Time to celebrate!

The day of the Solstice had arrived, thank the gods. The air was sweet with the smell of flowers and freshly baked bread. Birds seemed to flit and float on the breeze in tandem with the laughter of the young girls, who were busy braiding peonies and daisies into each other's hair. Pan watched with a grin as Hanna and Willow, aged six and nine, presented Tasmin with a crown of daisies and proceeded to fawn over him.

The dark haze that seemed to loom over the village had burned away for the time being. Everywhere she looked, Pan saw smiles and good cheer. Though Mollina's health showed little improvement, even she had gone all-out for the occasion: strings of amber-colored beads woven into her hair would catch the sunlight, adorning her with a veil of golden sparkles whenever she moved. Even her eyes were done up in gold paint, hiding her exhaustion. For all her ailing, she was radiant.

"She's so beautiful, isn't she?" Tythere's laugh was like the tinkling of silver bells as Pan jumped. From head to toe Tythere was adorned in sunflowers, their gold contrasting with the fairness of her skin and hair. She waggled her eyebrows at Pan.

"You were staring," she supplied, helpfully.

“She looks better today. I know she isn't, but she looks it," Pan said quietly. "She's so strong."

"She is."

A gentle silence hung between them, buffeted by music and laughter from all around. The sun had drifted from its apex and was slowly but surely making its way down to the horizon. At sunset the Unbound witches would be sent home, and the wards surrounding the village would be temporarily dispelled. Spirits would walk through the village as if it were their own land to tread. Pan wondered if she would get to meet Ilvadahn finally, and see for her own eyes the Spirit that Bound her gentle-hearted friend. A knot formed in her stomach when she remembered Maban would also be there, and she offered up a silent prayer to Celladryn that Kethaeros and he might forgo earlier hostilities for the sake of the festival.

A low growl snapped Pan out of her thoughts, who locked eyes with Tythere. The two burst into giggles.

"How can you possibly be hungry?" Pan teased. "I've seen you by the sweets at least three times."

"Well excuse me, some of us have been working up an appetite. Ogling people doesn't burn up much energy, does it?"

Pan rolled her eyes before grinning and taking Tythere by the hand.

"Come on, dance with me. We'll get you a snack on the way."

***

The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the village as the festivities began to lull. Pan and Tythere sat together at Celladryn's base, leaning on each other as they sipped blackberry wine and watched Illia round up the children. Together they had danced the afternoon away, and ate their fill of roasted meats and fluffy pastries. Pan's feet were sore, so she kicked them up to dangle over Tythere's lap. Across the way, Pan could see Bhel carrying a pair of girls on his back, as Tasmin wove between his legs. The snow-white deer and the fox made a peculiar pair, but Pan was pleased that Tythere's familiar had accepted her own.

"It's starting," Tythere murmured, drawing Pan out of her thoughts.

High above them, a breeze flowed through Celladryn's branches. Pan could just make out the delicate chiming of the Bonding talismans as they hung in the tree, rustled about by the breeze. The talismans determined which Spirits were allowed to enter the village; a Spirit without a Bound witch was not invited. Celladryn's wards were ever-present, but selective.

It was getting dark now. In the distance, Pan could see moving shadows lurking at the forest's edge. Their shapes betrayed no recognizable forms. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest; she wanted to see Kethaeros. But no matter how hard she looked, she could not make him out among the pack of Spirits. Tythere gently squeezed her hand, and when she looked up she saw her friend was also enamored by the shadows. Pan watched as Tythere's eyes flitted back and forth between the shadows, searching, just as she had been.

Then, she felt it; he brushed against her mind, soft as silk. His voice was little more than a growl, but she understood.

Be patient, sweet one. Not much longer, now.