Mélusine


This is an ancient name, maybe nearly as ancient as the oceanide Alentir knows, variations of which are found in many places – both on Earth and Kolchin. The Dragon-King refers to her as his child, but this is not because of him having sired her, but because she comes under his care, as do all in the Realm in the Sea.

Mélusine remembers drifting in the wide seas for aeons, long before the dry-lands had sprouted the cities which changed the landscape; she remembers the time before the first flood when the fastland and its attendant islands were not yet fixed. She remembers the darkness that had swelled from the deep and the re-establishment of light. She has even visited that last, desolate shore and seen the western waves yearning for the abyss; she has seen the eastern Gates of Dawn, long ago, before a tribe of fallen sky-dragons came to colonise the rocky outcrops that guard the approach and took to eating sailors as snacks; and she remembers the pillared halls of the Cowled One, down on the sweltering girdle.

She even remembers back to the season before seasons when the Kweed had not yet come with his bonds of time; when all flowed and entwined, elements and elementals, fire-spirits and ice-guardings – beings of life and creation, not the childish terrors of later people – oceanides and salamanders and wood sprites and nymphs and gnomes and undines and sylphs and this and that whose comments filter down through later ages as the faint outlines into which people pour their own fears and prejudices.

Mélusine does not forget: echoes of the Everywhen always remain. Since the creating of the corporeal worlds she has weaved a dance of her own devising, living and loving: Emperor, holours, and her each and every child. But, for all her determination to still participate in the Everywhen, the labours involved with each of her lovers has nudged her mind, slowly and inexorably, for this aeon, down a path hemmed in by electric storms. For a while she becomes more rooted, more of the elements; it is not that this period of her existence is one she will ever regret, and she can never fully discharge the duties and bonds she has incurred or forged during her long sojourn, but now has come again a time when she can feel her corporeal form slowly dissolving. It will take a long time as non-elementals construe it and, since the fall from the Perpetual Provinces, she will remain linked with the corporeal world of Kolchin. But still she is, physically, dissipating. (The Migrator, Time & Sorrow)