This is a story of dreaming, and of becoming, and of returning, because all things are cycles, and all that has happened will happen once again. And so it was in those days that magic was abundant, and all the many creatures of the land and sea and air wielded it in the way that you and I might a brush, or a hammer, or a knife. The air itself sparked and shimmered, and it seemed as if one only had to dream to make things real and present as breath and life. But as is often the case, the creatures of that time limited themselves by their own imaginations, and most dreamed only small dreams.

There are some who dreamed larger though, and one of them was an owl who we shall call Varin. He was also known as the Little Sage of Lightning, so named for his great works that had called the power of the sky itself down to the earth to do work for the creatures of the Isles. Many applauded this, but Varin himself remained aloof and uninterested in such things. He sought to understand magic itself, and the language of the gods by which it was wielded, that had shaped the land and the sea and the very stars themselves. He spoke to all about the joy of discovery, the thrill of knowing things, that the mysteries of the sky were there to be found.

But in his secret heart, Varin knew that he worked and hungered for a more selfish reason. He gazed to the sky above not purely to find out its secrets, nor out of simple curiosity of what it held. From a young age, Varin had asked questions with wonder and joy in his heart, and found himself surprised when so many did not care about the answers that he looked for. Their disregard for the ways of magic, and constant arguing for power or fame, at first confused the little owl. In time that confusion had become frustration, disgust, and judgment of the short-sightedness of his fellows. This had grown and deepened, until now Varin’s heart was full of loathing for all those who lived and worked and played close to him. His eyes turned upward not just to seek the stars, but to escape all the creatures whom he despised.

Thus, it came as no surprise to him when his declaration to go to the stars was met with scoffing and rolled eyes, and shouts that such a thing was impossible, a waste of time, and foolish as well. He had expected no better from them, and yet still he found himself disappointed. Magic could do it, he knew, and wouldn’t it be worth it, to see the stars themselves? But nobody believed him, and there was not a single creature who decided to pitch in to help. Varin merely rolled his eyes and closed himself into his workshops. “Oh Calithra, goddess of the skies, do you not see how they gaze only downward? Except for me; I swear, I shall meet you in your own house!” And thus he ruffled up his feathers and began his work.

At first there was mainly silence, while Varin furiously wrote and thought and dreamed of great spells and mystical workings. The windows and chimneys of his house were dark, and he cared not for anyone. Nor did he stir from his nest into the outside world, sustained only by summoned deliveries of food and his own company. At last an idea formed for how he would rise into the heavens. The currents and tides of the sky, Varin thought, might be navigated as easily as any sea, if he had a boat to do it. A ship like none other, which sailed upon the very winds of magic themselves, would bear him aloft!

He set to work immediately, laying a keel of shining stone to act as the grounding for the magical energies. Boxes and crates and baskets were carried to his house, whose windows were lit day and night by strange lights and the chimneys now steamed with smoke of many colors. The creatures who drew near as deliverers or simply passerby saw this smoke and heard odd sounds from within, and rumors started to swirl across the Isles. Sands from the desert, the trunks of great trees, and shining sheets of odd stone disappeared into Varin’s house, which shifted and grew as new buildings appeared like seeds sprouting after a rain. In their center stood a great, shining lodge of silver and white quartz, infused with the power of the Isles themselves until it glowed in the night like a beacon.

The creatures of the Isles saw this and were amazed at the magic being wielded, and no longer laughed at Varin’s talk of great sorceries. Some who were brave enough dared to knock on the great doors of the dome, to see what it was that Varin was building and to offer to help. All of them were turned away, the little owl appearing only briefly to shake his head. The magics were too complicated, the songs and prayers too advanced for any to help him, he said, and it would be easier to simply do it himself rather than to explain or teach them. Some fumed at him, and quite a few argued - it could only help him to work together, to have more eyes and hands and creatures to think and plan and dream. But Varin was adamant, and all were turned away. All the while the chimneys smoked and crackling sparks rained down, even the leftover shards of Varin’s magic burning brightly with his dream to sail the skies. These sparks, drifting on the wind, scattered across the Isles and lit fires in the hearts of others, glowing softly in the night.

Heedless of this, Varin continued his labors. He laid down the hull of his ship in long sweeps of lumber, woven all about with captured starlight so that it would not be burned by Arda’s fires that warmed the world. He wove enchantments into the wood to bind the air of the Isles, heavy with Naida’s mists to shield him and allow him to breathe. Towering masts were erected, and hung with shining sails whose warp and weft were drawn so tight that they could be filled with the light of the sun and moon themselves. Along these he etched prayers that Aelira would take hold and carry him to the very edges of her domain, and send him higher still. Last of all he set the great rudder of the ship, humming with songs to Varmar so that his way would be guided by all the knowledge of the earth and skies and stars above.

As his magics came together around the ship, he did not notice the tiny, trailing threads of dreaming that swirled outward from it, out of the great lodge to the Isles beyond. He did not notice the pulse of magic carried along, connected by these infinitesimal lines to the dreams that had been lit in the hearts of many. They wound their way through the whole of the ship, drawing tight to its skin and knitting together across small gaps in the spells, gaps that Varin had left in the surety of his own knowledge and power. So to did these threads knit together the creatures who had begun to dream along with Varin, pulling them together to support him in his work. He no longer had to summon food to his house, for every day he found gifts left at the door. Materials and items he required appeared nearly before he thought to request them, and prayers rose into the night to weave together with his own inspirations. And so the mighty vessel was completed with such speed that even the little owl marveled at himself, attributing the power of the magic to his own skill and craft. He was ready to set sail, to bid the Isles farewell and join his goddess in the stars above.

Throwing wide the doors of his shining lodge, Varin stood tall as the mighty ship swept out of the darkness into the light of the day. The sails filled with sunlight and pulled taut, and all the Isles felt the tide of magic on which Varin rose into the sky. Every eye was turned upward, and every voice stilled to watch the ship gleaming as bright as any star against the rising sun. It soared between scurrying clouds and left a trail of scattered rainbow light, growing smaller and smaller until it glimmered faintly, low on the horizon.

Astride the deck, his wing sure on the ship’s tiller, Varin sang clear and loud to guide the ship higher and higher still. He passed through the embrace of the sky, swirling a gentle farewell as the blue darkened to navy and black. The owl beheld the lamps of the stars, lit in the twilight swells of the sea he now sailed. More and more lamps were lit there, until the ship sailed down a vast river of light that gleamed in midnight hues. Varin gazed in wonder as he sailed, the many streams spreading out and revealing themselves among the glimmering constellations. The Tree towered above him, celestial winds stirring its branches as the river parted around its massive trunk. From the river leapt the Lanternfish, its light nearly blinding the little owl before it plunged once more into the starry depths. He had come to the domain of Calithra, and he saw her lodge sitting upon the bank of the starry river and he called out to her.

“Oh goddess of starlight, who was the first to weave the magic of the sky into words that we creatures could understand! Please, hear me and listen to what I have to say!”

The midnight doors of Calithra’s house opened as quietly as the dark of evening, and Varin beheld the goddess herself as she came forth. Her eyes shone above like twin moons, and his ship was swept up in her vast wings as quiet as the fall of evening, where young stars nestled in their eggs. She smiled down upon him, and when she spoke Varin felt it chiming in his heart.

“Be welcome, little cousin, and tell me why you have come to the House of the Stars.”

Varin fell to his knees then, and gazed up at Calithra. “Goddess, I came to show you this great vessel that I have built, and to ask you to take me as a student. I want to learn all I can of your songs, that shaped the stars and the world below.” And he paused, heart fluttering, but before the eyes of Calithra he was laid bare. “A-and I wish to stay, for the ground holds nothing for me any more. The creatures there did nothing but mock me, and look at their own feet. They do not dream as I do, and I do not wish to return to them. I sought to meet the stars themselves, and to sail forever among them.”

At this Calithra blinked in silence down at him, and then she chuckled quietly, warmly. He felt her wings draw closer, and her great face was like the full moon as she bent low. “Little hatchling, I hear your wish and know it to be true. But as you sailed upon the River, you did not turn about to see from where you came. If you would learn from me, I ask that you look behind you.” And in his eagerness Varin turned about and looked. Below him, far, far below spread out the Isles floating among the starlight of the river, and he gasped to see their shape, and the truth of it nearly stilled his heart in his chest. Drinking deep below the surface of the river of stars trailed the roots of the world, and from so far beyond Varin saw the weave of the tapestry that came from the stars, sprouting up into the World and the Isles. And he fell speechless to see beyond, other trees which swayed gently in the ever lasting night.

“Oh.” He gulped, and worked his beak. “Oh goddess, why would you show me this?”

“So you can see, little cousin. From the stars sprouts the world itself, and so many others. And from the world you have come, and to it you are bound still.” And she lay a gentle caress of feathers upon Varin’s brow, and he could see the threads which trailed in his wake, brilliant and billowing, connecting him back to the ground far below. He fell to his knees then, and wept great tears as he felt the magic coursing through those threads from the creatures of the Isles, magic which held him aloft as much as the starlight in his sails. He felt the kindness of those who had brought him food, and the wonder and curiosity that he had sparked in others. And he felt Calithra draw him close, her beak soothing his ruffled feathers.

“Fret not, little cousin, for though you must return to those below we would not have you go without a gift.” And she plucked one of her own feathers, gleaming so darkly that it shone a thousand shades of midnight. “Here is what I would teach you. Magic is connection, as you are connected to your fellow creatures and you all to the world, as the world itself is connected to a tapestry far grander than you know.”

With this, she spread her wings wide. “You must go and return to your family, who in their own unique faults and perspectives are as beautiful as the stars in the sky. They have guided you here, and so you will guide them in turn.”

With a flap of those great wings, all the winds of the starry sky filled the sails of Varin’s ship to send it on its way. Down, down, down it soared, and the creatures below saw it afire with the light of the stars, trailing those gleaming threads behind. Caught upon the talon of the crescent moon, the threads which had connected Varin to the Isles wove across the sky until a new constellation rose glittering even as his ship raced down to the earth below. And ever since has the Owl perched in the heavens, sure and constant, talon outstretched to guide us on our journeys and show us how we are connected to the stars, and they to us.

And such is the way of it.