The decision to go into the Mist of Dreams was one not taken lightly by Sage.  Representatives of the seven kingdoms all offered their hand in the journey, but none too reluctantly.  Even as Sage spoke to each one, he could tell the trepidation in their voices; as if the horror of the previous day had not been enough to traumatize any creature of the Underground.  Yet, it was their duty to serve their respective kingdoms bravely and without a hint of fear, so they boldly laid their swords down before him in a sign of allegiance.  Among the surprise, Sage could detect relief, as he told each one to go home.

Sage was wise to the dangers of the forest.  The greater the numbers entering, that much greater the numbers that wouldn’t leave.  It would take individuals of great personal determination and emotional will to enter the Mists, and therefore an army served him little.  He wouldn’t even know what an army would be up against until he found Kaleb’s fortress in the Mists.  For all he knew, the man possessed no army whatsoever, and his destruction lie only in a subtle pushing of a psychological button.  He could only hope this was true.

And so the small group had traveled by the wings of the Spangore to the edges of the Mists; Sage, Ludo, Benedick, Mandelbrot, and Eepwot.  Mandelbrot saw it as his duty to come along, since his king was one of the likely prisoners.  Sage tried to counsel him against it, urging him that they would save Eberon if he indeed was prisoner.  Mandelbrot fought deftly against Sage’s counsel, finally stating that it was his responsibility, no matter what a licidious larva he considered the young king to be.  Sage smiled broadly at this, and welcomed his old companion on the journey, happy to be close to a fellow from his old life, even if it was in dire circumstances that they traveled.  Eepwot too was advised to remain in the elfin city, but was just too plain crazy to heed any warnings, and saw a potential party in the whole ordeal. 

“You’re mad, do you know that?” Sage said to the fiery.

“Aw, c’mon.  At the end of everything, a party’s waiting. This is my life’s creed, aye!”  The fiery sauntered beside Sage in a manner befitting of a spaghetti noodle.

“But what if it’s a party minus one fiery gent named Eepwot?” Sage rationalized.

“Oh, no no,” Eepwot said emphatically with a vigorous shake of his head.  “Eepwot is at every party.”

“Oh, come on,” Sage said with a chuckle. “Surely you cannot make it to every party?”

“Sure’s I can,” Eepwot said, pulling off his strange ornamental belt.  He seemed to untangle it, stretching it out before him to show a chain of ornamentation big enough to walk through.  “This thing is my party transporter.  Wherever there’s a party, it takes me there.  Sometimes I only get’s to stay a moment, but I goes!”

Sage gave him a sidelong glance.  “Really? Aren’t you missing a few parties right now?”

Eepwot put it back on and said, “Hmm.  Naw, I’m just pullin’ yer leg.  This just be my belt.”  The fiery man winked at Sage and started jump-roping with the jingling belt.

“Ah, you fieries are full of mischief,” Sage said, smiling.

“Naw, everyone’s full of mischief.  We just got it down to an art,” said Eepwot before doing something very un-fierylike and getting serious.  He put his belt back on, and continued his spaghetti walk.  They were right on the edge of the Mists.

Everyone got suddenly quiet.  Voices chittered from the depths, and Ludo cocked a floppy ear to the sound.  He looked around with a wrinkled brow, then looked down at Sage, as if to say, “We’re going in there?”

Sage understood his anxiety immediately, and gave Ludo a pat on his enormous hand.  “There’s a good fellow,” Sage said.  “It’ll be alright.”

Ludo inhaled deeply, and let out a deep sigh as he looked again into the forest depths.

“So, this is it, eh my friend?” Benedick said, wringing his paws.  His ears were perked to a razor-sharp point, and even the straight hairs in his ear canal seemed to be twitching in search of strange sounds.  “We are damned crazy,” he added.

Mandelbrot straightened his luminous robes before looking at Benedick.  “We were all damned crazy before we got here, my friend.  That’s the only reason we considered going.  But it will be alright; I have a good feeling about this all.”

“Oh, don’t tell me that you’re an optimist, too?” Benedick said, giving a mock-disdainful glance at both Mandelbrot and Sage before rolling his eyes.  “You elves and your optimism.  Blech.”  He seemed to retch at the notion.

“Oh no, not at all,” Mandelbrot said.  “See, I plan ahead.  I left my last Will and Testament before we even began this journey.  If I die, you fellows can look forward to some drunken debauchery, for I will have nothing of sad looks at my last rites.”

Eepwot nudged Sage.  “See, I’s said there’s a party at the end of everything.”

Sage took a deep breath.  “I know your intent is to lighten the mood, Mandelbrot, but I’m afraid all this talk of death is doing nothing for my resolve.  Why don’t we just get to it?”

A simultaneous deep breath was had by all as every set of eyes gazed warily into the Mist of Dreams.

“Right then,” Benedick said, fingering the sheathed sword at his side nervously.  “Let’s get at it.”

*        *        *

Sarah soon learned that Kaleb’s castle itself was malleable, and its form subject to the wishes of any powerful user of magic.  She had created for herself a study to her own tastes, cozy and decadently filled with tattered bits of extravagant and richly-colored cloth.

In what looked very much like a source-less holographic display, Sarah had magically conjured all of the writings of the Bookkeeper, as she knew he was the most thorough source of information in the entire Ungerground.  Here it was that she would wile away her hours until she discovered exactly how she would make her presence known back on Earth.

When Claw entered the room, Sarah’s feet were propped up on a desk of a design mixed eclectically between Scandinavian and 17^th Century Italian.  Her legs were tightly wrapped in shiny leather, ending in high black stilleto boots that sat with their own arrogance upon the surface of the desk.  She wore a long-sleeved jacket made of burnished red silks, tied at the waste with a thin burgundy sash, opening over her right shoulder and breast.  Under the jacket she wore a burdundy turtleneck made of a somewhat transparent velvet.  Her dark hair was glossy and ominously straight, falling in rivulets down her back and over the chair she sat in.

She did not tear her eyes away from the holographic documents in front of her, though it was obvious by the way she suddenly crossed her legs over the desk that she was aware of his presence.

“I see that her Majesty has brought an element of her home world to our own,” Claw said in a quiet rumble, glancing at Sarah from drooping eyelids.

Sarah did not respond, but continued through the documents, weighing several thoughts in her mind as she did so.  Claw had a dark evil under his feathers, while their surface carried many textures and colors that gave him a regal and heavenly presence.  He was spindly in areas, and contrastingly strong in others.  His beak came to an elegant point, and his eyes were silver.  Sarah had begun to find the ensign very intriguing, and knew there was a story rich as a tapestry attached to this bird.

Claw continued to walk gracefully about the room on his two legs, bracelets jangling on his wrists as he did so.  Sarah gave him a brief glance, looking down at the razor-sharp and steel-veneered claws that were the bird’s namesake.  For a bird, he seemed awfully fond of refined jewelry.  It suited him well.

“Making plans to betray Kaleb so soon?” he asked as he looked over her shoulder.

Sarah’s eyes continued to peer at her work from beneath suddenly slitted eyelids.  But she could not answer him.  She did not know the reasoning for his questions, and she knew that the walls had ears.

The large bird pretended to observe her studies intently for a few more moments before saying, “Hmm, interesting.  But it’s going to take much longer that way.  A lot of philosophical rhetoric to sort through.  However, you could just ask me, and I might have the answers for you.”

Sarah paused and looked at him from the corner of her eye.  She could sense his sincerity, and swiveled her boots from the top of the desk and rose.  Then she made a sweeping motion with her hand, and the room was enshrouded in a strange, gray mist.

“It looks as if you are the one making plans to betray Kaleb, Claw,” Sarah said, cocking her head to the side and raising an eyebrow.  A balcony materialized in the mist, and she walked out onto it, Claw in tow.  “You realize that I am meant to be Kaleb’s new friend.  It’s not in your best interest to start such conversations with me.  I might tell on you.”  She gripped the cold stone banister and looked out into the gray fog of the Mist of Dreams.  Something in her change had made her able to see and think so many things at once, as if she were now a supercomputer.  As she continued her awareness of Claw and their conversation, her eyes squinted, and she looked deeply into the forest.  She saw, miles away, Granen and her other half wading hopelessly through the forest.  A smirk played on her lips.  If they remained lost forever, she would never have to again contend with the “better” half of herself.

“I think I know your intent,” Claw remarked, ruffling his feathers slightly.  “You are stronger than Kaleb realized.  I think Jareth never underestimated you, but that it was Kaleb who could never bring himself to believe a woman might be more powerful than him.”

Sarah snorted.  “How right you are.”  She squinted more deeply and saw past Granen and the other Sarah, to the outskirts of the Mists.  Sage and an entourage were preparing to enter, no doubt in an attempt to save her.  “Idiots,” she mumbled under her breath.

“Your Majesty?” Claw asked, aware suddenly of her distraction.  “Do you see someone out there?” he asked as he followed her gaze, which ended, for him, in gray nothingness.

“Yes, but they are far away.  Time may be growing short, though I doubt they will ever make it through the Mists.”  She turned to face Claw.  “I, however, try my best not to fall into the trap of underestimating people, Claw.”  She crossed her arms and began to pace.  “And you have been smart to keep your true self hidden from Kaleb.  Tell me, what will you get out of coming over to my side?”

“Not much, probably.  A new way to pass the time.  I’ve grown tired of Kaleb and his little mission of revenge.  Or whatever it is supposed to be.  Power, I suppose.  I did not envision spending the rest of my days in these gray Mists when I first offered my allegiance to him.  I’ve served him well, and bear no malice towards him, but I have a feeling that you would have a more interesting way of spending the time in mind.  And I can see that your power far outweighs his own.”

“Tell me, how did your alliance with Kaleb start?” Sarah asked.

“Out of boredom, really.  I left the Spangores several years ago because I really didn’t fit in with their militaristic style of life.  Just went off on my own.”

“I suspected you were a Spangore,” Sarah remarked, “though you look a bit different from the other Spangores.  Your build, and your feathers…  Very different from all the Spangores I’ve met.”

“Ah, yes, a little magic can go a long way in changing one’s appearance,” Claw said with a hint of a smirk playing on his beak.

“A bird after my own heart,” Sarah oozed.  “Tell me how you met Kaleb.”

“Actually, I met the Amethyst first.  I saw you long ago… fighting atop a plateau with Jareth.  I am the one who seized the shard at the base of the plateau those years ago.  Kaleb by then was strong enough to communicate from outside the stone.  As I had nothing else to do, I took the Amethyst to a sorcerer, who returned Kaleb to human form.”

“You must bear some of the Amethyst’s power,” Sarah said.  “If you touched it, you have some control over it.”

“Yes, meager though it may be.  I’m sure that’s the primary reason Kaleb keeps me around.  And you.  That is, until he finds a way to re-consolidate the power.”

“I think you’re right,” Sarah said, briefly gazing over the holographic documents that had become much less interesting all of a sudden.  “I think you’re telling me the truth, Claw.  And I would be pleased if you would join in my plans, that is, if you have something to offer in the way of suggestions.”

“I’ll do my best.  What do you have in mind?” Claw asked as he sauntered near her.

“I am going to go Aboveground.  I want to have power over both worlds.  I’ve never been satisfied with the workings of this world or my old world; but together, they would be a perfect mix.  Much more interesting.”

Claw seemed intrigued.  He leaned in closer.  “Yes, I think you are correct.  It would be an interesting feat.”

“Now the question is, how?”  Sarah motioned towards the scrolling documents of the Bookkeeper.

Claw did his own measure of pacing before he turned around and answered.  “It’s simple, really.  Something I actually accidentally learned from Kaleb.”  He repositioned his wings as if to become more comfortable before going into his narrative.   “In a way, our world is only the dreams of those Aboveground, and vice versa.  We are each other’s dream.  Yet, both worlds refuse to acknowledge the existence of the other.  I don’t really know why; seems the hard split between worlds happened so long ago, I can’t begin to imagine.  Hundreds upon hundreds of years ago.  But we were once more intimately joined.  That is one of the characteristics of the Mists of Dreams.  Those Aboveground who are more closely tied to this world in spirit will walk here in their dreams.  I have seen them occasionally, though they are often too hazy to make out.  And I am sure there is a place such as the Mists Aboveground.  A place where both worlds join.  There are probably other such places.  Actually, Kaleb only knows of the faery qualities of the Mists; he’s never really considered crossing to the other world, because he has no interest in it, nor in anything that does not fall into his mission.”

“Hmm,” Sarah considered.  “You’ve done your homework.  You’re right, there are other places like that.  Some of them are deliberately created by sorcerers, I think.”

“To combine worlds – now that’s going to be the trick.  I’m not sure how you would do that.  First you would have to find a place of power Aboveground.  Darker powers, preferably, and densely populated.”

Sarah smiled devilishly.  “Hypnotism.  Or a magical form of it.  The key will be through the mind, through dreams.  Bring the subconscious thoughts of the Underground to the forefront, for a large number of people, and the worlds will begin to meld again.”

“Yes, that might work.  But how do you reach a world full of people?  And how will you know where to do it?”

“You forget, Claw… This is my home world you speak of.  I have the perfect place in mind, and always have.  A densely populated city where technology runs rampant over the lives of men and women, men and women who seem to covet being ruled by the city and its dark powers.  A virtual satellite to all television in the world.  New York City.”

Claw nodded his head.  “It sounds like the perfect place.”  He plucked a feather from his wing with his beak, then said, “What will we do with Kaleb?”

“Leave him here, trapped in his own dungeon.  He’ll be powerless to stop it, once it has begun.”

“What do you think will happen, if this all works?” Claw asked dryly.

“I have no idea.  Should be interesting, huh?” Sarah said, winking her eye conspiratorily.

Claw grinned more widely than should have been possible, his eyes mere glinting slits.  “Fun is the word I would use.  I haven’t had fun in ages.”

*        *        *

The wind had a strange way of finding its way through the seemingly impenetrable mortar in the stone walls of the east wing.  It was that much stranger to hear these deep sighs and moans of air in a room so deep into the center of the wing, and so far underground.  Eerie as it was, Hoggle did not let the morbid tones of the air distract him from his meddling in the affairs of the afterlife.

However much he wished to ignore it, though, it gave him chills.

“Confounded machine, work!” he yelled, kicking the strange, rusty contraption at the direct location where he had placed his last bolt.  “I swears, machines isn’t worth the troubles.”

But he knew he felt differently, despite his words of anger.  A little apprehension tugged at the back of Hoggle’s mind, and it enhanced his exasperation with the lack of performance on the part of the machine.  The longer it took, the more he doubted his mission.  He knew if he didn’t get it working soon, he would realize just what he was doing and want to give up.

Stepping back, he looked at his creation.  He rubbed his chin thoughtfully and admired the structure.  It was almost the frame of a mirror, looking like the ancient sculpture of an industrial society.  It was actually very beautiful, despite the rust and odd bits of machinery he had acquired in place of those which the building guide had actually called for.  Quite an awesome task for a dwarf blessed with no inclination towards artistry.

“Guess’n I better say the words again,” he mumbled as he moved toward the aged book that held a similar image on its ragged pages to that of the device Hoggle had built.  He bent over the document and looked up at the creation, chanting the incantion as awkwardly as one ungifted with magic might.  This time his pronunciation was subtly different than last, and something began to happen.  A sort of shimmering emanated from the center of the frame, barely discernible.  This gave Hoggle hope, and he shifted his weight nervously, inching back from the device a bit in anticipation.  He chanted the incantation again as before, louder this time.  The shimmering grew.

Hoggle didn’t have to repeat himself.  The light in the room grew, along with the moaning of the wind.  The dwarf shrank in apprehension, and covered his eyes with his small arm to shield himself from the growing brilliance coming from the portal.

As the light subsided, Hoggle could see what had actually happened.  The frame of the portal had formed a rippling, watery mirror at its center, where the silhouettes of two figures were represented.  It took a few moments for the image to develop further, progressing from a sort of state of inverse, dark colors.  It was an image of his mother and father.  They were both smiling, especially Mr. Hiddlebury; something quite uncharacteristic of the old man.  Though they still bore some of the wrinkles they had earned in life, they seemed much more youthful, their skin glowing happily.  Hoggle was overcome by their strange, transcendental beauty, and began to cry.  However, he was struck more by their actual presence than their beauty alone.

“Mama… Papa,” he managed to stumble out.  “It’s really you…”

They smiled back at him, and his mother turned to Mr. Hiddlebury and said, “He’s as stubborn as his pa.”

“I know, he just won’t let go fer nothin’,” Mr. Hiddlebury answered jokingly.

Hoggle didn’t waste time, he got straight to the question that was on his mind. “Can you… come back?  Come back home?”

Mrs. Hiddlebury’s sourceless reflection gave her son a wan smile.  “I’m afraid not, son.  This’s our home, now.”

“Where are yous?” Hoggle asked, still doing his best to bite back the tears.

“On th’next plane,” Mr. Hiddlebury answered.

“What does that mean?” Hoggle asked, almost pleading.

“You’ll understand one day, ‘oggle,” Mr. Hiddlebury answered, giving his wife a sidelong glance that belied his worry over his son.  “Too difficult to explain now.  You’s just needs ta know that yer Ma and I are doin’ just fine.”

“But I want you to be with me!” Hoggle shouted.  “It’s not fair that you both left me!  Ma and I should at least be together… Ma should come back ‘ere with me!”

“But why should I, Hoggle?” Mrs. Hiddlebury queried gently.  “You don’t really need me.”

“Yes I does!” Hoggle broke down.  “I’m lonely!”

The confession seemed to echo in the room, an admission of his soul that surprised even Hoggle himself.  His parents looked at a loss, unable to put comforting arms around him.

“I knows you are, son,” Hoggle Senior offered.  “I knows you are.”

“But don’t forget,” his mother added, “you still’ave friends to comfort you.  You don’ need to be lonely, son.  Dontcha ferget the friends ya do have witcha now.  Be happy fer us.  We’re able to rest where we are.  We’re at peace.”

“My friend is gone.  Sarah is gone.  I can’t get through this wid’out her.”

“Sure you can!” Mr. Hiddlebury exclaimed.  “You gots other friends here.”

As he said this, he looked past Hoggle’s shoulder, where Vindar and Isabelle stood, having slowly and quietly entered the room.  They seemed awestruck by what Hoggle had accomplished, and only stood aside, transfixed as well as deliberately careful in allowing Hoggle to continue in his conversation without interruption from them.

“Besides, son,” Mrs. Hiddlebury explained,  bringing Hoggle back to the tete-a-tete between the living and deceased, “you need to let us go so that you can get Sarah back.  She’s in a heap o’trouble right now.  It’s yer duty as’er friend to help’er out.”

“That’s really why we’re here, ‘oggle,” Mr. Hiddlebury said, somber.  “It ain’t normally allowed fer those that’ve passed on to visit those they left behind…  but there’s great trouble brewin’ Aboveground and Underground.”

“The Guardian asked us to come to you, son,” Mrs. Hiddlebury said solemnly.

“The Guardian?”  Hoggle seemed dumbfounded.  Even more shocking than the presence of his dead parents was mention of the Guardian.  Like most, Hoggle knew little of the legendary Guardian, only that he stood at the gates between Underground and Aboveground, and that his father had had a mysterious relationship with the fae.  The Guardian had inadvertently been Hoggle Senior’s source for knowledge Aboveground; as the old dwarf was the one willing to write the histories, he had been bestowed the honor of learning about the other world directly.

“Yes.  It’s time you were given the key, ‘oggle.”  Mr. Hiddlebury looked down at his son, his eyebrows curving inward and nearly hiding his large, somber eyes.

“I’m gonna meet th’Guardian?” Hoggle asked, his face the epitome of awe.

“Tha’s not how it works, m’boy,” Hoggle Senior chuckled.  “You’ll learn in time.  Th’Guardian does have a mission for ya, though. An’ it won’t be easy.”

“What about Sarah?” Hoggle asked.

“It involves Sarah,” Mr. Hiddlebury answered.

“It’ll be a long journey,” Mrs. Hiddlebury added.

“What does I do?” Hoggle asked, his eyes widening with the unexpected turn of this encounter.

“Many things is gonna happen today, son.  Lotsa strange things.  You’s gotta keep yer focus, cause you are a major key in unraveling that which’ll be woven by nightfall.”

“Remember Kaleb, son?” Mrs. Hiddlebury asked.  “He’s the one who done captured Sarah.”

“He’s changed’er.  She’s been torn apart, into the two sides of her conscience.  You must find the White Sarah, the one who is her essence of light, an’bring Kaleb to’er.”

“And a spell,” Mrs. Hiddlebury added.

“He’s… harmed Sarah?” the dwarf began to tremble in anger.  “I swears, if I find him, I’ll kill’m!” Hoggle grumbled.

“You can’t do that, son,” Mr. Hiddlebury said.  “If he dies before the spell can be cast, you’ll kill Jareth too.”

“Fine by me!” Hoggle shouted.  “Wait… why’s you protectin’ Jareth? You hate’im too!”

Mr. Hiddlebury smiled knowingly at his son.  “You sees things different on this side, ‘oggle.  Sarah needs Jareth.  She needs him if she’s ever gonna be normal again.”

“I don’ understand,” Hoggle grunted, crossing his arms.  “I don’ believe yer actually my Pa.”

“Trust me, son, he’s still yer Pa,” Mrs. Hiddlebury answered, laughing.

“I’ll always be yer Pa…  Now’s I can keep an eye on ya all the time!” Hoggle Senior joked.

After a pause, and an unwilling and slight grin,  Hoggle finally said, “Where do I get this spell?”

“You’ll know when you find it,” Mrs. Hiddlebury said.

“Where will I find it?  Aboveground?  Underground?” Hoggle asked, increasingly exasperated by the increasing lack of sense the whole ordeal was making.

“Neither,” Hoggle Senior answered.  “As I said, son, things is gonna happen.”

“Then where does I find Kaleb?”

“He’s in the Mist of Dreams…  You gotsta get him soon, or it’ll be too late,” Mr. Hiddlebury replied.

“How’s’m I supposed to get to th’Mists so fast?” Hoggle nearly bellowed.

“We’ll take ya there, son.  But you must be leavin’ now.”

“How am I gonna capture’m?  I ain’t got no powers, no weapons, no nothin’!” Hoggle protested.

Suddenly a wooden medallion appeared on the table before Hoggle.  The dwarf picked it up and inspected it.  It was carved in a circular shape, and had an inset piece of onyx at the center, engraved into the silhouette of a raven.  Turning it over, he discovered a set of runes.

Vindar came closer to look over his shoulder.  “It’s a morphing talisman,” he exclaimed.

“What does that mean?” Hoggle asked. “What does it do?”

“One can never tell.  The creator decides how it will perform.  You won’t know until you actually use it,” Vindar answered.

“You must use the talisman to capture Kaleb,” Mr. Hiddlebury explained.  “Once you capture him, you must find White Sarah an’bring her and Kaleb to her other half.”

“What about Jareth?” Hoggle asked.

“He’ll find you.”

“I s’pose I don’t get any useful information then?” Hoggle asked, snorting.  His mystical encounter with his dead parents was quickly turning from an experience of great joy and wonder to the dreaded expectation of a long, grueling, and seemingly impossible chore.

“I’m ‘fraid that’s all we can tells ya, m’boy,” Hoggle Senior answered, belying none of the frustration that often came upon him in life.

Isabelle came forward and put a reassuring hand on Hoggle’s shoulder.  “We will come with you, Hoggle.  We can help you on your journey.”

It took a moment, but Hoggle almost seemed to smile.  “I’d much appreciate that.”

“There’s no way we would expect you to do this alone, Hoggle,” Vindar added.  “I’m very glad we found you before you were to leave.”

“Oh dear!” a voice came from behind the door.  Damion made himself visible, and inched out from the concealment of the mahogany door, almost shivering.  “This is not good! Oh dear!  What will I tell Lady Leah?  And Her Majesty, Sarah!  In danger!  What a frightful day this has been!”

Vindar came toward the bird-man and tried to comfort him.  “You will tell Lady Leah exactly what we are doing, and that we will be alright.  We can save Sarah, do not fret, good fellow.”

“Have you been there the entire time?” Isabelle asked.

“Erm, I followed you…” Damion managed to stammer out.  “I wondered what had happened to Master Hoggle, and I, erm… I was curious.”  He seemed a little sheepish.  Finally, he added.  “Alright, in all truth, I knew since this morning that Master Hoggle would attempt to revive his parents.  I saw that the book was missing.”

“You didn’t tell us?” Vindar said, a little surprised by the bird’s behavior.

“I wanted to see if he could do it,” he admitted, speaking in a whisper.

“It’s just as well,” Vindar said.  “It is a fortunate turn of events.”

“We must leave now,” Mrs. Hiddlebury said, the form of the ghostly couple beginning to waver with the dimming magic of the portal.  “We can’t be wastin’ anymore time.”

“Yes, you are right,” Vindar said.  “Damion, go inform Leah as to what has occurred.  Let her know that all will be well.”

Hoggle put the talisman into his pocket, then looked up at his parents, a bit of uncertainty playing upon his face.  “Guess we gotta go, then.”  He said resolutely.  He was the first to step through the portal.  Isabelle and Vindar were swiftly in tow.

Almost instantly, the light that once emanated from the portal fizzled out.  Damion stood before it, transfixed, and trembling in anticipation of the predicted doom.  “Oh my… What will happen to us?  This is going to be a very bad day.”

He gripped his close companion, the castle treasury journal, closer to his chest and slowly meandered from the room, trembling in his journey to the throne room, where he would relay the news to Leah. “Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear…”

*        *        *

It was sudden, and quite unexpected.  The party of five entered the forest of the Mists, and each was instantly isolated, engulfed in fog.  Each had made attempts to call out into the Mist for the others, and though, in physical space, they were no more than a foot apart, the illusion of the Mists made them unable to see or hear one another.  So they each trod forward, seemingly alone, to face whatever lie before them.

Sage was not too alarmed by the sudden loss of his companions.  He had expected something odd to occur at some point in their journey, and it might has well have been from the very beginning.  He braced himself for the faery lies he knew he was to face, and walked forward resolutely.

Female voices seemed to call to him from the depths, and he did his best to resist their enchantment.  Faery faces emerged, swimming through the Mists, smiling at him knowingly.  They seemed to be swimming away from him, towards a certain point in space.  He walked toward that point, unwitting, even in his resolute strength, to the fact that he was subtly succumbing.  He continued to travel onward, squinting his eyes as the shadow of a figure seemed to await him in the distance.  As he was not yet sure that which he might be expected to face, he allowed himself to continue on, to find out exactly who this mysterious figure in the Mists might be.  Yet, deep down, he knew.

Her radiant red hair seemed to be a source of light in and of itself.  She was decked in a vibrant green, sheer, suggesting the beauty of the naked form beneath.  Her deep green eyes were almost fae, her angular face enhanced with earthy hues.  It was Marlena.  She was holding her hand out to her beloved Sage.

“Come to me, Sage,” she beckoned.

He only took one more step forward.  His eyes sparkled in remembrance of this beauty.  The current of swelling love and need that he swam against was maddening; yet he held his ground.

“I – I know that you are only an illusion,” he replied.  “I must not follow you.  I love you… but I know that I cannot have you again.”

Her eyes showed no sign of malignance, and she kept her elegant hand stretched out toward him.  A knowing smile on her face, she answered, “You are correct, Sage.  This body is merely an illusion.  But the spirit it defines is very real.”

Sage smiled deliberately, gradually finding the faery magic easier to resist.  “Ah, faery logic is astounding.  And I am to find this a loophole that would be simple to go along with?  I know what my test is, fae.  I know that I must let go of my lost love.  I know that I must resist you, else I shall not be able to leave the Mists.”

“Do not be so quick in deciding your test, Sage,” the woman answered, walking closer to him.  “Elf though you may be, you shall never understand the works of fae.”

The voices in the mists grew louder, resounding the words, “Follow your love to find another love.”

Somehow, the words rang a trueness that Sage would not have expected.  Part of him shouted a warning, that these voices were tempting him to his doom, yet his instincts spoke differently, saying that he had somehow encountered truth within these faery mists, and that he must take the outstretched hand, this fae who had taken on the form of his beloved Marlena.

“One that you love awaits you in the Mists.  And one beyond.  It is time, Sage,” the woman whispered, mere inches from the elf.  She bent down and brushed her soft lips against his angular cheeks.  “It is time.  Hear my truth.”

She rose, and, as she did, Sage noticed that he had unconsciously placed his hand within her own.  She walked facing him, not needing eyes to find her destination.  Sage had allowed himself to be enchanted, yet it felt right; somehow, it felt as if all would be well.  He swelled inside and allowed himself to fall into the flow of the faux Marlena’s gait, uncaring for any doom or splendor that awaited him at the end of the journey.  At her touch, he could only feel true contentment, a perfect balance only possible in a faery realm.

Ludo’s face contorted into an expression of confusion as he found himself suddenly alone in the dark forest.  “Sage…” he moaned softly, knowing deep down that he would not be heard.  He felt suddenly frightened, afraid for his friends, and afraid for himself.

The simple beast slowly began to trudge forward, his large head turning about in his travels, his eyes seeking out his companions.  Hw lumbered on, his fur swaying from side to side.

He traveled forward, his fear increasing at his continuing lonesomeness.  He remembered that Sage had told him to feel no fear, that the only danger he would face would be if he were to allow himself to be afraid.  He tried to be brave, but he could not help the simple anxiety that welled in him, like a dozen moths in his stomach.  He was only comforted by the notion that he and his companions were going to save Sarah.  Despite all fears, he felt that they would succeed, that they would help his dearest friend.  “Sarah…” he moaned as he continued on, hoping deep down that somehow she could hear him.

He started to notice movement out of the corner of his eye.  Slowly he moved the fur from his eyes in order to see better.  He stopped as little faeries began to emerge from the mists, glowing brightly, barely finding form.  Their translucent wings seemed to come in and out of reality as they danced about his head.  The fae smiled down at him, and some brushed softly against his fur.  He smiled sweetly and awkawardly, feeling that they were close to him, innocent and curious.

“Ludo,” they coaxed.  “Sweet Ludo, do not be afraid.”

“Ludo scared.  Mists dark,” he said quietly, almost afraid of running them away if he were to speak too loudly.

“Then we shall light the way,” the faeries offered. The forest about him seemed to brighten at their words.

Ludo seemed uncertain, despite the seeming innocence of the beautiful sprites.  “Sage say Mists bad place.”

The faeries nudged him on.  “No, Ludo, not for one as innocent as you.  Your heart is true.  You shall find what you seek.  We will show you the way.  Do not be frightened sweet Ludo.”

His fear subsided.  He followed the little sprites as they pushed him on, twirling forward, lighting a path with twinkling brilliance reminiscent of the nighttime stars.

“Pretty,” Ludo said quietly, amazed by the beauty before him.  The Mists seemed to separate before him, and the sky could be seen overhead, sharp and clear.  The beast tilted his head back to marvel at its beauty.  The faeries smiled down upon him.

Benedick hadn’t traveled far before he was challenged by the dark powers of the Mists.

A mere ten yards had planted him firmly into a small, but deep, lake.

“Blast it all!” he shouted, flailing about as he suddenly realized that he could not swim.  “Where in Hades did… the lake… come from?” he managed to sputter out as he made repeated attempts at keeping his head above water.  His head was sopping weat, and his whiskers made a brave attempt at continuing to look dignified.  They could not possibly hope to succeed in light of his complete lack of swimming abilities.  During his brief moments above water, he could swear that he heard little faery voices chittering in the distance.

Suddenly he felt something plop in the water.  It was floating, so he instinctively grabbed onto it, rising above the water, and gasping for air.  The object cried, “Heyas, I gotta breathe too! Be careful whicha way you spin, me, ay?”  He looked down at his flotation device, and quickly realized he was holding onto Eepwot’s head.

He hacked up some water and finally said, feeling completely without grace thanks to his current condition, “Lost your head, eh?”

Eepwot’s brow darkened and he gave Benedick a look as if to say, “What do you think?”

“I’d say,” Benedick hacked, “that’s the first time a fiery losing his head was ever… an event to celebrate.”

“Hey, man-cat, quit yer philosophy and get us outta here, huh?”

“Right, right, couldn’t agree more,” Benedick managed, doing his best to dog-paddle over to the lake’s shore.  Sage was waiting at the edge to help him out.  Eepwot’s body stumbled out of the depths behind him, eagerly searching for its head.

“Ah, Sage, so kind of you,” Benedick said as the elf helped him out.  He tried hard to ignore Sage’s amusement over the matter.  “Hope you fared better than I did.  Does this mean we passed?”

Sage smiled at his very wet feline friend.  “I don’t know what it means, my friend.  Nothing is happening as I expected.”

Benedick handed Eepwot his head, after which the fiery eagerly returned it to its rightful place, turning it a bit to the left to make sure it was screwed on tightly enough.  “Blast it all, them faeries know how a fiery hates to lose his head for good!  Knocked it clean off, they did, and the buggers laughed all the way!”

Benedick snorted.  Water came out of his nose.  “How embarrassing,” he mumbled, licking his paw and wiping it over his face once before realizing the futility of such an action.

Sage suddenly seemed concerned.  “Wait – where is Ludo? And Mandelbrot?”

“Oh my, they couldn’t have gotten lost in the Mists, could they?” Benedick asked, quickly forgetting the mortification he had been feeling earlier over his situation.

“I don’t know,” Sage said, the worry on his face deepening.

They all looked around expectantly, but didn’t have to wait long.

Mandelbrot entered from the left, holding his staff before him. “Ah, there you fellows are!  What a pleasant journey this has been!” he exclaimed.

Benedick merely raised a very wet brow.

“Ah, maybe not for all of us…” the sorcerer corrected with a sly smile.  “However, I think things are looking up for us.  A very kind faery told me where to find Kaleb’s castle.  And that we would be meeting someone there.”

Before they had a chance to react to the sorcerer’s news, Ludo sauntered slowly from the forests, with Sarah and Granen in tow. 

“Ludo find Sarah,” he announced, smiling.  “Faeries Ludo friends.”