you have expected anything different?" he drawled.

The question was more of a statement, and she brought her eyes back to watch him as he pushed off from the tree. Hopping lightly over the stream, his gloved hands came to rest comfortably behind his back as he slowly approached her. Her expression mirrored his amusement, a draconic smirk gracing her face. She shook her head, rising from her crouch.

"No. I would have been sorely disappointed if there had been," she responded, her tone droll. Surely he knew better than that.

He chuckled as he swiftly closed the distance between them. She shifted uneasily at his nearness, wings slightly raised as his dark and alluring scent wreathed around her, cedar and musk with the faintest hint of leather. Sensing her disquiet, he held her golden eyes with his in an unspoken command until she dipped her head in acquiescence. It was then that he reached one hand out to her muzzle, cupping her chin firmly, but gently, in his palm. Her body shivered involuntarily at his touch, causing the tips of her wings to tremble, but her gaze didn't waver as he turned her head from side to side. Her nostrils flared as she caught his scent again and her warm breath whuffed against his palm as he released her.

Assured that she would remain still, he stepped to her side and ran gloved fingers slowly up along her jawline to her throat, then down the long, sinuous crest of her neck until the flat of his palm rested against her shoulder. She swallowed, her heart beating fiercely in her chest as he stopped there and took a step back. She followed him with her eyes, noting he had clasped his hands behind his back again as he began to walk in a leisurely circle around her. He paused at her far side, reaching out to touch her injured wingtip and she winced, drawing her wing away from him in embarrassment. He cleared his throat with an amused glance her way and she ducked her head, letting her wing relax into his grasp. He gently drew his fingers over the small bloodied tear in the tip, erasing the miniscule wound. He released her wing, and she flipped it back into place, still tingling from the magic imparted by his touch. Returning to her head, he crossed his arms, one hand curled against his chin as he studied her in thoughtful silence.

"Does my presence displease you, Your Majesty?" she questioned, unable to bear the silence any longer. The intensity and formality of her quiet words belied her nervousness, and a corner of his mouth turned up in a familiar smirk.

"No, Sheyrina," he said slowly, "I'm merely trying to understand how you are here now after abandoning the Underground all those years ago."

She stared at him in astonishment, dropping to her haunches in confusion. "What? I didn't abandon the Underground!"

"Didn't you?" He turned slightly away from her, looking out over the quiet glade for a moment before glancing back at her. "As I recall, you fled to the mortal realm on an almost daily basis, and then one day, you simply never returned."

"But I didn't—I never meant-," she paused, dropping her eyes to the ground in front of her as she realized on some level that he was right. In a sense, she had abandoned them, but not so completely as he seemed to think. She raised her eyes to meet his and took a deep breath. "Even though I chose not to return, I could never truly abandon this realm; it is too much a part of me…though I can see how it would seem I had done so. I still…" she paused momentarily, her gaze shifting to the tree line behind him. The glint of golden sun on leaves as another breeze swept through and set them to fluttering and whispering among themselves. "…remembered. Just never too much-until now, it would seem."

"Perhaps you would care to enlighten me?" he asked, his tone gentle.

She drew her gaze back to him, seeming to consider his request, then, "I don't see why it matters." With a swift motion, she rose to her feet and turned away from him, intending to put some distance between them, though she had no idea where she would go at that moment; the land was as strange as it was familiar. She had no doubts that if she attempted to leave through the forest, she would only find herself back in the glade, and after so long out of her present form, she didn't dare attempt to fly, she would spare herself that indignity—not that he would let her get far even if she succeeded. She hesitated. "If you don't want me here, simply send me away and be done with it."

"Sheyrina," he said softly, but she couldn't bring herself to look at him again. She felt his presence as he drew near though, and she held herself still, feeling trapped. Memories were welling up, threatening to overcome her, and she shook her head, as if the motion would send them away. She felt the soft touch of his hand on her shoulder. "Did I say you were unwelcome?"

She closed her eyes. "No, you didn't, but forgive me if I don't understand why you would be interested in my reasons."

He regarded her thoughtfully. "Did you think it would escape my notice that you vanished from my realm?"

She snorted derisively, the depths of her golden eyes glittering as she turned to face him. "Now, honestly, why would it ever cross my mind that you might notice? I know what I am, and to be fair, I never expected more. Do you even understand how surreal it is to me that you are even here? Or that I am, for that matter? I wrote no epic length sagas, no humorous satires, nothing that would stand in the annals of Time. Tell me, Goblin King, in a labyrinth of storytellers, how long was it truly before you noticed the absence of one?"

His eyes narrowed at her, but he refused to rise to the bait. She huffed at him, and with a lash of her tail, strode purposefully toward the side of the glade where the wall of the Labyrinth rose before her. Pacing along the ancient wall, she nosed at the vegetation, her head sweeping in an upward arc as she measured the height of it. Considerably higher now than it had first appeared, she noted. With an irritated growl, she extended the full length of her body up, wings spread for balance as she placed her front claws on the wall. Impossibly, it seemed taller still, the stone smooth in some places, while looking shabby and pitted in others.

"Infuriating place," she grumbled, as she sat back on her haunches.

"You still haven't answered my question, Sheyrina." She flicked her ears backwards, the only indication she allowed that she had heard him.

"Neither have you. That either makes us even or we've arrived at an impasse. Perhaps a forfeit is in order," she dared a glance back at him to see arms folded over his chest, a slender finger resting against his chin, and a meaningful glint in his unusual eyes. "Damn," she sighed, "you're not going to let this go, are you?"

"Call it simple curiosity," he offered, gesturing toward her with a hand.

"You do know what happened to the cat, right?" She pretended to be paying rapt attention to a small patch of moss on the stone in front of her. The rustle of footsteps in the grass alerted her to his movement and a moment later he slid into her view, leaning against the wall beside her.

"The cat didn't possess my particular…attributes," he tilted his head, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

She rolled her eyes, her head following the motion. "Right. Poor cat."

"Poor cat, indeed," he replied in a slightly mocking tone.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Why are you badgering me about this anyway?"

"Why are you so determined to avoid it?" he countered, raising an eyebrow at her.

She studied him, a look of resigned determination flickering in her eyes. "I thought that would be fairly obvious."

"Humor me."

"Don't you have goblins in need of minding?"

"I am sure they are still quite occupied stacking chickens," he replied dryly.

She looked at him, mystified. "Stacking chickens? Is that even possible?"

"No, hence my lack of concern. They were quite engrossed in the activity—to my utter dismay," he gave her a tolerant smile. "Now, are you going to tell me what's brought you back Underground or are we going to play this game indefinitely?"

"I thought you liked games."

"Sheyrina…" he warned.

Disgruntled, she turned away from the wall and flopped unceremoniously to the ground, stretching her neck out over the soft grass. She watched as bits of dandelion fluff rose into the air, disturbed by her action. They bobbed and swayed as they rose toward the sky, their journey aided by the light breath of wind that caught them up in a dance of twisting whorls and gentle eddies. As they drifted further away, she began to sing softly, the low timbre of her voice adding a poignant quality to her short, but somber melody.

"For as long as the sun sets

on a heart ravaged by Time,

And the moon deigns to glow

Through a thorny forest of grief,

I'll hum in quiet sorrow

With a mourning dove on my hand,

And to the whispering winds

I'll direct my despairing voice."

As the last note died away, she sighed; a deep, soul-wrenching sound. Flicking her eyes back to look at him, she saw that he had shifted until his back was pressed against the wall, his head tilted back until it rested on the stone. He had closed his eyes, brows drawn, and his expression was one of great sorrow.

"Do you remember the last time we spoke?" she asked quietly.

"I do," he responded, a note of sadness coloring his reply.

"And you remember why?"

"Yes."

"Dreamspinner," she breathed in a choked whisper. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes to gather her thoughts, and then began her story.

"An insurmountable grief had swept through the realm. The whole of the Underground was gripped in the throes of mourning. She was so well loved, a bright star in every life she touched. She had woven a number of tales here, a gleaming tapestry worthy of remembrance. She shared her passions with unrestrained enthusiasm, and gave her love freely to those willing to accept it. If she ever made any demands, it was only to be true to yourself and to find freedom in the power of creativity, the strength to follow your dreams. She touched us all with her stories, her fire, her laughter, but…some were feeling her loss more keenly than others. There were those of us who knew her more closely.

"I counted myself fortunate to be graced with her friendship. I never understood how, but over a short time, we became great friends, and in no time at all, we learned we could speak to each other about anything, kindred spirits. Soon after that, we began exchanging gifts, and eventually, we started to tell each other about the shadows that haunted us. It was then I learned that, despite her vivacity, she had demons of her own. We found solace in our unusual friendship."

She shifted, raising her head and leaning onto her side, careful to keep her wing tucked. Her tail curled and twitched in slow, agitated patterns, sending more dandelion fluff to swirl in the air. She watched these for a moment before continuing.

"When I received the news that she had lost her last valiant battle, I didn't know it was possible to feel that kind of sorrow. I was so young, and I felt so dispirited, and so alone. She was the light in my darkness, the one being that kept me grounded and sane when it felt as if my own demons would consume me. Can you imagine? A goddess among Fae and she was trying to save a dragon from herself," she shook her head and snorted at the irrationality. "But do you know what? She succeeded. Even in death, her memory was burned into my soul with all its light, love, and laughter," her tone was marked by a tinge of awe and incredulity. She fell silent for the space of a few heartbeats, her thoughts drawn inward.

"When the news of her passing spread throughout the Underground, the intensity of the emotional upheaval seemed to make the very land itself tremble. Aftershocks were felt for days following as Underground denizens returned from their mortal amusements to discover her loss. Many of us wrote our laments, eulogies to a woman who so briefly lit our lives, and then, like the proverbial candle, had that light snuffed before she'd truly had the chance to burn." She gave him a curious look. "Fae were not meant to shine so briefly."

He caught the question in her eyes and replied with a shake of his head. "No, they are not. Even had I attempted to reorder Time to save her, it would have come at a great cost to all who inhabited the realm. She would not have wanted to pay that price."

She searched his face. Satisfied with what she saw, she nodded once and continued, "No, she was too benevolent a spirit to wish harm on the innocent." She looked away from him, her attention drawn to the venerable old oak she'd woken beneath. She could still hear Dreamspinner's musical laugh as she lay on the lowest branch, the twinkling of her teal colored eyes as she called him Grandfather Oak. She shook herself out of the memory and resumed her tale.

"You sought me out the day we heard. Do you know that I've always wondered why? Don't misunderstand, I was grateful for your presence, but I was a bit overwhelmed on top of everything. My friendship with Dreamspinner was not widely known, and I meant what I said. Other than a handful of poems and misguided tales, I made no true contributions to the foundations the Labyrinth now rests on. Nothing that would have, or even should have, warranted your notice." She started to chuckle, the sound a low, vibrating rumble that ended on a soft sigh. "The irony of our current situation is not lost on me. I've barely begun to think of spinning new tales, and here we are."

He shifted his posture against the wall, angling himself toward her as he spoke. "Though words have power here, time in the Underground is not measured by stories alone. It is measured by the strength of your belief, of your heart, and…your dreams." He tilted his head slightly as he looked at her. "But that's still not the reason you disappeared, is it?"

She sighed heavily and bowed her head. "No. I found myself unable to remain in a place that reminded me so much of her. To know that any new thing I wrote could no longer be shared with her. That her Loom would never again grace my slumber with the flights of fancy only she could weave." She shook her head. "I couldn't bear that. In the mortal realm, there was some respite. A distancing from the magic here, and Time flows so differently there. Eventually, it became easy to just stay, and so I did, sacrificing myself to the conventions of mortality. It has not been without its rewards."

"Yet, you unexpectedly find yourself returning Underground. Have you thought about why that is?" he pressed.

She looked at him quizzically, confusion clear in her eyes. His tone held nothing but mild interest, but she couldn't help but feel that he was driving her toward something. The ridges above her eyes drew forward in thought.

"I think…it's because Dreamspinner would not have wanted me to cease writing in my grief, and this is where it began. I came to the realization quite suddenly one day, that I had not written a single story since that time so long ago. Writing used to bring me such joy, it was another aspect of our friendship that we shared. I like to believe that she still speaks to me in the tranquility of my heart, where her memory is lovingly treasured." She cast a reproachful glance at him. "So, no, while you may accuse me of abandoning the Underground-in my heart, I never did. To do so would have been to forget her, and that, I could never do. I think of her often."

Waving aside her declaration, he casually pinned her eyes with his, "There was another reason beyond that, however, wasn't there? You honored her memory, yet you never remembered enough to find your way back here. What happened, Sheyrina? What changed?" he demanded, slowly moving to stand by her side. She was on the verge of a revelation.

She started to shake her head, suddenly furious with him for being so callous. She opened her jaws to snap back at him and abruptly stopped. Her expression became one of dawning understanding as she answered, "I rediscovered my dreams, my inspiration."

She glanced at the visible wall of the Labyrinth. She could now hear the hum that vibrated under the ancient stones, a low throb that beat in time to the pulsing of her heart. "That was the day I found the new storytellers. I was astonished to see how much this world had changed. In many ways, it was the same, but it was also very different. You were different. I reveled in it. That was also the day I felt the compulsion to tell a story, to share the light she once shared with me." Her gaze shifted to the oak tree. "It must have opened the door."

He turned his head to the side and smirked at her then, a faint glimmer of his usual hauteur in his eyes. With a twist of his wrist, he presented her with a crystal, and she stared at him, her uncertainty written clearly across her draconic features. However, the curiosity warring with her prudence won, and she slowly rose to her haunches to accept his offering. Her golden eyes widened as it burst in her claws, revealing a large, finely crafted quill. He tapped her nose with a gloved finger, drawing her attention away from the gift. A subtle glow of understanding shone in the depths of her eyes as she looked at him, a flame rekindled.

"I sense there are many new stories within you," he said with calm assurance. "I expect you to earn your keep, Sheyrina."

~*O*~

"…some keep the light of the dream shining within into the waking world. These special ones often remind others of their own forgotten lights which flicker within them…"

Dreamspinner, "Thirteen Tales of the Fae" 1998

~*O*~

The artwork at the top of the page was done by Dreamspinner, and the inscription is from the copy of "Thirteen Tales of the Fae" that she gifted me with, it is a collection of faerie stories written by three of the more prominent Listians of the time. I'm curious if the other two authors are still around.

~*O*~

And it seems to me you lived your life
Like a candle in the wind
Never fading with the sunset
When the rain set in
And your footsteps will always fall here
Though your Loom has grown quite still
Your candles burned out long before
Your legend ever will

Candle in the Wind – Sir Elton John (slightly modified).

~*O*~

Story written: 11/22/16