Sage paced the room slowly, Benedick sitting in a plush chair made of leather, watching him silently the way cats are wont to do.  Sage had actually been pacing the room for almost an hour, only breaking the silence occasionally with mumblings.  He had deemed that it was time to concentrate on the problems at hand, and come upon solutions.  The cat was, for once, too tired to really say much of anything, so he reverted to an old habit that he usually only did in private, and began to clean himself.  Steadily he licked his paw and rubbed it against the back of his ears, only looking up occasionally to look at Sage from slitted eyes.  Sometimes he shook his head, amazed at the elf’s ability to pace for so long.  He could swear Sage had rubbed a visible hole in the floor.

Finally, Benedick said something.  “This must be the place that you used to pace before you were kicked out, eh?”

Sage nodded absentmindedly.  “Actually, yes.”  He did not turn his gaze from the wearing carpet.  Benedick took a closer look at the rug, and realized that he had not been imagining the worn-down path.  “I see now.”

“It’s quite soothing.  I haven’t done it for some time.”

The silence took hold again, and Benedick went back to cleaning whilst Sage continued to pace.  Until the elf abruptly stopped and broke the silence.

“That’s it.”

“What’s it?” Benedick asked, pausing in his cleaning with his paw awkwardly held behind his ear.

“The Mists of Dreams.”

“What about them? Other than the fact that they’re scarier than my mother?”

“That’s where Kaleb’s hiding.  That’s the only place he could have gone that we would not have seen hide or tail of him in four years.”  Sage finally plopped down in a chair next to Benedick.  The cat put an end to his routine, and put his paw on the arm rest.  Then he thought better of it, licked the paw, and brushed a stray piece of fur back into its proper place on his handsome brow.  Finally he was satisfied. 

“Not possible.  He’d die from the journey.”

“Not necessarily,” Sage mused.  “He may have powerful enough mental control to get through unscathed.”

“Aren’t there big scary gits living in the Mists?” Benedick asked.  “Big scary gits made through the nightmares of the evil faeries?”

“Oh, nonsense,” Sage replied.  “That’s all myth.  And evil faeries don’t live in the mists.  Really, faeries are neither evil nor good.  They carry out certain tasks, and we define them as evil or good.”

“Now, I don’t know about that,” Benedick said.  “I had plenty of faeries bite me, and plenty to play some very nasty tricks on me.  I have one hairball faery named Mittens who keeps following me around and cursing me with some nasty hairballs.”

“Ah, yes, but you just happen not to like hairballs.  But it is merely the faery’s job to create hairballs, nothing more.  It’s not personal.”

“And when he giggles maniacally after he’s made one manifest, then he’s not showing pure evil joy over his ability to make my life miserable?” Benedick argued.

“Of course not.  He’s just getting joy out of his work.”

Benedick shook his head.  “You’re nuts.”

“No, really.  Believe it or not, faeries are one of the highest beings of magic in our land.  Some have gained more individual qualities by living about physical beings.  For instance, there is a band of earth faeries called Banter Sprites who live in the forest of the Fire Gang.  They chose to be around them and experience bits and pieces of the Fiery way of life.  Now they’ve become regular party animals, and think quite as earnestly as the Fieries do that everyone’s head is removable, and that it MUST be removed in order for anyone to have a good time, or, for that matter, a fulfilling life.  But, faeries who are more separated from physical existence are completely amoral, meaning that they are entirely without morals, good or bad.  They are a more transcendental type of faery, and they have greater concerns than whether or not your buttered toast should fall buttered side up or down, or if you should suddenly have a horrible accident to have your head removed so that your life can be truly fulfilled.  There is only one main purpose to the tasks they perform.”

“And what is that?” Benedick said, obviously not believing a bit of what Sage was telling him, no matter how interested he was in what the elf had to say.

“To bring forth life-altering challenges.”

Benedick didn’t seem convinced, and looked at him in that way cats do when they think you are full of rubbish.

“Think about it…  The Mist of Dreams is actually a place where one’s fears are made manifest.  If you go into the Mists with the idea that you are going to encounter something horrible that you will have no ability to face, then your fears will consume you.  However, if you go into the Mists knowing that you will be facing one of your own demons, then you can be more resolute that you are going to overcome that fear.  You could be consumed by the fear and die in the Mists, or you could come out a better individual, stronger for conquering your fear. And, anyways, what kind of life is one that is eaten away by a constant fear?”

 Benedick straightened his vest and replied, “Ah, that is something I will agree with.  Though I still think the Mists are a horrible place, and I’m glad we’re not going there.”

Sage looked at him strangely.  “Ah…”

Benedick looked up suddenly.  “No, don’t say it.”

“Ok, I won’t, but you know what I want to say.  Or rather, wish I didn’t have to say.”

“No, no, no!”  Benedick rose from his chair and began the pacing anew on Sage’s behalf.  “We are not going in there,” he said with a gesticulating paw.

“But… Well, but you know what I am going to say.”

Benedick crossed his arms and looked like a tantrum-throwing kitten.  “Oh, shut up.”  He plopped back down into the chair and sighed.  “I know, I know, we have to if we’re going to get Sarah back and destroy Kaleb.”

Sage sighed too and nodded his head.  “So, I’d say that we all had a few counseling sessions before we go to… well… let out our inner demons.”

“Let’s not and say we did,” Benedick answered.

Sage looked at him carefully.  Benedick returned his gaze.  They nodded and spoke in unison.

“Right.  Let’s not.”

Benedick spoke next.  “That could get really scary.”

“Don’t want to think about it,” Sage answered.

They both lapsed into silence once again.  Sage, in particular, knew he had some demons to overcome, and he didn’t relish having to face them in the Mists.  Sarah and the others had always seen him as indiscriminately calm and without worry.  And, it was indeed true, Sage did have a stronger grasp on himself than most beings, even of his age.  However, there was a dark moment lurking in his past that even he had not overcome, and he knew instantly that it would be the main subject of his experience within the Mists.  Yet, he did know also that he would be the better for having to face it, so he sighed resolutely, awaiting the moment with terror for having to face this oft-avoided event in his life, while also feeling a deep relief for having a chance to overcome it.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” Benedick asked.  “You know, what you’re going to have to face in the Mists?”

Sage gave him a wan smile and looked at the cat from the corner of his eye.  “Very perceptive.”

“Would you like to share?” Benedick asked.  “A burden’s better on two shoulders.”

“That sounds like something I would say,” Sage responded with a chuckle.  “Very well, but only if you tell me your story too.”

“I shall.” Benedick said with a solemn nod.  “I’m all ears.”

Sage rose and poured a glass of wine from a decanter sitting on a desk nearby.  He handed it to Benedick, then poured himself one.  In a very uncharacteristic fashion, the elf downed the whole glass before talking.

“It’s about something that happened to me long ago.  Actually, it is the event that led up to my exile from Ulmar, the Elfin Kingdom.”  He looked away dreamily, as if replaying the events in his mind as he spoke them.  “I was the old king’s sorcerer, Eberon’s father.  He was a good king, a very good king.  There was a time when it seemed a majority of the kings and queens of the various kingdoms in the Underground were of a very sound judgment.  This was that time.  Everything seemed right with the world, except for a few details, perhaps.  But I had a premonition that the peace would fail soon.  I was correct.

“The King came down with a very strange illness of faery origin, one that could only have been brought upon him by one of our kind, because only elves know of this curse, and faeries are not able to inflict this illness on other beings.  The King died within days, and his son took the throne.  I had been charged with teaching the boy all I knew, but he was impatient, unwilling to wait for knowledge, much like another apprentice I had had years before.  I was beginning to break new ground with the boy, or so I thought, right before his father died.  I only needed a couple more years to breed his immaturity away, but, alas, my time ran out.  It was a great loss for me, for I knew how Eberon would be as a king, and, as king, I had no control over him.  Also, his father had been one of my closest friends, the closest I had had in years.  I was in great mourning.  I knew Eberon wished to be rid of me, but he must keep me in order to keep face with the kingdom.  So he kept me at his side, but was very cold to me, and gave me little opportunity to assist.  His father had bid me look after him, and I did my best to intervene when times were desperate, but he often destroyed all of my efforts to improve upon the conditions in the kingdom.

“It was a very dark time in Ulmar, and a mere couple of years had bred a great deal of distrust in the kingdom, especially towards outsiders.  He wanted the elves to rule all, and therefore he started false stories of wrongs done by other races, to elves, and to races other than their own.  Elves have always, in general, been prone to a bit of self-righteousness and snobbery, and he eagerly fed into this sentiment.  And it couldn’t have been the worst time for me.”

Sage sighed, seemingly saddened by what lie ahead in his tale.  “It was a beautiful spring afternoon in the woods, and I was attempting to wile away my increasingly wasteful time by familiarizing myself with the forests outside of the castle.  And then I saw her, the most beautiful human woman I had ever laid eyes upon.  Her hair was a vibrant red, and her eyes the richest green.  She was truly mere inches away from being an elf, yet, the human in her made her far more lovely than any elf I had ever come across.  She was gathering herbs, and we soon began to talk.  I was instantly in love with her.  She was a witch, and lived with a coven not far from the kingdom, out in the forest.  I began to visit her frequently, but, though we wished to, we could not wed.  Nor did marriage truly matter to us, for we were creatures of love, not of ritual.  Well, being a witch, she was in practice a creature of ritual, but those sort of things do not truly matter where love is concerned.  But I digress.

“Eberon found out.  And he used it to destroy me.  Once he found her, he brought her to the castle and told the city that I had been fraternizing with a human witch and had been making treasonous plans with her.  And, Mother Land, if I’d know why, they believed him.  He called my new apprentice forth to cast a spell of exile upon her, a spell that most often placed the victim into a state of limbo, where their body would surely perish.  I don’t know what truly became of her, and I loathe to think on it.  Then he exiled me to the forest.  Some of my closest companions followed, and that’s how I started my tribe.  It wasn’t too harsh a punishment, as tribes of nomad elves are known to wander the lands.  So I was not completely separated from my people.  And, the tribes are much softer in nature, and closer to the land.  They hold very few of the seeds of distrust that elves in the city tend to have.

“Thank the land that they were so kind and honest, for no one until this day, other than my tribe, and now you, has found out that Vindar was the son that my love and I had before Eberon was able to kill my love.  Had he known, he would have surely exiled my son with her.  Now he thinks that Vindar is merely the child of a love affair with another elfin wife, and it serves to protect Vindar.  But, I have not loved another woman since Marlena.  She owns my lifeblood, and always shall, until we are together again in the mists beyond this life.”

Benedick blinked in awe.  He seemed totally transfixed by Sage’s story.  “Wow.  I had no idea…  I never really knew much about why you and Eberon were at each other’s throats, nor thought about how it was you ended up in the forests.  So that explains your excellent skills as Sarah’s advisor. And Vindar…”  He drifted off, shaking his head in amazement.  “Who knows, Sage.  Maybe you will find your love again someday.  There is a great deal of magic in this world, and stranger things have happened.”

“Well, stranger things have indeed happened, my friend, and I do hope that you are right.  But it happened several upon several years ago, and I have not yet let go of her.  I will never have another woman, but, yet, I must let go to let my heart move on.  And that is what I fear most that I will have to face in the Mists.”  He poured another glass and looked at Benedick.  “Now, friend, you must tell me your fear.”

Benedick shrugged, looking a bit sheepish.  “It’s not nearly so noble as yours.”

“I’m sure you make little of something that is quite difficult.  Tell me.”

He shrugged again, as if he knew Sage would be greatly disappointed in his tale. “I’m just deathly afraid of water.  Hate the stuff.  I can drink it, but mother help me if I have to dip a paw in it…”

Sage laughed so hard he spilled wine all over the desk.  It was a laugh he greatly needed, especially after the dredging of difficult memories.

“You are too much for me, dear Benedick.  Too much.”