How to begin anew...this is my challenge, all the more so because I am not new and this is not truly a beginning for much at all, merely a glimpse into what has already become in the hope that it can be used to better the future. This, then, is my tale thus far:

Too far have I travelled in gloom and isolation from the living worlde. Many a starlit night have passed sith I left the granite keep of the Uncrowned King. Mayhaps for too long did I remain in the sanctuary of his aeternal twilight kingdom, for my soul ever longs for such pacification. I still carry with me His gift, a small vial filled with His tears, the blood He weeps ever morn for those who have died finding their way into the shadows and safety of His keep. It is strange to think back upon it...in any other circumstance the thought of so many seemingly trapped within the catacombs of His domain would seem horrifying, one only has to think of their fate previous to their current self imposed exile. The brideless Uncrowned King whose children are as numerous as the stars He sent me by...

How many nights have I been adrift, searching for the ever elusive clue or hint as to what had befallen my own Father. The Lourde of the granite keep had given me much knowledge, but even his libraries and unending ages of wisdom had no simple or direct answer. Instead I was given the babble of poets and the rambling of madmen. Already upon this quest I had met the one they call Sacher, a man made wise by wishes and the horrors they reaped. Much had he to tell of things we seek in life and the symbols that underlie such meanings and darkly lit corridors of the mind. Still, one is left in doubt of the fountain when the waters we taste from it are bitter; the winds of cynicism had carved a deep mask upon his face. Eager was I to depart from him, for my quest required a full heart and an unburdened spirit.

Not more than two moons ago I came upon Daniel, poor lost soul. Often had I heard the legend of this gentle sir, but never had I thought him real. He unfolded his sad story before departing from my company, thus was it as told to me by his own person: one night at a masque in the country he had heard the siren song, had met one of the dark daughters of the night. He could tell me little of her appearance, but the simple act of asking him and forcing him to remember almost brought him to tears. Certainly, she must have been gifted with the blessings of many nymphs. That night he spied her at the masque, and ever after has he searched countryside and cemetery hoping for some sign to guide him to her arms. His quest is the quest of Iranon, I fear... Iranon, whose footsteps I have seen in forests long passed.

Nothing I conveyed to Daniel brought relief, but I sang him an olde song as we sat together the last night of our company beneath the stars by firelight. I pray to the morning star that he might one day be united with his love. Much had changed sith the two moons I had broken ways with Daniel though, and long had the forests ceased to grow. Their inviting sight and smell, for sooth, all their senses were missed, but my quest led ever onward, past the mountains and their ridges. It was here I had come, a colde and desolate place. Though the harsh winds were not yet so terrible, they still screamed and moaned at night, attempting to wayward the weak-willed with many whisperings of self-doubt, loathing and deceit. The rich soils I was so accustomed to was replaced by hard frozen ground, well packed by glaciers long turned to lakes.

Ancient Gods had carved these mountains, jealous Gods who did not like outsiders invading their lands. On a night when the winds had died off, I unpacked my brazen bowl and burnt a bundle of herbs and incense I knew to be well suited to the likes of many Gods, for the Uncrowned Kind was familiar with the ways of many lands, His sons and daughters travelled far across this worlde and others before stopping for long rest in His stone walls. With a quick striking of flints the offering was soon ablaze, filling the night air with its aroma. I knelt then and placed my hands upon the earth, raising my eyes to see the stars. Silently I made a sincere supplication and asked for safe passage through their lands. I was far from my home, and lost from my kith and kin... ages it seemed from the nights I spent in the elfin gardens of my youth... the lands I sought were farther north and even farther still to the west.

I merely sought a passage through their domain. In the midst of my prayer came a strong and singular gust of wind, blowing the smoke into my eyes causing them to tears and burn. The smouldering ashes of my sacrifice were scatter from the toppled brazen bowl, falling harmlessly to the colde earth around me. With a howl it appeared before me, the messenger the Gods had sent to deal with this outsider. He had taken the form of a great wolf, which stood nearly my height when I stood fully erected. Kneeling as I was this massive beast towered over me, easily the size of a horse. His underside was covered in silvery white fur, whilst his top coated in black for long night hunts. One could only imagine what grew in these parts for such a giant animal to feed upon.

Between the black fur atop and the white underneath and barely visible in the moonlight was a thin band of red, seeming to glow against the rest of his body. As if his dramatic entrance had not gotten my fullest attention, he raised his own head and left forth a ghostly howl, which resonating devilishly against the near mountains and open plains behind me. With tyme his call was answered by others farther in the deeps of the mountain range. His breath came out at me with a fiery smell, billowing out in phantasmagoric wisps filled with a life of its own. He clawed at the ground before me and with a gnashing of teeth he spoke, demanding to know who I was that sought a way through lands not his own. If my own home was so far, why not turn back to be with my own kind?

This place was alien to me, he said, and being unfamiliar with the culture of his land and the ways of its people, how could I hope to seek refuge if needed? Some might even think it a blasphemy that an outlander had called upon the Gods here. Saliva dripped from many long tooth and fang as he growled and hissed at me. It was strange to hear the tongues that men spoke coming from a throat not designed to speak in such manners as men. He stared at me from emerald eyes that froze my very soul, demanding answers, questioning my perseverance. Before the Gods, there can be no lie hidden, and not even the foolish attempt to deceive the messengers of the Gods. I told him the truth of my journey, the unrest that had come across my Father, the near-death I travailed to reach the granite castle of the Uncrowned King, even told him of the ones I had met on my way to this place, though I never spoke to either fellow of my destination.

They each had their own business and I had mine. Hunching down closer, almost against my face he asked if I was the Poet of the Great King. To this I could only shed tears, for some strange loss passed over my Father, though it cannot be called death. He sniffed at the air about me, fiery breath washing over my face and into the fabric of my clothing. The blood of my Father still scented me, he whispered hoarsely with tones of sadness in his voice. Drawing away from me to sit upon his haunches he asked what else I carried, for certainly not even a poet was fool enough to tempt death with only the stench of death still on him. I withdrew the vial containing the tears of the Uncrowned King which shewn a colde blue, as the face of the waters of the deep beneath the wintry moonlight.

At the sight of this his jewel-eyes widened slightly suddenly filled with a curious intellect. Before I could ask what was behind his masking expression he laughed, a terrifying sound to heard from such a behemoth, its grim sound pervaded the night air. With that he rose and drew near again until he stood so close I was forced to cower upon the ground. I cannot say that fear was not pulsing through my veins, speeding my heartbeat. He stopped standing over me with his muzzle nearly pressing against my nose. Whatever became of me in the lands to come, he snarled, do not let anything happen to that vial, never lose even a drop. Always keep it close to my heart, and keep the end search of my quest in mind, so frequent that it became the mantra of my breath. All the while his great emerald eyes bore into the root of my being.

With a sharp exhale that filled my nostrils with the overwhelming scent of fresh ashes he leapt away, bound back into the night with more grace than any forest childe was ever given. So silent were his movements that the small rustlings of my garments in the sudden nature of his departure seemed a deafening roar. I was left with a crushing feeling of being totally naked before many prying eyes, oppressed by the loneliness of my surroundings. For a moment I longed for one of my past companions to accompany me on this journey, and somewhere far away or mayhaps in my own mind I could hear the voice of Sacher laughing. Tying the vial of tears with a string I dropped it over my neck and tried to sleep, not sure whether the Gods of this land would find me dead on the morrow.

As certainly as he had spoken though, I was safe. Untold things roamed my tent in the far-flung hours of the night, especially on nights when the moon was empty and a deeper kind of darkness settled over the mountains. Loath was I to try to imagine, instead my mind attempted to comfort my instincts by thinking of the horror of the tree-things and their pseudo-roots I had passed on the way to the granite halls. If sound were any judge of sheer nightmarish devilry, surely I would rather sleep in that wood with no fire or tent than to consider even looking to see what could make such a hideous cacophony of grunts and moans, to say nothing of the reeking stench that still clung after whatever things were lurking near in the night. Upon cresting a ridge deeper in the mountains I found a peculiar lake... mayhaps it was a trick of the lights or lack thereof, or my nerves were slowly coming to an end and madness was encroaching, but death would sooner find me of exhaustion than find my tent near the shore of that lake.

As I had come to the top of the ridge crest the last of the sunlight had shot a shaft of light deep into the clear waters of the lake. Oh, that those waters could have been clouded or of deeper hue. Never shall I speak of what I saw there, except to note that certain things from the ancient prehistory of the earth never truly vanish or can be destroyed, they either move or attain a different form. These certain noted 'things' might even be so powerful as to drag civilizations with them, the lucky which are destroyed in the transition, we find their bones and honour their dead. Where there should be graves found yet we can reach none, we shudder and pray to the Gods of all lands, seas and airs that they never are heard or seen again, lest the peaceful dead rise to reap their own vengeance, for it is wrong for life to cheat or escape death, and those things that survive unnaturally are continually sought by outside forces, the other forces, to return the balance and circle of life to its natural order.

With all haste then did I depart from that place, and may the Gods take my flesh before I return. My hurry had brought me into the night unprepared, so that my sleeping tent was only just up before the first sounds started again. Soon after I entered strange lumbering sound could be heard, some very near the tent. That night there were even scrapings against the tent, and I felt the dread that at any moment some insidious thing might rip the tent to shreds and find me underneath. I clasped the vial tightly and pressed my eyes tightly closed and prayed for an early morning. Though I did not know when sleep claimed me, I awoke to find the grounds outside the tent cracked, burned in places, and very near the tent coming from the path I have taken fleeing from the monstrous lake was a vomitous substance that contained sundry bones and bits of flesh, but overall stunk of sea salt.

Knowing I had little sustenance with which to make my way through the mountains, I focused on keeping my meagre breakfast down with thoughts aimed on the road ahead, meditating on the wisdom of wolves. Surely my guide had been from the very brood of Fenris. About midday through my wanderings I saw him again in the distance, apparently watching me with a fang-filled grin stretched across his face. Those eyes still so far away glowed bright against the sun, which seemed far away in these colde lands. Much of the worlde about me was white now, snow covered and barren of seemingly every bit of life. Nowhere did I see tracks in the snow, and the cacophony and horrors at night had died down tremendously sith passing into colder climes. Never did I see snow fall in these parts, even as I pressed deeper into the mountains, nor were there winds as one might expect as such heights above the worlde. My heart and spirits were lifted with the sudden thought that the Wolf had carried my truths before my Judges and secured a path for me through this wintered wilderness.

My dreams often now were filled with forested and warm summer waters, the memory of elfin gardens with their olde and majestic oaks. Upon waking to the colde morns I would often imagine the laughter of nymphs trailing swiftly away from my tent, and though it tore my heart to return to my homeland, knowing that I would return without answers or a sign of the Great King urged me on faster still. This pattern followed for many moons until I could tell from the growing of my beard that I had been searching a long tyme indeed. I was settling down to a sunset near the forest in my dream on night when suddenly my tent collapsed and strong hands were suddenly upon me, grabbing my feet, pulling the tent around me. I thrashed and cried out, fear of whatever unknown had come so close after so many nights alone now. But all my struggles were in vain, and quickly ended by a blow to the head that extinguished consciousness.

* * *

Returning to the waking worlde I did not find my situation bettered. Instead I found myself in some sort of carved crystalline structure, I would have first thought ice but there was only a faint chill to it. Whatever the substance was, I was encased in it up to forearm and knee, leaning partially against the wall. I feared making any movement or noise lest my captors return. The bizarre substance had seemingly grown over my limbs in the course of my slumber, yet even faint motions and muscle tensions proved it unrelenting in hold. Fear struck me that whomever or whatever had placed me here would at some point me back, unless I was to be left for death and other less fickle scavengers. A heavy despair began to set in until I let my head fall slack so my chin touched my chest. That was when I noticed; the vial was gone!

Panic struck, had it been lost in my thrashings or transportation here? I had no idea how I would ever be able to escape this place, nor did I realize how far I had travelled in the night. Doubtful in my condition that overpowering my oppressors was even a passing thought, considering the strength that had captured me the night before. I thought of the Wolf and his warnings and felt a pang of betrayal... first that I had lost the vial, last that I was not sure that this was his doing. Before any other thoughts of defeat could dance in my mind there came to my ears the sound of something approaching. It softly scratched against the floor as it drew nearer. In tyme I could hear a low droning chant matching tempo with disjunct footfalls. None of the words, if there were any, were known to me, indeed, even in my workings as a Poet and my studies in the libraries of the granite keep I had never heard of this place or whatever its inhabitants might be, let alone what type of language was spoken here.

A squat hooded figure in a loose fitting robe slowly turned the corner, face hidden in the shadow of his cowl. In his hands there was what appeared to be a wooden rod about the width of a finger and nearly a cubit long. It wavered slightly before him against the tyme of his chant rhythm. In vain desperation I attempted to conceal the fact of my consciousness from him by closing my eyes and hanging as limply as possible from my holdings. My heart pounded loudly and my ears were filled with the pulse of titan-hammers against their celestial anvils. He stopped not more than the length of an arm in front of me with the chant slowly dying on his lips. After a moment of silence, peering through a slit in my closed eyes I saw the rod in his hands raise and strike forcefully upon my chest, knocking the air out of me.

Try as I might, a scream would not come, only a passive wheezing sound escaped my lips. Again the rod rose, and again it struck. Soon though the corridor leading to me was filled with more chanting voices and the soft swishing of robes. Several more of these monsters turned and stood near the first and with similar procession ceased chanting and began striking me with their rods. Pain surged through my body as wood lashed against my ribs, my thighs, against my shoulders. As consciousness again started to fade I heard in the background behind my gasps for air and breathless cries of pain a harsh laughter echoing up from deeper inside the structure. It seemed like the cycle of my torture was endless, the dwarfish monk figures would appear chanting and proceed to beat me out of consciousness.

Each tyme I woke I thought the next tyme could surely bring my death, bones felt broken, muscles bruised, air torn from lungs. Yet somehow I survived, only to be attacked again. Never once did they speak in questioning or did I ever gain a glimpse of their faces, even their hands and arms were covered in long gloves. And always before the darkness came for me there was that haunting echo of laughter. Until many days and nights (who can keep tyme when the environment they are kept in changes not?) after my first capture I learned the source of the laughter. Upon their rounds that day I hear the monk-creatures chant begin, slow, mundane and yet slightly different in some way I could not understand, expectant almost. Instead of appearing in succession today they all appeared at once, in a single file line, holding this tyme not the rods of their pain, but fire-lit torches.

My eyes teared from the pain of sudden light until they began to adjust. As before they drew near, and as before they drew into a half circle around me. Thinking this was to be the end of my fate I bit down and prayed silently that I might be given another life to complete that which I had not in this one. If rods had not broken my body, I knew fire would dispel me, yet they stood within their usual striking distance and struck not. Their chant had droned down to a nearly unperceivable low sound, more like rocks grating than voices and they stopped, standing where they were. They slowly began to fan out making a hole in their midst, but I was too surprised by their inaction to notice the thing that approached. The sound of laughter came again, this tyme much closer, so close in fact that my head whipped up to see its source just clearing the turn down the corridor towards me.

Certainly, I thought to myself, this must be another messenger or lesser god come to me. The creature that approached was that of a young woman, high cheek boned and slender cheeks, yet a strong jaw line. 'Round her head was a mane of white hair with hints and streaks of silver in the reflected firelight. Her body was both slight but fairly shaped, covered from floor to neck in a long flowing dress that left only hands and the very top of the neck exposed. Its fabric was entirely of purplish blue, the night before the snow, and was decorated with small crystal designs of snowflake around the collar and cuffs, which appeared more like a writing system than random nature. As she strode closer, I realised the monk-creatures were staring at her in religious awe; it was then I was assured to be in the presence of some unknown great one.

As she came close enough to view in full flame-light, I saw that the dress had an exceeding long train and ran down the hallway she had just traversed, still fluttering slightly with her passing foot falls or as if by some unfelt breeze. She stopped where the squat things had made space, backing farther from her now that she was so near. Even I was not sure how to compose or address myself to her, but before I could think of what to say or do, I saw her eyes: limitless in the colde virtue, frozen and piercing as the moonlit tundra I had crossed getting here. They were a sharp shade of blue, again, unnatural... no human I had ever see had eyes this colour blue... biting, savage and ungiving. I opened my mouth partially to prepare to speak, partially in awe or fear or splendour but in a single deft motion a thin long fingered hand struck me full against the left side of my face, hard enough to force me to look away.

Strangely I realised my head was the only part of my body never struck by the monk-creatures. My amazement was so great that I did not even bother to move my head back to look at her, but my gaze turned enough to see those eyes...there was something there I could not tear away from. Little tyme did I have to admire their unique quality or to consider their poetry bounty for soon another open-handed strike caused my head to whip in the other direction. This tyme fear and surprise brought my instincts back to focus, I turned my face to look at her accusingly, bewildered and puzzled as to whose hands I had fallen into. As I stood there wondering what offence I had committed to receive such punishments without trial, she took two steps forward, close enough to see the light reflecting off those ice-lit eyes, staring into their frozen depths, when with her hands she cupped my face, causing my body to shiver and convulse and their sudden colde contact, I was wrenched by the unexpected sensation of physical touch without violence.

With a singular motion she bent slightly over me and placed a small kiss beneath left eye, then the right. Her lips were far colder than the icy death-like grasp that held my face towards her. Still holding my head she stepped back, and began to softly laugh, until the laughter grew into a hideous spasm, throwing her head back. The sound reverberated loudly so close. In a chilling halt into echoing silence, she looked straight at me with those eyes of frost and struck me once more before turning to stride silently out of the chamber in which I was held... When again I woke my body lay upon the floor of this keep, my ice-like confines removed or somehow dissolved. I felt weary both in flesh and spirit, and my mind ached with unanswered questions and misguided thoughts. I still had no real idea where this place was, nor any clues to the identity of my captors. But the zenith of my wonderings turned constantly towards Her, the vicious laughing daemoness who, I assumed, must be mistress of this place and high servant of the Gods of this strange land where I had fallen.

It is said that a man is given only so many chances to plead before Death until his tyme draws nigh, the sands of his life run too thin to carry any argument or persuasion against the Rex Mundi. The dream I had the night after she came to me, the laughing one, suddenly returned to me: I stood atop the crest of a dune in the deep desert, the fiery sun enraged that some living creature had perverted its passage towards purification. I could feel the grit of sand beneath my feet and blown into my face by playful wind-devils, but as I knelt down to grasp the earth beneath me, all the grains spilled loose, nothing remained in my hands... not even the dust of passage. Try as I might, not the smallest grain or speck of sand could I retain. The dream ended with as I watched myself from afar, hands flailing towards something under my crouching figure, but lo! all I saw was empty space.

My broken thoughts suddenly turned back to the warning of the wolf, and I wondered again if I had been betrayed. Even as I lay on the ungiving floor, my hands unconsciously wandered towards the emptiness where the vial of the Uncrowned King once hung 'round my neck. My eyes had just began to focus from the deep and much needed sleep filled with the troubles of Hypnos when an all too familiar sound started, travelling down the corridor nearing the place where I lay. The scuffle of booted feet! My heart thundered in its confines whilst my eyes shot open, searching for a weapon, anything I could use to defend myself. Though I cast their light around this chamber, nothing was there, no loose particles or even small stones could be found. What was this place made of? Certainly ice would give off some sensible colde, or for that matter, stone or iron would have a similar colde aura.

But I felt nothing, neither heat nor lack thereof from my surroundings. The footfalls, it must be near now... remembering that my attackers had been of diminished stature my thoughts ran to overpowering my unknown foes, though their past beatings had shewn strength that defied size. With thoughts filled with violence against my aggressors I struggled to rise, but with much struggle and moans of pain and weariness, managed only to turn my body over and prop myself onto my knees. Wavering and weak, I tried to steady myself to counter whatever blows were to befall me, but when the hooded bastard came round the passageway, no weapon did he hold, only a long strip of cloth. As the creature neared, I saw what it held more clearly, some type of harness, perchance made of leather or some similar material. Again I heard the strange rumbling I could only describe as chant, but as it was not so close, mayhaps I thought it was only a deep rasping breathing. What is chant other than pitched exhalation?

I had no tyme to thrash or attack, the creature deftly moved behind me and began to tie my hands to another length of leather at my waist, both of these were connected to my neck, so that if I moved my arms too far self-asphyxiation would occur, the cord around my neck tightening until I dropped my arms behind me again. After checking and re-checking his bonds he tied a final length of material to the one about my neck to function as a leash. At the first tug I fell hard to the floor, mostly on my face, and as my hands moved to steady my landing, I began to gasp for air. Again he pulled, but this tyme I was fast enough to rise, finding the height of the passage so that I was forced to slouch slightly. But as I soon found our journey was long, and stooping even slightly became a distinct pain. Whenever I would slow or try to stop, the creature would give the leash a sure tug, and I would land with much commotion and pain on the floor.

Rising was not easy without the use of my hands, but I found ways, for he was not slowing in progress towards his mysterious purpose. Tunnel after tunnel we pasted until I thought we sought the very root of this mountain, if not the roots of Yggdrissal. On I trudged until the ceiling rose, dramatically, soaring in fact until I lost sight of it in the low light of this cavernous maze. The walls too grew wider, much wider even than the streets of the Granite Keep. Its memory burnt my heart in this asperian foreign place, but my mind reeled with thoughts and ponderings on where it was I followed towards, to what end would this march come? We had come farther seemingly than I had travelled on my way through the mountains when my guide slowed. It dropped the leash without warning or sound, and its gloved hands rose to make several furtive signs, none of which I had ever seen or studied. It stood a moment as if listening to some response, though I heard nothing and saw no movement of answer.

With that it turned to me and pointed into the darkness farther down the corridor. I took that it meant for me to go on alone and passed it a questioning look, but before I could speak, its hands danced again in designs and patterns my eyes could hardly see, and my mind failed to comprehend. With that the thing passed by me and I turned watching it move almost soundless down the endless passage. I was not diluted enough to dream of a hope for escaping, there was no way for me to map or remember our passage, or to return hence... I had no way of finding an exit to this infernal palace. Some animal instinct told me that getting lost in here would bring terrible consequences, some to the flesh, and I feared others to the soul. There were several passages we had passed where I had caught the distinct scent of sea salt and I knew then that this place must be either connected to the unspeakable horror under the lake I had (pray my soul!) only imagined, or worse yet, mayhaps built by those same godless hands.

With an internal shudder that nearly brought me to my knees, I turned to face the darkness at the end of tyme, for I felt that my hourglass was emptied in the long passage to this place, my sands would be crushed underfoot by hooded creatures for the remaining days of the earth. My mind smashed, my spirits escaping aethery wisps, I turned into the darkness and began my descent. The ground here did indeed lead downward on a slow slope, but the walls and ceiling were far from visible perception. I blindly stumbled downward, a sense of utter futility filling my being until I noticed a strange shift in the air. First only in faint passing, but it became magnified as I descended farther. It was the smell of water, not the deathly terror of seawaters, but fresh water. The air also became heated and extremely heavy, rather oppressive with the abundance of moisture around me.

Colde sweat felt like insects crawling all over my body, causing another inward shudder. My bonds grew no looser in the tyme as I walked alone downward. With a stray thought I lost footing and landed hard again, nearly choking consciousness out. As I gasped and rolled to my feet, there was seen not too far now the light of many small flames, as in the radiance of candled ensembles. No longer fearing but now curious I continued towards the warmth and light ahead. A narrow entranceway appeared shadowed by the light, followed by the smell of burning incense, something strong and bitter...wormwood by the taint of it. Eyeing the rounded archway I entered into the inner sanctum of this underground palace. What I found was nothing less than a miracle, a sign of the power of the Gods in this foreign land I had crossed into.

Surely, the womb of the earth must be the source of this deep yet clear water, far into the distance it reached, seemingly for miles, whilst every few feet traversing the uneven wall of this majestic cavern were candles, massive pillars of them, many tymes larger than those used in prayer services, burning from many wicks each. Above each was a wire basket in which were the herbs I smelt, and again I felt the pungent breath of wormwood, but here it was mingled with untold spices, the roots and petals of plants I could not name, for in truth, who alive knew what grew in this part of the world, deep within where no light of the sun ever shewn? There were several steps leading down into the waters not far from the entrance, and a short walk from there another arched passageway leading out to more shadow-filled halls. From that way I heard a low moan of wind, but my senses were still enrapt by the mysterii before me to notice much.

That was when I saw her, the one I had hear laughing before. She was swimming slowly, as if lost in her own inner dreams. I realised then that this was no servant of any God; this was the Queen of this Mountain and all its surrounding regions. With a sharp inhale she slipped effortlessly beneath the slow waves as I was drawn child-like towards the stairs leading into the warm waters. Again I faintly heard the wind from the other passageway and wondered momentarily where it led. Was the very wind of this land at the command of this God? Looking toward the arched way as if it would answer, my eyes saw a slight movement from just outside their light of vision. When I turned, the sinister daemoness of this place had emerged partially from the waters, a slight myst of steam rising off of her form. It was then I noticed something the distance and low lighting of this place had not revealed to me before... She swam slowly over to a low ledge where she turned and stared those frozen eyes at me.

She lifted her body out of the waters far enough to rest her elbows onto the ledge near one of the pillar candles. A frightening predatory smile spread across her thin face then, so sudden a change that I caught my breath and stepped back. She began a low laugh that the arc of the ceiling brought to me and as the sound reached my ears, the impact was that of a sharp blow, almost physical. Harsh against the fire light I could see the frozen inner surface of her eyes swirling, dancing and full of colde life. With a self-satisfied grin she pushed off and began swimming towards where I stood. Her movements were slow and graceful, but there was something haunting about them, familiar yet alien. I slowly backed away when my attention was again caught by the archway not far from here. Even as pale dreams of escape danced wickedly before my eyes, I saw a great shadow coming down the passageway beyond the arch.

With silent paddings, the great wolf that had been sent as messenger to me appeared, eyeing me sharply. Something like a malicious smile crossed his face, and his body shook with what must have been laughter, as if to say that he knew we would have met again in this place. I paced backward carefully as he approached, though as he passed the stairway leading into the waters, he clawed about the rough earth and with a mighty stretch, laid himself down. The red line dividing his upper and lower colourings stood out vividly in the candlelight, and indeed, his entire coat seemed to almost shimmer in the half-light. With his eyes still boring into mine, and his massive ears turned towards me I heard a new sound. With a small splash of water the Queen of this place rose above this vast inner sea with warm vapours billowing off her body.

Staring at me as much as her servant, her hand rose to play with some small thing that hung between her breasts. My vial! I could see its bluish tone even from where I stood. Still rolling it between her fingers, with slow dance-like movements she pranced to where the wolf lay and let him lick some of the water from her body. I stood in mute horror and fascination watching these strange creatures, wondering what fate had decreed for me here. Soon enough she lowered herself to recline against the great body of her messenger and his tail flicked across her feet. Turning his head, he nuzzled and continued to lick her hair for some tyme before they seemed to remember that I stood not far watching. Seeing me again he snarled slightly, but she ran her hands over his lustrous coat, and with a slight tap to his muzzle he silenced, and lay his head on his front paws, watching me still with those haunted jewel-eyes.

Still stroking his head with one hand, she brought the other back to twirl the vial I was told not to lose, the vial that was supposed to keep me safe though I had somehow found my way to this hideous place. Her eyes were staring inwardly for a while before they rose to examine me. With a small sigh she let the vial fall back between her small breasts and waved her hand towards me. I immediately noticed the bonds holding my arms loosened and let them finally hang loosely at my sides. Still, I rubbed my neck absently as she continued to stare at me, the water still mysting off her form, the breath of the wolf curling into vapours, the stench of poisonous herbs burning all around. Suddenly I felt a terrible pain burrowing deep within me and with a cry of pain landed roughly on my knees, falling forward to catch myself before I landed on my face once again.

I began coughing, violently, wondering what the battery I faced before now had done to my body. I was certain that most of my ribs were broken which caused the fit of coughs to hurt all the more. My knees and my arms cried out against having to support my weight on their bruises, and though I had tried not to, I once again crashed my face into the floor there. As I passed into the hands on Hypnos and Somnia, I tried to recall the gardens of my youth but could not. I tried to remember the meandering passages of the granite cathedral, but could not. And try as I might, I was even unable to call to mind the image of the face of my Father. In my dream I wept, all those tears that I could not bring into living memory a single moment before now. But this was not to last, for even in the dream I felt something strong twist around my neck, and to my horror it began to drag me forward.

To my joy and regret that brought back at least the memory of the pseudo-trees before the granite keep, but now I thought they had found me again, and that soon enough I would be in the palace beneath the seas of crystal and fire. Feeling warmth all about me I opened my eyes, which I had not realised were closed. Directly before my face now was the queen of this icy hell, and with a horrid shock I realised that something terrible had happened to me. I held myself on trembling arms crouched over her, and by the tugging on my neck I realised she must have risen to find the leash and pulled me almost on top of her before I could regain consciousness. I was so close to those cruel eyes now, but my vision was clouded by tears once more. So close to her and the wolf now their scent assaulted my tattered senses - he was the forest again, all wood and leaves with an undercurrent of something almost floral, her scent was terrible though.

She smelled mainly of snow, crisp and bitter against the burning herbs somewhere in the distance. There was also the scent of the deep waters of the earth on her that smelled to me of blood. Still holding tightly to the leash so that my feeble strugglings were in vain, with her other hand she brushed away the tears that streamed down my face and clouded my vision. My entire worlde was swallowed by her terrible eyes and their colde stare. So cruel they seemed, like a wintry battlefield strewn with countless dead. I strained again to back away, but with her free hand upon my back she pressed me down on top of her. The feeling of her frozen skin was repulsive to the sweat that clung to my form, but her hold was too powerful for my weakened body. With my head pressed against her neck she wrapped my arms about her colde flesh and wrapped her legs about me, pressing me closer.

Even her trembling breath against my ear was chill, and my own breath became ragged with the revulsion I felt being pressed like this. Running her arctic hand through my tangled hair, she began whispering to herself in some strange tongue that brought to mind the lands I had wandered to here - all mountainous and rugged, with winds tearing across tundra and glacial lakes. Continuing to stroke my hair with her deathly fingers, she brought up her other hand, which held the vial on the Uncrowned King. When I tried to free my hand to reach for it, she wrapped her fingers in my hair and pulled till I thought it would be torn from my scalp. I cried out against the pain and my body went limp. All I could think about was how I failed, how this repellent creatures would bring about some ghastly end for me.

Clasping me about the neck and for the moment removing me from contact with her icy flesh she removed the stopper of the vial and placed it against my lips. As she began to turn it up I could not help but to instinctively swallow the fluid that poured over my cracked lips, into my mouth. It was the bitter draught of Plathotis that the daemons delight in that coursed over my parched tongue and burned down my throat then, and though I did not wish to, I continued to swallow against the flood that came from the vial that seemed to flow endlessly. When she finally lowered the vial I felt as if I might vomit. The bitter drug burned in my body, I could feel it down my limbs and tickling up my spine, stabbing into my brain and searing even more tears from my eyes as with her powerful arms she crushed me against her again. There were sorrows untold in the drug that scorched my innards, but for a moment I saw the Garden of Zais once more, and through the dense curtain of vapours I saw a tower pointed like an antenna straight to heaven.

From its crown light flooded, spilling down its smooth black sides whilst for a great distance about this tower there was a wasteland, desolate though the light itself seemed so warm. Feeling her hand again wandering through my hair and cringing as the other came to wipe away my tears I heard her singing softly to herself. With growing horror I realised that I recognised the melody, that I had heard this very same song from the choirs of the granite cathedral so far from here. I could see the Uncrowned King then solemnly conducting all the voices about him in music that echoed down from the boundaries of the mortal worlde. With each motion, his crown of black thorns tore into him, and I could see his face shimmering in a sheen of blood and sweat. As his eyes slowly turned towards mine in this vision a calm but sad smile crept over his face and he seemed to nod whilst all about him voices rose and fell in strange harmonies.

Then I heard her softly call my name and the vision disappeared as suddenly as it had come. Her words were strangely accented, but my own name was clear enough to me though I tried to struggle against one who knew my name, the name given to me by the Great King so long ago. She laughed again at my pitiful attempts to back away, and only pressed me harder against her colde body. Her legs began to move suggestively against my sides, down my legs and she pressed her hips against mine. I could only cringe in aghast horror at this though. She was a terrible creature and I was trapped here at her mercy. But almost in a whisper she continued, asking me if her father still kept the light burning high atop the stone in the tower of the granite keep. At this I ceased to struggle and my breath choked. Ye gods! Was this blasted thing the daughter of the Uncrowned King?

To this thought she answered yes, that she had been born by him in another age of the worlde but had followed her destiny down another path. I was shocked and horrified by this revelation. I tried to grasp this concept but she went on, telling me now that I was to have a new name, and that my quest against the Great Unrest was to continue in lands far from here. Brushing her icy fingers across my face she whispered some apology for the brutal treatment I was given, but that I had to be broken so that when I finally recovered I would be able to face the greater terror that still awaited me. She said that there was some curse loosed upon the worlde, and that the Great Unrest was destroying lands and kingdoms now, grown more powerful than any plague or army. I whimpered something about what I was supposed to do against all this death and destruction but she again laughed, replying that it was not her quest, or the duty of her kind to decide these things now.

I had been charged with this, and I would not be spared to rest or seek to fulfil my life as a Poet until this was over. That, she said, was why I was to be given a new name, and with it a new power and understanding of what was to come. And so, with her powerful arms she pushed me off her form and rising, pulled the leash till I stood next to her. With a cautious glance down I saw the wolf still rested with his head upon massive paws, and with a blaze of his jewel-eyes he bared his teeth at me before rising. It was terrible to see this great beast that must have survived since some dim age long past nearly towering over me. His breaths beat down upon me, but resting his huge jaws on my shoulder without crushing my weak form beneath it, he hissed into my ear that I was never to forget this, and that his kith and kin would be watching my tracks in all lands.

At that I shook fiercely, and it was with immense relief I saw him slowly and silently make his way back through the archway and disappear into its shadow. With him gone there was less warmth about me, and I shivered as the daemoness pulled the leash towards the steps into the primordial waters. I had no wish or desire to feel those waters about me after this ordeal, but her will and strength was not to be denied. All about us now the candles had burned low, and I wondered how long I had been forced to lie on top of her terrible frozen body. With my first step I felt the draught I had been made to drink earlier burn through my being again. Once more my eyes danced with vision, and for a tyme I saw great terrible worm-like beings struggle and thrash against their bonds in the shadow of the candlelight. Their dreadful cries shook the very air about me, and I stumbled almost to the floor before the leash dragged me chokingly to my feet.

I turned my eyes back to those deep and dark waters with loathing as her feet passed over the first few steps. Soon enough I felt their warmth pass through my boots, and again thought that at any other moment this would have been comforting, even nepenthe, but with the burning drug dancing in my veins I could feel only disgust. I had long since ceased to struggle though; there was no victory in that. My mind still reeled from the things I had been told, and I tried feebly to grasp it all still. When we stood about waist deep in those vile waters she stopped, and turned back to me, shooting me through again with those cruel eyes. They seemed verily to be carved from ice, and they bore no trace of humanity or the things that live and find joy in the light of the distant sun.

Pulling me close I felt anew the loathing of her body made all the worse by the warm waters all about us. She now held the leash by the topmost part nearest the collar so that I was forced to look at her at all tymes. She stood there for some while, inflicting her stare upon me, and through the vision of the draught I felt their gaze boring away at what little I had left within me. Then they infused with a strange mix of emotion, in some parts pity and in some parts something I could not well define. This creature was not human and had never been, and by her actions and words it seemed that she knew almost nothing about their emotive expressions. Some strange blur of feeling crossed her face when she spoke again, saying to me that there was a long quest before me now, but that my new name should give me some power over some of the perils I would face.

Looking to the waters for a moment she then whispered that mayhaps in some other tyme, in some other body she would have bore my children. When I began to speak, to question her after this she raised her fingers to my lips, and they burned there coldly until she caressed my face with those terrible and powerful fingers. Her other hand suddenly rose the vial to her own lips, and as she closed her eyes I watched again in mute horror as she drained the remaining contents into her mouth. Throwing the vial carelessly towards the floor some distance away, she clasped my head in her vice-like grip. My own hands rose to pry her fingers away from me, but with the power of a god she pulled me forward until our bodies were again pressed together tightly.

A single tear burned down her cheek then, and I saw that like her father she wept in blood. Astonished, I watched as it travelled down her body into the waters around us. As it sank into the slight waves about us I hear the distant and despairing cry of a great wolf. With that, she pressed my lips against hers and forced the fluid from the vial into my mouth. I tried to back away, to spit it out, but she kept my lips locked to hers until I swallowed that most terrible of poisons. As the tears of the Uncrowned King burned down my yearning soul again and caused my vision to cloud over, she continued to hold me to her, and through my belabouring hallucination I saw another tear fall from those cruel eyes.

And with that, she placed another icy kiss upon my lips, this one tender and almost sad. Before I could see another tear fall she released me, and I fell into the waters...