So, unless you’re in a lucky corner of western Europe or Canada, you’re probably feeling the fingertips of the iron fist beginning to close around your neck. For those of us of the magical persuasion, this likely means discrimination, imprisonment, deportation or death. Most of all, it means fear.
And fear breeds silence. It crushes the ability to speak.
There are many things I’ve learned in life, but the biggest lesson I’ve learned is that a decision made from fear is almost always the wrong one. That’s not to say that fear is bad – it’s a conscious recognition of threat that informs our responses – but when it comes to rule those responses, we become our worst selves.
And for the fae, that means becoming something worse than just dark elves – those of us who live in-between have just as much potential to do harm as the muggled masses. As for me, I prefer to court the Seelie, that wild chaos of light, good, hope, creation, music and magick.
But there can be no court without a castle to dance in. And the places where we are free to dance are disappearing.
So I’ve broken open the electroweb to punch a small hole through to something new, where we’re free to live our magic – not just in small shouts across the Fediverse that fade into the noise after a day, but a place where we can etch sigils and spells that have a bit more permanency.
The basics of the architecture are in play, and stress testing is underway. If this post reaches you, then it was successful. Consider it an invitation, and come follow if you’re interested in making a space of your own in the Faewild. We’ll send an owl when registration opens.