Voices of the late autumn wind spoke softly through the branches of the swaying trees, and the call of a forest-thrush echoed across the misty valley. Shade from the tall, old-growth trees sheltered the forest floor from the sun overhead, and the sharp edge of winter's teeth could be felt approaching beneath the canopy. Rièle shivered slightly as she rode along the path through the wood, the cool mist settling on her skin and forming tiny dewdrops in the cold of the morning. The branches of the trees and shrubs grew thick around her, infringing upon the path and catching on Rièle's hair and clothes as she rode steadily by. The thick growth of the plants appeared to merge with the mist at the farthest distance of her vision, and formed a barrier that seemed to close in around her.

She emerged into a small clearing by a stream, and as the trees opened and allowed some small sunlight to pass through their entwining branches, small sprouts of grasses and willows grew lush and thick beside the water. The path Rièle followed split before her, in one direction heading upslope amongst the thick redwood trees and blackberry brambles, and the other heading along the valley floor, following the little stream and heading out of the forest. Knowing her path as if she’d walked it a thousand times before, Rièle turned Jack to the left without hesitation, noting the many tracks of beasts and men that had passed the way before her. They began a short but grueling climb up the slope of the valley, and flushed a pair of grouse as they crested the hill.

The third valley from the eastern border, Rièle recalled silently. Still and quiet as stones in the gusting winds Rièle and her horse, Jack, stood and looked upon the place to which they had been summoned. Jack panted softly from the climb, catching his breath and taking in the view before them with pricked ears. Rièle looked upon the destruction and recalled the message she had received, brought by a the little forest-hawk that had flown so far to find her. The bird could only speak to her in thoughts and images, but his message had been simple: Those who serve the nature god call for aid, and seek the allegiance of Rièle, master of beasts. Where the road into the forest crosses aspen, and a river, travel west to the third valley and see for yourself the threat that is upon us. There your allies will await your answer.

An electric charge hung in the air above the place, threatening to snap at the slightest friction and causing the hair on Rièle’s arms to rise in tension. Before her was the aftermath of a chaotic and malicious devastation. The forest had burned, and in places entire trees had been ripped from the ground by some incredible force. A smell of magic hung in the air, and Rièle could see with her eyes the enhancement of life that remained; incriminating, as the few trees and plants that had survived were saturated with light and color. A strange electric warmth soaked into her, and she felt a weight to the air, and noted an aversion of birds and beasts from the valley.... even those that thrived on fire. Her keen eyes scanned the damage, and she noted strange symbols carved in white upon the burned trunks. Something magic, and human, had exacted this death upon the wood, and the depth of its evil was sinking even to the roots and the soil. Little would live in this place for many years.

Rièle sent Jack forward down the hill, choosing her path carefully and patiently allowing him to pick his way amongst the burned stumps and cragged rocks that lay scattered on the hillside. Her mind wandered as they walked, and she found herself remembering the last call for aid that she'd received, and the cause for which she’d been asked to use her powers. It frightened her; not the thought of fighting a powerful enemy, but the thought of mastering beasts against their will, and sending them to their death for a cause that was neither just nor right. As her powers grew within her and her abilities diversified, she found herself feeling increasingly lost, and without guidance. Of late she wished that she truly knew the God of Nature's will, and how she should use her powers to serve him and to do good in his name. But her mentors were gone, and she was alone; lost in the confrontation of her own path.

It seemed that the weight and purpose that the fates intended for Rièle was to face these broken bridges between man and nature. Each time men overstepped their bounds and did more harm than good to nature’s realm, or took more than they ought from the resources given them, she found herself caught in the middle. And she was always asked to fight for the side of nature, to command the beasts against the men, on the principle that men did not belong in nature, that they had made of themselves a world apart; incompatible, and that they should remain there, and not infringe upon the untainted world of the wild.

But it seemed to Rièle that men, too, fell within the God of Nature's blessings. For they themselves were part of nature, and what was she, if not a human? Humans had begun as such, a part of the wild world. Alas, why should her fate be to turn the beasts of the wild against her own kind? Why must she suffer so much uncertainty and doubt when the rest of the world seemed so confident about such a simple purpose? And how was she to grow in her power, if she did not know how her god wanted her to use it, and instead spent so much of her thoughts and efforts fearing she was using it wrong?

Even amongst the charred and broken trees the mist hung in the air, and as the day grew late it began reflecting the fading orange light of the setting sun, until it settled like an orange-white blanket upon the blackened trees and bare earth. Rièle sensed a movement around her, and brought Jack to a halt. His muscles tensed beneath her, and his eyes and ears were alert to a presence just beyond their vision, in the veiled space within the mist. Rièle felt a mind brush against her own, and twitched with a pained reflex as she recognized what it was. A pack of wolves was running close by, and the lure of their minds, melded and connected together as a pack, was pulling on her own. The few times before when she had encountered packs of wolves their thoughts had tugged at hers, and when she opened her mind to theirs she felt as though she was drowning in a sea of thought; weak and unheard. After so much futile struggle against the beasts she was terrified that she would lose herself in the strength of will suppressed upon her by the pack, and chose to close herself from them as much as possible.

Quickly Rièle pulled her mind away, and hoped direly that the wolves would leave her be. She encouraged Jack to move onward, away from the feel of the minds of the pack, but as he moved to take a step he stopped, still and tense. Rièle turned to look at the path ahead and met the glowing yellow eyes of a she-wolf, standing vigilant in the mist. The wolf regarded Rièle and Jack for several moments, eyes locked and lethal in their fearsome glare. Rièle trembled with fright, but maintained a tight wall around her mind, keeping her thoughts within and blocking out all she could of the overwhelming presence of the pack. She held her breath for several moments, waiting, before the wolf slowly lowered her head and moved to the south with the rest of her pack.

The sun had set completely as Jack traversed the final slope of the ruined valley, and at the crest of the hill, just inside the line of trees, was a gathering marked by numerous campfires. A host of men, and dwarves, and dryads, and creatures of the wood was camped along the ridgeline. So many unfamiliar eyes watched Rièle as she approached, and seemed as though they were anticipating her purpose. No objections were made to her approach, and she met the sad eyes of dozens of men and creatures of Eä as she rode past their camps. They looked so much like ordinary folk, hard-working, and full of life, and Rièle could detect a sense of loss amongst them. It was thus as she suspected; not only the beasts and trees suffered.

Many beasts were also present in the camp, and Rièle tentatively reached out and touched their minds. Some of the more intelligent creatures, such as the bears and the forest-cats, seemed to understand some of the situation, and she felt their yearning for the blood of men in payment for the destruction of their homes. Most of the beasts, however, were held there by a calling; a summons like the one she had received. They remained in uncertainty, and knew little of why they were there. Rièle wondered whether it was going to be up to her to decide whether fighting would be for their own good, or only further to their demise.

She dismounted before a circle of men and beasts, who were gathered beside a large and oddly-placed tree that had somehow escaped the destruction of the fire. Jack wandered off to graze, and Rièle found herself the subject of stares from many pairs of eyes. The circle comprised a strange amalgamation of beasts and men; many were creatures that she had never seen before. A wolf nearly large enough to ride upon sat with his legs crossed, next to an enormous warg. Both were as real as their normal-sized counterparts, but looked at her with a surprising and vehement intelligence that marked them as something more. Small druids regarded her curiously beside them, as did a strange creature that looked to be half-bear, but with wings and feathers, as an owl. Many men also attended the circle, as well as several elves, one of whom leaned against the giant tree. And, in their center, Rièle’s eyes were drawn to one that could only be their leader... an enormous gryphon.

The gryphon loomed before her, its gigantic beak threatening in its strength, and its wings spread in an overbearing posture. Rièle marveled at the creature, how fur blended with feather at his breast in a wash of gold and brown, and how mighty and magnificent he seemed in his uniqueness. The beast sat proud and straight, summing Rièle up with his golden eyes in a stare that she could not bring herself to meet for more than a few seconds. Politely she inclined her head in greeting, and kept her mind closed, respecting the autonomy of the sentient beasts.

“Rièle, of Anan Isl,” he began, in a strange voice that was inflected with sounds doubtless inherent to a gryphons’ billed speech. “Your answer to our summons brings courage to us all. Know that you are welcome at our camp, for word of your deeds in service to the God of Nature has spread far throughout the realm. I am Jeb, and these are the leaders of our cause.”

Rièle was timid, and at a loss for words. These beasts and beings who greeted her seemed to expect some greatness from her, and she hardly knew her own abilities let alone whether she would find it in herself to lend them aid. “Thank you,” she responded meekly. She noted the uncertain glances exchanged between Jeb and his followers, as though they had hoped for more from her than a timid acknowledgment. “Please,” she said, with as much confidence as she could muster, “Tell me of your cause, and what need you have for a master of beasts.”

The great oak tree that formed part of their circle gave a deep and startling shudder, and Rièle jumped at the unexpected sound. A low groan emanated from beneath its bark, and Rièle looked upon the wizened faces of the leaders as they gazed patiently upon the moving tree, and saw that there was more to the oak that she had initially perceived. She likened the sounds more to an animal than to a the simple rustling of branches, and watched as the entity moved in the absence of the wind. Rièle wondered whether there might be some meaning to its movements, and if, perhaps, the tree was somehow speaking?

The elf who stood below the tree listened to the moans and shudders of the oak, and cracked a wry smile. “The treeherder is right,” he said. Jeb glared pensively at nothing in particular, and seemed to be considering some unspoken thought. After several moments he turned back to Rièle, and continued the conversation as if the interruption had never occurred. “This evil that we look upon, was done by men of power. Magic and machine moved through these lands with force unchallenged, unheeding of respect for the natural world, and taking what they would of that which belongs to all. We would see them conquered for this sin, for if nothing is done they will continue on this path... and others will only follow. We seek the aid of the beasts of the woods in our battle, but we cannot command them to our purpose. This is what we ask of you.”

Rièle appeared thoughtful, but inwardly she trembled with uncertainty. Who was she to decide if these beasts should give their lives for such a cause? And if such a decision was fated to fall upon her shoulders, how was she to choose? Could she rightfully judge whether using her power in this task would contribute to good, or to evil? There was no mentor, no god, no words of wisdom to guide her. Only a responsibility upon her shoulders, and the expectation of the men and creatures of the land who stood before her. But having a power, and using it for a cause, were two very different pressures upon her conscience. How was she to know if this cause was right? Whose judgment should she trust, or was she left to decide alone?

“I shall consider your request,” she replied, to the obvious disappointment of the members of the circle. Jeb did not respond, and simply held her tiny form beneath his hard, appraising gaze. Timidly Rièle inclined her head again, and took her leave of them, in search of a place where she could be alone, and think. She went in search of Jack, and headed past the many campfires and into the misty darkness of the trees, opening her mind to locate him. He had wandered a long ways in search of grass, and as Rièle came upon him she reached up and stroked his neck, more for her own comfort than for his. He ignored her for the most part, intent on his dinner, using the long hairs on his nose and his keen sense of smell to search for grass in the darkness. Rièle leaned on his shoulder and considered her dilemma, wondering what Curin would say, and wishing she could speak to him and ask for guidance.

As Rièle let her mind drift and searched within herself for a thought or word from the Nature God that would inspire her with an answer, something stirred in the distance in the wood... a familiarity, a sensation that she could not place. She turned and looked into the darkness and the mist, but saw nothing... only feeling its presence, in the distance; waiting, calling to her.

As if drawn, or guided, Rièle took a step into the forest, and began walking toward the distant thought, or sensation, that had reached out to her. Her mind was in a haze of doubt, and as the mist of the forest grew so thick around her that the air itself resisted movement, her own thoughts seemed to reflect the thickness, growing clouded and slow; reluctant to do more than follow instinct.

She walked a substantial distance, though her trance was such that she did not notice. The familiarity of the feeling that she sensed grew stronger as she passed into thicker and thicker mist, but still she could not place its origin. Shapes and sounds emerged around her in the dark, though through all her focus and confusion she did not notice them. Footpads, huffs and snarls, and deep howling filled the mist, from east to west and north to south, and still Rièle walked forward, unaware.

The mist parted, and a small clearing was revealed amidst a realm of white. Moonlight filled the opening, and at its center stood a small stone shrine, draped in vines and blooming flowers. The windows and doors of the shrine were open to the world, and fallen leaves drifted across the stone floor. Its altar was empty, the stone figure that should stand there somehow missing, but Rièle felt a wave of relief and delight at the sight of the little place all the same. She walked inside, and kneeled on the straw mat before the altar, and offered a prayer to Curin, for guidance.

Rièle sat at the altar for what seemed hours, considering her situation, and praying for a guide, or word of wisdom, or sign of the Nature God’s will to aid her. The light of the moon shone bright through the open ceiling, and soon the mist began drifting slowly into the clearing, creeping within the shrine and wrapping itself around her. Rièle became suddenly and overwhelmingly tired, and decided that perhaps a night’s sleep would clear her head. She curled up on the mat, her head resting on a stack of leaves, allowing her mind to open and reaching out to any who would aid her. Footpads approached within the white veil of the mist as she drifted off to sleep, and stopped just outside the stone steps of the shrine.

The she-wolf stood before her, her eyes freezing Rièle’s in place with a yellow glare of frightening intensity. Rièle felt the dream pulling her to walk forward towards the wolf, but her fear of the animal caused her to hesitate. She did not want to lose herself in the thoughts of the wolf-pack; to drown again amongst the minds of those whose will was so much stronger than her own. But the dream had placed her before the beast with her mind open, and Rièle felt no danger or oppression from the she-wolf, and no pack present in the woods around them. Tentatively, she took a step forward, slowly closing the distance between herself and the creature she so feared.

I am Mithòl, spoke the she-wolf, in Rièle’s mind. Mithòl spoke true words to Rièle, unlike most beasts, who only communicated in thoughts and images. Why do you fear my kind, Rièle of Anan Isl? the she-wolf asked, her tone straightforward and demanding.

Rièle felt bound by the progression of the dream to answer, and her subconscious filled her reply with an honesty that she truly believed, deep within herself. Because their will is stronger than mine.

The wolf blinked. Why do you fear the void?

Rièle did not hesitate. Because I am vulnerable. It is a place where my soul was rent apart, by powers I could not defend against.

And why do you fear to be a beastmaster?

I am alone, with none to guide me. I wish to do the will of Cuidhrìn, but I fear to wield evil through my gift instead of good.

The wolf tilted her head, her tongue lollling between her teeth. Rièle thought it strange, listening to her own words, and realizing the truth of them; truths about herself that she had not been able to see. All is connected, said the wolf. The answers that you seek lie within you, you have only to know how to look. Together we will walk the realm of dreams. I will be your guide, but you must choose your path.

As Rièle nodded, the wolf turned and walked away, bidding Rièle to follow.

The tall and ancient redwoods of the misty forest resolved around them, and Rièle found herself walking the same narrow path she had that morning, across the same valley. Branches and brambles clung at her from either side as she descended down into the valley floor, following the footsteps of Mithòl. At the bottom the she-wolf stood aside, and Rièle again saw the two paths that lay before her. One led uphill towards the waiting army, and the other followed the creek to the east, out of the wood. Rièle did not hesitate, for she knew the way, and automatically took the left path.

As she took her first step up the hill, the dream shifted, and Rièle opened her eyes to find that she was standing in a field, adjacent to a river and a secluded glade. She held a longline in her hands, at the end of which Aloric was mounted on a chestnut-colored mare. As if by instinct Rièle knew her role, one provided to her by the dream. She began teaching Aloric, correcting his mistakes as she had during his riding lessons. “Keep your heels down,” she said. “Shorten your reins, and lower your hands. That’s good, now sit up a bit straighter. Don’t look at the back of her ears, keep your eyes up ahead of you! She’s not going to change color when you’re not paying attention.”

Keenly, Rièle was aware of Curin’s presence outside the circle, though the dream only allowed her to see him from the corner of her eye. He stood watching, silently, and a small stone figure gamboled about at his feet. Rièle felt driven to succeed by the pressure of his eyes, and the dream instilled a thought within her, that if she taught Aloric properly and demonstrated her worth, she might earn Curin’s approval and he would judge her worthy of his guidance. If she could only earn that much, and convince him to give her the direction that she needed in her life, with her powers, and her choices, her heart would be at peace. Thus she watched Aloric carefully, eagerly correcting his mistakes and praising his efforts, throwing her heart and skill into her work.

Aloric was doing extremely well. Rièle began to feel pride in the success of her student, and in herself for succeeding as a teacher. But as the lesson drew on, Rièle heard a stealthy footpad in the glade of trees behind her, and felt the dark intent of a pack of wolves, and their intent to strike. Mithòl was not a part of this memory-turned-dream; these wolves were determined and sinister, with the taste of death upon their lips.

Rièle instantly became alert, and the thoughts of the wolves brushed against her mind, pulling her as terribly as she remembered. She struggled against them, but only found herself drowning in the chaos of their minds. Their footfalls of the beasts drew closer, intent upon Rièle. Aloric then suddenly needed her attention, fumbling with the instructions she had given him, and she hesitated, concerned for her student. But the pressure of the wolves’ minds terrified her, and she was forced to turn around as she felt them in her mind, running up behind her, preparing to rip her throat from her neck.

But she saw nothing. The wolves were gone. Behind her was only emptiness, and grass, and trees. Perplexed, and relieved, Rièle returned her gaze to Aloric’s lesson.

Aloric lay on the ground. In the seconds she had turned her eyes his horse had spooked, and without her guidance he had fallen. Rièle looked with tears in her eyes upon Aloric’s broken form, his neck cocked at a strange and unnatural angle, and his eyes white in death.

Bound to the center of the circle by the physics of the dream, Rièle could only stand where she was and weep. “No! Aloric! Please, Curin, help me!” But as she turned to appeal to him, she found that both Curin , and Gondroval, were gone. Rièle knew that she had failed; she felt it in her very being. She knew she should not have looked away, that she had made a mistake, and Aloric had paid the price.

The dream then shifted in a thick and foggy mist, and Rièle found herself back at the beginning, holding the longline, with Aloric again walking in a circle around her on the chestnut horse. She vaguely recalled the consequences of the first dream, and was relieved at the second chance that had been given her, and determined not to make the same mistake again. Curin and Gondroval were watching, as before, and Rièle confidently continued the lesson, correcting Aloric as he rode.

The wolves quickly came again. She felt their minds, so close, so thirsty for her blood. They circled round, she heard their feet tread softly upon the ground, and the panting of their breath, and felt the pressure of their eyes upon her back. In her mind she felt them charge, running up behind her, leaping to sink their teeth into her soft human flesh, and rip the marrow from her bones. Sweat dripped down her face as she stood steadfast, her eyes upon Aloric, but she felt the attacking wolf’s breath upon her neck, and heard a growl escape its throat as it opened its jaws to end her life.

She ducked, and whirled to fend off the beast with her arms, so sure was she that the wolf was about to kill her. With her heart racing and her breath short she opened her eyes, and again found nothing.

Knowing in her heart that again she’d failed, Rièle turned back to Aloric. He lay on the ground, and the calm, sweet chestnut mare Rièle had selected for him to ride had leapt upon him, crushing his skull with her feet. The mare trampled Aloric in an angry frenzy, breaking bones and exacting death with an inexplicable wrath. And Rièle knew it was entirely her fault.

“No!” she screamed. “Stop!” but the beast would not heed her. Rièle was powerless, for the horse’s mind was somehow apart from her own, and Rièle was unable to reach her. “Please....” she said, as the dream shifted again.

She trembled as she held the longline, fear of the wolves, and of Aloric’s certain death again placed upon her conscience. Curin watched again, though this time Gondroval sat still and vigilant, as if waiting for her third mistake. Aloric was getting nothing right, and Rièle knew it was only a matter of time before he fell. This time she felt a block within herself, as if she could do nothing to stop what she knew was about to happen. Her thoughts focused on prayer that the wolves would not come again.

A growl arose softly behind her, and a canine whuff, and pads of feet amongst the trees. Rièle felt trapped. She maintained her concentration, watching Aloric wobble unsteadily in the saddle, and listened with pained despair as the wolves approached her from behind. Their thoughts pierced her mind so strongly that she nearly lost herself within their thoughts of blood, and flesh, and death. The wolf leapt again, intent upon her death, and opened its jaws, and Rièle felt its paws land on her back. Panicking, knowing she was about to die, she lashed out at the wolf with her arm, and fell to the ground.

Again, nothing was there. The wolves were gone, and she was in no true danger. But had she held out long enough against temptation to save Aloric? Rièle looked up to find him, as before, on the ground. This time the wolves were feeding upon his body. One had him by the throat, and another by the leg, and they tore him, limb from limb, his blood staining the grass and the wolves’ gray coats.

She wept, and prayed for it to end. She prayed for Curin to save her, and Aloric, from this fate, and to relieve her conscience of this guilt burdened upon her by the dream.

But Curin was gone.

The dream shifted, and Rièle was returned to the path in the wood. Mithòl stood before her, ready to lead her through the trees. Rièle rose, mechanically, knowing that her purpose was to follow. They ascended through a strange light, and Mithòl led Rièle again to the junction at the stream, and bid her choose the way. Rièle didn’t hesitate, for she knew her path was to the left, and she again took a step along the path that led up the hill.

A warm light passed Rièle, and she followed the waving tail of the wolf until the village of Estolad resolved around her. She instantly felt the familiarity of the place, for she was in the stable yard at Ezra’s, between the big house and the pastures. Horses grazed in the fields in the distance, and green grass covered the rolling plains around her. The dream imparted her with two pieces of knowledge: One, that Ezra was long gone from the place, and two, that Jack was housed in the stable, waiting for her.

She faced Ovorodhon, her Liraden mentor, her staff clacking rhythmically with his as they sparred. Rièle defended as Ovorodhon brought his weapon down in an attack, and she found his maneuver unusually easy to parry. In this dream she felt drawn toward the barn, and knew that her purpose was to defeat Ovorodhon and make her way to Jack. She and Ovorodhon danced back and forth, and Rièle found it odd that her own skill had grown superior to his. She hesitated in her advantage, however, for she feared hurting Ovorodhon in the process of defeating him, as he was a dear friend.

As they fought, Rièle sensed a darkness materializing behind her. Its feel was familiar, and horrifying, and she did not need to look upon it to name its evil. Despite this knowledge, she stole a glance behind her to verify its truth. The progress of the dream seemed to pause as she gazed upon the void, physically manifest in her dream. A dark gray space filled with nothing approached the little stable, distant yet massive, sucking in the matter of the dream itself.

Since her journey from Estolad with Curin, the ominous threat of the void had terrified Rièle. Her strange residual connection with the place was eerie, and uncomfortable, and she loathed the hold it held upon her soul. For though Curin had eased the memories of her time there, Rièle remembered dying; her soul rent apart and her mind changed physically. Her self, and soul, had been altered by the will of another who had commanded the power of the void, and she had ceased to be herself. The sadness and despair she had felt were still with her.

Why the void haunted her in this place she did not know, but the consequence of allowing it to consume her again were too terrifying to allow. She knew she would be torn apart, that her soul would be undone and she would cease to exist. Curin was not here to save her, as he had been the first time it had consumed her, and it was up to her to get to Jack and flee the approaching darkness. Rièle turned again to face Ovorodhon, and intended to make haste to defeat him and escape.

Ovorodhon was weak against her attacks, though he rebounded with the deftest of maneuvers, and Rièle marveled at her own speed and skill in countering them. Each time she attacked he fell back, and did little more than barely manage to defend himself against her. Thus she held back her killing blow, fearing to do harm to Ovorodhon, and grew frustrated as he continually refused to yield to her blows.

Suddenly she sensed another threat, and looked up by instinct at the barn on the far side of the stable yard. Day had turned to night, and Rièle was reminded with vivid clarity of that night in Estolad, when Ezra had been killed. As it had been before the barn was alight in flames, and they spread quickly through the dry timber, the horses within trapped and screaming for their lives.

The arms of the void spread wide around the outside of her vision with a dark and deadly greed, and gray and stormy clouds enveloped the little town and the distant hills around it. The pull from the void was so strong that the particles of matter that made up the world disintegrated as the wind gusted, and the world bled magic from its wounds, feeding power to the darkness.

A great roar sounded as the void slowly swallowed the dream-world, and the matter of the dream was ripped to pieces by high winds of the storm, sucking all into the gray and nothingness of the void. The sky grew dark, and the ground began to shake, as if the world itself was fighting being swallowed. Rièle renewed her attacks against Ovorodhon, but as they continued to fight his strength seemed to grow. She no longer easily blocked his attacks, or broke through his, and a sweat broke out on her brow as she struggled to hold her own against him. The flames on the barn flickered in the high winds, and the loud collisions of horse hooves against wood sounded across the stable yard as the poor trapped beasts tried to free themselves.

Rièle looked upon Ovorodhon, distraught, and was at a loss for what to do. Such was the rule of the dream that he stood between her and Jack, and yet she could not get past him. She delved within her knowledge of maneuvers, and threw every trick at him that she could think of. She attacked with force and speed, she kicked with her legs, she feigned an injury, and she tried to strike any weak spot she could think of. Nothing succeeded, and she became distraught and desperate.

Increasingly, as she fought and tried to break Ovorodhon’s defense, a truth sunk into Rièle’s mind; that only a killing blow would succeed. She knew it to be the solution to the puzzle the dream was giving her, but she could not bring herself to do it. The hay in the barn had now caught fire, and as she remembered from that night more than a year ago the entire upper level of the barn burst into flames, burning with a savage force equal to the fury of the void’s storm. Rièle’s eyes teared as she looked into the gusting winds and watched the building start to collapse. The horses inside screamed, and she knew she had no time... Jack was dying.

Rièle’s heart was torn, and true tears formed in her eyes. Her knees grew weak at the thought of losing Jack, and she could not escape the belief that it was her fault. But, despite all of this emotion, foremost in her mind was her fear of the void behind her. Her very marrow trembled at the thought of it swallowing her, and she could not bring herself to look upon it, for the memory that came forth was far too painful. She was filled with shame for her cowardice, and the emotion swelled within her so that she barely continued to defend Ovorodhon’s increasingly aggressive attacks. Her fear caused her to grow weaker, and she watched as the barn was engulfed in flames. Meeting Ovorodhon’s kind eyes, she knew that she would die, knew she had allowed Jack to die, and yet could not bring herself to end his life. An icy tendril brushed against her back and legs as the expanding void reached her, and the ground dissolved beneath her, and she screamed in terror as she was sucked inside, knowing that torture and death awaited her.

Rièle found herself again on the path in the woods. She trembled where she stood, frozen, for the fear of death and darkness still held its grip upon her. For several moments she remained still, and hesitant to move, but soon the feelings faded with the forgetfulness of dreams, and the stillness and peace of her surroundings dissolved into her soul.

Mithòl waited down the path, eager and encouraging, and the wolf’s steadfast presence soothed Rièle. Soon she stepped forward, and followed the wolf-guide again to the fork in the path. This time Rièle hesitated, not because she believed she had a choice in the path that she took, but because she knew that moving forward along the path would bring her hardship. Still, she persevered, and began walking up the slope again. It was some distance up the hill before she felt herself shift within the dream.

She was on another road, more open than the path in the Misty Forest, and surrounded by endless grasslands. Mithòl trotted silently beside her, ears pricked to the scene ahead of them. As Rièle looked ahead she recognized the gates and towering walls of the city of Lómëdor. It was strange, for the road into the city was empty, with no people or carts upon it, though the ominous tumult of a battle arose from within, and the cries of many people fleeing.

Rièle and Mithòl made haste within the city walls, following the cries and shouts of battle. Dust and stone rained down from the sky, and the earth shook in deference to whatever mighty enemy was attacking the city. As they drew closer they encountered people, running to hide within whatever shelter they could find inside the buildings and the city walls. They entered a large courtyard, or market square, and Rièle took in the scene before her.

Destruction had rent the stone structures of the place, and shards of stone littered the ground. Halves of buildings were all that remained of the structures within sight. People ran across the open courtyard, seeming to come from nowhere, and go to nowhere.

Amidst the remaining roofs and towers that surrounded the courtyard sat a dozen beasts, all powerful and fearsome to behold. As Rièle gazed upon them she realized that she recognized each of them, for they were the same caged beasts that she’d freed from the traders in the Taurai Woods. A lion, a chimera, a bear, an oliphant... all were here, standing as statues, or living gargoyles, in judgment of the events that were about to occur.

Looking closer, Rièle found even more beasts in the courtyard. Birds sat in the windows, dogs and cats skulked along the alleys, small forest beasts lurked in the building-shade, and deer of Salquedor drank from the city’s water trough. She was amazed at their numbers, for the more she looked the more beasts seemed to appear before her eyes.

At the center of the tumult was the cause of all this terror, and Rièle approached the scene cautiously, stepping over tumbled stone columns and using them for cover. She gazed upon a great and terrible fire dragon, fully-grown, and breathing fire upon the fleeing humans. The beast’s scales shone red and gold in the sunlight, and its flames were lethal to all who dared cross its path.

Before the beast was one engaged in battling the creature, his noble mission to save the people of Lómëdor. One, sweet Ferdibrand, alone and valiantly opposite the dragon, brandished his hobbit-axe in defiance of the beast. From his very steps grew sprigs of vines, and grassland flowers, and in his eyes shone a resolve and conviction that Rièle could only envy. He fearlessly swung his axe against the beast, fending off its sinuous lunges and distracting it so that the people might escape.

“You won’ get the best of me, no ser, ser dragon! This little hobbit’s got some surprises in him, that’s fer sure! I don’ know what your business is, making a wreck of this fine city, but yer naught but a big bully, and I’ll teach you a lesson, yes ser!”

The hobbit then noticed Rièle, and his eyes shone with delight, and welcome. “Oho! Miss Rièle! How glad I am to see you! Where’s your Jack? Never mind, Erling took off ears flat and tail high the moment he caught scent of this beastie, ruddy dingbat that he is. But you be a welcome sight, fer sure! Help me out with this pest, if you would, Miss Rièle. With you here we’ll have him bested soon enough!”

Rièle did not speak, but stepped forward and took her place beside Ferdibrand, ready to take his instruction as her role in the dream. She drew her fighting staff, and held it in defense against the dragon.

“Now here’s the plan, Miss Rièle,” began Ferdibrand. “I’ve got the bugger trapped, you see?” Rièle looked more carefully at the dragon, and saw that it was indeed trapped by a growth of thorns wrapped about its legs. The dragon was trying desperately to free itself, but as its hard scales ripped through the vines more grew from the earth to replace them. “I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve,” continued Ferdibrand, “I’ll distract ‘em, and cut at him with Buster,” he placed his hand upon his axe, indicating that he meant his weapon. “You, Miss Rièle, use your power, and kill the beast. Are you ready?”

Rièle had hardly any time to consider that, no, she was indeed not ready, and had no idea how to kill a dragon. But quicker than her eyes could catch Dibs was gone, across the courtyard, madly attacking the dragon from another angle. As soon as the dragon lunged for him he vanished, or seemed to, and reappeared at another location, attacking again. Rièle watched the pattern in fascination and uncertainty, at a loss for what to do and hoping that she would glean some idea of what Dibs had in mind by watching.

“The beasts!” Ferdibrand called to her between attacks, upon seeing that she hadn’t acted. Rièle turned and looked at the beasts surrounding them, feeling that Ferdibrand had pointed out the obvious, and she should’ve recalled the presence of the beasts around the courtyard. The dozens of beasts sat perfectly still, unconcerned by the battle, as if waiting for something. Rièle knew she could command them, that she could send them into battle against the dragon.

But, what could these beasts do against a dragon? And what about their will? She had no idea if the beasts were the dragon’s enemies, and if they wished to fight him, or if fighting would benefit the beasts in any way. Did they even have a chance of winning? Was her duty to command them all to fight, or to guide the battle and coordinate their efforts? How was she to accomplish such a thing? How could she accept responsibility for this?

Hesitating again, Rièle watched in a state of inaction as Ferdibrand took on the dragon. He struck at the creature with his axe, failing to pierce its armor of scales, and then would seem to disappear as the dragon lunged at him with its massive jaws. The hobbit would reappear in the same moment, attacking the dragon from a different position. Rièle felt the press of time upon her, for the dragon was immune to Ferdibrand’s attacks, and should he falter even slightly the beast was sure to prevail.

But as she watched the battle, something about the dragon caught her memory. Rièle looked closely into the beast’s green eyes, so deep and piercing that they seemed to look right through her, and know her, as if they were windows to a mind of vast intelligence. She remembered those eyes, but they had been upon another face, in another time, and she recognized the depth of greed and desire for power that lay within them.

It was not a simple dragon that Ferdibrand fought.

“Ferdibrand!” Rièle called. “Stop! It’s not a dragon! Ferdibrand!” But her voice had gone, taken by the dream, and she was stricken to silence with no way to warn Ferdibrand that he faced a fire guardian. Rièle continued to try to shout her warning, for she sensed that she might be able to break the muteness that had silenced her within the dream. Ferdibrand, to her dismay, only continued to battle Jupiter, and even continued to ask for her help.

“Come now, Miss Rièle, don’t lose heart! We’ll defeat this bugger yet. You just concentrate on getting the help of those beasts, and leave the rest to me, yessir!”

Rièle’s heart sank, and she fought with her conscience, but could not find it in herself to help him. Jupiter swung his mighty tail in frustration, knocking over several walls and buildings, and took a monstrous breath, stretching himself sinuously forward and unleashing a raging fire upon the city, so angry was he that he could not kill Ferdibrand.

Rièle felt as though she might explode, as she was bound by the inability to do a thing. Determinedly, she dared to open her mind and reach out to Jupiter, and felt his fearsome will towering in comparison to her own. Yet she held her resolve, and sent the feelings of her heart to the beast.

Jupiter, hear me! Why must you reign such destruction? Stop this madness, before you kill more people, and burn the city! Please, why would you wish to exact such suffering upon these people?

But Jupiter’s eyes glinted an eager, terrifying green as they looked upon the remains of the city, and he prepared another breath of fire. As if fueled by Rièle’s request for mercy he began leveling building by building, sending people screaming, and burning, and dying. Ferdibrand did his best to counter Jupiter’s attacks, but he could do little more than irritate the beast and keep it trapped within his magic restraints of plants.

Ferdibrand was panting from exhaustion, and Rièle sense within the dream told her that he couldn’t keep his speed and strength up for much longer. Everything around her was driving her with the initiative to act, but still she resisted. “Now Miss Rièle, we’re wearing him down, yessir we are!” said Ferdibrand. Rièle looked at the dragon, but didn’t think that Jupiter was growing tired at all. “I’ll distract ‘im, Miss Rièle, like we planned. We’re in for a pinch o’ trouble if he breaks free, so make haste! Use that mighty staff and break his scales!”

Rièle glanced down, remembering the staff within her hands. In the dream, it did not occur to her that a staff should be useless against a dragon, that it should burn in his fire and splinter against his scales. Rather she knew, at least in this reality, that she held a weapon that could somehow harm the beast, and that she held a power to help Ferdibrand within her hands: It would only take her initiative to act to succeed. But again she looked upon the dragon, and saw Jupiter’s eyes looking out, so angry and bent on destruction. Perhaps there was another way?

Rièle again opened her mind to the dragon, and this time found herself drawn into Jupiter’s thoughts, like being sucked into the current of a whirlpool. Within the beast’s mind, where Rièle expected to find a reflection of that calm, confident, malevolent guardian she’d known, she found instead a storm of rage, and desire to burn, and kill, and destroy. The humanity of the mind she touched was reduced to a small trace, a shadow engulfed by the mind of the dragon.

Jupiter! she spoke, entreating the beast to hear her words. What has happened to you? Please, hear the prayers of those around you.... It was frightening, encountering a mind so lacking sanity, and so corrupted by rage. She thought of Jupiter’s personality, how he was so focused on his goals and desires, and how his thoughts were always churning beneath his cool and handsome visage. But Jupiter wasn’t himself here... was he gone? Dead, perhaps? Transformed into the body of this beast, and now carrying out the destruction he had strived so hard to achieve when he was human? Rièle’s heart grew sad, thinking how much of himself Jupiter had lost.

But Rièle’s sadness was quickly ripped from her by the terror that entered her mind, as the dragon’s eyes met her own. Her mental link with the beast had captured its attention, and where it had formerly been focused on the hobbit, it now turned to her. She raised her staff, knowing she had missed her opportunity, knowing she had failed, and readied herself for death as the dragon opened its jaws and tensed its muscles, preparing to lunge.

Rièle closed her eyes, unable to move, or act, and felt the dragon coming for her, knew that she was going to die, and that events were out of her control. She experienced such fear, her heart racing and her mind cowering, and as the penultimate moment came when the dragon’s jaws should reach her, she felt herself transported, somehow, to another place.

The fog of the wood was thick around her. She felt as if she was in a daze, for the fog in her mind was just as thick as that amongst the trees, and she struggled to form coherent thought. As the memories of the dreams returned to her Rièle found herself overwhelmed with frustration and shame for her hesitations. She felt her power course through her veins, and now recognized the discrete choice of paths before her. The reflection of her character shown to her by the dreams had demonstrated the peril and suffering to which she had condemned herself. To deny her own abilities and take a course of inaction only led to the suffering of those she cared for.

Rièle’s mind was filled with a resolve and determination that she had never known before. She stood, and made her way back through the woods, retracing her steps through the fog and trees toward the camp of beasts and men. The walk was shorter than she remembered, and she found the camp exactly as she had left it, with campfires and men, dwarves, and dryads crouched around them. The circle of leaders loomed ominously before her, their eyes watching for her return, waiting to see if she would meet their expectations. The fog still hung in the air, thick and heavy amongst them, but all of their eyes shone clear upon her.

She took her place amongst them, and the gryphon, Jeb, again addressed her. “Do we have your aid, Rièle, of Anan Isl?”

Rièle took a long, deep breath before answering, allowing the cumulation of emotions not only from her dreams, but from her experiences in life since the emergence of her powers, to well up inside of her. She gave her answer with an immense sense of relief upon her soul. “Yes.”

The gryphon nodded. The other leaders in the circle looked pleased, in direct reflection of the emotion Rièle held for herself, having finally had the courage to step forward and use her abilities for a cause. She truly felt a sense of pride, and belonging, and she thought that she was doing something right. It was easier than she had expected, and she was glad of it, glad to have ended her own struggle with herself and her worries that others would suffer because of her.

They quickly broke camp, for dawn was upon them, and the contingent of men and beasts marched down across the wasteland, toward whatever enemy was waiting. Rièle walked somewhere in the middle, Jack following loyally behind her, and felt the company of the men and beasts around her, drinking in their purpose, and fueled by a rush of adrenaline. She looked down to find Mithòl running beside her, tongue lolling from her mouth, intent with eager yellow eyes upon the enemy.

The attacking force crashed upon the enemy’s camp like a wave upon a wall of rocks. Rièle swung her staff at the enemy soldiers, cutting lines through the thick mist that still surrounded them. She quickly realized that the heart of the enemy was a group of mages, and that they wielded a strange and unearned power gleaned from the destruction of the wood. Rièle’s eyes narrowed with distaste, and she set upon one of the mages, her staff swinging lethally, and her abilities seeming to flow like water from a spring. Jack kicked and bit at his attackers beside her, agile and lethal as a war-horse, and Mithòl ripped the flesh from the warriors’ arms and legs. Rièle’s staff impacted with the wizard’s torso, breaking his ribs, and sending him crashing to the floor. She leveled the weapon at him, fueled with motivation for doing something active, and right, and swung it a final time, breaking his skull.

The unleashing of power at the wizard’s death was furious. Rièle felt a stirring in the void as the power sifted through, pooling in the emptiness and waiting to be used, or drawn to some other purpose. Resolved to end her hesitation, Rièle used her connection with the void, reaching inside it with her mind and drawing on the power there, increasing her own abilities. With Jack and Mithòl protecting her, she let her mind drift away from the battle, and channeled the power she had taken.

Rièle found resources within her mind that she never knew she’d had. Within moments howls sounded in the distance, and the rest of Mithòl’s pack, nearly 20 wolves, crested the nearest rise and joined the battle. The horde of beasts that had been summoned to the camp descended on the enemy with lethal force. Three strange owlbears came from the south, slowly walking into the fray, their teeth bared and their eyes filled with hate. They began slashing at the enemy with claws and antlers, charging with great might into the frenzied soldiers. Rièle reached out with her mind and touched one of them, and it was though a trick of the eye took place, for the animal let out a great roar, as its body somehow stretched and lengthened, and grew in height, until it was double its original size. The impact from the beast’s descending feet alone was enough to end a soldier’s life.

Rièle’s skin tingled with the magic coursing through her. The enemy was diminishing, but she reached inside herself again, and cast out another summons. A family of wild boars, enraged and red-eyed, tore through the woods in a deadly stampede, their tusks ripping through the brush and the spikes on their backs piercing savagely anything they came in contact with. Rièle set them upon the enemy, and they ripped flesh from limb, stabbing and goring, their spikes piercing armor, crushing bone, and their tusks shredding flesh and meat. So angry were they that they knew not friend from foe, but their destruction upon the enemy was severe.

As each mage reached to use his stolen power for a counter-spell, or died from wounds inflicted by the beasts and their allies, more and more power filled the void, and Rièle drew upon it. She found that the roots of her will were embedded not only in the realm of nature, but in the emptiness of space where magic flowed; such had been the way of things since the attack upon her by the Master. And, realizing this power, she was a fury to behold.

Blood of beasts and men sunk into the ground, and the enemy began to flee. Rièle and her allies pursued them through the trees, intending to eradicate them from the forest, that they might not draw upon its power again. But in the miles between the scene of battle and the grasslands lay a village, filled with hard-working people of the earth, who shared the forest with the beasts and led a fair and honest life. The enemy took shelter here, holding the villagers at bay, and hiding in their homes, taking refuge within their walls.

To descend upon the village was to cause the death of innocents, for the enemy would kill the villagers without a moment’s hesitation. The power pulsed through Rièle, and she exchanged glances with her comrades, as they considered what to do. The others seemed hesitant to proceed, but Rièle stepped forward, calling the beasts to her. Was this enemy truly so dangerous, and their power so corrupt, and their potential for destruction so great, that it was worth sending her beasts forward, commanding them to kill, and taking innocents along with the enemy?

As she watched the mist curl thickly amongst the buildings, Rièle made her decision. Her purpose had been decided, she would select the one path now before her, the one of least hesitation, the one of confidence, the one of power. Slowly she drew her arms forward, and the beasts that lay in wait behind her stood, and charged down to the little village.

Suddenly Rièle was overcome by a strange emotion, and a tingling in the back of her mind, as if something was missing. She looked to the east, and saw Jack’s dark form disappearing into the mist, his ears pinned in revulsion. She felt a wave of anger from him, and shame, and an unforgiving sense of separation that was edged with finality. She knew in her heart that he would never return to her.

She felt as though she’d woken up from a trance, and returned to herself, as her heart broke at Jack’s departure. What had she allowed herself to do? She looked down at the dead beneath her feet, and saw the faces of friends, and family, and those she cared about amongst them. Around her the forest lay savaged from the battle, even more damaged than it had been by the wizards. And below her innocents lay dying, at her hands. Who had she become, that she was such a failure to the cause she desired to serve? What strength was left to her?

In despair, Rièle sunk to her knees, letting out a cry of incomprehensible sadness. The mist grew ever thicker, until she could no longer see the scene around her, only hear the cries of the dying, and the enraged. Those soon faded, until the world was a damp cloud all around her, and she looked ahead to see Mithòl, sitting patiently.

Rièle felt a clarity of mind, as though part of her conscious thoughts had been returned to her within the dream. Still guided by the dream-world, however, she knew her purpose was to attend the wolf, who brought forth her questions again.

Why do you fear my kind, Rièle of Anan Isl?

Rièle again felt bound to answer. But, this time, her soul spoke a different response. Because I do not believe I have the strength of mind to equal that of the wolves.

Why do you fear the void?

Because I do not believe I have the strength to withstand its power.

And why do you fear to be a beastmaster?

Because I do not believe that I am worthy. I fear that I am weak, and will fall into darkness, and that my path will not serve Curin’s will. Without guidance... what am I to do with such power?

The mist then parted, and a soft green glade was visible behind the sitting she-wolf. Rièle recognized the realm of the Liraden, and the little house in which Curin resided when he visited Ovorodhon’s home. She stood, and entered the warmth of the place, recalling the peace and knowledge that had filled her there. Within a few steps she found Curin, sitting beneath the old-growth trees, staring up at the magic of their light and the song of the birds that flew within their branches. He took a deep, long, breath, and Rièle sensed that he had heard her questions.

"Do?" Curin frowned, pulling at his heard, and the queer deep glitter of his eyes sparkled as if with stars. "What does anyone with power do except try to avoid using it? But I promise you this Riele of Anan Isl; in the darkening world, your power will draw you toward the darkness, where you, and those like you, will resist it."

The deity smiled warmly at Rièle, and she kneeled before him and kissed his wrinkled hand, her thanks apparent in the devotion on her face. She thought she understood his meaning, or was beginning to.

The mist formed thickly again, and the dream world faded, releasing Rièle’s mind.

She awoke bathed in sweat, and experienced a painful chill as the moisture evaporated from her skin in the cold of the forest. The thick mist had drifted away, and she found herself awake, truly awake, beneath the trees of the Misty Forest.

Before her sat Mithòl, and the wolf’s knowing stare welcomed Rièle from her sleep. Rièle felt the wolf’s soft presence in her mind, and smiled at her company. Do you have the answer that you seek? asked the wolf.

Rièle considered for a moment, allowing all of the thoughts and lessons from the dreams to surface. She recalled her mistakes, and realized her own belief that inaction only led to suffering. But she also knew the consequences of choosing to act, and abusing what power might come to her. It was the words of Curin, envisioned in her dream, that gave her the courage to find her answer. “My choices, and my uncertainty... the answers lie within myself. But I must have faith in my self to find them.”

Mithòl snorted approvingly, and trotted away, leaving Rièle alone. Footpads faded softly into the distance as she rose, and Rièle felt the minds of the wolf pack drifting steadily away, peaceful and unthreatening. She stood, brushing the grass and dirt from her limbs and clothes, and slowly made her way back to the camp.

She found Jack where she had left him, grazing peacefully, and stopped briefly to embrace his neck and pat him, and touch him so that she knew he was truly there. He clearly considered the entire process odd, and spent the entirety of their interaction searching her pockets for any hidden snacks, quickly returning to his grazing when he realized there were none. Rièle smiled, and left him to his meal.

The sun was just cresting the distant hills as Rièle made her way into the camp. The band of warriors was stirring, and she could hear the clinking of pots and pans as they prepared their morning meal. She took in the welcome intermittent warmth of their campfires as she passed by, and returned smiles of the kind faces whose eyes met her own.

The leaders were again in their circle, and Rièle inferred that they were discussing plans for their attack. She waited aside patiently until they nodded that she might approach, and again appeared before them. This time she did have a confidence about her, a courage, as it were, for she felt that somehow in these past hours she had learned something of herself, and had gained a faith in her own abilities to stay true to herself and her beliefs. The gryphon spoke, as he had before, and after welcoming her to their circle, asked the question foremost on their minds. “Do we have your aid, Rièle, of Anan Isl?”

Rièle met the gryphon’s eyes, and took a long, deep breath before answering.