… [W]hile traveling, we came upon a small village near to our destination. The place had no inn nor public house, but seemed to practice a kind of local hospitality that we had seen before, upon Ikass and on other planes when in very rural settings, wherein many villagers would gather in the home of one of their number each night or every few for songs or stories to pass the long evening, and to share a communal meal. I have written on this practice before, and suffice to say it was very welcome to see, as guests, itinerants, and passers-through are also given hospitality quite freely in such regions.

As is my way, I took time recording some of their folk tales, particularly those I had not heard before. On noting my furious writing, for I did my best to keep pace with the tale-teller at any time, one of our hosts commented that I was “like Quiet Lia”. With the then-current tale paused, I asked who that was, and was told it was a story in itself. An old-timer, who I believe was the owner of the home in which the gathering was held that night, leaned in and began to tell a tale, which I copied as purposefully as I did the others and which I have reproduced here.

“Now, Quiet Lia – Lia Xin, was her proper name… she was a bit of a strange one, and some of that no fault of her own. Xu [Shu?], he was probably reminded because she was always writing. That was her way you see… I suppose I should start at the start.

The Xins, they lived at the head of the glen to the west of town, and kept good herds in the open land, and though their house was a bit aways, we’d always visit them and them us, you see? So they were a regular part of town, and all that. So it was only natural that they would come into town and stay with Miss Feng when they needed her to midwife, because they had a baby on the way, you see? They couldn’t have the father making such a trek all the time, though the result was, I suspect, a bit more public than either Xin liked it.

When the girl was born… I was nearby, you see, and it was the strangest thing, I tell you, because when the mother’s screams died down there was no sound from inside after a while. Normally, you’d hear a baby cry, right after, and if there was some mischief you’d hear the parents cry. But there was just nothing. Soon enough everyone found out why – the baby was crying alright, but she cried without making the sound, nothing but the whisper of breath in and out of her mouth. Not even the tiniest of voices. And that was Quiet Lia.

Now, her parents and all were afraid she might be deaf too, since a lot of times deaf and dumb, they go together, but that wasn’t the case with Quiet Lia. She could hear you just fine, and she wasn’t dumb either, the other way of saying it. She was mute, but she was sharp, you see? She learned to read and write when most kids are learning how to talk, and also learned how to make signs with her hands that a man from the city taught that the deaf sometimes used. She would spend most of her time with that, Quiet Lia. She took to calligraphy like a fish to water, and before her tenth year she did such beautiful work with her brushes that she brought the Xin family some few coins. She did good art too, when she got older. No voice, but she was going to make do for herself, it was plain to see.

The other thing about her was that she loved stories. All sorts of stories, but especially big, different stories. She dreamed things, and sometimes painted them, beautiful dreams of sunsets over distant, snow-capped mountains. So whenever a traveler was about, we’d be sure to let Quiet Lia know, because she always had so many questions even if she had to draw them on the palms of her hands.

Now it was last year, though something earlier in the year than now… about the start of the year, actually, come to think of it, that a rather strange traveler came in. His eyes, they were like your eyes but a little smaller, and he wore this big shabby coat with lots of pockets, and talked and talked about what interesting things there was to see, and soon enough he got talking with Quiet Lia, who was fourteen then, she’d be sixteen now. At her insistence, he told stories the whole night long. Never seemed to get tired, either one of them. The stories he told were of the strangest sights, things a madman couldn’t dream up. Impossible things.

[At this point, I asked if he remembered any of those stories]

Some. Stories of pretty places of crystal, of metal. Awful stories of fire and smoke and oil. Small stories about people with cat heads, or bird wings, or any number of weird or impossible things. Make no mistake, he was a strange one. They seemed harmless enough stories, though no one but Lia heard them all. After the stranger left, something seemed to change in Lia. In the next months, she stopped painting so much, and writing except for calligraphy practice. Then, she started up painting like never before. But what she painted – well, they burned most of those works, the Xin family, after what happened, and I don’t think they were wrong to not sell them either. Grotesque things, twisting, dark shapes. Her paintings used to be beautiful, and she still seemed to think these were. I saw one myself, hurt my head just to look at it, to try to follow the lines. Lia, she hung them up all around her room, until they covered the walls, a mosaic of those dark canvases.

Then one day, last year still, close to her birthday which would have been three weeks past, she disappeared. No trace of her was found anywhere, but the strange thing, the floor of her room. It was covered in parchment, all of it blank, no footprints, except for one sheet near the clear spot at the center where she might have been sitting, and that only had one character on it, big and covering over the whole side, her brush resting at the end of the last stroke.

[The writing system of this plane is not the usual one used in most worlds. Instead, each character stands for a word, usually. Larasa asked what the character on that page was.]

I think it was… let me see… it meant ‘Ascension’.

Apparently, Lia’s parents moved out shortly after, the details of their departure were related to us but I did not feel relevant to transcribe. It is my personal belief that both the stranger Lia encountered and Lia herself were Planeswalkers and that Lia’s own entry into the planes was catalyzed by gaining knowledge of them, allowing her to awaken to her capabilities. I wish I could have seen one of her last paintings, as they would seem to have been depictions of the Blind Eternities. I wonder if they would have looked different to a Planeswalker? Should I ever encounter Lia Xin, I shall be sure to ask.

I like this a lot! It's got a great tone to it and it does a good job of capturing Morgan's writing style, compared to the tone of the speaker. I'd like to see more pieces like this, actually... and I should probably write some more pieces like it since at the very least the dossiers for the Missing Pieces and Rishima were going to be written in this style, with Raleris as speaker. Basically it's a conceit I really enjoy.

I also like that Morgan and Larasa are sort of intersecting the path of Illarion without actually directly interacting with him. It makes the setting feel shared... but not small. There's still an expansiveness to it. And the idea of how this particular character ascended is great. I like that the information is rough enough that it provides a tantalizing element that someone could build on later, without this being like a fully-fledged character introduction sort of thing.

Yeah, basically, on the whole I think this is interesting and I'd like to see more stuff like it.

Very nice, this is clear, concise, and to the point, yet still provides characterizations for Lia and Morgan, as well as a little bit for Larasa and Illarion besides. I think you accomplish a lot in a short span of time.

Tevish - I'll be reading this as soon as I can.

Tevish, this is wonderful. I'm mainly just going to add my agreement to what Raven and Keeper said. It's a short piece which nevertheless manages to tell a lot, and those are often my favorite kinds of stories. And the meta-author's voice here is very genuine.

In this case, my ignorance of some of the M:EM back catalog is bliss, because I'm looking forward to learning more about many of the people here.

Two quick typo notes:

-Graf that begins "Now, her parents" ends with a comma instead of a period.
-"His eyes, they were like you[R] eyes but a little smaller,"

This is really cool. I always like when so much is accomplished with a relatively short space of writing (which I tried to do with The Pinch...and failed to do with Birthright...)

But I like the idea of a mute walker. It's really interesting, and I think it'll be fun to see where she goes.