First City
There is a place, child. A place far from here. It lies at the end of a dark and terrible road. It has no name, none that is remembered, but there are many tales that tell of it. A distant city in a valley by the seashore. The valley is said to glow with light in the morning, brightening as the sun rises and pours rays of gold down onto the earth and sea. Waves crash endlessly on the shore, salt spray fills the air as the white wispy clouds are pulled across the endless blue by a playful wind. Green covered mountains bloom with wildflowers as a river winds its way down towards the city. Every tower, every dome, every roof is green and brown with trees, and the walls are covered in vines. Flowers sit in gardens and flowerbeds beneath windows. When the sun goes down they hang purple and pink lanterns in the trees to fill their city with light. Songs are played on drums and sung with voices of joy. Or that’s how it used to be. Long ago when I last saw the city. Before humanity was born, before the Earth came to be. Perhaps it is even older than the human universe. I cannot recall how long ago. But oh, how I wish I could see that city once more. It was lost, or so they say. Beyond the moon, past the stars, and further than anything we can recall in all our long memories. The road to it is treacherous and filled with unimaginable horrors that prey upon the hopeful and the foolhardy that seek out that ancient city. But what is it? That faraway place that exist only in the memory of the very oldest of our Folk? They say that it was the First City. The beginning of Faerie and its people. All the old tales tell that the First Crown was last seen there, and that when it appears again it will be in that city. Perhaps it will. Or maybe they are only old stories after all. Who can say?
