Darkness enveloped me; the weight of the Rider's Council was pressing heavily upon my mind. From a young age, I was chosen to be a Rider for the Hall of Stars, something I always understood to be an important role. However, to my surprise, it did not mean growing up in princess gowns like a noble elite as I once believed. No, I had learned it meant I was sworn to protect and defend life from the terrors that stalked the shadows and ever-looming darkness throughout the realms. The responsibility was a burden I bore with honor, but it weighed heavily on my soul.

As I drifted into a deep sleep, my dreams carried me back to a memory of painful defeat. As I fell asleep, I began to feel an intense dull pain throughout my body. There was a deep stab wound that plunged upward into my chest from the left side of my rib cage. Suddenly, I realized I was lying all alone in a cold, dark cave. There I lay, broken and battered in the cold embrace of a small, isolated cave. My body, once strong and agile, was now rendered useless by broken bones and wounds cut deep into my flesh. The darkness of the cave seemed to seep into my very bones, sapping my strength and will to live. I must’ve been unconscious because when I awoke, the light was fading from the cave’s entrance. All that mattered was that I needed to get out of here. So, I used my strength and started to drag my body towards the entrance of the cave. Despite my desperate efforts, I knew that I’d die without anyone to help, so I called for help hopelessly.

"Please," I whispered through cracked lips, choking on the blood that filled my mouth. "Help me."

But there was no answer, only the echo of my voice bouncing off the cold stone walls. As I lay there, alone and defeated, the fickle hands of fate seemed to abandon me. A feeling I knew all too well.

My blood pooled around me, the metallic scent filling my nostrils and stinging my eyes. And as the shadows crept closer, threatening to swallow me whole, I couldn't help but wonder if this was truly the end. "Father," I murmured, reaching out to the ghost of the man who had shared my gift – the power to control time and space with me.

"Guide me," I begged, tears streaming down my cold, deathly pale face. "Show me the way."

Only mocking silence answered in the cold, unforgiving cave as my eyes slowly closed, only to find myself lying alone in an old cottage bed. My body still felt cold, and I could still feel the all-encompassing pain throughout my body. My hands felt the blood still oozing from the gash wound on my chest. This was not the first time I had awakened like this, plagued by the past; I accepted it as a cross I bore, a constant reminder of how close I had come to meeting death.

Now, I just needed to get my friend's attention. "Phoenix!" I gasped, my voice breaking through the silence with a desperate plea. In an instant, a young lady with fiery red curls dancing around her face like a halo of flames came to my side. She moved closer with such grace, like an angel in the night, her tiny feet barely making a sound on the creaky wooden baseboard. Her thin, flowing, lily-white nightgown draped over her gracefully, with her legs silhouetted underneath the fabric as the light of the lantern she was carrying cast a warm glow over her.

Her emerald eyes, alight with soft, attentive care, met mine as she knelt beside me. I was relieved to see Phoenix Barnes kneeling beside me. She was a fellow Rider, Hall of Fire. I knew she was capable of healing my wounds.

"Oh, my poor friend," she murmured, her soft, soothing English voice wrapped around me like a warm embrace, like a warm, heavy wool blanket. The day we met in the cave replayed in her mind. She remembered how she miraculously healed my wound that should’ve proved fatal if she hadn’t saved me, "You'll be alright. I've got you." She placed her hand on my chest, and I could feel her energy coursing through me, seeking out the source of my pain. Her warm healing touch felt like the warmth of the sun soaking into the earth on a spring day after a long, cold winter.

As Phoenix's warmth flowed over my injuries, I felt the searing pain subside, replaced by a tingling sensation that spread throughout my body. My breathing steadied, and for a moment, I allowed myself the comfort of feeling safe, as I had before.

"Thank you," I whispered roughly, my voice still hoarse but strong and filled with endless gratitude towards her skills and her selflessness.

"No need," Phoenix replied, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "I'm just doing the best I can do."

I gave a little nod as the last remnants of pain dissolved into nothingness. With every passing moment, my vigor and strength surged back, coursing through my body. I knew what she meant by her words, saying this was the best she could do. Her words held a poignant truth: this was the extent of her abilities. She possessed the power to mend my wounds, but the curse that haunted my dreams was beyond her capabilities. I felt a terrible tug of guilt pull at my heart.

In the silence, Phoenix's gaze met mine, her eyes reflecting a complex expression of compassion, sorrow, and worry. I could see her trying to push her feelings back down.

After some time, I finally comfortably propped my body up on my elbows, I let out a deep breath, and I sighed, "Huh, well, I suppose it's probably about time to get up and get ready for the day."

Phoenix nods, "Indeed, getting a good early start to our day would be wise... The sun should start rising in about an hour. Can you stand alright?" She asked softly, extending a hand to me.

"Yeah. I’ll be alright now, thank you though…" I nodded, grateful for her offer, but I waved off her assistance as I thoroughly trusted that I was capable of easily standing up on my own.

A warm smile graced Phoenix's face as she stepped aside, still keeping a watchful eye as I prepared to get up from the comfort of my bedroll.

My bedroll, made of tattered quilts and blankets, despite its humble appearance, had proven to be a trusty companion, providing just the right amount of comfortable support for my weary body after traveling long distances, often day in and day out. It might not have been the coziest of beds, but it was portable and reliable enough to gain my approval.

Leaning up into more of a sitting position and stretching my stiff, tired joints, I let out a sigh as I looked around the room, with the faint, cool blue hues of morning light trickling through crackled and dust-glazed windows. I studied quietly in the small, humble room. In the light, I had to admit, it had a certain rough-hewn elegance despite its decaying and vacant interior. The walls, weathered by years of neglect, retained some former charm, with fading patterns and peeling paint that whispered stories of the once vibrant lives that once inhabited the former home. But that was left too long ago. It had now been stripped bare of the many personal touches and belongings that once made it home, leaving an eerie sense of emptiness and loneliness to envelope the space. The cottage was now just a crumbling, empty shell.

Taking a deep breath, I pulled back the warm weight of the blankets to prop myself up onto my knees on my bedroll. As I prepared to stand up, the floorboards underneath me gave a low creaking groan in protest, as if to beg, "Please, don't leave me yet!" The cool drafts of the cottage almost made me want to agree.

But I persisted against those feelings; besides providing a sense of comfort, there was little point in staying here any longer. Confident that I was fully well again, I stood up quickly, without a second thought, as I glanced over at Phoenix.

"Well then, Aurora, I’m glad to see that you’re doing alright this morning," Phoenix remarked, clapping her hands briskly as if to banish the lingering heaviness like dust on her clothes. Feeling satisfied that I was okay, a subtle smile played at the corner of her lips.

"Uh. Yeah..." I nodded. I was doing alright, just as she said.

Her expression was a blend of brief reassurance and warmth as she left the room, "I'll be downstairs in the kitchen preparing some tea over the old hearth. That should give you plenty of time to get dressed and more prepared for the day."

I nod again, more out of reflex, even though she had turned away from me. A soft smile graced my lips as I watched her retreating figure, her red locks dancing gently over her shoulders. I was always grateful for the tea she offered to make each morning, some mornings more than others. The tea was always pleasant, never the same two days in a row. Sometimes a bit bitter, sometimes sweet. Always fragrant and warming. Eager to soothe myself, I swiftly changed into the freshest and warmest pair of clothes I could find within reach for the day. I put on some worn black jeans and a black shirt, and I pulled over the shirt a warm dusky blue sweater. A clean pair of soft blue wool socks warmed my feet. I wove my hair into two loose French braids, tightly securing them with elastics. I slipped on my sturdy, tall black hiking boots and grabbed my black winter coat as I went downstairs into a room that might have been a modest great room. I discovered Phoenix by the hearth, where she patiently attended to a kettle that was perched over the gentle crackling flames.

"So, Astor? Is he still asleep yet?" I ask, as I casually walk over to Phoenix.

"Mmm." She nodded with a small, almost amused grin as she gestured to Astor's body lying on the floor, "He's still here in front of the stove." I looked over the table to see his body curled up in his bedroll beside the stove, and his loyal hounds, Thief and Jester, rested peacefully beside him.

"Heh, who could’ve guessed?" I reply, equally amused, "He sure knows how to find a warm spot to sleep, doesn't he?"

"And he sure likes to sleep in." She said nonchalantly, then jokingly replied, "You don't suppose we shouldn't let him have his peace until he wakes up, do you?"

"Oh, I don't know," I couldn't help but chuckle at Astor's ability to sleep through anything and everything, except perhaps a persistent tease from Phoenix or me, "I think that's probably for the best. I don't appreciate trying to wake him up." I felt smug as I left my reply. Like Phoenix and I, Astor was a Rider. His title was Hall of Harvest, which meant he was responsible for influencing harvests and grains. Nonetheless, he always managed to sleep longer than anyone I ever met, especially in the colder months of the year. However, even he couldn't sleep forever, especially when there was work to be done.

"I guess you're right," she said, as she went to pour hot water into her porcelain kettle, steeping fragrant chamomile lavender tea, "Oh, but he'd better hurry if he doesn't want to miss breakfast."

I nodded in agreement, and we settled into a comfortable silence as the tea brewed, savoring the tender warmth of the wood stove. As sunlight peaks through the cracked and broken windows, casting soft gold light in the room, Phoenix, with a meaningful glance, hands me a warm cup of tea. "Here, I brewed this pot with you in mind."

Sighing in gratitude, I took the warm cup of tea from her hands. The cup's warmth radiated through my palms and spread as I cradled it in my hands. Sipping slowly, feeling a calm embrace soothing my senses with a brief sense of peace and tranquility. I closed my eyes, "Thanks." I replied calmly.

"No problem," she replied, "Something soothing sounded nice. And you know, you've been having some rough nights lately."

Her words hit harder than I wanted to admit. The haunting reality of my nightmares always seemed to find its way back into my thoughts. I took another sip, wanting to prolong the warmth that seemed to provide some quiet peace to my soul, even if for a brief moment. Phoenix's eyes were full of all too familiar concern, but she didn't push further, letting me finish the cup of tea in peace.

We sat and talked a little longer before Astor's grumbling stomach interrupted the silence. "I think it's about time we all have a little bit of something to eat," Phoenix said quietly as she stood up, setting down a finished cup of tea.

I nod, take a deep breath, and walk over to Astor. "Hey, time to wake up. You can't keep sleeping forever." I said, nudging him gently on his side with my foot. Astor grumbled something unintelligible and buried his face deeper into the blankets, reluctant to leave the sweet warmth and comfort of his bedroll.

His warm light brown eyes fluttered open, shining beautifully like a lush, sun-kissed honey behind tousles of brown hair as the stove cast a warm, flickering light upon his face. He glared up at me begrudgingly in bitter annoyance.

"Come on, sleepy head, I'll drag you out of bed if you don't get up." I insisted, prodding him with my foot once more.

"Ugh, fine..." Astor muttered, "But you're worse than an alarm clock, you know?"

A smile cracked on my face at his teasing, "Good," I said, "That means I'm better at waking you up that way."

Once up, though reluctant, Astor quickly slipped into blue jeans that’d been warmed by the hearth and an old, cozy brown, burnt orange, and goldenrod yellow striped wool sweater. "Oh," Astor said quietly, noticing Phoenix’s kettle set on the table. Looking to her, he politely asked, "Is the tea still warm?"

"Yes, Astor," Phoenix replied softly and caringly, "You're still in luck. Please help yourself."

Astor nodded and walked over to the kettle, gratefully pouring himself a cup of tea and sipping at it quietly, savoring the warm aromatic flavors of the tea. “Ah, nothing beats a cup of your warm tea in the morning. You certainly have a talent for making the perfect tasting tea.” He said with a content look on his face as he glanced around the small cottage, taking in the beauty of the morning. The sun had just begun to paint blends of pink hues and bright orange streaks across its interior.

Amidst the quiet conversations between us, the three of us enjoyed a small, modest breakfast of dried nuts and fruits, along with a side of sausage rolls and a loaf of bread Phoenix warmed over the fire. Astor's hounds wagged happily as Phoenix gave them some sausage as she cooked them. After we finished enjoying breakfast, we began to prepare for our departure. I quietly focused on some of the packing. I worked on gathering my clothes and bedding, and then I quietly knelt, retrieving my father's old journals that he once stored away in his secret study off the cottage floor. It was the only thing I kept with me from my childhood home, the familiar, worn pages that held secrets and knowledge passed down through generations, filled me with comforting warmth like a piece of home, no matter where I found myself in the universe. Other than a few items, our group packed lightly; the essentials like food, water, and medicine were packed away securely, while heirlooms and personal items were put away quietly and individually with care. We all held on to things that reminded us of who we were before we quietly left the normal lives we knew, reminding us of what we stood to protect and who we were apart from our duties.

As I quietly packed my belongings, my attention was briefly drawn to my friends, busy with their own morning routines. I watched Astor, who was diligently organizing and packing away the camping gear. He had a habit of keeping things he saw having practical use. This little characteristic of his helped ensure we were well-equipped with what was needed. Amongst the neatly stacked provisions, I couldn't help but notice his hands deftly tucking away a deck of playing cards and a pocketknife — mementos earned he'd won once in a bet, long before any of us became acquainted with each other. Phoenix carefully packed medical supplies along with herbs and spices in her leather satchel. She included bandages, salves, tonics, and pastes, each labeled neatly with her delicate handwriting. The lighter bundles of medicinal herbs like marigold, chamomile, nettle, lavender, mint, and valerian root, and simple culinary spices like cinnamon, clove and salt and pepper, were stored closer to the top of the satchel to prevent anything from being crushed by the slightly heavier supplies.

Lastly, in addition to medicine and spices, Phoenix stored away a small cookie tin, an unremarkable container that smelled faintly of vanilla and childhood memories contained multiple brightly colored spools of thread, several sharp pins, a sewing needle, a few small buttons, and even a small pair of sewing scissors; which came in handy for mending clothes, and in some cases came handy for stitching some relatively minor wounds, cuts and scrapes caused by the occasional fall or mishandling of sharper tools. The humble little tin, which was used as the designated sewing kit, was a precious heirloom passed down to her through a figure she never met and hardly knew but whose sentiments of love lived on through this simple yet heartfelt box.

Somewhere amidst the sewing supplies was a faded photograph of a couple standing proudly together on their wedding day.

I silently glanced over at the photograph; the smiling faces of Phoenix's parents brought a somber smile to my face. Phoenix caught my glance at her as I was finally convincing myself to brace the cold air that awaited me outside. She gave me a small wistful smile, "Huh, I’m just making sure I'm not leaving anything important behind," she said softly, and a few mournful tears rolled down her cheek.

I nodded in full understanding, giving her a small sympathetic smile, "I know. I'm glad you're keeping it safe." I understood that the photo and the tin kept many important memories alive.

My father's voice echoed in my ears: "The past is much like the stars, constantly guiding you, even when they're not clear and far away."

I then proceeded to step out of the cottage door. I set out to check on the horses to make sure they were well fed and prepared to make haste. I was greeted with the crisp autumn air meeting my hands and cheeks, the cold autumn leaves softly crinkled and crunched under my feet as I made my way to the grove of tall standing pines where the horses spent their night resting and grazing. Chalcedony, a fine black palfrey, and Agatha and Martha, the two beautiful gray mares, trotted closely behind, eager for their grain. Chalcedony nickered softly as I offered a handful of grain, and I gently stroked his velvety muzzle. I faintly felt the calm sense of bliss in my daily routine, as I distributed the grain amongst the horses, watching them enjoying their meals with contented munching. Agatha, with her gentle disposition, approached, leaning into my touch as I stroked her mane, her eyes reflecting a moment of trust and familiarity, before ambling away from me as her attention was drawn to the familiar sound of approaching footsteps. I followed her gaze to see Phoenix carefully navigating her way through the small grove.