It happened in an instance of forever, as things tend to do in the Evernight. Perhaps it was the stress the
Dreamers faced with the atrocities committed against the Dark Walker (how would you feel if you had a leash wrapped around your neck?) or perhaps it was the massive wave of Psychic energy that washed through the grove on Fortuneday, the 11th day of Reapingdusk. Well, some say it was the 11th day- others swear it was the 10th. Pfft. Time in the Evernight, y’know. Either way, this wave of Psychic energy swept through the grove with one goal in mind: to break Control! And it did! One, two, three, four, five Dreamers awoke from their sleep and screamed or babbled or broke or grinned or laughed and then, one-by-one, left the area. And then the whispers came. And the screams. And many, though not all, of the once-Ashynnied poured out of the Forest clutching their eyes and ears, scrabbling at the dirt as though trying to bury themselves, and generally acting crazier than normal. They were babbling about their strings and the light and how they wanted back in but they couldn’t get back in. Their talk got more desperate and more hostile and then we went on the attack. Don’t be surprised if you see us in your town. We have no recourse and nowhere to go. Without the guidance and comfort of the Dark, we will take our madness out on the world. And they will dance with us on the edge of this sword… or dance another type of dance on the end of a belt. See you soon!
-Rusty