"With the sudden reopening of lost trods, long absent noble faeries flooded back into this world. 'Something' had happened in Arcadia to cause the exile of five of the thirteen noble houses from the Dreaming. Cast out to Earth, the exiled nobles forgot the reasons for their actions or their punishment, for the Mists cloud even the strongest of memories, whichever it was. Either they had chosen to return, or they had been thrown from their dream kingdom. Either way, they tried to take up as if nothing had happened in the time since they'd been gone, or at least nothing of import anyway. I suppose, for them, nothing had."
- Joseph "Cloudcutter" Marshall, eshe grump

"My memories of the Shattering are clouded, but mostly consistent. It was so long ago. My memories of the final days of Arcadia, however, are fragile and infuriatingly contrary things. Only images, really. That is all that most of the Five can claim, though some seem to remember more than others. Still, if my memories have any truth in them at all, I can tell you plainly: All is not well in Arcadia. Again, images. Of them, four that seem the most true.
"I can remember a great conclave in a palace of jade, with windows cut from living emerald. Green balefire, unbounded by brazier or lantern, blazed wildly throughout the throng. Far hazier is an image of a red sea which wailed with tortured voices. Another image: a statue of a great queen, proud and imperious in bearing, but without a head. Finally there was a great dragon, scarlet red and rampant, inverted against a black sun. I do not claim to know what these images mean, but they fret at me, and occupy both my waking and dreaming hours.
"I do not remember much of the journey from Arcadia through the Dreaming either. The Mists of Memory stay with you for some time after you pass through them. Even my earliest days on Earth are a haze. I remember walking freely through the Dreaming, yet a fae walking by my side was in chains. Some of us obviously departed Arcadia under more duress than others. If I left voluntarily, though, I cannot imagine why. I am a scholar at heart, yet when I first became aware of my surroundings on Earth, my hands were covered with blood and I had many wounds.
"I heard the flapping and rustling of a thousand darkling spirits on the ground and in the air around me. I don't know what they were, but they came into this world ith us, from the Dreaming, I fear. They quickly dispersed upon our arrival, before we had the wits to contain them. I fear that our arrival brought a great evil into this world and much deviltry has resulted from it, especially among the mortals of this world. This was inadvertent (I hope), yet I must ask myself: Would we not have had some inkling of this happening before we left Arcadia? What were we thinking? What kind of people were we? I beg your pardon, highness, for dwelling on such morbid thoughts. I fear that my mind has tended down such dismal corridors since our arrival here.
"Our time of arrival on this plane was dangerous and frightening, but it was also exceiting. We arrived individually, or in small groups of two or three. There was no pattern to it that I can discern. We sought each other out. Some of us immediately recognized each other as friends or enemies from the other side of the Mists - but friend or foe, we were all each other had. There were few incidents between us.
"I fell in with two thers, Lady Sierra and Lord Dyfell. I cannot begin to describe the joy that leapt in my heart when I discovered that I was not alone in the world. First there were three of us, then 10, then 50, and still more of us drifted in. There was Sir Marx and Lord Dray and True Thomas the Rhymer. Now it may have been a testamony to our wisdom or our luck that we found each other so quickly, but I doubt it. Instead, I believe we worked in accordance with some grand design, predetermined in Arcadia. Predetermined by whom is another question. At first we met only others of our own kind, the errant nobility. In the course of our wanderings we also met others, who had thrown in their lot with Earth during the Shattering. Although they were suspicious of us, and we of them, they were invaluable in helping us acclimate to our new surroundings.
"We encountered the commoners and the 'commoner nobles' who had risen during the Interregnum. I must confess, egalitarian though I consider myself to be, that I was quite shocked the first time I encountered a pooka in kingly raiment. Many commoners looked upon us with a jaundiced eye. In their minds we were a pampered class, untrustworthy and affected in our demeanour. They accused us of having abandoned them and then returning to claim our mantle of leadership as though nothing had happened. Many of their barbs have the sting of truth. Even now, it is up to us to prove ourselves worthy of our old place in Kithain society.
"Unfortunately, some of our class did not see things this way. Their arrogance, combined with the natural surliness of many of the commoners, quickly led to several violent incidents. These clashes became increasingly frequent as more and more nobles exercised their ancient rights. Within a year we were at war."
- Professor Edgewick, boggan grump and tutor to the nobility

Although they seem confident, serene and even arrogant to the common fae, the sidhe bear a great and injurious scar. The period between the Shattering's apex (approximately AD 1349, the height of the Black Plague) and the Resurgence (1969), six hundred and twenty years, are erased from the sidhe's collective memory. In comparison they have had only a few decades to reconstruct their entire lives in a world that is changed and hostile. Some of them adapt remarkably well, while others are emotional cripples in some respects.
Almost all sidhe have a deep, abiding desire to return to Arcadia, which they consider their rightful place, their Home. Yet none can remember it in any detail. Arcadia is like a fond, but rapidly fading dream. This desire obsesses some sidhe to the point of madness.
While Arcadia remains an inviolate paradise in the minds of the vast majority of fae, a growing number of them fear that it is in dire peril. Most kithain do not believe this of course. Arcadia is eternal. Arcadia fallen? Impossible.

"Hindsight's a great thing; sometimes you can see the road best in the rear-view mirror. Yeah, something was up, but everybody was so busy with what was going on in the world that they didn't try and puzzle out the portents. The power of the Dreaming showed itself in little ways as the '60s progressed. We were seeing more chimera; Banality was ebbing in some locales and those with the Sight were having strange vibes and confusing visions. In April of '69, one sluagh friend of mine (well, and acquaintance anyway) told me he had dreamed that men had landed on the moon and found a sword stuck in a boulder. Just as an astronaut reached for the blade, a host of horsemen, cloaked in blinding light, stampeded over the men. I think he was the only person in America who wasn't watching the TV when the Eagle landed in July.
"The air fairly crackled with Glamour, and it seemed like all the Balefires flared briefly. The most aware of us swear they heard a distant rumble, like thunder over the horizon. And the sidhe returned.
"How they came varied. Some rode out of the Dreaming in great processions, taking mortal form only after arrival. Some simply awoke inside the mortal shell they had chosen. Don't ask me what happened to the humans who owned the bodies - some say those mortal souls are frolicking in Arcadia now, but I'm not apt to completelt trust the sidhe. For all I know, the humans were sent outside of the world entirely, or maybe they are locked inside some corner of their hybrid minds.
"Regardless, the sidhe were scattered around and had to hunt for each other. Some Unseelie say they wished they had knows\n the sidhe were coming so they could have hunted them down before tey got organized. I think that's probably just hindsight at work; many folks saw the Return as a sign that Spring was arriving. And yes, I was just as thrilled and hopeful as the rest ... at least at first.
"Over the course of weeks, more sidhe started showing up. A handful refused to take mortal form, and they either died or were driven back into the Dreaming. After they discovered each other, they began to make themselves known to us. As I said, some commoners reacted with joy, some with indifference. But many of us could see storm clouds on the horizon and knew that when the lightning struck, it would leave us changed forever."
- Roland Tenara, satyr grump

On a bright morning in 1969, the Dreaming changed for the childlings of Gangsters' Hideaway, the Dominion of Bosky Tarn, and commoners everywhere.
Jake "Jem" Gallant was doing some modifications on the freehold's then-shingled roof, when he spotted a faerie host riding along the valley from the direction of the Endless trod (which had never before been opened, and never again would do so)! Jem nearly fell from his perch. Back-lit by golden sunlight, these fae riders were resplendant in golden helms and bright surcoats. They rode prancing chimerical mounts. Pennants ruffled, bridle-bells jingled, and a trumpet sounded. The noble sidhe had returned.
Lord Varlan is a first-generation exile. He was part of the sidhe host who came to Tangled Valley in 1969 from Who Knows Where. His past is even mroe mysterious than that of most nobles. He arrived bearing a baronial crown with eight large pearls, a broken sword, and a shield emblazoned with the blasted tree of House Liam. If this were not damning enough, one of his fellow sidhe, a damsel of House Eiluned, vaguely remembered that he was involved in an incident of great rage and treachery. Everyone assumed the worst. No knight will serve him, nor any liege trust him with a holding of significance.