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stonecoldholly · 4 months ago

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Worldwalker

Summary - After witnessing a ritual at a pagan festival in her hometown, Sam suddenly finds herself in a world where magic exists and dangers far worse than everyday crime lurk around every corner. Accepting her unfortunate situation is one challenge; trusting these otherworldly beings to help her is another. As she uncovers the truth, she often finds that it leads to more trouble than it’s worth. Sam must navigate this new world, find her way back home, and restart her life.

With each passing day, they get closer to sending her back and while Sam dedicates herself to finding answers, Azriel finds himself drawn to her. Together, they search for the solution, but with the multiple rifts appearing across Prythian, rising tensions between courts, and the threat of a possible invasion looming, they are working on borrowed time.

With the weight of the world on her shoulders, Sam embarks on an adventure that only happens in fairy tales, but even the most exciting fairy tales have to end.

Warnings - None as of right now, this will change.

Word Count - 6,738

A/N - I meant to get this out before Halloween but time got away from me. This is officially my return to writing fanfiction and I am beyond excited. I hope you enjoy the story and feel free to comment, message, and critique as it makes me a better writer. Thank you for taking the time to read this as it means more to me than you will ever know. Please bear with me as I continue to refresh my memory on how everything works and what it is supposed to look like behind the scenes of posting, you'll notice I still have yet to figure out how to page break on here. Without further ado!

Part 2

AO3 Link

“Run boy, run! This world is not made for you. Run boy, run! They’re trying to catch you. Run boy, run! Running is a victory. Run boy, run! Beauty lies behind the hills.” Run boy run – Woodkid

Savannah, Georgia, USA October 2024

Savannah, a relatively small city nestled along the coastline of Georgia, had begun to awaken from the deep slumber taken during the hot summer months. With the ushering in of the cooler weather, more and more tourists returned to their hometowns and left the coastal city in the hands of the residents. When the latter half of the year finally came around, specifically September and October, Savannah seemed to come alive. The entire city shifted into a completely different energy. Gone were the dog days of summer, the half-naked people (both drunk and sober) stumbling along the old cobblestone streets, and the poor, unfortunate souls who dared to brave the original stone steps that connected Bay Street to River Street. In their stead, a welcoming scent of freshly baked goods and rich cinnamon danced on the cool breeze between the buildings, coffee shops overflowed with customers seeking a hot beverage, and the storefronts already pushing Christmas decorations out in hopes of being the first to rake in profits.

The very city seemed to have a heartbeat around this time of year. The Old Towne trolley tours that normally showed tourists the more historical locations downtown turned into hearse rides and ghost hunting tours. The magical and haunting energy of the old city pulsed as the sun went down, the oak trees drooping in Spanish moss reached over every street and park square, and the shadows that climbed along the historic cemetery gates only added a layer of mystery and intrigue.

They say Savannah was built upon graveyards. Everywhere a person steps in the downtown area, they would likely be stepping upon bones of those long since passed, having been relocated from their original resting place due to floods, hurricanes, and other disasters. Legend says that almost every house, business, and square in the city has a ghost story of its own, unique to the former residents who lived there and continuously embellished as the years passed on.

Perhaps that’s what draws people to this city. Savannah was dripping rich in history and had a way of accepting those who were just looking for something more. It had southern charm, incredible food, amazing people from all walks of life, and always something happening to entertain you. That’s not without saying it did not have its ugly parts but the way Savannah just seemed to call out to those who wanted something different in life was unlike anything that could be described, at least not accurately. However, it was the last quarter of the year when the city gave its mightiest call, reaching out to those who had questions in their minds. It caressed that small part of the soul of those who questioned life and who needed to seek out the answers.

Was there more to life than this?

Where is my place in the world?

Am I destined for more?

What was I put here for?

“It’s Savannah during Halloween season! We have to go. Do you know how hard it probably was to convince the churches to allow a pagan festival to happen?” A female voice yelled out excitedly from the front end of the small ‘Mom & Pop’ restaurant.

“They probably had a couple thousand reasons to look the other way, Mel.” Another female voice answered from the back end, her deep red hair coming into view through the serving window. “However, it’s not me that you have to convince, I’m down, it’s your fiancee over there who looks like he’s about five seconds away from completely crashing out.”

Melissa turned her head to take in her fiancee, who indeed was looking a little worse for wear, having the early morning shift for the Savannah Police Department. She sighed and turned back towards the serving window, “Poor guy has had it rough this past week. There’s been a lot of crazy things happening around town lately.”

A hum in acknowledgment met Mel’s ear, along with the appearance of food plates on the landing. “Doesn’t help that you won’t stop jumping his bones every chance you can. Maybe the guy can actually get some decent sleep if you and I go out.” Sam grinned while motioning to the three plates of food she made for dinner for her and her friends.

Mel let out a deep belly laugh, a smile stretching across her beautiful face as she took in the chicken parmesan and garlic knots, “Oh fuck you, Sam, I can’t help it if my man just oozes sex appeal.”

Sam made a gagging noise before disappearing behind the wall. Mel walked over to her fiancee, Josh, and relayed the plans for the evening while setting a plate of food in front of him. For a brief second, relief crossed his expression and Sam, who had just emerged from the kitchen, caught the look and snickered, causing Mel to roll her eyes. Josh cracked a smile, pressing a kiss to Mel’s cheek and brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “You two have fun and be safe; I’m going home and relaxing, I only ask that you don’t call me from the jail again.” Josh nodded in thanks for the food to Sam, who nodded back.

Mel whipped around to glare and point at Sam, who threw her hands up in mock innocence, her eyes wide and mouth agape to portray said innocence. “She’s the one who got into the fight, not me!”

“Hey, I was defending you! Ain’t no way I was gonna allow that guy talk to you that way. Ain’t no way.”

“And the firearm charge?”

“It was simply on my person.” Sam defended herself with a halfhearted shrug, grabbing her plate and joining the table. “I’m legal; I have a concealed carry and that charge was dismissed because of my paperwork. You gave me grief enough when you picked me up from the county jail.”

“Anyhow,” Mel interrupted before that particular conversation could go any further, sitting down at the table across from her man. “Maybe tomorrow we can go to the pumpkin patch? I heard there was gonna be hayrides and a corn maze.”

“The big one outside the city limits?” Josh asked while leaning back in his chair, chewing. He pulled out his phone as he did, tapping the screen to find what he was looking for. “If it’s the one I’m thinking of then it has a huge corn maze, it’s a lot of farmland out there.”

“I haven’t been to a pumpkin patch in ages.” Sam sighed, tearing into a garlic knot. “I think the last time I went was when I was like, thirteen? My mom took me the year before she passed.”

Mel grinned and grabbed her hand causing Sam to pull her garlic knot out of the way, thinking Mel was trying to swipe it. “We have to go, relive the good parts of our childhood for like, two hours.”

“As long as I get a candy apple, I’m golden,” Josh said looking down at his phone and waving his hand in dismissal. “Yeah, it was the one I was thinking of. It’s about an hour and a half away, so if we leave tomorrow afternoon at 3ish we’ll get there as the sun goes down. I just have to go to the station and finish some paperwork in the morning.”

“Being mindful of Savannah traffic, we’ll get there at the perfect time!” Mel exclaimed nearly bouncing in her seat. “God, I love fall!”

Sam smiled at her best friend as she watched the excitement spill out of her, Josh succumbing to the pure happiness that Melissa seemed to exude as well. It had been a long time for all of them to look forward to something. Having adult friendships was a delicate act of balancing your personal life and work life and still, somehow, making time for your relationships. In the midst of life’s chaos, going nearly three months and then a year without spending time with those you love sometimes felt like it passed in a blink of an eye. Life has a funny way of either pulling you together or tearing you apart.

Samantha and Melissa had met at a previous job, working in retail brought people together through combined suffering, after all. There was no other way to describe the beautiful friendship that blossomed between the two polar opposites. Melissa was a high-energy, outgoing, and excitable woman who always seemed to breathe new, unfiltered life into any situation she found herself in. She was the person you could count on to lift your spirits up whenever you were feeling down and to offer sound advice in the midst of turmoil. She had this childlike energy to her, a precious and beautiful soul that radiated happiness to those around her. She was the life of any party, loved being around other people, and couldn’t stand to see someone upset thus making it her personal mission to enhance their mood before parting ways. With her golden waves and bright, stunning crystal blue eyes, it was hard not to feel as if you were in the presence of the summer sun personified.

Meanwhile, Sam was her opposite. She was more fiery, headstrong, and opinionated, preferring to “strike first, ask questions later”. While she didn’t mind being around others, she liked the company of herself, having been alone for over half of her life. Her temper sometimes ran a bit too hot, always willing to defend those she cared about even if they were wrong, and took risks that were better left...not taken. She sometimes came off as sarcastic and rude but wasn’t intentionally vicious. With her darker clothes, sleeves of tattoos, and combat boots coupled with her attitude problem, she didn’t have many people rushing up to her to be in her presence. A loyal friend who would go to the ends of the Earth to ensure they knew how much they were worth it. Where Melissa was a summer day, Samantha was a stormy night; two sides of the same coin.

Josh was the perfect match for Melissa. She had met him at a party on the beach four summers ago back when the world was on the verge of going to hell. It was an instant whirlwind, the connection so deep and real that it even took Sam’s breath away. Josh and Melissa fell so hard in love with each other that even God himself wouldn’t be able to pull them apart. Sam could see the difference in her, could see the good it was doing for Melissa, and it warmed her heart to know her best friend was being treated the way she deserved after all the hardship Mel had gone through. Josh worked for the Savannah police as a detective for over six years. Meaning, that he didn’t have a lot of free time but every spare moment he had, he spent with Mel, and Sam by proxy. Josh was level-headed and calm, preferring to get all the information before making a decision. He was sure of himself, knowing his strengths and weaknesses better than the average 30-year-old would. Josh became the equivalent of the brother she never had as Melissa was the sister she was not blessed to grow up with. As Sam’s family was gone, they became the next best thing.

“Well, if we’re gonna go, let’s head out. It’s almost 9 o’clock and I’m missing the Packers game for you.” Sam said, standing up and walking to the drink cooler to grab a Sprite to go.

“Ah, you do love me.” Melissa teased.

“What? Don’t want to see the Eagles make cheese whiz out of your Cheeseheads?” Josh smirked, settling back in his chair and crossing his arms.

Sam raised an eyebrow, turning to face him as she threw two dollars on the table for her soda. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you over our four Superbowl rings. How many do y’all have?” She tilted her head to look at him. “Oh, right, ever since y’all finally won one, you think you made it up here with the big boys.”

“Now, y’all please don’t sta-”

“At least we didn’t buy our championships.”

“Bret Favre wasn’t poppin’ percocets on the sidelines for all those years for you to say we bought our championships and Aaron Rodgers didn’t lead the Packers to the Superbowl within the first two years there. Get outta my face.” Sam said, waving him off. “While you’re wondering if we bought our championships, you should figure out why you go through quarterbacks as quickly as you do.”

“We fought hard for that ring, like Kelce said, hungry dogs run faster.”

“So hard in fact, you had nothing left to give and choked when facing the Chiefs.” She shook her head and gave him a mock pout, her voice dropping to a faux whisper. “I’ll be sure to contact the Eagles and confirm if they are available to be your pallbearers...just so they can let you down one last time.”

Josh, pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, releasing a stressed breath of air from his lungs, muttering under his breath. “I swear to everything that is holy…”

Sam pointed towards the front of the restaurant while Melissa stood there with her hands on her hips, clearly over this argument. “Would that be ‘in vain’ or is that a form of ‘blasphemy’? There’s a church right there, we can go ask.” She took a sip of her soda before adding, “I don’t know why you’re so defensive, you started it.”

“And that’ll do it!” Josh threw his hands up and started to push the two women toward the door. “Y’all have a good time, don’t drink too much, keep your wits about you, and for the love of Christ, Sam, do not get into any fights. I’ll lock up the restaurant.”

Sam stepped down onto the sidewalk turning to face Josh and Mel following her lead, stumbling a little bit as she chuckled at her love. “I don’t go lookin’ for them, ya know.”

“Yes, but they do seem to seek you out.” Josh cracked a grin in her direction, handing his credit card to his girlfriend who took it and slid it into her wallet. Sam patted her holster on her hip, double-checking that her weapon was secured and silently letting Josh know that they would be okay. “Be safe. I’ll be at the house, bring me back some candy!”

Mel kissed him with a whispered ‘I love you’ before the two women bounded off down the street. Josh’s chanting of ‘Fly, Eagles, Fly!’ could be heard before the door of the restaurant closed behind him. Sam resisted the urge to throw her drink back at him.

______________________________________________

River Street was bustling with tents, vendors, music, food trucks, and performances by the time they made it the few city blocks. The cobblestone street was swarmed with people chatting excitedly about the upcoming holiday while snacking on the never-ending choices of food, desserts, and drinks. Vendors lined up alongside each other, the Savannah River a beautiful, glistening backdrop to the practitioners doing their workings, teachings, and demonstrations for the surrounding groups.

Of course, there were the faux pagan vendors who were there to simply sell Halloween-related objects and decorations. Harry Potter merchandise littered the tables and tents, gemstones both real and fake were scattered in dishes and bowls, and apparel tables had rock bands on their graphic shirts. It was clear which vendors saw this event as a quick get-rich scheme and who saw it as their livelihood. It was the latter that drew Sam and Melissa to events like these.

Magic had always intrigued Sam. Mythology, tarot, and astrology held a special place in her heart and soul as she was introduced to them at a young age by her mother. She remembers walking into her mother's bedroom and seeing a strange-looking mirror propped up on a table with purple candles on either side of it. Her mother had ushered her over, wrapping an arm around her small shoulders and letting her have a look, saying something she couldn’t understand in her ear. Sam would never forget that night as that was the night that allowed her to fall in love with magic and something other.

Perhaps that’s what brought them to the vendor down by the river.

A middle-aged man, who looked as ordinary and unremarkable as any stranger, was talking animatedly with his hands, gesturing back and forth between the crowd, clearly in the middle of his presentation. “The Wild Hunt! In mythology and at its basic explanation, is a chase. These figures would be hunted by the souls of the dead and they would need to escape and get to safety or hide.” The man explained, pointing to paintings and imagery to make his tale easier for the group to follow along. “It’s a well-known folk myth across Northern Europe; a ghostly leader and his group of hunters and hounds fly through the cold night sky and anyone found outdoors at the time would be swept up into the hunting party involuntarily.

“Most often in the tales,” He went on as he pointed to a painting that looked like the Norse god, Odin, and a hunting party behind him as he led the charge through a forest. “The Hunt was not seen – only heard- typically by the barking of Odin’s dogs or the forest growing deathly silent as a warning of their arrival as seeing the Wild Hunt was thought to forebode some catastrophe such as war or plague, or at least, the death of the person who saw it.”

Sam took a closer look at the paintings as the man motioned to a painting depicting what looked like a warrior woman running through woods, a gang of ghostly figures behind her, lunging forward to grab her but not quite being fast enough. The paintings, she could have sworn, seemed to move. “It is said that if the Wild Hunt catches you, you will be taken to the underworld or the fairy kingdoms,” A few teenage boys snickered. “In some instances, some people's spirits could be taken during their sleep if they had witnessed the Hunt.”

“So, you mean to tell me,” One of the teenage boys started, “If I see a ghost, they’re going to grab me and take me to a fairy kingdom?” He scoffed and Sam fought the urge to roll her eyes. Mel just sighed and shook her head. “Will I be a King if they do?”

The man, ever patient, shook his head with a smile. “No, that’s not what I am telling you. Back then, when people had no other sources of information but their legends, stories, and upbringing, they believed in multiple gods, worlds, and creatures both good and bad. If their crops didn’t fare well that year, they sometimes believed they were cursed by a god or a creature from their lands who had sabotaged them. They needed explanations for what they saw, witnessed. Folklore sought to bring understanding to what was unexplainable at the time. Who's to say that it didn’t happen? Who's to say that it doesn’t still happen?”

The boy looked ready to retort, but the stranger carried on without giving him time to form a response. “Just because you do not believe it, does not mean that others do not believe it. Where do you think the stories of the Bible come from? Old wives' tales? Traditions? All these stories, these legends, came from people who believed what they saw and retold them for generations and generations. Yes, the details do change a bit but they all come from some facet of truth.”

The boy snapped his mouth shut and seemed to reflect on what he had said. He was right in a sense and while the boy probably had multiple arguments against it; he didn’t voice them because he knew there was something in the way the man held himself, how he said it, that told him it was true.

“Some mythologies believe the Wild Hunt falls around the same time as our Samhain, or Halloween, others believe it to be around the Winter Solstice, or near Christmas.” He continued on as if the brief disagreement didn’t happen and handed out a little booklet. “You don’t want to be outside when the ghostly procession of the Wild Hunt surges past. You may be sucked into their dark frenzy, with or without your body along for the ride.”

Sam smiled and took one of the booklets, thanking him in response. Mel did the same and started to leaf through the pamphlet detailing more about The Wild Hunt. Sam couldn’t help but look at the paintings again, the winged beings striking against the sky above with what looked like a human army below them, weapons drawn and aiming for the ghostly host. It was incredible to look at, the paintings seemingly coming to life the longer she stared. A shiver ran down her spine and a metallic taste coated her tongue.

“A ritual….over...right there.”

Sam turned around at the voice she heard, catching the couple down the sidewalk who were having a conversation. She nudged Mel, who looked up confused. “Huh?”

“There’s a ritual happening, that couple said it’s happening over there.” Sam nodded her head in the direction the couple had indicated.

Mel furrowed her brows, looking at the couple and then back at her friend. “You heard them from all the way down there? They’re like...30 yards away.”

Sam shrugged, not thinking much of it. “I only heard snippets and filled in the rest with body language.”

Mel shook her head but nevertheless dragged her in the direction she indicated. “You and your weird hearing.”

Whatever it was that Sam had expected to see when getting to the ritual, did not even come close. The second she crossed into the cluster of people, she felt an energy in the air, and the metallic taste got stronger. Her whole body seemed to respond, vibrating in response, warmth settling in her belly and chills breaking out along her skin. One glance at Mel told her that she, too, felt the shift and her body was at a loss as to what to do.

The moon was vaulted in the sky, shining brightly above the Talmadge Bridge; the light pollution blocked a lot of the stars from being visible. A heaviness seemed to settle along the river and the air was getting thicker. The flickering heat of the small fires scattered around in a circle attempted to chase away the goosebumps rising on the surface of her skin. There was an uneasy shifting of the crowd, some dispersing altogether to try and outrun the energy their bodies clearly were not comfortable with. Sam couldn’t blame them, it was intense. It was one of those moments that you knew you were witnessing something real, without a shadow of a doubt. The very air told your bones to sing, to rise, and join in. The flames beckoned you closer, ensnaring your senses and holding you and your attention hostage and Sam was no different.

It was mesmerizing to watch the participants. The way the fire danced in the center of the circle and seemed to reach out towards the torches in their hands. Their steps were effortless, so graceful it almost hurt to watch how they glided around each other, seamlessly weaving in and out from between the other and flowing towards that centerfire. They went around and around, spinning in a fluid dance, almost willing the fire to rise higher and dance with them.

An older woman, dressed in a long, tweed skirt and simple white tunic, spoke in an old language that Sam couldn’t begin to decipher. Her voice was steady and soothing, reciting the ritual's dialogue as if it was secondhand nature to her, and perhaps it was. The smooth tone of her words completely enraptured witnesses who had stopped to watch, a lot of them clutching their chests and staring wide-eyed as if their god would come down and strike them where they stood for just witnessing this act.

But Sam was spellbound, completely at the mercy of these women spinning around the fire and singing in a language that clearly no one else understood. Whatever the words were, it was awakening something buried deep inside Sam’s bones, something long forgotten or hidden. She stepped closer to the ritual, her eyes unblinking as she lost herself. The women in the twirling circles were blurs around her, the older woman’s voice turning into a murmuring the longer she stared, daring another step towards the ritual.

Come. Come. Come.

She would. She would answer the calling that seemed to tug her closer to the dancing, the music, the voice. It held such promise, such hope that Sam felt the urge to barrel forward into the dance. Such a longing ached so furiously in her chest that it caused a sliver of fear to drop into her stomach.

Come. Come. Come.

It was a whisper, a soft plead. It grabbed hold of her gut and tugged her along, closer, closer, closer. She couldn’t resist the call, not even if her life depended on it. It was like her body wasn’t her own anymore; that it was moving on its own accord and every signal sent from her brain was being intercepted by the energy in the air, diverting it to the ether.

Come and find what you are looking for.

She didn’t even realize she had stepped out of the crowd, almost falling into place with the women who had stopped dancing around the fire and had their hands lifted up towards the night sky. The woman was still speaking but if Sam didn’t know any better, she would have sworn the woman was speaking directly to her; that the language she didn’t understand just a minute ago, were words spoken as clear as day.

It’s waiting for you. A blessing from the Mother.

A burst of color exploded behind her eyes and she stumbled back into the crowd, clutching her head as ringing echoed in her ears. The fire in the center of the dancers flared higher and brighter and a collective gasp was released by participants and witnesses alike but Sam was trying to get her vision back, to shake the underwater feeling that seemed to swim in her ears.

Mel rushed forward and grabbed her arm, spinning her around to face her in alarm, “Are you okay? What the hell was that? You could have gotten hurt!”

Sam rubbed her eyes to clear the kaleidoscope of colors racing through her sight, “I-I don-”

“You almost walked righ’ into the performance! What’s gotten into you?” Mel asked as the southern accent she tried so hard to mask slipped through. Her eyes narrowed as she took in her friend's bewildered expression. “Are you alrigh’?”

Sam reassured, rubbing her eyes and running a hand through dark burgundy hair, the firelight enhancing the deep purple hues. “Ye-yeah, I’m good. Fine.”

Mel stared at her for a few seconds longer, assessing the lie for what it was but nodded along. “Let’s grab those mini pumpkins we saw and head home. I know damn well Josh doesn’t expect me to carry three fully grown pumpkins back home at nearly midnight.” She said in a huff before stalking off towards the pumpkin vendor’s tent down the river.

Sam had enough time to force a chuckle at her and once she was down the sidewalk, she looked up at the woman who had been speaking during the ritual. Their eyes connected, old and wise blue eyes seemed to convey a message to Sam’s own bright green ones. A knowing gaze that made Sam bristle uncomfortably and rush after her friend toward the vendors still selling their wares.

Three mini pumpkins, a caramel apple, and an overabundance of candy were stashed into the bag that Mel toted down the cobblestone streets. Sam was uncharacteristically quiet, her mind still reeling with the events that took place but Mel was trying her best to distract her, chatting aimlessly about whatever vendor she had gotten the pumpkins from. She could feel the beginnings of a headache creeping along her skull and she longed for a couple Advil and some caffeine to help chase it away.

“Sammi, are you sure you don’t wanna stay the night? You know Josh and I don’t mind.” Mel looked at her again, concern gracing her features and Sam felt her heart tug at the emotion there. “You’re more than welcome to the guest room.”

She nodded, nudging her shoulder against Mel’s with a small smile. “I’m sure. Trust me, all I need is my bed and the upstairs neighbors stomping on the floor to lull me to sleep.”

“Oh, you mean the herd of elephants?” She smiled, a little of that concern easing from her face. “I’m worried about you, Sam, something just didn’t seem right with you today.”

“I wish I knew,” Sam started, turning the corner towards Mel’s apartment. “I’m just as lost as you are.”

The night got a little cooler by the time Sam walked Mel to her door, Josh’s soft snoring wafting out from what Sam knew was the living room. She nodded goodnight, telling her she would text when she woke up and made sure she got inside and locked the door before she began her own trek home.

Sam didn’t live far from Mel, just down three blocks and a turn to the left, where a small (and outrageously overpriced) apartment is what she called home. Living in downtown Savannah, you had nearly everything at your fingertips and it was more of a hindrance to own a car than it was to walk. More likely to have it broken into, stolen, or clipped by a passing car as on-street parking was almost the only option, back alleys the second. No, Sam was fine with walking home no matter the time of day or night, having her own assurance of her protection secured to the waistband of her jeans or strapped to her thigh.

Her mind drifted back to the events of the night and what she felt afterward, her thoughts running near rampant with questions as she sidestepped a break in the cobblestones. She was doing her best to filter the questions and find logical solutions to them, knowing her own limitations of knowledge. While she was staring at the ground just ahead of her, she wasn’t exactly paying a lick of attention.

Did I really witness a ritual, a real ritual? What was it for? Sam definitely believed that what she saw was the real deal and not what movies try so hard to replicate. The air itself had felt different as if it had come to life, not to mention the effects that it had on her body and those around her. She also didn’t know what it was for, having missed any possible explanation by staring at the flames.

The strange colors? She ruled out a brain tumor or aneurysm a while ago. Perhaps it was a migraine, her head did hurt.

Why did I hear a voice? Perhaps it was just her mind filling in the missing information? Provide a reason why for stepping forward and entering the sacred ritual circle? She talked to herself all the time so she knew what that sounded like in her head, but that voice was different.

But why did I enter the circle? Why did I listen to the voice? She felt called to step forward and she did. She answered the call that her body was singing. She had completely lost control over her motor functions.

It doesn’t make sense, something isn’t right. No, she knew something wasn’t right. Why else would she suddenly have what felt like an out-of-body experience?

Something isn’t right. Yes, she already covered that and was aware that something wasn’t right. She wouldn’t pretend that the entire event didn’t scare her, or make her nervous. As of right now, she felt like she was going to jump out of her skin simply by running through what happened. Memories of the ritual flashed through her mind's eye and she suppressed a shudder, the cold sliver of fear settling down in her gut again.

Something is wrong.

Sam stopped walking and looked up from the cobblestones, instantly alert. The street was silent, eerily still, not even a rustle of leaves or a squirrel running along the branches. The breeze stopped and the trees seemed to rear back, pulling themselves away from their natural tilt towards the street. The silence became deafening and Sam turned around to look down the block. Only the lights from the lampposts and shadows met her.

Even though she was alone, something was indeed wrong.

Sam discreetly patted her hip, finding comfort in the heavy weight of metal that consisted of her Ruger. She took a deep breath and continued her journey, never changing her pace as she made her way home. Sam looked at every reflective surface as she passed, trying to get a look behind her while keeping calm. Store fronts, car windows and mirrors, even the shiny gloss layer on the street signs; anything that could aid her in figuring out what was going on as she tried to keep her head.

Clearly, she was either being watched or followed, or both. It made her as uneasy as she had ever been, even with her surefire protection on her. Every intake of breath felt like it was being stolen from her. Her mind wanted to run rampant with anxiety but she willed herself to remain as calm as she could. She needed to stay calm and aware.

It wasn’t until she hit the corner of the square that she felt the immediate urge to run. The intensity of it nearly sent her heart into a wild gallop and her hands started to tremble with the building adrenaline. The sudden feeling lit a fire under her skin, she couldn’t recall making the conscious decision to run but within a split second, she bolted into the square. Dodging trash cans and benches, weaving around trees, and out onto the other side where she took off like a bullet down the cobblestone street.

The intense fear slammed into her body, her legs carrying her as fast as they could and her lungs squeezing every ounce of air out and greedily sucking it back in to fuel her mad dash. She needed a place to hide. She couldn’t go back to her apartment and she wouldn’t go to Mel’s house either. She needed a neutral spot to take cover and wait out this unseen being. She needed to hide.

She heard the footsteps behind her as she ran down the road, skidding to a halt almost a half second too late to swing herself around a lamppost and accelerate herself down the street. The cobblestones made it difficult to run, bits and pieces of stone jutting up or the sand filling in between being nonexistent and creating holes. She did her best to keep her pace, her boot getting caught up twice, in the attempt to lose her pursuer. She was being chased by something she couldn’t see, but she could hear it. She looked down the alleyways and side streets as she passed, trying to find somewhere, anywhere, to hide.

She scrambled around a turn onto a side street and darted down the dirt-covered road. She could feel whoever or whatever was chasing her getting closer, almost like a sixth sense. She could feel the change in the air and knew they were almost on her. All they had to do was reach out and grab her, and if they did, she would go down fighting.

“I need a place to hide.” She breathed out, over and over again as she ran.

Her lungs were on fire and her side cramped but she continued to push herself to her limits. She cut across another main road and down into another side street, spinning herself into a turn towards an alley. Her legs kept pushing and burning while carrying her weight. Her arms pumping as fast as they could and her heart beating so wildly it was about to come out of her chest. She didn’t have anywhere to go, she wasn’t losing her tail, and she couldn’t run anymore. Her body was on the brink of giving out.

She didn’t have time to slow herself down or stop when she realized she was reaching a dead end in the alley. It was already too late. She braced her arms out in front of her, intending to take the brutal impact of her speed coming to a halt at the wall, but the surface rippled.

Sam didn’t have time to think about the shimmering boundary before she fell straight through it and into a void of emptiness.

_________________________________________

A ripple shuddered through Prythian. Feyre’s brow furrowed as she looked up from her canvas and Rhysand turned his attention to the windows overlooking Velaris. Azriel walked to the edge of the balcony, taking note of anything out of place along the Sidra, his shadows scattering away from him at his command.

Cassian set down his training sword as another ripple caressed the wards standing strong around the Night Court, scanning the skies; Amren and Nesta emerged from the House of Wind, glancing around as if something was waiting to attack them.

“What was that?” Nesta asked as Cassian stepped closer to the ledge of the balcony. His eyes searched the sky and the rooftops of the buildings below as Nesta came to stand beside him. “Are we under att-”

Another ripple trembled through the wards, and eerie stillness settled around the city. The birds from the cluster of trees down below took flight and headed north towards the mountain range.

“No, I don’t believe we are being attacked,” Rhysand answered as he joined his family outside on the landing, his eyes still overlooking the city. “But something is definitely wrong.”

“Az, anything?” Feyre called out to the Shadowsinger who had started to walk towards them.

Azriel took another look towards the Sidra as a shadow curled around his ear. “Nothing definitive yet, but whatever it is, it’s coming from the south.” He looked to the High Lord, his face settling into a cool mask as he awaited his inevitable orders.

Rhys hummed in agreement, nodding in the southern direction. “Take Cass with you, scout the territory lines to the southeast, Feyre and I will take the southwest section. Mor, send a message to Helion making him aware that we will be crossing into the Day Court. Thesan as well, just in case this takes us further south into Dawn than we anticipate.”

“Should we be alerting them to what we’re doing? Perhaps we should keep it among ourselves.” Mor responded as she rose from the bench.

“If we all felt that, I’m sure we are not the only ones.” Rhys replied, “Besides, it is common courtesy to inform them when crossing into their lands. I doubt Helion would mind, but until we know what we are dealing with, we do it by the book.”

Mor nodded and set off inside the House to write the messages to the High Lords as Azriel and Cassian tapped their center siphons to don their fighting leathers.

“Amren, monitor Velaris. Nesta, guard the House and keep Elain inside until further notice.” Rhys delegated as Feyre also disappeared inside the House. “All of you, stay on your guard, report back here by no later than tomorrow evening. Do not take chances until we know what we are up against.”

With that, he turned on his heel to follow his mate back inside the House. Azriel and Cassian immediately took flight. Cassian threw a wink in Nesta’s direction and disappeared through the clouds with Azriel, their figures fading in the distance as they headed south.

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coimbrabertone · 5 months ago

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A History of Formula One Grand Prix in the United States

After a near month long hiatus following the Singapore Grand Prix, Formula One returns this weekend with the United States Grand Prix at the Circuit of the Americas in Austin, Texas. This is the second of three races in the United States this season, and a lot of people attribute the increase of American GPs to Drive to Survive and the peak in popularity that caused over here.

That may be true, however, two things complicate this fact:

One is that this is not the first time there have been three American F1 races in a season.

Two is that Grand Prix racing in the United States goes back further than in any country other than France.

So, today...let's talk about the history of the United States Grand Prix, and Formula One races in the United States more broadly.

The first race that could be considered a Grand Prix in the US was the Vanderbilt Cup, held on Long Island in the early 1900s. The initial 1904, 1905, and 1906 races were held on dirt roads, however, in response to the success of the 1906 French Grand Prix, William Kissam Vanderbult II financed the construction of the Long Island Motor Parkway.

This would not just provide a paved, modern road to Long Island, but it would also serve as the setting for the 1908 Vanderbilt Cup, won by American George Robertson in an American-made car called the Locomobile. An American victory in an American race governed by the American AAA.

But this is open wheel racing in America, so of fucking course there was a governing dispute already.

The AAA raised their membership dues in 1908, that was strike one, and then strike two was when they refused to adopt the Grand Prix regulations drafted by the AIACR - the FIA under its initial name - which paved the way for the Automobile Club of America to emerge as a competitor to the AAA.

And their showpiece event? the American Grand Prize.

Yup, the ACA went down to Georgia, found a stock car race run by the Savannah Automobile Club, and decided to turn that into the very first proper Grand Prix in America. The state of Georgia authorized the use of convict labor to lengthen the stock car track to 25.1 miles for the Grand Prize.

It was held in 1909 and won by Frenchman Louis Wagner...who in 1926 would go on to win the first British Grand Prix as well. An impressive resume.

The tea drinkers can write their own blog though, more on the US now!

Come 1911, and both the Vanderbilt Cup - aimed at American talent - and the American Grand Prize - aimed at international drivers - would both be held together in Savannah, Georgia. They would once again be hosted together in Milwaukee in 1912, in Santa Monica in 1914 and 1916, and in San Francisco in 1915.

World War I would kill off European participation however, and after 1916, the American Grand Prize went away.

The Vanderbilt Cup would briefly return in 1936 and 1937, back at Long Island, this time at the Roosevelt Raceway. However, with Tazio Nuvolari winning in an Enzo Ferrari-run Alfa Romeo winning in 1936 and then Bernd Rosemeyer winning in an Auto Union next year, the American audiences weren't convinced.

The 1930s version of the Vanderbilt Cup just served as a big money race for the Europeans to win.

So the American Grand Prize and the Vanderbilt Cup didn't work out, but what was working in America at that time was oval racing on board tracks.

The Astor Cup, held on the two-mile Sheepshead Bay Speedway in Brooklyn won over the Long Island audience instead.

If the names of these trophies sound familiar, it's because in 1996, during the CART-IRL split, CART revived the name Vanderbilt Cup and built a replica trophy as the prize for the US 500. Yup, the history of the Vanderbilt Cup was used to go up against the Borg-Warner Trophy of the Indianapolis 500.

Well, after four years of the US 500, in 2000, the Vanderbilt Cup became the trophy for the CART championship instead. The Champ Car World Series continued this tradition.

When Champ Car and the IRL Indycar Series merged, the Astor Cup name was revived instead. From 2011 onwards, the Indycar series champion receives the Astor Cup.

Anyway, back to the F1 in the US.

Initially the World Championship for Drivers, in 1950, gave the US date to the Indianapolis 500, seeing it as the biggest and most important race in the United States.

This was in spite of the fact that the Indianapolis 500 was governed by the AAA - and later USAC - and once the World Championship went to F2 regulations in 1952, Indy and the rest of the championship weren't even run under the same regulations.

In fact, the only time a World Championship driver came over to Indy was in 1952 (the first year of those F2 regulations) when Ferrari took Alberto Ascari and a 4.5L V12 Ferrari 375 to Indy in an attempt to win the biggest race in America. Alberto would retire, and Indy would be the only stain on an otherwise perfect 1952 season for Ascari.

Meanwhile, road racing was returning to prominence in the United States as permanent venues like Riverside and Sebring began to emerge.

In 1958, Riverside hosted a United States Grand Prix as part of the USAC championship.

In 1959, the II United States Grand Prix was held at Sebring, and this time, it was part of the Formula One World Championship. This race was won by Bruce McLaren in a Cooper.

In 1960, the race moved to Riverside, where it was won by Stirling Moss in a Lotus. This was also the last year in which the Indianapolis 500 counted for the World Championship.

And in 1961, the United States Grand Prix finally settled on its first permanent home, when Watkins Glen was chosen as the venue. From 1961 to 1980, Watkins Glen was the home of the USGP, a stint that lasted so long that the first winner was Innes Ireland in a Lotus and the last was Alan Jones in a Williams.

It was not the only USGP though.

I'd like to welcome everybody to the wild wild west.

Yup, from 1976 to 1983, F1 came to the LBC, the Long Beach Grand Prix joining the calendar under the title of United States Grand Prix West. The 1976 race was won by Clay Regazzoni in a Ferrari, while the last four races were won by Cosworth DFV powered cars, giving Long Beach a reputation as the race that the turbo powered cars couldn't win.

Indeed, the first win for a turbo car at Long Beach was 1984, when it was a CART race. The winner? Mario Andretti.

The next race on our list came in 1981, to replace Watkins Glen.

It was the Caesar's Palace Grand Prix, held in the parking lot of the casino for two years before it too was shifted off to the CART series - which itself only lasted two years before going away entirely.

The 1981 race went to Alan Jones in a Williams, picking up where he left off at Watkins Glen.

1982, meanwhile, went to Michele Alboreto in a Tyrrell.

1982 had a third US F1 round - like I said, the current era isn't the first time this has happened - being the Detroit Grand Prix in the downtown of the motor city.

A tight, twisty track swerving through the heart of the Motor City, the first Detroit Grand Prix was won by John Watson in a McLaren, while the last three were all won by Ayrton Senna. 1986 in a Lotus-Renault, 1987 in a Lotus-Honda, and 1988 in the all-conquering McLaren-Honda.

In 1989, Detroit too became a CART race, but unlike Caesar's Palace, it was actually successful.

In 2023, the Indycar Detroit GP returned to the streets of downtown, racing around the Renaissance Center in a layout best described as "bleh."

In any case, 1982 marked three American F1 rounds, but funnily enough...none of them were actually called the United States Grand Prix.

Long Beach was the USGP West, which was a rather clunky title given that there was no USGP to be west of.

Detroit was Detroit and Caesar's Palace was just Caesar's Palace.

Is Caesar's Palace the smallest geographic unit to get a Grand Prix named after it? It's gotta be up there, right?

1984 was a similar story, as there were two American F1 races back-to-back: the Detroit Grand Prix won by Nelson Piquet, and the one and only Dallas Grand Prix, won by Keke Rosberg.

Dallas was a mid-summer race held in the high heat of central Texas and that was only the start of the problems. The track surface was crumbling, the fans were in constant fear of the event being cancelled from out from under them, and the drivers felt the track was narrow and lacking in runoff areas.

CART passed on this one, instead, it was briefly brought back as a Trans Am race before fading into obscurity.

Dallas didn't work out, Detroit and Long Beach went to Indycar, and the less said about Caesar's Palace, the better.

Was Formula One in the US dead after 1988?

Not if anything to say about it, Phoenix has.

Yup, Phoenix of all places stepped in to host the USGP - returning to that name - in 1989. This event actually lasted three years despite triple digit summer heat, a disintegrating track surface, and an uninspired layout threatening to confine the track to the same fate as Dallas.

Alain Prost won in 1989, Senna won in 1990 and 1991.

Ecclestone initially promised the promoters the Phoenix Grand Prix would be held again on March 15th, 1992, but instead, the race was cancelled.

Formula One would not return to the US until 2000.

Tony George, in his quest to make the Indianapolis Motor Speedway the top racing venue in the country, brought NASCAR to IMS in 1994, and in 2000, he created an infield road course. This infield road course has become the home of sports car racing at Indianapolis, hosts an Indycar race ahead of the 500, and has in the past hosted MotoGP, NASCAR, and F1.

This was great, right? Formula One was back in the US and it was at the same place which hosted all those world championship rounds in the 1950s. F1 had finally reconciled Indianapolis with its road racing nature. Could this finally be how the USGP finds a stable home in the United States?

Well, it was going pretty good...up until 2005.

The oval had been diamond ground when it was repaved ahead of 2005. Bridgestone - the tyre supplier of Ferrari, Jordan, and Minardi - knew this, as they owned Firestone, which supplied the IRL Indycar Series with tyres, as it does with Indycar now.

Michelin, who supplied the rest of the grid...did not.

And Ralf Schumacher crashed in practice for the second time in two years. On a Michelin-clad Toyota.

Then Ricardo Zonta stepped in to replace Ralf...and he crashed as well.

The Michelin tyres couldn't take the oval corners, which formed the big final corner of the IMS Road Course. The Michelin teams tried to find a solution - whether that be a chicane, allowing pitstops, or using a different specification of tyre.

In the end, the FIA and Michelin could not come up with a compromise.

And in Indiana State Law, if Michelin let its teams race and something happened, they could be held criminally liable.

Thus, the Michelin teams pulled out of the race.

A six-car farce of a race then occurred between the Bridgestone teams as the fans booed and jeered.

All of IMS's good will in F1 evaporated.

After 2006 and 2007, the USGP disappeared.

An attempt was made to create an American Grand Prix in Port Imperial, New Jersey with the cars racing under the shadow of the New York skyline, but after years of trying this never got off the ground.

Instead, in 2012, the USGP found its modern home in COTA. Circuit of the Americas weathered the storm of some truly awful attendances in the mid-2010s - including a soggy and awful 2015 where the teams hardly got any running ahead of the race - to rebound and become one of the most highly attended races in history by the 2020s.

In 2022, the USGP at Austin was joined by the Miami Grand Prix in Miami Gardens, Florida. A flashy, exclusive race around the Hard Rock Stadium where the Dolphins play. This race saw Lando Norris take his maiden Grand Prix victory in 2024, kicking off a return to form for McLaren.

2023 added the Las Vegas Grand Prix, taking the idea of the Caesar's Palace Grand Prix to the next level. Rather than racing around a parking lot in the day, they raced down the strip at night under the lights of fabulous Las Vegas.

Miami and Las Vegas are considered grossly expensive and exclusive races meant to milk the US market, and maybe they are, but as an F1 fan in the United States, I used to dream of times like this.

We have three races, all hundreds of miles apart to give some decent coverage throughout the country, and I'd argue each one brings a different vibe.

Miami is all pastel colors and white awnings.

Las Vegas is the neon lights with the cars ripping down the Strip.

Austin is the larger than life red, white, and blue Americana that suits the main race.

I have many, many, many, many, many problems with the state of Formula One nowadays. I have many weeks of negative blogposts to prove that, but I'll never say that Formula One has too many races in the United States.

Las Vegas is as far from Miami as Madrid is from Moscow.

I know Europe is the home of Grand Prix racing, but as this has shown...the US has plenty of history too.

So onto Austin for the 2024 United States Grand Prix, with Formula One looking to be in a more competitive place than it was at this time a year ago.

#motorsports #racing #formula 1 #f1 #formula one #indycar

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