A little something to tide you over until I begin season 3 (details to come soon). For now, enjoy a brief prologue!
From the journals of Barda Bones Edison, first among the Elf-kind, adventurer, healer, musician, historian, and compiler of the Encyclopedia Magna:
I remember everything. My memory does not fade as human memory does, nor do I live in the endless Now of the Faer Folk. My earliest memory is of chasing butterflies in a field, and it is as vivid as the memory of my last meal. And yet, for as long as I have been able to write, I have kept a journal. As of this writing, it comprises many handfuls of notebooks, along with uncounted scraps of paper, all bound and organized according to a system even I can barely comprehend. Those journals hold all my childhood joys, the myriad flirtations of my adolescence, and the many pleasures and sorrows I have known in my increasingly long life. It contains entries both extraordinary and mundane, on any number of topics.
I have written extensively of my mothers, Nikki Bones and Jax Edison. My tales of their adventures form the spine of what will no doubt be my most lasting work: a great encyclopedia, covering the history of our world from the Awakening onward. I have written of their bravery, their power, their compassion, and their heroism. I have written at length of the great and all-encompassing love they felt for one another, a love that inspired poems and songs and sagas that are sung to this day by bards all around the world. A love that I, even after all my centuries of life, despair of ever experiencing for myself.
I have not written of my grief for them, of the great light that went out of my life the day my human mother died, or the ache I feel for the loss of my faery mother, who has lived among the trees of the vast northern forests since that dark day, her roots sunk deep and her branches spread wide, and her voice forever silent.
Though my human mother was always doomed to die, as all humans are, I like to think, that had we remained in our forest home, had we not allowed the world beyond the wood to summon us hence, Jax Edison may have lived far longer than she did, and been much happier at the end. Such was not to be, however. The outside world called, as I believe she always knew it would, and thus was our idyll shattered forever.
I did not know it at the time, of course. It was my thirteenth summer, and the summons that came was cause for celebration. The Kings of Pash, old friends of my mothers, were holding a ceremony to officially crown their heir as Prince of the Realm. We were among those invited, and my mothers believed it was time I came to know something of humanity and its, admittedly fraught, contribution to my heritage.
I saw it as an adventure, and indeed it was. That seemingly simple journey began the final adventure of Jax Edison and Nikki Bones, which would end with one mother dead, the other in self-imposed exile, and their daughter...
But I’m getting ahead of myself.