The Park was closed, and the Autumn Hollow was open, for tonight was the night that marked the change from Summer to Autumn.
The overgrown and rusted shed, once seemingly out of the way and forgotten was a beacon to all of Sacramento's Lost.
Passed the unassuming door, leads to a room that isn't a room, but a small enclosed clearing. Thick trees reaching higher then mortal thought, with nary a fresh leaf in sight. The barren branches reach their skeletal hands and nearly blot out the sun.
Though their is a pair of branches, acting like arms and cradling tomes and scrolls, though only a few of them. Sadly all that remains on the great archive of autumn.
Flitting around the edges where small sprights. Cackling among themselves, as they pranked each other and watched, waiting with a manic glee for an intruder to appear so they could prank them! Those sprights eyes turn towards each new arrival, waiting for the Ashen Queen's leave to sound the alarm....which never comes. The Sprights turn to each other, and each and everyone of them frowns - comically - when Mhairi just shook her head at them.
In a fit of pique they turn to the set out tables laden with Autumn themed -- both Halloween and Harvest -- treats, only to be snapped at. These weren't for them, and no, the drinks weren't either!
Tonight was the Autumn Equinox, tonight the Dread Crown rested on Mhairi's brow once more.
A diadem of carved ash wood appears, the slim branches delicately encircle her head, spider-spun threads loop and twist from one branch to the next. Hanging from these threads are wilting leaves of lead, forever suspended in the moment of their fall. Curling into themselves, the wilting edges are tarnished, but their center is polished mirror bright. Whenever they find someone's refection, they reflect not the image presented to them, but the observers deepest fears, though thankfully only visible to them, added later during a Ritual are ash covered bronze leaves. Dancing betwixt it all, are motes of Mhairi's own fell-fire, flickering into forgotten runes and ancient sigils whenever the wisp's windblown mantle rustles her hair, or the threads themselves.
Mhairi wore not a dress, but a pair of black leggings, a elfish inspired top with a stole of leaves thrown over her shoulders, upon her feet were the Autumn boots she'd found so many months before, and on her hand, the ring she wore when she first made her pledge and became Autumn's Queen.
All that was left was to wait and see which of the Freehold would come and help her welcome Autumn to Sacramento....