"Excerpt from the Journals of Leandra Alia Jollords, the beginning of Spring, 1459."

  "I existed as a mere puppet, bereft of any capability to shape my own destiny. From my very birth, my heart lacked empathy, leaving me unable to comprehend or support the struggles of others. In due course, I became akin to a beast, driven only by the lure of a prize, forever subservient to the machinations of others.

  Regardless of whether my path led me towards the dazzling light or the ominous shadows, life never granted me a chance to truly seize the concept of free will. Always shackled to the decisions made for me, I was held captive like a mere pawn in a treacherous game of fate. Two powerful wizards, like puppeteers, pulled at the strings of my destiny, while I drifted aimlessly like a fallen leaf, tossed about by the winds of change with each passing season, watching precious years wither away.

  Perhaps this was my wretched curse; never anchored with a true sense of purpose, little did I realize the far-reaching impact my choices would have on others. My greatest regret is that I failed to foresee the inevitable repercussions of my actions, allowing my beloved niece Allendra to remain cloaked in uncertainty and waste her potential before my very eyes.

  After spending a few more days in Anthedia for Alleyna's funeral and bidding Alleyna a meaningless farewell in Anthedia, Elaphar had whisked us away to a hidden Orion Abbey nestled within the Stardust Mountains near Harven.

  This sanctuary served a dual purpose as a nursing home and sanatorium, where the skilled hands of the Orion priests tended to the shattered mind of Alex, whose sanity had all but crumbled, and provided the necessary care for Allendra, a mere babe in desperate need of a mother's tender love - a need I, sadly, could not fulfill. The old sage vanished shortly thereafter, leaving with the promise of a swift return.

  We spent what seemed like an eternity within those hallowed halls, though time itself lost all meaning and slipped through my grasp like grains of sand. How often had I yearned to flee without even so much as a glance behind me? But I knew that attempting to slip the grasp of Elaphar was a fool's errand, a feat that could not be accomplished without the approval of the powerful mage. Yet, the old sage had presented me with an unexpected opportunity to escape by leaving us in a public place like the Orion Monastery, as if testing my loyalties.

  To this very day, the reason for my decision to stay with my niece remains as enigmatic as ever, even to myself. It wasn't because of a sworn oath or a deep love for my niece, although I must admit to being petrified of the old wizard. But such terror alone was insufficient cause for my choice. Perhaps my fascination with Allendra's latent potential was the closest answer. I yearned to witness if the prophecies spoke true, and if she could transform into a formidable being.

  Then, on a fateful day, a mysterious fire erupted in the monastery, originating from the nursery where two-year-old Allendra was playing. Out of nowhere, Elaphar reappeared, and during his brief return, presented me with new conditions for a fresh start, with no guaranteed reward awaiting me at the end of the road.

  "As of now, you shall be Lena from Harova. Rule number one: you shall not remain in any place for more than a moon's cycle," decreed the old man as he began to list the rules that would lay the foundation for a life of exile.

  "Cities are forbidden. North and West are barred to thee. You shall only traverse the path I have set forth, first east, and then south to Illuthar."

  "Do not tarry in well-known inns. Steer clear of dark alleys. Meld into the throngs like a specter. Do not forge friendships. Do not form bonds. Do not borrow, do not lend."

  "On thy journey, you shall encounter members of our Sect, the Deep Wanderers. Fear not, they shall find thee. Trust only those who offer thee dried yellow sycamore leaves. Be wary of all others, no matter who they may be."

  "Do not speak of thy past to the girl. Neither speak truth nor falsehoods. Let her remain ignorant until the time is ripe."

  "When will that be?" I queried.

  "When the time is fitting, and that is for me to decide, not thee."

  And with that, the old man took Alex, whose mental state showed no signs of improvement, and prepared a spell to vanish once more.

  "Where are you taking him?" I asked before the old man disappeared.

  "The Orion priests have secret abodes of healing. There, he shall receive proper care."

  "Is there any hope for him?" I asked even though I didn't care.

  "Little, if any."

  "And what shall I do?" I implored, my heart heavy with despair. "I am but a feeble witch, with no means, no sustenance. How shall I protect this innocent child from all our foes?"

  Elaphar, with his conceited smile, responded, "Fear not, Tis not thy concern. I shall be the shield that guards her. Thy only task is to hide behind the guise of Lena of Harova and follow the path I have charted. Save a prayer for your own path."

  With those words, his letter of threat to me was sealed.

  "As for sustenance," the old man continued, proffering a leather pouch filled with glinting coins. "This should suffice to get thee started. The rest shall be left to fate and thy penance."

  He handed me a worn map and reminded with finality, "You shall remain in any one place for no more than a moon's cycle. Forge no new bonds. Cut off all ties to the past. My gaze shall be upon thee, Leandra Alia Jollords, now known as Lena from Harova. This is thy last chance. There is no room for error."

  I sighed heavily, recognizing the gravity of my situation. "This is an exile," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

  "Call it what you will," the sage replied calmly. "Consider it an itinerant school of life for the child. Ensure she receives the correct knowledge. Perhaps then, you may rid thyself of some of the stain on thy conscience. This is the last I shall say. May thy path be bright and free of shadows," he said before vanishing into the ether.

  Three and a half years had passed since we departed from the monastery and embarked upon a life of nomads. It was a simple statement, but belied the harrowing reality - more than a thousand nights of restless fear.

  In the first year, time flew by in a blur of constant vigilance, as we sought to avoid trouble and evade any ominous figures shrouded in black. Every few months, a mysterious figure draped in enigmatic grey robes would appear, bearing a yellow sycamore leaf and a purse of coins, along with sporadic instructions from the wise old sage. But with the passage of time, such encounters grew less frequent, leaving us to fend for ourselves. I confess, I found some measure of relief and comfort in our independence, though the weight of responsibility was often heavy on my shoulders.

  As our second year in exile began, our funds dwindled perilously low, and I was forced to resort to fortunetelling and healing to make ends meet. Though we were not wanted by the law, I made a habit of checking for any posters bearing our likeness. The burden of my conscience weighed heavily upon me, and I could not afford to let down my guard.

  The early years of the empire were fraught with hardship, and the country, fresh from a century of civil war, was still navigating a tense period. Though the impact of the new era had yet to fully reach the remote villages, times remained tough, and the locals Though the impact of the new era had yet to fully reach the remote villages, times remained tough, and the locals showed little interest towards the wandering strangers like us who passed through their midst.

  And I was often too preoccupied with daily struggles to think about anything else. Occasionally, I would hear tales of conquest and adventure, but most of the time, I was solely focused on making ends meet. The only moments of respite from the exile life came when fortune-telling at fairs went well, or when I could afford our stay in mid-level inns and indulge in average-quality wine and food. Yet, my penchant for drink sometimes led to trouble, and we were forced to leave several towns in haste Adjusting to a life of exile was not an easy feat.

  As the second year drew to a close, I felt the weight of my spiritual descent growing heavier. My niece's burgeoning potential seemed to quicken my own decline, as if her exceptional intellect was a harsh reminder of my own limitations. Allendra had mastered the art of logical reasoning, reading, and writing at a tender age, surpassing her peers by leaps and bounds. As for myself, now known only as Lena from Harova for reasons of secrecy, I was in awe of the child's precociousness and adaptability to our harsh and transient lifestyle.

  From the tender age of two, different than her peers, Allendra had led a nomadic life, never lingering in one town for more than a month. Despite the constant upheaval, Allendra's thirst for knowledge never wavered. I observed her with awe as her boundless curiosity and intelligence surpassed not only mine but also that of her mother, Alleyna. It soon became apparent that my niece's untapped talent was a constant source of anguish, slowly but surely tormenting me and corroding my spirit with each passing day.

  As our second year on the road wore on, I took pride in my newfound skill of fortune-telling and became known as the Widow Black of Harova, albeit only in the remote border villages. This modest fame briefly fueled my ambition, but I still found myself drowning in sorrow and seeking solace in secret indulgences.

  Meanwhile, Allendra was quickly discovering the complexities of life on the road. With an insatiable thirst for knowledge, my niece eagerly delved into the pages of books, scouring traveling libraries at fairs and even churches in the towns we visited. But as time went on, even the most mundane books failed to satiate her appetite for more profound understanding.

  As the third year neared its mid-point, I found myself haunted by an unshakable sense of dread that gnawed at my very essence.

  Was it the elusive enemy that skulked in the shadows, plotting our downfall? Was the dark mage still in hot pursuit, hounding us with his insidious sorcery?

  Or was it the fear of the most potent wizard I had ever encountered, whose strict mandates I must adhere to lest I face his wrathful retribution?

  Perhaps it was the bitter realization that I was doomed to lead a meager existence as a nomadic wanderer in this ancient land, where even the ruling elite turned a blind eye to the plight of the common folk.

  Thus far, we had heeded the old wizard's commands with unwavering obedience, adhering strictly to the confines of the Illuthar Continent. Our journey spanned over twenty towns, commencing in Leachdan, then Roweland, and culminating in the southern reaches of South Galantry, after traversing the easternmost district of Harven. However, the rising whispers of rebellion brewing in Northern Galantry gnawed at my conscience, tempting me to stray from our predetermined course.

  In the distant northwest, on the Behernath and Apharia Continents, the relentless war of conquest continued unabated. The absence of the Three Kings from their thrones fueled the people of Illuthar with mounting restlessness, driving them toward a rising tide of revolt. As one ever-attuned to the murmurs of the masses, I found myself consumed by mounting anxiety, fraught with worry over the unsettling rumors circulating amongst the populace.

  * * *

  "Why do they call you the Widow Black?" The inquisitive voice of her five-and-a-half-year-old niece, hand clasped tightly in hers, drew a smile from the robed woman. As they navigated the bustling streets of Adylle, many curious eyes lingered on them. The little girl's face was perpetually shrouded beneath her hood, mirroring her aunt's own concealment. Lena, the fortuneteller, had arrived in town to lease a tent for her trade during the upcoming spring festivities.

  By the standards of the villagers and town dwellers they encountered on their travels, Lena was an extraordinary beauty. In every new locale they visited, the men would surreptitiously steal glances at her, captivated by her allure. Though she endeavored to obscure her face with the dark blue cowl of her robe, her beauty inevitably became the focus of local gossip and rumors among the women. In the distant eastern towns of Illuthar Continent, where beautiful women were regarded as more treacherous than malevolent monsters at luring away men, Lena's appearance was both a blessing and a curse.

  "People tend to fear what they don't understand and resort to labeling it," Allendra offered in response to her own question.

  "I am Lena of Harova, and I have no use for such fools and their petty superstitions," Lena retorted with a jest.

  "Aunt Lena, you are the strongest woman I've ever known. They could never make you weak," the little girl declared profoundly.

  A smile graced Lena's lips, but her mind teemed with a plethora of unspoken thoughts.

  " I always yearn for your affection and support, my niece. What about the help I pledged to provide you? What have I ever done for you, Allendra? I am just waiting for your powers to manifest on their own. I had no understanding of psychic magic; hence, I had nothing else to do. Until now, you exhibited no signs of being a psionic, Allendra. Or perhaps I was too blind to perceive. Yes, you are admirably smart, but you look just like any other ordinary little girl, my beautiful niece. What can I do to unlock your powers? Should I entrust you to the old wizard? Or should I teach you the ancient and forbidden language of dark magic? Yes, sometimes when I gaze into your eyes, I sense a dark presence lurking, watching me, and sending shivers down my spine. I yearn to find a way to communicate with the true you and ask these questions directly, to glean some answers from you. But alas, it is not that simple," Lena ruminated to herself, unable to voice her innermost thoughts to Allendra.

  With thoughts such as these swirling in her mind, Lena savored a few more sips of her drink before her fortune-telling shift commenced. After much preparation, she had finally secured a tent fit for the occasion, and with the decoration of the work area in the middle of the tent in place, she allowed her first patron to enter.

  It was as if the tale of Allendra was about to unfold on that very day, for what had transpired thus far was but a mere prelude. Indeed, the events of that day would prove to be the catalyst for a chain of happenings that would irrevocably alter the life of the witch woman, and more significantly, that of her reticent niece.

  In the afternoon, Lena bade her first customer welcome, and her fortune-telling establishment began to fill up, the fairgrounds abuzz with activity and a throng of eager attendees.

  "As time can be the balm for many a wound, it is also the greatest trial for those who seek to flee," mused Lena, gazing intently at her golden orb.

  "Don't speak such words, child. Why were you fleeing?" inquired the elderly woman seated before her.

  Lena blushed, her thoughts straying from the matter at hand, and she seemed to forget the woman's presence entirely. Her recent proclivity for indulging in drink had begun to take its toll, and as she took another sip, a violent bout of coughing overtook her, rendering her unable to stop.

  "My aunt speaks of your tale, madam. She claims your spouse has absconded," interjected Allendra, pouring water for her kin.

  "What the hell you are babbling, you meddling brat! My husband is naught but an ordinary lumberjack. He returns home every evening and sits idle, a slothful oaf," the old woman scolded, casting a withering gaze in the child's direction.

  "That is precisely what I'm endeavoring to convey, ma'am. Your husband has been ensorcelled," retorted Allendra, undeterred by the elder's sharp tongue.

  "When you put it thus... I dare say our neighbor's wife might be responsible. She is a practitioner of the dark arts, after all," the woman surmised.

  "Allendra, depart from us at once. Go frolic with your peers, be as a shadow, and remember our invisible circle." Lena interjected, her voice tinged with ire. "Forgive me, my lady, but the child can be rather impulsive and foolish at times,"

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  Silently acquiescing to her aunt's command, Allendra stepped out of the makeshift tent. Lena's demeanor had changed over the past year, and the young girl sensed the heavy burden of her aunt's melancholy. Allendra resolved to spare Lena her incessant inquiries, mindful of the toll they might take.

  "Mayhap I should cease my constant questioning of Aunt Lena and steer clear of her while she performs her craft. She frets enough over my future and cannot bear to share her apprehensions with me," she ruminated. "But for now, I beseech Orion, may the Widow Black of Harova find solace and triumph in her divinations."

  With her hands tucked within the folds of her robes, Allendra began to pace a small circle, surveying her surroundings. They had arrived at the Adylle Fairgrounds, one of many hamlets nestled amid the vast plains of South Galantry. A modest settlement perched atop a rolling hill, it was surrounded by fields of corn, sunflowers, and beet, stretching out as far as the eye could see. As winter ceded to spring, the Shining Spring Festivals had begun, painting the land with a riot of colors.

  Allendra reveled in this season, as it afforded her the chance to mingle with the townsfolk. Her favorite pastime was to observe strangers from a distance, to overhear their conversations and conjecture on their lives and dreams. She had created this game herself, for she found other children to be dim-witted and tiresome. Preferring solitude, Allendra had devised various games to amuse herself, and had grown accustomed to talking to herself.

  Allendra shut her eyes and twirled around, selecting one of the numerous stalls that lined up among the wagons and tents at the fairgrounds. It was an effortless decision. She turned to the bickering voices and opened her eyes. A diminutive, scrawny man with a bundle on his shoulder and an aged dwarf, whose metal-studded leather apron reached his ankles, stood before her. The two's heated exchange and their unique appearances revealed to Allendra that she was in the presence of a blacksmith dwarf and a humble halfling.

  "Give back that ring now, halfling! I saw you, swearing on my bushy beard!" the dwarf's voice boomed, attracting a crowd around them.

  "What ring? They're all there in their booth. You're mistaken," the halfling retorted, winking amusingly, his eyebrows dancing.

  Seeing the funny facial expressions of the halfling, Allendra stifled a giggle, but then her cheeks flushed as though she had committed a shameful act.

  The dwarf's bushy eyebrows furrowed in suspicion. "It may be a bracelet, then. You've pilfered something from me, of that I'm certain. I swore on my beard!"

  As the commotion grew, a curious throng began to gather around them. The halfling tried to calm the dwarf's growing ire. "Ah, but if it's a bracelet you're missing, friend, there was one I saw fall earlier. I swear on my mother's pipe that I didn't lay a finger on it."

  He pointed towards Allendra standing nearby, "Ask her, if you don't believe me. She was the one who picked it up. Although, not in the manner you might think," he said with a sly wink, his expressive eyebrows dancing apart.

  The girl in question blushed, her eyes wide with surprise. "Me?" she whispered, almost too quietly to hear.

  "Yes, you. You have no reason to fear, my dear. Obviously, you're holding the bracelet that rolled off the counter, just to give it to the rightful owner, the dwarf," the halfling said, striding towards her. He was scarcely taller than Allendra, who stood only three and a half feet tall.

  Allendra's fists involuntarily balled up behind her back, as if she were trying to conceal something.

  For some inexplicable reason, she felt drawn to the halfling at first sight. Although she had previously encountered his race, this halfling was slender but subtle, much like her, and certainly more nimble than his counterparts, who were usually corpulent and lumbering. Ignoring the dwarf, the halfling stretched out his hand from behind and brushed the bracelet against her back. Without a second thought, Allendra joined the game, feigning a step back, throwing her hands up, and snatching the bracelet.

  "Aye, master dwarf, your bracelet had rolled over yonder. I had retrieved it," spoke the girl, her voice innocent and sweet as she offered forth the bracelet.

  The dwarven blacksmith regarded them both with suspicion, his hand stroking his beard. Yet he could not resist the guileless gaze of the little one with raven locks and a face shrouded by her hood. At last, he forced a smile.

  "This time, halfling, thou art free to pass," he grumbled. "But I shall keep mine eye on thee." With a pat on the girl's head and a copper coin pressed into her palm, the dwarf walked away.

  "Paliborn Quickhand, at thy service, sir. I am ever ready to aid," the halfling trilled, her voice mirthful and bright.

  Those who had gathered round, hoping for a confrontation, slunk back to their tasks, disappointed.

  "Thank thee kindly, sweetling. I am in debt to you," Paliborn said, his smile warm and genuine as he looked upon Allendra.

  "Mine aunt forbid me to converse with strangers," Allendra replied demurely.

  "I am no stranger, lass. I have given you my name. You can call me Pal, if it please thee."

  The girl merely nodded.

  "You were watching us, were thou not?" Paliborn said, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

  "Aye. The dwarf proved quicker and more cautious than expected," Allendra admitted.

  "No one can outpace me, lass. Rusty though I may be, not any dwarf could best me in this life or the next."

  With a flourish, Paliborn drew a ring from his pocket and held it out to Allendra.

  "I would gift this to you, if you wouldt but tell me thy name."

  "Nay, I accept no bribes. Gifts are forbidden, as my aunt had decreed."

  "Your aunt seems a strict taskmaster," Paliborn chuckled. "And how old are you, if that be not also forbidden knowledge?"

  "I am five and a half," Allendra replied, holding up her fingers to demonstrate.

  "Aye, 'tis a hard world for those of us who are small. We are judged not by our stature, but by what lies within," Paliborn said, his eyes softening as he regarded the girl. "I sensed that spirit within you, kiddo."

  "I am no child, Mr. Pal. You may call me Eli," she replied firmly, turning to gaze upon the tent.

  "'Eli' it is then. Shall we venture forth?" Paliborn asked, his eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of a circle drawn upon the ground.

  "I cannot leave the circle," Allendra replied.

  "The circle? What circle?" Paliborn inquired.

  "I am tasked with safeguarding my aunt. I cannot stray further than a hundred feet from her, and perhaps a bit more."

  "Ah, I see. You are protecting your aunt. But from what?" Paliborn probed, curiosity piqued.

  "You ask too many questions. I do not like it," Allendra protested, taking a step toward the tent.

  "My apologies, I was merely testing you. I wished to observe how you respond to strangers," Paliborn explained, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender.

  Allendra stopped in her tracks, looking up at Pal with questioning eyes. Her hazel irises gleamed in the sunlight.

  As if conceding a point, Paliborn slowly raised his arms in the air, revealing a yellow leaf, wilted and withered, plucked from the boughs of a great sycamore tree.

  "You are one of them," Allendra exclaimed, her pupils dilating with excitement.

  Pal nodded, a proud grin spreading across his face.

  "Why did you not say so earlier? I knew it all along. I felt that you were trustworthy. But these rules...there are far too many," Allendra lamented.

  "My dear old friend tasked me with checking up on you. Honestly, I expected to find a bumbling simpleton. I planned to offer some funds and advice, then be on my way... but you surprised me, Eli."

  The halfling, with his olive eyes and ragged black curly and fluffy hair falling over his shoulder, was greeted with a smile by the girl in dark blue robes.

  "You don't look like a halfling at all," she said in surprise.

  "Nothing escapes from your careful eyes. I consider that a compliment. May I share a secret with you?" Paliborn asked, stepping closer.

  "Of course," Allendra replied.

  "I am a quarter-half, a quarter gnome, a quarter elf, and a quarter human," Paliborn declared proudly, smiling vainly.

  "How could that be real? No such thing. It's either half or full. That would be a mutation," Allendra exclaimed, her eyes widening in amazement.

  "Look at those grown-up words. Let's just say I'm the only one of my kind and move on. I don't care anymore because everyone calls me a halfling. Who takes them too seriously?" Paliborn replied dismissively.

  "Very well," Allendra said, falling back into her thoughts.

  Paliborn noticed Allendra's interest waning and sensed dark thoughts creeping in. He stretched the strings of his bundle with his hands, trying to break the tension.

  "So where is your aunt? I have a few things to say to her. Then I have to go on my way."

  "She's in the tent. Pal, could you stay a little longer?" Allendra asked hopefully.

  "Perhaps for dinner, as I am quite hungry," Paliborn replied.

  "But it's just past noon," Allendra observed.

  "Then, shall we take a stroll around the fair until the end of the afternoon? By then, your aunt's work will be done," Paliborn suggested.

  "That sounds lovely, but I can't leave the circle," Allendra said regretfully.

  "I inquired of our anold man," began Paliborn, "and he declared that the circle can reach beyond four hundred, perchance even five hundred feet in span. Its size augments with age. And how old art thou, Eli? Five and a half summers? Let us multiply and add…"

  "Three hundred and thirty, three hundred and sixty," Allendra interrupted, her eyes alight with excitement.

  "Add or subtract sixty-five, mayhap," Paliborn corrected himself, his mind racing with calculations.

  "All right," Allendra said, her brow furrowing in confusion.

  "Anyway, no circle needed when I'm around to protect you."

  "Ok." she replied.

  "Well, then, where shall we venture, Eli?" Paliborn asked, changing the subject. "This is thy homeland, is it not? Lead us thither."

  "I am not native," Allendra replied. "We have tarried here but three weeks. We linger not long in any place."

  "Complain not, Eli," Paliborn chided, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "What a splendid environment. Didn't you enjoy thy stay here? Would you remain if bid to do so?"

  Allendra pondered the question for a moment, as they walked together towards the bustling crowd, the clamor of the marketplace growing louder with each step. The idea of settling down somewhere seemed foreign to her, and she struggled to put her thoughts into words.

  "I know not," she finally replied.

  "You shall know when the time comes, and not a moment before," Paliborn replied, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Embrace thy nomadic life, Eli. For instance, I consider the rock on which I lay my head to be my abode." He gestured towards a nearby vendor's cart. "Look at the size of those broccolis! They're colossal!"

  "They're not broccolis, they are cauliflowers, you dolt," Allendra giggled. "What wouldy you like to witness?"

  "A juggler, an acrobat, or perchance a magician," Paliborn replied eagerly. "I adore conjurers and their ilk."

  Allendra's expression soured slightly. "There are few magicians to be found here. And even if there were, my aunt forbids me from mingling with such folk. But there is a duo, Acrobat June and Juggler Jolie, who perform here. Come, let us seek them out."

  "Ah, there is naught greater than true magic," Paliborn mused, his eyes glimmering with memories. "Once, I traveled with a wizard. It did not end well for the deceased, but he was a most fascinating fellow. Was it Pharrun or Pharruk or something of the sort? I cannot recall. I suppose my time draws near."

  Allendra inquired, "How many years do you count in your existence, Pal?"

  Paliborn answered with a question, "What age does my appearance betray?"

  "If you were a human, I'd say twenty-five, thirty years, at most," replied Allendra.

  Palibron mused, "Am I that decrepit, little fair lady?"

  Allendra chuckled, "Come now, reveal your true age."

  Paliborn evaded, "Many and more than you could fathom."

  Allendra persisted, "How old are you, truly?"

  Paliborn still avoided, "More than you could ever count, Eli."

  Allendra grinned. "I wager I can count higher than you think."

  Paliborn chuckled. "I bet you can, a little in the middle fair lady. But let us not dwell on my age, but rather on the marvels before us."

  With that, he took Allendra's hand and led her through the throngs of people towards the stage, where a couple of skilled acrobats had gathered to perform their feats of agility and daring.

  "The girl traversing the tightrope, she is known as June," declared Allendra, indicating with a pointed finger.

  Paliborn, unimpressed, replied, "Bah, that is no great feat. I can do the same."

  Allendra scoffed, "I find that hard to believe. Observe, Jolie shall now conjure flames from his mouth."

  "I too know that trick. I shall demonstrate it to you later, Eli," replied Paliborn.

  Allendra queried, "Have you any skill with illusions?"

  "I can perform tricks, but they are not true magic. But if I speak untruth, may my family tree wither and my hand wither too," declared Paliborn, confidently.

  Allendra responded, "Indeed, your dexterity is impressive. I witnessed it myself."

  The youthful juggler then blew a fiery sphere, expelling liquid gas from his mouth, eliciting a round of applause. He continued to entertain the audience with card tricks, pigeons flying out of his hat, and various other performances.

  Paliborn voiced his boredom, "These are mere trifling tricks, unimpressive to me. I would be impressed if one were to vanish before our eyes or soar through the air."

  Allendra queried, "But are they not real magic?"

  "Look at you, Eli, a scholar even at your young age. I prefer true magic," remarked Paliborn.

  Allendra then confided in Paliborn, "May I share a secret with you?"

  The halfling responded, "Of course, Eli. Being a confidant is one of my favorite pastimes."

  "I once stumbled upon a scroll about occult witchcraft in the Temple of Orion. My aunt dislikes visiting town churches, so I ventured in alone while she waited outside. Before the priest lay an open scroll of parchment, and he was soundly asleep, so I read it. Alas, some of the words were beyond my comprehension. I could not read it all, but it filled me with terror and gave me shivers," Allendra shared.

  Paliborn was impressed, "Such courage you possess! Who knows, one day, you might become a powerful wizard."

  "Do you think so? Can I truly become a wizard?" asked Allendra eagerly.

  "I can sense your potential, Allendra. One day, you may become a wizard of great renown," predicted Paliborn.

  "Let us satisfy our hunger now. What shall we eat?" Paliborn asked.

  "Corn on a stick," Allendra replied.

  "Excellent choice," the halfling agreed.

  They settled on a peaceful spot away from the crowds to relish the meal Paliborn had procured.

  "Tell me, Eli," the halfling inquired, "have you ever been plagued by nightmares?"

  "Sometimes," the child replied, "the kind that dwell in dark, foreboding places."

  "And are they always the same, these specters that haunt your slumber?"

  "Mostly," Allendra admitted. "Why do you ask? Have you seen the same shadowy figure as I?"

  "Indeed, we all endure our own terrors," Paliborn consoled, "though mine is to remember too much."

  "How so?" the girl asked.

  "I prefer to forget," the halfling explained, "for the weight of remembrance can be too heavy to bear."

  "I too wish to forget," Allendra confessed.

  "What troubles you, Allen, er, Eli?" Paliborn queried, noticing the child's reticence.

  Allendra glanced at him with a hint of suspicion. "Are you interrogating me, Pal?"

  "No, dear," Paliborn assured her. "What is the matter? No such thing. We are simply conversing. Would you care for some roasted beans?"

  "Very well," Allendra acquiesced.

  The two fell into silence for a time, taking in the diverse crowd of humans, dwarves, halflings, and a few elves around them.

  "Shall I tell you a secret, Eli?" Paliborn ventured.

  "Secrets are to be shared with those we trust, are they not?" Allendra asked, her gaze fixed upon him.

  "Indeed," Paliborn agreed. "I have decided to trust you. Did you know that this land, once called Illuthar, was once home to many more elves and dwarves? It was said to be a land of brotherhood, of equals, but that was a falsehood."

  "What happened?" Allendra inquired.

  "A man who calls himself emperor drove many non-humans from these lands, beyond even the Rainbow Range Mountains," Paliborn revealed.

  "But that is too far away," the little girl commented.

  "Indeed, it is," the halfling concurred. "But do not believe the historians' tales. They all twist the truth to suit their own agendas. These wars were waged by the emperor Ka'Han Malore, not the Archmage Laneth Alhazaurus nor the Head Commander Illuen Dharven."

  "Have you ever fought in a war?" Allendra asked, wondering about war stories.

  "I may have been caught in the midst of it," Paliborn replied enigmatically, "but I do not fight for any cause. I remain neutral."

  "But how can you be neutral when you are in the midst of a conflict? Do you not have to choose a side?" Allendra pressed.

  "Ah, these are difficult questions, my dear," Paliborn evaded. "How is it that you are but five and a half years old? Let us change the subject. Tell me something about yourself."

  "What would you like to know?" Allendra asked.

  "Anything at all," the halfling encouraged.

  "Very well," Allendra acquiesced. "I will tell you a secret. I remember everything."

  Paliborn's heart skipped a beat. "What do you remember, Eli?" he inquired.

  "My parents and the old man," Allendra replied. "As my aunt forbid me to ask questions of my past, I still do not know their names, but I remember them all. The nightmare always begins in a grand house, a mansion, on a rainy day, perhaps..." The child trailed off, lost in thought.

  Paliborn's throat tightened, and he swallowed hard. Sarcastic had regaled him with only a fragment of the mistery about her tragic story of birth when they'd made camp for the night.

  "This little girl," the old man spoke, his voice weighted with solemnity. "She is unlike any other. A harbinger of great events to come." He paused, his eyes unfocused, as if glimpsing something beyond the present moment. "You will understand once you set eyes on her."

  Paliborn had taken the job precisely for this reason. The anxiety and confusion etched upon his friend's countenance were not emotions that he encountered easily.

  "Go speak with the girl. You have a gift for reaching people's hearts. Let us see what you discern," the old man urged.

  Paliborn had seen enough to complete his report. Did he truly need to delve deeper? He was stunned by the girl's unblemished intellect and purity of spirit. But was he prepared to witness her darker side, a reflection of what was yet to come? A divided apple, one half succulent and sweet, the other half putrid and infested with worms.

  "Come, let us depart. Lena shall be worried if we tarry any longer. The sun is almost at its zenith," the halfling spoke up, breaking the silence.

  Allendra rose from her seat with a demure air. She cast her gaze downward and began walking towards the tent. Paliborn cursed inwardly; he suspected the girl was offended by his silent treat. He decided to give her some space for now.

  As the duo turned towards the tent area, Lena appeared before them, her once-lustrous locks now disheveled and her eyes bloodshot. The woman was in a frenzy, trembling and raging as she charged towards the little girl.

  "What manner of foolishness is this, child? Why are these rules in place if you cannot follow them? Where have you vanished to? I thought the black-robed fiends had come and snatched you away, you simpleton!"

  Lena seized the girl by the arms and whirled her around, bellowing for all to hear. The entire fair fell into an abrupt hush, particularly in the southern sector. Paliborn attempted to intervene, albeit tardily.

  "Pray, calm yourself, Lady Leandra, my apologies, Lena. We are attracting unwanted attention. Please exercise caution. Walls have ears."

  "Who are you? How do you know my name? I am the Widow Black of Harova. What gives you the right, halfling?" Lena demanded.

  Paliborn inwardly implored for forbearance and, with steely composure, leveled a stern gaze at the woman.

  "A yellow leaf, my lady. I am one of the bearers of the yellow sycamore leaves. I bring you a message. But let us retire to the tent, if you please."

  At the mention of the yellow leaf, Lena regained some measure of sanity.

  "Where is the leaf?" she inquired.

  "I gave it to your daughter, or rather, your niece," Paliborn answered as Allendra withdrew the withered leaf from her pocket.

  "Very well, then. You two proceed ahead. I shall follow shortly," Lena relented at last.

  Paliborn scanned the crowd as he advanced, but took no further action, though a few wary glances were cast his way.

  Lena seized a bowl of water from the towering pail beside the tent and tipped it over her head, drenching herself in a cascade of cool liquid. She thirsted badly and raised the bowl to her parched lips, but only a few drops trickled down her throat.

  "Come to the crimson tent at midnight," a hushed voice murmured amid the throng.

  The witch woman jolted in alarm. Before her loomed an unsightly, squat figure with a stubbled chin and disheveled locks.

  "Who are you?" Lena inquired, her gaze steely. Her trembling voice barely rose above a whisper, wary of provoking yet another commotion. She had already had enough trouble for one day.

  "Blood magic is the sole path to the dark master. If it be thy will, attend the crimson tent at midnight. This shall guide thee," the man whispered. He proffered a charcoal-black object to Lena, then disappeared into the crowd before she could react.

  The woman was frozen in place, unable to respond or even glance at her hand. Just as she was rousing from the shock of the cold water, a searing heat engulfed her skull. The object in her grip was a razor-sharp obsidian symbol of Therion, the God of Darkness, piercing the flesh of her right palm as she balled her hand in fury and fear. Lena peered at the blood oozing from her hand and slowly unclenched her fingers, revealing the rare magical talisman. She had not seen one in ages. The message had found its mark, and the dark ornament had finally reached the long-forgotten witch woman.