Liminality (short story)

This is a creative work set in the world of Elanthia, attributed to its original author(s). It does not necessarily represent the official lore of GemStone IV.

Title: Liminality

Author: Rohese Bayvel

Rohese Bayvel
Created by Rohese's player using Midjourney AI.

First published on the 3rd day of Eorgaen in the year 5124.

Following on from her unfortunate encounter with her sister, Poladra, this is a repository of vignettes around Rohese's continued story.

Prologue

"Liminality /ˌlɪməˈnælɪti/

Liminality is a quality of being in between two places or stages, on the verge of transitioning to something new.

Periods of liminality are transitional, sometimes disorienting, and frequently involve waiting for something new to begin.  Liminality is rooted in the idea of a threshold (limen in Latin), a kind of doorway between the past and the future."

Rohese was struggling but, with the help of her glamour, she was able to convince her grandfather and Mimini that she was coping with Mirkk's absence. It had been three months since his departure; a blink of an eye to an elf but she felt every minute of every day as if each were a century passed.

Her grandfather had reassured her that his journey west had been imperative and that he had to go alone. Eairion would not be drawn on the reasons and all Rohese's protestations – her many tearful and angry outbursts – had fallen on deaf ears. She simply spent her time between home and Nendelomea in a state of sullen acceptance. Mimini's futile attempts to placate her with freshly baked lemon cookies and ripe summer berries went unappreciated and Ipsy had all but given up trying to engage her with her new-found skills in starstone divination .

Feeling lost and numb, Rohese aimlessly wandered the surrounding woodlands of her family home oblivious to everything around her.

Anniversary

A yellowing leaf drifted down from the tree and landed in her lap. It was closely followed by a second and a third as an errant breeze ruffled the branches and dislodged the first of the turning leaves.

Rohese sat in the lengthening shadow of the ancient oak, as she had done for most of the summer, and barely noticed the subtle changes in the season. There was a slight chill in the air as the day drew to a close and faint smell of petrichor from the brief rain shower earlier that day. She picked up the leaf and her thoughts drifted back to the Glimae'den. A sharp pain pierced her heart as Mirkk's face appeared before her and, closing her eyes tightly, she quickly brushed the memory aside for fear of being overwhelmed once again by a deep-seated sense of loss. Today was their third wedding anniversary.

She had a vague recollection of Mimini passing her a book at dinner the night before. Instinctively opening it to peruse the contents, Rohese had noted that the pages were all blank and the housekeeper had written one word on the facing page, "Liminality." Looking up at the gnome to question it, Mimini had simply said, "Write it all down." She had squeezed Rohese's hand gently and left her to ponder its meaning.

In the solitude of that moment, Rohese began to understand. She was going to have to come to terms with this unforeseen change in her circumstances. Keeping a journal would hopefully help her transition from the immature elf of the past hundred years to the elf she was destined to become.

Her hand reached inside her satchel that had been casually tossed on the ground beside her and soon felt the warmth of supple leather. Lifting the small book to her nose, she was struck by how comforting she found the smell of leather and parchment and quietly thanked the beloved housekeeper for her wisdom. Slipping the leaf between two of the blank pages, her thoughts turned to what she would write.

"Liminal space; it's where you are in between who you were and who you will be.  It's your becoming.

~☆ ^☽ ☆~

An untitled poem (written by Rohese in the style of Tolkien's, The Trees of Kortirion)

In a shadowed glen where pale moon lies,
There stands an oak, old as stars' first song,
Its leaves are gold when autumn whispers sighs,
And silvered boughs when winter nights grow long.
Beneath its limbs, in days before, we walked,
Hand in hand, where time was but a dream,
Our laughter mingled with the brook that talked,
And love was endless as the sky's bright gleam.

But now the wind is but a hollow moan,
That sweeps the vale where once our hearts did swell,
The oak stands tall, but I am all alone,
And echoes fade where once they rose and fell.
His voice, a memory that haunts my night,
His touch, a ghost that lingers in the shade,
The brook flows on, but I have lost the light,
And in the glen, our vows threaten to fade.

Nendelomea, with thy ancient trees,
Thy whispers hold the sorrows of the past,
For love, like leaves, is taken by the breeze,
And only shadows of its grace can last.
Yet still I wander where the oak tree stands,
And still I listen for his whispered call,
For in this place, where once we joined our hands,
I wait for him beneath the twilight's fall.

Stargazing

Rohese sat at the edge of the lake, her knees drawn to her chest as she gazed at the night sky. The vast expanse above was a sea of endless stars, each one a silent witness to her heartache. The cool breeze whispered through the hanging boughs of willow that concealed her from view, carrying with it the faint scent of leaf and loam.

Her fingers absently traced the ring on her finger, the one he had given her on their wedding day, that now felt like a lifetime ago. She could still feel the warmth of his touch, the way his hand had fit perfectly around hers, as if they were two pieces of a puzzle meant to be together. But now, all that remained were memories, slipping through her grasp like sand.

A lone tear escaped her eye, glistening in the moonlight as it traced a path down her cheek. She had come here every night since he had gone, searching the heavens for a sign, anything to tell her that he was still with her in some way. But the stars remained indifferent, distant, and cold.

Just as she was about to close her eyes, a streak of light shot across the sky. A shooting star, brief and brilliant, cutting through the darkness with a flash of hope. Rohese's breath caught in her throat as she watched it fade, her heart aching with the bittersweet beauty of the moment.

She whispered his name, her voice trembling with the weight of her longing. "I miss you."

The star vanished, swallowed by the night, but in that fleeting moment, Rohese felt something stir deep within her - a quiet, fragile sense of peace. It was as if the universe had acknowledged her grief, offering a sliver of comfort in return.

As she gazed up at the stars, she realized that perhaps he was not as far away as she had thought. He was in the night sky, in the whisper of the wind, in the memories that would live on in her heart. And for the first time since he had left, Rohese allowed herself to believe that she would be okay.