“When Lucis opened her eyes for the first time, all became conscious.” -Author Unknown

This is historys only clue to humanity, carved on an ancient tableau. The only surviving ancient writing on Lucis’ beginnings.

Many folk songs and tales have accompanied this mysterious quote throughout the ages. Many cultures have different ideas of exactly how Lucis came to be. But none have been confirmed. All that is known is that she is the oldest. We do know of her interactions with other gods, the most famous being Raevern, her lover. The two mothers of the sky. Lucis is known as a benevolent and gracious god. But there are some cultures that despise the light her rays bring. These cultures are interesting as they despise Raevern, the god of stars and rest, the creator of the night sky. For it is perfect darkness they crave. The inky black cape of darkness they lust for and covet.

Despite being so well known, there are few that ever receive Lucis’ blessing and receive the use of Lux magick. Those that do, are held in the highest regard.

From 'Lucis and Raevern: Celestial Beginnings'. Author- Remi Moonfare

“Pffffft.... HAH.... Gyahehehehehehe!”

Strange little things they were. These witches and fae folk. Dark forest green lips revealing a smile, pointed and wicked. “Gyahehehehehe!” They laughed maniacally, spinning themselves upside down on their besom. “Who knows exactly what I am?” They asked no one in particular, amused by their own lack of self understanding.

Hanging lazily by their legs, they floated in the silent night sky as they observed the world below. They stretched their arms out and made a picture frame with their hands.

“To best perceive these creatures below... heh.” They murmured, the wind drowning out their ramblings, “Hmmm... odd lil’ beasties. Why do they do what they do?” Their makeshift frame scanned the city below. A beady yellow eye, as sharp as a griffins, greedily took in as much information as possible. “Some steal, some don’t. Some kill, some don’t. Are they all capable of stealing and killing? What even constitutes a crime?” The observer swung upright onto their besom before it jolted down to allow its master to stand easily on top. Their eyes were wild as magick flowed untamed throughout their entire being. It made the besoms bristles stand to attention and the air swirl and whine.

“Down down down we...” they gulped in air, “ GOOOOO!” The besom practically fell in a vertical line. Like a diving gull into water, its rider fell with it. The would-be vehicle shuddered in protest as the floor threatened to shatter it out of existence. But they kept going, pushing it further and further beyond, causing the wood to creak and warp. Then, as if stomping on invisible brakes, the wild rider kicked the besom with unwavering command, the wood screaming almost in excitement at the unnatural change in direction. Now parallel, the besom flew far too close to the floor, its speed caused the wind to whip and slash at its passenger. No wince of pain. Not even a suggestion of it, only a grin as they expertly manoeuvred tight alleys and even tighter bends. All along the way they dodged crates, barrels, boggarts and the occasional dumbfounded belugia.

Excitement. Knowledge. Freedom.

That’s what they longed for. To do all that they wished and more. To make new discoveries, to test their magical might, to go wherever they wanted. To observe and live amongst it all. Alas, it wasn’t that easy. They had responsibilities. The wild rider had now slowed in speed. Now a soft breeze caressed their face. But, despite the gentle wind and its caring touch, a solemn, choking feeling overtook them.

“Tch... I’m a bird in a cage...”

Their fists clenched as they willed their besom to rise in the sky once more. This time, staying close to the tops of houses. They floated slowly throughout the Witches Brim as if wind had removed itself from their sails. Dejected in their countenance. It was hard for them to find anything interesting when this feeling overtook them. Not even mischief. “Ughhh... now I’m bored... and yet I don’t wish to do anything about it...” They continued moping for a while until the sound of someone else getting into mischief made their long ears shiver.

The sound of glass shattering excited them. The sound of something being smashed or broken was usually an indicator that someone was doing something interesting. “Gyahehe! Well well well! T’would seem those fickle gods do have some entertainment planned for me at least!” With absurd speed and their motivation returned to them, they flew recklessly to the location of the mischief.

And sure enough there it was. “My entertainment for the evening gyehehe!”

A small creature, perhaps sick of walking everywhere, was helping themselves to a Besom... right from an unsuspecting victims shop it would seem. The observer once again swung from their now tired besom and once again made their makeshift frame.

“My oh my, my oh me,” they smirked, causing the would-be criminals' ears to stand alert. A witch? A Fae? Pfffft.... did it even matter? Excitement, joy and LOATHING. A mix of emotions churned in their veins causing their moss like hair to stand on end. Shivers ran up their spine.

More.

More more more. Oh the hate and joy they felt as they watched the thief look around with a concerned look, before inevitably, returning back to committing their crime. A crime the stolen besom was apparently none too keen on being a part of, sentient beings in their own right. Something about it didn’t sit right with them. Besoms had the souls and spirits of the natural world within them, many had existed before the first light. A bond first had to be made before one could even take flight, unless of course the rider forced their will upon them...

The observers spiked teeth ground together. Slicing gums and wearing down enamel. Their hands gently caressed the bristles of their besom. “Ovia...” they whispered. A shy and timid besom at first glance. But one that secretly, had deep immense desires. Their wills intertwined in flight, Ovia reminded them to take things slow once in a while and they pushed Ovia to reach their potential in daring defiances of gravity, both marvellous and very very illegal.

“Why are you taking that besom?” They smiled, their grin as crooked and mangled as the disgust they felt. The thief turned in panic, their hands maintaining a firm grasp on the unwilling besom.

“I suspect that ‘aint none of ya business you... what are you?” Their eyes widened at the sight of the observer.

“Gyahehehehehe...” they laughed a response, “heh heh heh...” their laughter trailed off into deep and threatening grunts. Their head fell back ever so slightly, their shoulders fell and an arm rested upon their hips, a pose oozing with disdain. “That besom does not wish to take part in any sort of flight with you...”

“So what? It’s a besom! It’ll do what besoms do and bloody fly!” The thief spat. His grip tight on the frightened spirit. The observer's eyes widened. Their gums flashed and their nails painfully grew as their head cocked to the side. Their unkempt hair filled with leaves, trinkets and plaits made bird like speak as it fell. Calm often comes before a storm.

“I see... then I suppose my fists will have to do what fists do and bloody your nose!” Before the thief could respond, the observers hand had balled up into a fist and landed in his face as if gravity itself had commanded it. The would-be thief got sent flying over the quivering besom, straight into the shop he had stolen from. “Consider yourself lucky that you got to experience flight tonight at all...” they mumbled before holding out their hand to... “What might your name be?” The besom was silent as it shook, “Hmm... a fearful one? Understandable. I must say, even for a besom, you have a certain magical feel to you.” They said, seemingly speaking to themselves. Why, if there were passersby, they would think them monstrous AND mad. They smiled at the thought until a slight breeze brought them a name. Abra...

“Gyahehe... well well well , a superbly suited name if I ever did hear one.”