Berrybottles' Travel Guide to Terra

Day 2.5

Observation Journal Entry #3

Afternoon, Cloudy Weather

Lunch: A sandwich! And not just any sandwich... Smoked Aprian Turkey, Thin Sliced Apples and Sweet Onion, Spinach, Sunrise Tomato, Indigo Olives, Honey Relish, Hot Mustard, Fayonnaise, all over a melted Xros Cheese on Bofflebean Toast. I'm making heart eyes at the cook, (/❤3❤)/ and they're totally creeped out. (Next time I think I'll just tell them it's delicious... >_>)

Hello Travelers,

Well, I completely lost at Fade. That game is fun, but extremely challenging. I'll be providing details on how to play soon, but the short explanation is, it's a card game. (Wow, that was real short... x_x) A gambling one at that. And I thought I'd have beginner's luck or something, but instead, I was a mark! I was swindled! A target! Easy pickings! I was so terrible, the only way I could have played better is if I stayed in my room!

Which means, I owe the crew some stories. And I thought I would share those stories with all of you as well! So, gear up your parachute, breather, and goggles, and sit on your table, because it's...

Star Circle time with Autumn Berrybottles

Oh, I just realized, you probably don't know what a Star Circle is. A Star Circle is what Watchers call sitting around and telling stories to each other. Also, I've had a few people ask what a Watcher is. (*looking at you with a narrowed gaze of scrutiny* Some of you are starting to make me wonder if you're actually Gaean... -_- ) Oh well, it's ok if you are. I like everyone regardless of where they come from.

A Watcher is someone who watches over books, and art, and artifacts, and history. Not the one who finds that stuff, those are called Seekers. And not the one who makes that stuff, those are called Makers. (Or as I like to call them, extremely talented people who are so amazing I become an obsessed super fan and my extreme joy leaks from my eyes making me a babbling brook when I'm in proximity.)

What was I writing about again?

Oh yes!

Star Circle time with Autumn Berrybottles

Part 1

The Tale of the Burning of the Age

Once Upon a Night Sky, there lived thirteen Forge Masters who worked at the Neverforge. Day and night they hammered; dusk and dawn they fired. Smoke was their air, ash their skin, and coal their blackened blood. Each of them worked with one purpose; to forge a myth, to birth a legend, to temper a weapon capable of cutting down a god.

One of these weapons was Polaris, the Orchid Throne's Blessed Blade.

Whoever wields Polaris' power, controls the hearts of the people. But to control Polaris' heart, the wielder must be so strong it is beyond Polaris' ability to influence. Otherwise, Polaris would instead wield its owner as a puppet, and all would fall prey to its metallic cold. For weapons, my friends, do not understand anything other than the blood, death, and obedience they were forged for.

And so, a challenge was set.

With only one stroke of Polaris, whosoever could put out the flames from a phoenix's Emberbreak would claim Polaris as their own. And in doing so, all of Terra would bend knee willingly, lest Polaris carve their kneels from their turned hearts.

You see, when a phoenix dies, it calcifies itself into an egg-like shape of pure flame. It burns away its old life into ash so fine, Faerie dust is jealous. A bright, beautiful, glorious pyre to itself, known as the Emberbreak. It burns for thirty days, then emerges; young and new, flying off to discover the world once more. But the shell of the Emberbreak remains; burning indefinitely until someone, or something, is strong enough to put it out.

Like many stories, no challenger could wield Polaris and put out the Emberbreak set by the Forge Master who created it. One stroke. That is all anyone can do without losing their hearts. They say it is because of the heat of the Emberbreak. That it reminds Polaris of the inferno from whence it came, and gives but a moment of clarity for one singular stroke of use.

And so, Polaris sat and waited, while the flames of the Emberbreak rose hot in the oil sap of the Orchid Tree. Like glowing roots twisting down the marbled stairs of ultimate power; lighting up the night skies for miles as a day yet to set. The longer Polaris waited, the louder the Emberbreak became. And soon, the Orchid City of Sunspire was a forge all on its own.

But when the heat crept to the countryside, a champion finally emerged. Aerythia of Sunspire. A lowborn Harvester. She, and her family, did not have the means to recover from this challenge of highborns. They could not move, or restart somewhere else, while those with money and power played their hellish game.

In a fit of annoyance, Aerythia entered the City of Flames and took up Polaris with a scathing scolding. She wielded such a grace of air, such a command of ice, that in one singular swipe of force and spite, the flames of the Emberbreak went from a rage of heat to a whisper of cold. They say one could feel Aerythia's artic breeze for at least two Kingdoms.

Aerythia became the first Orchid Empress that day, and Polaris became her fierce companion.

Together, they ruled good, noble, and just. They brought about change and innovation in a time when Terra was being brought to its knees. And when Aerythia died, Polaris would not be moved from her Throne. It would not stand the touch of another. It embedded itself to the hilt within the cold marble in remembrance of its beloved master.

And so now, whenever an Orchid Monarch dies, we hold what is called the Burning of the Age to coax Polaris from its stone sheath. The flames making Polaris remember better times, when it was beloved and cherished; showing Polaris there would be another it could trust and love.

It takes thirty days for a phoenix to leave its Emberbreak, and until then, the flames are untouchable. So, when an Orchid Monarch passes on, we lay a dying phoenix upon their chest, so that they may burn in glory, beauty, and power, and one day be reborn into the greatness they once gave all of us.

And during those thirty days, challengers compete for the right to try and wield Polaris. Making spectacles of themselves while the Emberbreak slowly devours an old life, and tendrils its flames down the Orchid Tree once more. Citizens use this holy flame, we now call the Guiding Light, to burn poems, songs, or art to accompany the Orchid Monarch on their journey through the Next. Offerings that show a ruler who once had the weight of the world on their shoulders, that they were never truly carrying it alone. They were recognized, they were appreciated, and now they are missed.

The Burning of the Age is also symbolic for everyone as well. Along with our offerings, we also burn pieces of our lives to bring about change and prosperity. This is done even in homes of those who are not close enough to use Emberbreak's fire.

The Burning of the Age is now meant to not only bring about the next Orchid Monarch, but it is a time of rendering to ash one's old self, old problems, old woes and worries. It is to burn away what is holding you back from having a rich soil to grow within.

And as our current Orchid Empress' health is failing, I do fear we will be seeing our own Burning of the Age soon, my friends. We will grieve. We will sorrow. I, for one, will write what acts I witnessed of her in my lifetime, to be added to the collection for Watchers to protect. After all, each one of us is a witness of our own times; if we do not record what we see in our present, then our future can only learn from the twisted scraps they find.

But, I digress, what I am trying to say is, one day (and hopefully not too soon) the Burning of the Age will be here. And though we will find ourselves in sadness, remember, without mourning there is no new day. So, hopefully, like me, you'll ready yourselves for a glorious new adventure. And allow your tears to wash away who you were, as you step into who you are about to be!

All stars cry, but they also laugh too.