Sybils

Hidden in deep forests, where no light can slip through leaves taller and wider than a grown man.

Hidden in the depths of a valley, listening to the trickling fountains whisper news and happenings of the worlds of men, animals, and others.

Beyond the desert and its shapeless labyrinths, where all winds go quiet, the sun dissapears to leave a sky with an absolute blue face.

In the isthmos where the river gains a dozen mouths to kiss the sea, where seals go to sleep after yearlong travels, where sea monsters surface to sing at the stars.

Under the cliffs where waves the size of castles crash roaringly, where even the most daring seafarer would hesitaste to thread.

Atop a mountain of eternal crystal, where massive fjords of ice linger through the sea like dead ships, watching the dance of the stars and the ocean.

In a dead land, where no plant nor animal survive, where soil is harder than a fortress´ walls, where the wind yet drags  seeds and plants from places unknown.

Below a mountain of endless fire and smoke and lava, on the road where the shades of the living must transit before the Final Depart.

There may be ten, there may be nine, seven, perhaps one. People will say there have heard of them, their stories, their deeds, but never seen them.

Knights and Kings, renowned for their might, their deeds, their power and dominion, every one knows; Scholars and Sages, reputed for their knowledge, their craft of tomes, libraries and vast archives, everyman acknowledges their sapience and mindlight. Wizard and witch, feats of wonder, powers beyond all of mortal kin, all knows of them, all threats them with awe, reverence and most importantly fear.

Leaving the Not-Man races who dwell in sea, river, air, forests, fires and cave, lore and bedtime stories will tell of generations of women, gifted with Sight, gifted with Word, might to see what is, may be, will pass and what once was. The Once who are neither Man or Beast, Creature, or Follower of Wand. Stories about the Sybils are many but hushed, stories true and wrong, stories of their deeds, day-to day, and lives.

Sometimes, the unwanted firstbornettes, the discarded second childs, rendered unneeded due to the houselhold being blessed with a first born male already, abandoned due to the will of the House Leader, may end up on the trail on of the Seers.

Those who live aside Kingdoms, forgotten by Scholars, only remembered by hearsay, maidens gossiping as the thread and sew, rough handed men and boys, calloused and sun colored after years of fieldroughing, sailors who reek of fish and wine and opensea bad stomachs.

Often spoken of in reverence, often alluded to in fear; perhaps saying their names, their titles in an open invitation to invoke their anger, perhaps they are too removed from the laws of Men, of Reason, of Society to even care about their fame or infamy.

Unpredictable, unkonwn, said to be unassailable at times: yet many swear to have passed a young lady, a burly matron, a senior silver headed woman who was one of the Elusive Ones. Elusive indeed, for easy it is to find a Wizard and a Witch, far easier to find a Knight, a Lord and a King. And while chance-blessed is an encounter with a Forest-Dweller, a Beast-Man, a Water-Host, or a Dragon you hope to see even in dreams, few and rare are those who have heard one of the Sybils across the long Ages,much less accurately depict their appearance.

Though, secretive and nigh-legendary they maybe, they are no matter for trivial laughs or dismissal. While jokes and warning about enraging Magic-Kind and the Others are aplenty(with good reason), there are reason why people fear to name them directly, only via alusions and whispering tones. And there´s a reason why any sane one will shake their heads at the foolish lass or lady who boasts of being a Touched One.