BIG EDIT: It has been gently suggested that my chapters are much too long, so I've re-divided everything into more manageable pieces. Thanks for your patience! :D
(In fact these chapters are now a bit short for my taste BUT IT'S FINE please enjoy!)

So… I got back into GW2… to have something 'new' to play with my friend Tharash (we actually played it a few years ago, but due to a story glitch we stopped abruptly at level 50 and never returned until about 3 months ago) – and… well… I fell in love again at level 60. So I wrote about it.

Caoilfhionn is pronounced "kee-lin", according to the internet, because Irish does that. If you're Irish or familiar with it (I am not?) it is actually a feminine name, because I was going to make a female Sylvari, but I didn't really like the female Sylvari voice (and it's Jennifer Hale? But it just didn't fit the aesthetic I wanted) or most of the default faces as much as I liked the male Sylvari voice (much sweeter! Even if it lacks energy a lot of the time) and default faces. And I still liked the name, and have no gender associations with it, so I hope you can forgive me for using it anyway.

This story involves Tharash's input and characters so heavily that it's very nearly co-written – at least, all the non-fluffy parts are co-written. I have a good sense for Sylvari culture, but for example all the Asura dialogue is by Tharash, because I haven't a clue with those hilarious little twerps. He edits all his character's dialogue and asks helpful plot questions. As you might expect, he has no personal interest in a romance with Trahearne, so those parts are ALL ME.

Caoilfhionn probably listens to a lot of Enya.

EDIT: I somehow missed that Trahearne is Cycle of Dusk, not Cycle of Night, because I was avoiding his wiki page for fear of spoilers. So some of my nice 'night' symbolism is messed up now, oops.

The Necromancer and the Orchid Prince

Fear not this night
You will not go astray
Though shadows fall
Still the stars find their way

And you can always be strong
Lift your voice with the first light of dawn

Dawn's just a heartbeat away
Hope's just a sunrise away

1: Hope's Just a Sunrise Away

He started up from lying down to sitting, disoriented by the change of setting – this was not a forest grove filled with the malicious shadow of a dragon! This was a hut built of leaves, and he lay on a bed of leaves, and dressed in simple brown clothes. "Where am I? I… I was fighting a great evil. Are we safe? Caithe – where is Caithe!?"

A kindly looking Sylvari bent over him, reaching out a hand to prevent him from jumping to his feet. "Steady, sapling. You just woke. You were calling out in your Dream. Caithe was just here, but she had to go speak to the Pale Tree. What's your name?"

"Caoilfhionn," he said. "Caithe and I fought side by side against a poison in the Dream. I saw the shadow of a terrible dragon, and I felt the Dream call upon me to defeat it." Even now, the adrenaline, the darkness caught at his breath and made his hands tremble.

"By the Tree!" exclaimed the Mender. "A Wyld Hunt, so soon? And such a momentous task. To be a Valiant of the Wyld Hunt is a difficult charge." He smiled at him. "Bear this calling with pride."

That was right. If he was a Valiant, he was a knight – and a knight was his pride and his honour. "I will. But… how do I begin? One does not simply awaken and rush off to face a dragon."

"Begin here," said the Mender. "I am Mender Serimon. You will be in my care for the rest of the day, to recover and prepare to explore the world around you. Another is already here, perhaps you would like to speak with him. Or perhaps you would like something to eat – the sun is just rising."

"The sun!" Caoilfhionn exclaimed. "I must see it. I have so longed to see it!"

"Mind your eyes, do not look directly at it or they will burn to blindness," Mender Serimon cautioned him, and gestured to the door.

Standing was a little wobbly – for the first step, and then he walked – and then he ran to the door, barefoot, to see a glorious green wilderness soaked in golden light. Leaves splashed across his vision, vines curling about everything, gorgeous blue and red butterflies glittering amidst yellow and violet flowers. His eyes smarted just looking upon the brilliance of all the colours, perceiving these vivid hues for the first time, and he squinted for a few minutes. Did everyone have eyes this sensitive, or was it just because he was brand new?

A few minutes later he was on top of the hut, arms outstretched, eyes closed, feeling the incredible humid warmth wash over his fresh new skin. If this was The World, he could get used to this! The view that was revealed when he opened his eyes – indescribable! He'd dreamed too of far-off vistas, of seeing what the world was, and this first taste of it left him speechless. This place, on the upper edge of the Grove, must be the most beautiful place in the world, with a view of the Grove to the north, and the tangled lushness of the jungle to the west, and the ocean to the east where the golden sun had just crept over the edge of the horizon. And above them all, the Pale Tree towered, tremendous and beautiful, sheltering them all in her shade.

He heard a faint call and turned to see a couple Sylvari passing by below. "Happy birthday," said one, grinning, waving.

"Thank you," he said with a polite bow, barely able to contain the joy bubbling up inside him. He wanted to do everything, see everything, know everything, all at once! He wanted to dance, to sing as his Mother had sang in her song to him while he was still Dreaming, so though he knew no songs yet other than that one, he threw back his head and let it out. "Lift your voice with the first light of dawn!" They laughed with him, cheering good-naturedly.

It took him an hour to come back down, and then he discovered food, and then he discovered a mirror: so he could finally see what he looked like. He'd known he had blue skin, the colour of dark forget-me-nots, with peach streaks in the veins, but now he knew his large round eyes were also a pale peachy-pink, and his leaves the colour of purple orchids. His narrow chin tapered into tiny tendrils that might be mistaken for a slight beard on a Human, and his ears were like little buds newly opened. Quite frankly, if he only had proper clothes, he'd cut a rather striking figure. He preened for a bit, adjusting his leaves to lie just so – and saw them immediately spring back to their previous position. Oh well. They already looked handsome if he left them.

A low, resonant chuckle caught his attention, and he turned around to see another Sylvari, green, pinecone-headed, with pale green eyes watching him. "Are you about done, Brother?" He had much more of a tendril-beard, and a much fiercer face compared to Caoilfhionn's soft and innocent look.

"For now," he said, smiling at the newcomer. "I'm Caoilfhionn."

"I'm Cathaoir. I was born some hours ago. I do not like to be kept here…"

"Nor I," Caoilfhionn agreed, "but I have my doubts of starting a Wyld Hunt on my birthday…"

"You are chosen for a Wyld Hunt?" Cathaoir asked in surprise. "What is it about?"

"I believe I must slay a dragon," Caoilfhionn said, eyes sparkling with delight. "I do not know if I can, but I shall certainly try, for what could be more glorious?"

"What could be more glorious indeed," Cathaoir said. "I wish you good fortune! I have decided to become a Warden."

"You would be suited for it," Caoilfhionn said, looking at Cathaoir's body with some admiration. He himself was quite slender, and thin-and-smooth-skinned, but Cathaoir looked strong and tough, with thick bark skin.

"Do you think so? Thank you. I may not see as much of Tyria as you will, but surely I shall prove my mettle ere long in service to the Pale Tree. And that is what truly matters, of course."

And thus they talked throughout the day, walking about the hut and immediate grounds, gazing out over the sea that spread below them. Other new-borns came in – a female named Eithne, spring-yellow with lush green fern-like fronds, who apparently had not formed with a nose; a male named Ruadhan, withered-leaf-brown with scarlet brambles for hair, even more bark-clad than Cathaoir and a face so craggy it was hard to tell if he had a nose either, and a female named Blathnat, pale pink like a tulip with autumn-red and green grass upon her head.

They talked of many things, and shortly after Ruadhan came but before Blathnat had yet arrived, Ruadhan said: "We must title each other!"

"Why do you say so?" Eithne asked, putting her head to one side and letting her fronds hang like willow branches. "Surely we shall soon enough have titles anyway."

"Ah, but anyone could be a Warden, or a Valiant, or a Hunter, or a Mender," said Ruadhan. "I want us to have special titles, that we use amongst ourselves. Like the humans do."

"Like nicknames?" Cathaoir said curiously. He did not seem to be nearly as set on the idea, yet he wasn't speaking against it, either.

"I suppose," Ruadhan said. "But – Cathaoir, you must be the Pine Marquess."

Cathaoir laughed. "I accept. But only if you become the Briar Baronet."

Ruadhan tossed his spiky vines. "I accept! Brilliant, Cathaoir! Thank you."

"That was simple enough," Eithne said. "What shall I be then, O Giver of Peerage?"

Ruadhan thought for a while. "Truly, I am not sure what to offer you, of the sun-touched bark…"

"The Sun's Squire," Caoilfhionn said.

"Ah! That's it!" Ruadhan nodded decisively.

"That is lovely," Eithne said. "I shall hunt in honour of the sun, for I was born full in her rays. And Caoilfhionn?"

They all looked at him and he ducked his head bashfully. "I dare not give myself a title, dear siblings." But he was anxious to know what they would pick, all the same.

"He must be a Prince," said a new voice, and they turned to see the one with pink skin being brought in to be with them. "Hello, my siblings, I am Blathnat."

"A pleasure to meet you!" Caoilfhionn said, and they all introduced themselves. "But why a Prince?"

Blathnat smiled with a trace of smugness, gathering her leaves into a tail. "For I can see already, you have the look of a Prince, and the manner of one too. Even in such poor attire as you have now – not that I blame the Menders for this is all they have – your bearing and charm shine through."

Caoilfhionn covered his face in embarrassment. "Oh, come. I am no Prince. But you speak of attire, would you help me with such?"

"The Tulip Countess!" cried Ruadhan, pointing at her.

"Splendid," she said. "And my dear Orchid Prince, I would be utterly delighted to have a guinea pig- that is, model for what I plan to create with my needle. Oh, I have ambitions!"

"The youngest of us so far, and the most ambitious, even above the Valiant," Eithne said, laughing. "Sister dear, were we not already so closely birthed, I should like to adopt you."

Blathnat hugged her taller sister. "That is dear of you. Well, Caoilfhionn? You have not said that you accept yet!"

"Me, the Orchid Prince?" Caoilffhion protested.

"I actually think it suits you," Cathaoir said.

"Come, give in," said Eithne. "No one need know of it besides us."

"Very well," Caoilfhionn said. "I shall wear it in secret, and try to live up to it." Once he got past the grandiose nature of the title, it was terribly romantic and he loved it.

"And we five were born this day," said Cathaoir, looking out the window to see the sun had set. "Hail, siblings!"

"Hail!" said Eithne, dancing for joy. "Though our paths part us, ever shall we be close in spirit. Especially with Caoilfhionn, for he has the hardest part."

Caoilfhionn laughed. "Oh, Eithne, I will not be the only one with challenges to overcome. But I thank you."

Ruadhan reached over and messed up his leaves. "Ah, but you're the scrawniest of us all, and you're to go on a Wyld Hunt? For an Elder Dragon? Good fortune, my Valiant Brother."

"You doubt him?" Blathnat said, resting her hands on her hips as Caoilfhionn patted down his leaves.

"Nay, Sister, only that if he were a little sturdier, he might find it easier."

"Oh well, I cannot change that," Caoilfhionn said. "And at least I have magic to aid me." He twirled a hand, conjuring up a tiny spark of flame to illuminate the darkening room. He'd been experimenting with it ever since he felt the flow of magic within him. Everyone had a little magic, but it seemed he himself had a lot. He had already decided to be an elementalist. It had come so easily to him in the Dream, surely he could do well with it in waking life.

"That you do," Blathnat said. "And once I get my hands upon a needle, you shall be clothed as you wish, as well."

"For which I'm ever so grateful," Caoilfhionn said. All his problems were solved! He hoped that they would ever be so easy – and in his newborn innocence, ignored the feeling that they wouldn't.

Cathaoir clapped his hands. "Then let us to bed, brothers and sisters, for we have a busy life beginning tomorrow! Sleep well, all!"