When I awoke from death it was to screams...
My own screams echoing into the night...

This was how I once again found myself in the Garden of Zais, and far from the clutches of the old woman who had sought my death with a fang-blade. I was screaming to the strange stars, planets and suns that wheeled through the dense curtain high above. What more can be expected from all that I had been through? From the Falling of the Walls, from the solitude of the Granite Keep, from the mountains in the far north that tower over the worlde and harbour a daemon queen, from the words my Father had spoken in the underworlde... And from all these things to be returned to the Gardens of my youth, yet had they changed or had I?

Once more I was cradled in the roots of the ancient oak that stood in the Heart of the Garden, and softly lilting through the branches I could hear the ebon-crowned Prince strumming upon his harp. As the echoes of my screams died away into the silence of the Garden, I realised it must have been this music that had awaken me, and I could feel its soothing magick burning back the pain of all the poison that had so recently burned through my soul. My clothing and all my material belongings lay in a carefully ordered pile not far from where I lay partially buried in the black earth at the base of this cyclopean tree. It was disconcerting to feel that if I had not awakened, this would have been my grave. As I began to brush the loose earth from me, I came to the scars that now ran all down my form: the many scars I had gain traversing the foothills to the Granite Keep from the dreadful tree-things, the internal scars of the beatings I had endured in the north, and the new purplish and silvery scars that laced down my chest where once the image of the feather had been carved into my flesh. It was not entirely gone, and by the light of the moon through the branches I could still make out some outline reaching down my body. Its accursed magick was gone though, and only the haunting power of its memory remains, and I fear shall ever remain in some part.

I was not long in gathering my wits enough to dress myself, and as I did once more I realised the draught of Plathotis had been assuaged from tormenting me. I could not feel its fire burning down my inner being, or tearing my eyes as I stood and struggled into my garments. They were not many, and I was not long in re-acquiring them, though in wrapping them about my form, I could not but help realising how thin and frail I had become. My boots I left off, however I threw them over my shoulder should need call for them. The rich earth felt cool and comforting beneath my feet, and for some tyme I paced beneath the tree, wondering if Iranon had recently passed this way. I did notice a wreath of flowers that must have recently been left here, but it was not his work, and I wondered what things had changed in the Garden since I had left this place so long ago now.

As I made my rounds about the oaken tree at the Heart of the Garden, I heard a rustling in the underbrush nearby, and much to my consternation appeared two graceful leopards. Their images could not have been more contrasting, though both carried some ethereal sense I could not place. One was all black, as if verily carved of onyx, yet the other was pale as the first snowfall. They appeared side by side, and to the flicking of their ears to the thrashing of their tails, their movements were mirrored. For a moment I wondering if the tears of the Uncrowned King had again found root in my veins, but a vigorous rubbing of the eyes and a quick inhalation brought these creatures into better focus. They were true as they appeared, and no imagining of mine could call them away as the shadows of hallucination.

They both looked to each other with pale green eyes, and looking back to me seemed to smile. It was not the hideous smile of the crow-familiar of that terrible old woman, but rather the sinuous grin I had seen across the muzzle of the great messenger-wolf I in the north, and I wondered for a moment if... But these creatures were different, if only in the fact that their smile held no grim fascination, no secret horror lurked on their lips, no ghastly pronouncement came from their tongues. As they stepped closer, I backed away until I stood against the trunk of the tree, and seeing my fear they stopped in alarm. The melody above never lost tempo or its wistful delight, and for a moment my eyes looked up, seeking some glimpse of those immortal halls high above.

When I looked back to where the leopards had been, I felt there must be some trick about. Mayhaps I had lain in the earth long enough for some wayward nymph to place her charms upon me, for as I looked to where the leopards had so recently sat there now knelt two maidens, dressed in silken robes the likes of which I had never seen. They turned again to each other and smiled in that playful way of theirs, and with another look to me began to approach again.

But mustering my courage, if only in the departure of my sanity I called to them, "Be you gods or daemons seek not my blood here, for the Garden is sacred and should never be tainted with blood lest the ancient words prove true. If you be some weird fae creature appear to me in your true forms! I have not knowingly brought evil in my heart to the Garden, though all the evils of the worlde would follow me here."

To this they laughed, and covered their fair faces with hands that ended in claws. Ah, and it was then I noticed the ears. I had been too long in the fever-dream to remember all I had been taught concerning the creatures of the worlde, and these things must be changelings. They were themselves but creatures of legend in my motherland, but their forms were pleasing to behold, and their laughter without malice. Instead they seemed delighted in my foolish trepidation, and I soon began to laugh myself. I must admit, there was a hint of hysteria in my laughter, but such is the result of this lot that had been cast upon me. It had been countless moons since my voice called out in mirth, and too long had I been in torture both of flesh and spirit. With a rustling of robes they stood, and brushing the leaves and twigs from their garments they moved towards me once again.

Their tails moved distractingly, and it was amusing if bizarre to see the movements of these two creatures cast both in light and in darkness. Their eyes were large, and by the light of the midnight sun I saw their pupils were still feline, and slits rather than the orbs of my kind. I stood with my back to the tree still, though in a more relaxed stance now that I had seen the initial error of my ways, and looked from one maiden to the other, remembering somewhere that I had heard these creatures tended to be playful and mischievous, though generally not malicious. Some tales warned that these creatures were never to be trusted as they were sworn to two different powers, but not all that has passed down the ages is wisdom. The two changelings moved closer until their hands sought mine, and looking to each other again a soft laugh played from their lips, which ended in a rumbling purr.

Still holding my hands they stepped again closer, till I was pressed against the tree, and with a surprising look in their eyes they stared into mine, and I could feel the hairs along my neck prickling. With a flurry of motion they had my arms around them and were nestling against me, scratching their claws carefully down the opening in my tunic and down my chest, which I am sure caused me to blush tremendously. This was growing from pleasant to peculiar when one of the maidens caught scent of something on me and pulled her sister away. She said something quietly to her in a tongue I found both alien and familiar, and though I felt I must know this language from somewhere the words would not come to mind. They cast each other another secretive glance and were advancing towards me again when I heard that resonant voice from the dream call out to them.

"Kara, Yana, I will not have you spreading your wiles upon our Guest. I would ask that at least for the moment you spread nothing else upon him either. I have but recently brought him back from the very cusp of death, and though the storm he has traversed getting here was wrought with perils, I am not certain what you have in mind is the best medicine." And then I saw him again, I saw him as from the fever-dream.

Loosening their hold on my hands they back away a few paces and bowed to the owner of that voice who was but now appearing from between the low branches of a tree I had not seen in the Garden before. His hair was still tied in plaits as it had been, all white and unfamiliar in colour. Not even the farmers of my land who were exposed to the light of the sun all harvest long had hair so brilliant. The light of his eyes flickered in the distance, and as he approached I could once more make out their amber colour, though their glow seemed slightly reduced. His long pale robes were wrapped about him, and seeing this stranger the two changelings let out a gleeful meow and ran to his side.

Once more they began conversing in that odd tongue of theirs, and once again I strained to remember where I must have heard this before, but it escaped me. They spoke to him, and as they ended with a grin that shewed their feline fangs, he threw them both a curious glance, as if to ask if they were sure of what had been said. To this they nodded eagerly and pointed in my direction. I attempted to straighten my garments and tied off my tunic before stepping to meet the one who had so recently saved me.

"I know not the greetings of this land, o Lourde, but I hail thee. I know you not, but you saw fit to save my life, and to this I am placed deeply in your debt." Here it was I that bowed, indeed I knelt before continuing, "I would ask your name and your homeland, and ask you to say how I might cleanse the way between us."

As he had initially called to me in a language I knew well enough, I responded with the same, and I saw the light of recognition in his eyes. He said a few gentle words to the changelings, who looked to me again in that troubling way of theirs before they bounded off deeper into the Garden. He looked up to see them moving with ease through the woodland that would have made jealous any forest childe, and with an offered hand brought me to my feet. Feeling somewhat abashed I took it and rose.

He stood over me by nearly half a cubit, and I felt daunted next to this dazzling thing. I had noticed his wings were not visible, though there was some sense of the winds still about him, and some of his plaits still surged back and forth as if by their own volition. When he had pulled me to my feet his hand had the feeling of feathers, light and delicate although I could feel power in their grasp. I had seen this very being destroy the old woman before she would have destroyed me, and I knew that he must have been the one who had returned me to the Garden, to what end I knew not.

To me he only smiled placidly, and the gaze in his eyes held my tongue. I felt there was something more to say, but something caught it in my throat, though I think a sigh passed my lips. Seeing me begin to slump, he placed a strong hand on my shoulder, and turning began to move at my side as we walked into the Garden of Zais.

As we passed both tree and flower I found unfamiliar, he threw me another laughing look and said, "I have been waiting for this moment for quite some tyme now. The stars have shewn me your footfalls, and the terrible paths you have crossed in reaching this place." Seeing me look from him to the seemingly unfamiliar surroundings he continued, "You have noticed the Garden has changed. I was hoping you might shed some light on this, though from what I have come to understand in my long nights here the Garden in part of another dream. Do you know who set this great power in motion?"

I could not answer for a long time. I felt the earth, fallen leaves and flowers brushing my feet as we wandered the Garden, though he seemed to be guiding us to some specific point. At length I shook my head; I did not know the answer to these things he sought. My own questions were still in my throat, though I thought they must have been singing loudly enough in the pounding of my heart. What was this being? How was it that I was returned to the Garden, but it was different?

When we had at length journeyed to the place he sought he motioned for us to stop, and I could see the changelings crouched in the bow of a willow tree not far from where he sat us. A stone's throw away was a meandering stream, and starlight swirling in its current. The long strands of the willow blew faintly in a breeze that was scented with the opiate aroma of nephalot and astalthon blossoms. Over the streamlet was a marble bridge, one that again seemed familiar yet different. Once more it was carved with the images of faeries and daemons, but it seemed the choreography of their dance had changed or moved on since I had left. The shadow of the moving branches against the carvings of the bridge gave the illusion that they were in motion even now. It was then I caught sight of another coming across the bridge.

At the first glimpse of him the two leopardesses let out a jovial squeal and leapt from their branches to rush towards this newcomer. As he approached I could see nothing of him, the two had changed form upon the bridge and were now dancing and twirling around this other, and spoke to him in a swift moving tongue that was pleasing to hear, yet totally foreign to all that I knew. Between their flickering tails, the fluttering of their robes and the dim half-light of the Garden I could see nothing of him except a bright splash of colour down his robes until he stood before us...

To say that this new arrival was beautiful would have been a failing of words. Even I, a Poet, was left stunned by him as he emerged from the quivering robes and dancing maidens. His hair was dark as mine and somewhat longer, hanging loosely down to his slender waist, but his had a rich warmth to it, and there were still flowers tied in his hair. An enthusiastic smile played across his full lips as he teased the changelings to dance with him. His eyes were still half closed, as he twirled and waltzed towards us, but I could see a slight slant to them. Giving the tall white haired being next to me the wide-eyed look of those eyes I saw they were almond shaped and large, and the green of spring seemed to shimmer in them. His brow was arched over a thin nose that came to a slight point, and his rounded features gave him a look closer to the maidens he danced with than the being next to me or myself. His olive skin has an almost powdery shimmer to it in the moonlight, and I realised he must be from the Des-aret I had learned of but recently. His shoulders were too wide for a woman, but his tender footfalls would have made an imperial courtesan envious. As he turned and cavorted, I caught glimpse of that splash of colour and saw it was a long strip of fabric attached to a leather collar around his slender throat. This too spun about with his movements, and its multi-coloured patterns seemed to leave trails across my vision, though I strained not to blink lest this pass away as some phantom.

At length he stopped spinning with enough momentum left to land him in the arms of the being next to me. Wrapping his arms around the tall stranger, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Even in his breath was the laughter of his dance, but the white haired one laid a large hand on this new childe and said in little more than a whisper, "Open your eyes, Yesaria. I have brought him here, and now there are many things to be said."

Here Yesaria opened his eyes and saw me, though I had been standing at less than arm's length for most of this tyme I must have back away a pace or so as he came closer. Languidly he opened his eyes, which grew impossibly wide when he saw me standing so close. This gave him a furious start, which in turn caused me to jump. For a moment he looked at me accusingly, and wrapped his arms about his tall companion possessively. He stared at me with his head resting against that broad chest while the other's hand rested lightly on his head.

"Please, let there be no enmity between us. Introductions are in order, I believe." Turning slightly more towards me he began stroking those long flowing tresses. "I am the Lourde of this land, and Master of the temple which has stood of olde in remembrance of things that have departed this worlde. My name I fear I have forgotten, but ever since I was found wandering and dazed on the edge of the Des-aret the people of this land have called me a 'daeva-man'. This is not the title I was known by in the lands I am from, but..."

The one he had called Yesaria looked up to him, as if recalling something. His eyes flashed again in the light, and he whispered something to the daeva-man in their foreign tongue; something the daeva-man was apparently not ready to hear, for as the words struck the air his eyes teared up. Yesaria reached a long-fingered hand towards his Lourde's face then, and brushed his cheek where a single tear had fallen.

"Yes, that is what they used to call me..." the daeva-man said as he bowed his head to Yesaria's. I was not sure what to do or say, and though I could feel through the powers of the air and the scent of the blossoms and the carvings of the bridge that this must be the Garden of Zais, I could not help the feeling that I had wandered into some totally alien worlde. The two changelings kept looking back and forth from where the two in white robes clung to each other to where I stood, my hands clasping and unclasping at my sides. They seemed equally unsure what was to be done, and with a dejected look flopped to the ground and began to mewling sadly. I could not but imagine some taint of mine had brought all this sorrow to the Garden.

Looking back to where I stood, where I was longing in that moment to be anywhere else in creation, the daeva-man once more spoke. "There are many things must be said, things we must tell you, and things I hope you can tell us. But first, I would ask..." But his words stopped mid-breath, and a faint bluish light fell over everything. I could no longer feel the breeze, or see it moving the willow though some of its branches still hung in the air. The two changelings who had turned to clinging to each other still had their mouths open, but their meows had ceased. Even Yesaria, who had once again begun staring at me, had his eyelids caught half closed over his large eyes.

There was a trickle of something warm and wet drawing down my face, and I went to brush it away before it fell into my eyes. When I looked down to the stickiness in my hands I saw they were smeared with blood. Out of the corner of my eye there was a motion of something silver passing near the trees across the bridge, and I tried to look away before I threaten the binding of magick that held the Garden to the waking worlde, but could not...

Far overhead stars, planets and suns flared like fiery wheels through a thick white vapour...