arena hunter :: A world may produce one or two great writers, but one or two great writers can produce a multitude of worlds...

   A black raven circled above his head. He threw his head up and whistled loudly. The raven flew back down to its master and landed on his gloved arm. It cawed boister-ously.
   “Shh.” Its master told it quickly.
   The stars were bright, and they guided Sharon to the stone castle. Sharon ran through the dense forest until he came to a barren clearing where he stopped. He thought back to when he was younger, and he had asked his father why there was no moon. “Because,” he had said. “the lady Ashalin died.”
   “Lady Ashalin? But, you always told me she would never die!”
   His father had smiled. “Yes, that is true. She will never die. She will always live on in the further world—the land of spirits. But you see, her mortal body died when the wizard burned her. Just like you and me, her body couldn’t survive, and she died. But as all the Elvirans do, she released her spirit into the further world.”
   He shook his head in disbelief. There were no such thing as fairy tales, and his father had been a fool to think so. And what did his stories earn him? Murder by the Sadrians. The only reason there was no moon was because of love. Love caused the strongest of the strong to fail. It caused the wizard to usher the moon away, in search of his love. Love. What a foolish concept.
   His raven shifted on his arm uneasily. Sharon began to walk again.
   “We’ll be home soon. Don’t worry.” He started humming to calm the bird down. “The castle’s not but two miles away now.”
   He followed the light of the greatest star, Laon and made his way past the rocky barrens of the valley. As Sharon climbed over a boulder, he could see the castle. The sunrise glimmered over the tallest tower. I’ll never make it! he thought. He scrambled over the last few rocks that were in his way and bolted to the castle wall. He kneeled down and pushed aside some dry brush, which revealed a passageway. He crawled inside and began fighting his way through the rocky tunnel. At the end of the tunnel was a purple curtain covering a crude entrance. Sharon barged through the entranceway into the pan-try. He let the raven off his arm and opened the pantry door.
   Whack!
   “I knew you would comes here! I knew it, I did!” Cook screeched and hit him on the head again. “You’ve been stealing outa my pantry, you ‘ave!” Sharon covered his head with his arms, and Cook went directly to his stomach.
   Whack!
   “Rosalina, darling! I meant no harm!”
   She pointed her index finger at him accusingly. “Don’t you ‘Rosalina’ me! You ‘aven’t any right to call me that!”
   “Ah, Rosalina, I have every right!”
   Whack!
   “Oi! Get out of my kitchen before I pulls out the broom!”
   Sharon made a crooked smile, grabbed a hunk of bread, and ran out of the kitchen.
   “Oh!” shrieked Cook. “You’ll be gettin’ no supper tonight!” But he was already gone.
   He ran through the long corridors to the other side of the castle. He slipped into the armory—inconspicuously he hoped—and slid in line with the other servants. The head servant was at the right end of the line, and staring directly at him.
   “Mr. Porter, I do believe that there was an empty spot right where you are stand-ing now. Do you think that you could tell me how it is that that place is now filled, Mr. Porter?”
   “Yes, sir.” Sharon answered sullenly.
   “Is it possible, that the occupant of that place, was late, Mr. Porter?”
   “Yes, sir.”
   “Do you know why he was late?”
   “Yes, sir.”
   “Then perhaps,” he continued, “you could give all of us an explanation. Hmm?”
   “I overslept, sir.” Sharon lied.
   “Overslept? Why, that is against the rules. That will cost you 20 lashes and no supper, understood?”
   “Yes, sir.”
   As the instructions for the day’s work was read aloud, all Sharon could think of was the lashing he would receive afterward. He could just imagine all of those tiny flecks of glass digging into his skin, the razor-like pain of the leather—he winced. Before he knew it, the instructions had been read, and he and the head servant, Bothar, were the only ones in the room. Bothar took out the whip.

…

   Sharon winced as he walked to the Great Hall. It was bad enough that he had to spend the day scrubbing the floor of the Great Hall—now he had to endure it with the pain of a thousand knives stabbing his back. He opened the grandeur doors to the Hall and stepped inside. He saw Sahri at the other end of the Hall and he went over to greet her.
   “You’re stuck here too?” he inquired.
   “Yes.” she said. She looked up at him. “And you’re the one who snuck out—again.”
   “Oh, come on, Sahri. I got in trouble one time. It won’t happen again.” He bent down on his knees and leaned toward her. “I promise.”
   She turned away. “Your promises are worth nothing to me.”
   Sharon gently grabbed her smooth chin with his worn hand. “You don’t mean that.” She looked back at him with sad eyes.
“I do, Sharon.”
   “Sahri, I made a mistake. I never meant to—“
   “But you did! You promised me!” Her voice lowered. “You told me you loved me.”
   His eyes hardened. “Love. I dare you to say that one more time.”
   She looked at him defiantly. “Love. Love is something you would never under-stand because you are too arrogant and stubborn to see the truth. You are the most igno-rant weakling that I have ever seen to crawl this world. And you should be ashamed of—“
   “Sahri!” He cut her off abruptly. “Enough. Love is dead, and only silly girls like you try to chase a dead dream.”
   “Dead? Is that what you think? Then you can’t see what is right before your eyes.” With that, she stood and walked to the other end of the Hall.
   He stared after her, contemplating her words. He shook his head and grabbed a rag. Those floors weren’t going to clean themselves after all.
   The two of them worked in silence for hours, circling around each other to avoid an awkward conversation. After three hours of silence, Sharon couldn’t handle it any-more. He walked over to Sahri.
   “Sahri, what did I do wrong?”
   She did not answer.
   “Sahri, don’t do this to me. You’re better than this.”
   Without looking up from her work she said, “I know I’m better than you.” After that, he gave up and went back to work.
   Sharon thought about what he could do to win her back—he would not say love, because he did not believe that was what they had. It was more of a… deep friendship. He thought up many ideas, but he knew she wouldn’t fall for any of them. Then he thought of it.   She had always been a soft-spoken girl—unless you angered her. She pre-ferred the simpler things of life.
   When the work was completed he walked over to her. “I’m sorry. I’d like to make it up to you. Will you come with me?”
   She looked at him and her eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t think so, Sharon. I can’t trust you anymore.”
   “Please.” He said. “Just give me one more chance.”
   She thought about it and then nodded curtly.
   He grinned wide and grabbed her by the hand. He pulled her through the Great Hall’s entrance and they walked to his room.
   “Here it is.” He said. She looked around.
   “What? What is it?”
   He reached underneath his bed and held out a box. He opened it up, and there was a sky-blue robin’s egg. “It’s for you.”
   “Oh, Sharon, that’s so sweet!” exclaimed Sahri. My favorite bird. How did you know?
   “And that’s not all.” he said and smiled. He inched towards her, hesitated, and then leaned forward with a short kiss. She looked surprised. “I thought you didn’t be-lieve in love.”
   “I don’t.” he said.

…

That same evening, Sharon couldn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes he saw his father. And when his eyes were open, so were his ears. Every thought screamed of his father and he could not get rid of them. He missed so many things that he had been taught. It was his father who taught him to wield a sword, to string a bow, to fly with the ravens.
   The raven! He thought frantically. He had completely forgotten! He had left the raven in the pantry! Oh, for the love of Ziilta! If he was caught in the kitchen, he could be kicked out. If he didn’t go back, and Cook found the raven… there’s no telling what she would do to it! Sharon’s father had given that bird to him when he was only three years old. The raven had just hatched. The raven was supposed to represent immortality and prosperity. What would it be if it was dead?
   He threw off the covers and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. His feet hit the cold stone of the floor and it sent shivers up his legs and up his spine. The cold dampness went through his threadbare clothes, and he quickly put on a thin robe. Sharon opened his creaky door as quietly as he could and tiptoed down the corridor. He slowly made his way to the kitchen, and he could hear Cook snoring in the room next door. As he entered the kitchen he tripped and fell, but he stopped himself from making a scene only by putting his hands out in front of him to catch himself so that he didn’t crash into anything. He slowly pushed himself off the ground, but when he stood up, he hit his head on a pot!
   Suddenly, Cook wasn’t snoring anymore. In fact, Sharon couldn’t hear any-thing… yet. Then he heard it—Cook pulling herself out of bed and dragging her feet across the floor. In a frantic search for escape, Sharon opened the pantry door to hide in. When he barged in, he was bombarded by a clash of feathers and claws.
   “Shh!” he told the raven. “Stop it!”
   He could hear Cook’s heavy breathing just outside the door. Just when he thought Cook was gone, he saw the door start to move. She was opening the door! He would be discovered! Sharon’s heart was in his throat, and he thought vaguely, What will happen to the raven? Then it hit him. He stepped backwards and behind the shelf was a purple curtain. He stepped through into the tunnel and waited. He waited and waited for what seemed like hours. Or days. Or years…

…

   Sharon woke up. The raven was perched on a rock next to him. A rock? he thought. What is a rock doing in my bedroom? Wait a minute. Where am I? Then he remem-bered. The mad dash to the pantry, the raven, Cook. “What time is it?” He thought out loud. With no one there to answer him he exited the tunnel and peeked through the pan-try door. All was quiet and dark. He went back to the tunnel to find the raven hopping about on the ground restlessly.
   “All right, all right. But only just outside the castle, and only for a few minutes.” The raven cawed in response.
   When they reached the end of the passageway and Sharon stepped outside, the raven leaped up into the black sky and soared to the stars. Sharon watched the raven glide through the night, free. He looked at the dead landscape around him. When will I be free? Free to be who I am, free to soar like a bird? When he looked back up however, the ra-ven was gone! He scrambled up and looked around, sweeping the skies.
   There! The raven was flying east, towards the main road. He ran to catch up with it, but the raven was fast. When the black bird finally stopped and landed on an elm tree, they were past the road and far from the castle. Through his panting, Sharon managed to let out a whistle, calling for the raven to return to his arm. But the raven did not come. It stayed where it was, its black eyes watching the boy carefully. Then it took off again, headed north.
   Sharon reluctantly followed. About ten minutes later, the raven stopped again. And, once again, the bird did not heed its master’s bidding. The raven flew into the night one more time, but only traveled a short distance before it landed on a tree branch. Gasping for breath, Sharon was about to call for the bird one more time, when he real-ized where he was. He was standing by a lake. Lake Al’reth. He had come here as a child many times with his father to gaze at the wonders beneath the surface.
   He slowly started walking along the waters edge. Then his eyes caught a glimpse of something. He turned his head to see on the other side of the lake, an angel. Or, rather, what appeared to be an angel from his perspective. Mesmerized by her, Sharon walked around the lake to the other side to get a better view of the angel. As he came close, he saw that she was not an angel, but she was most definitely not human. But she was beautiful.
   Her hair was blacker than night and her skin was pale and glowed naturally in the starlight. As she walked along side the water’s waves, he got a glimpse of her face. Her eyes were frosty black and she had silver streaks in her hair, framing her face. Her face was cold and wild and beautiful, but she seemed tamed and… noble. Her pure white cloak draped around her. The wind blew the cloak aside for a moment, revealing a black dress and shoeless feet.
   Sharon gazed at her, completely held captive by her beauty. The raven flew down from its perch and landed on his shoulder. And then, she looked at him.
…
   Her cold eyes held his gaze. He was unable to look away. Never once looking away from him, she waltzed over to him. He was frozen. He couldn’t move. He tried desperately to look away from her, but no matter how hard he tried his body simply would not respond. The raven on the other hand, was quite capable of movement. It cawed and hopped over to the pale lady.
   Her eyes flickered to the raven for only a moment then her attention was brought back to Sharon. When she spoke, it sounded like a thousand choirs—her voice was high and beautiful, and at the same time it was low and powerful. She said,
   “Are you Sharon of the Raven?”
   Sharon blinked. “I am Sharon.” His voice sounded shaky and unstable. He tried again. “I am Sharon, but I am not of the Raven.” To be ‘of the Raven’ was the best of the best in legends and fairy tales. To be of the Raven not only meant you were a skilled fighter, but you were kind and benevolent.
   “Well then, Sharon of Nothing, you are not the one I am looking for.”
   “Wait. Who is it that you are looking for?” he asked, not wanting the beautiful creature to leave.
   “It is of no consequence to you.” She began to turn away. She took a few steps then looked over her shoulder. “But, perhaps you do not know.”
   “Know? Know what?”
   A great howl of a wolf came from the night, and they both turned their faces to the north. Sharon looked back at the lady and she was crouched down on the ground, her hands clasped together.
   “Sharon, you must listen closely.” She said. “You will meet me here in a fortnight if you wish to know your past. Until then, continue to train yourself. Ora will instruct you.” And with that, she vanished in a whirlwind of black smoke and white flames.
   Sharon stared where she had been only thirty seconds before. The howls of the wolves grew louder. The raven nipped at his robes. “Ora? Who is Ora?” The raven cocked its head. His eyes sparkled and he launched himself into the sky.
   The howling grew louder still. As the raven made its way back to the castle with Sharon not far behind, the howls still increased. By the time they were at the road, Sharon could’ve sworn he saw something behind the trees. But, that something didn’t look like a wolf… exactly. It really looked like some sort of hybrid—a wolf and a lion. The power and jaws of a dog, and the agility and claws of a cat.
   They continued on their quest home, and all the while the environment showed more and more signs of the coming day. By the time the sun was rising, they were not even to the tunnel.
   Sharon stopped. I can’t go back. he realized. The raven was still flying, and Sharon whistled for it. The bird knew what was going on and swooped down. “What are we going to do?” asked Sharon aloud. The raven only blinked in response.
   “Why did I ever expect anything from you?” he asked angrily. “I don’t even know why I kept you. All you do is bring back memories of my father. It’s because of you that I got into this mess.” He knew what he was saying made no sense. But still, it felt good to vent. In reality, he had only done what he had been planning on doing for ages—run away. It felt like so much more though. He had wanted to escape with Sahri, but now that was impossible. In fact, he would never see her again. He had no food, no shelter, and the dreams of the woman—and his father—to haunt him.

…

   A week had passed. Sharon had been able to forage berries and such from the surrounding wilderness and he had found a small cave in which he slept… not that he slept much. His dreams were constantly inhabited by his father telling him childhood sto-ries. His waking hours were hardly an improvement. The raven would screech at him every morning and throughout the day it would peck at his arms and legs. But all this time Sharon was wondering, Where is this Ora?
   Finally, at the end of a long day, Sharon got fed up with the raven. It insisted on bringing him pain, pecking and jabbing at him every chance he got. When the ocher bird was about to descend on him yet another time, Sharon grabbed a stick and blocked himself from its vicious beak. Trying not to hurt the bird though, he only managed to push it away, and it came back at him. He couldn’t move quick enough though, which earned him a sharp pain in the ribs. Enraged, he swung at the raven, knocking it aside.
   The raven hopped back up and Sharon could’ve sworn he saw it smile. Its eyes twinkled deviously. Sharon let an animal like growl out of his throat. The raven shot to-wards him again, and he hit it away. Amazingly, not a single one of its feathers was rum-pled. It got up and sped at him and he swung his stick again. The two of them repeated this sequence over and over again, Sharon too blinded by his anger to see what he was doing.
   Both of them exhausted, Sharon finally noticed the stick in his hand. He could not believe what he had done. This was his raven! His father’s raven! He ran to the bird and said, “I’m sorry! Really, I am!” He looked at the raven to see it unharmed. He stepped back from the raven to get a better look at it. Nothing seemed amiss; it was as if nothing had ever happened.
   “Are you sure that you’re a raven? Only a raven?”
   The bird looked like it was nodding its head… how strange.
   Another week passed and the raven and Sharon continued their “lessons.” It was the night—exactly one fortnight since he had seen the woman at lake Al’reth.
   Sharon wandered back to the lake with the raven at his side. Not knowing whether or not he wanted to be here, he hid himself among the trees. He waited for the lady to appear quietly. She never came. He anxiously watched the raven circle above the lake. It was the middle of the night—about the same time he had come here the first time. Still, she made no appearance.
   He waited for hours, until Laon was fading in the dawn sky. He got up and stretched his legs, prepared to return to his camp. He whistled for the raven and after a few minutes more of circling, it came to him. The raven perched on his shoulder and he turned around. With one last hope, though, he looked over his other shoulder.
   There she was. She was striding over the water, outwardly appearing weightless, making her way to him. He held his breath. She was nearing him. The raven flew off his shoulder to meet the lady. Sharon took a deep breath and walked forward.
   “Sharon of the Raven, are you not?”
   “No, I am not of the Raven.”
   “Sharon of Nothing, then. How was your training with Ora?”
   He smiled and chuckled to himself. “Your Ora never showed up. This raven, on the other hand, taught me a thing or two.”
   The beautiful woman’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean? Is this raven not Ora?”
   “The raven?” Sharon was confused. “No. This raven was given to me by my father.”
   “When?”
   “When I was four. Thirteen years ago.”
   She smiled. “Then it is most definitely Ora.”
   Sharon was confused, but he decided to deal with it later. “Alright then. But I’m confused. Why are you here?”
   “I came to this world to find you.”
   “’This world?’ What do you mean?”
   “I live in Eluna, land of the moon. It is the world parallel to this one. The people who live there are the Elvirans. We are cousins to your kind.”
   “What?”
   She gave a tentative smile. “You really are of a lower intelligence.”
   “That’s not true…” Sharon muttered. “Fine then. Let’s start over. Who are you?”
   “I am Sésar of Eluna. I am the daughter of Raen, warrior and protector of Eluna. And you are?”
   He decided it was best to follow her lead. “Sharon of Nothing,” he mocked. “I am the son of Gard, servant of Deela the head of the Sadrians.”
   “Sadrians?” she said. “Things have changed since I was here last.”
   “When was the last time you were here?”
   At this Sésar blushed. “Seventeen years ago.” She turned to the raven. “Ora, will you come with me for a moment?” The raven screeched and flew to her shoulder. They started to walk into the forest.
   What is going on? Sharon thought.
   He interrupted. “Listen, Sésar.” He began. “I don’t know why you came here, but I’m sorry you made the effort. This is too much. I’m going home.”
   She did not look surprised. In fact, she looked pleased! “Well met, Sharon. But you have nowhere to go. You have no family and no means of income since you cannot return to the castle. You do not belong there. It is a place of evil.”
   “Evil?” He retorted. “Hardly. As for family, I’m better off on my own anyway. And income? I can get a job. People are always needed somewhere.” He waited for her response.
   She was restrained. “I can see that the prophecy must be taken more seriously. Very well, then. Here, take this.” She handed him a small rounded black gemstone. “When you need me, you will know what to do with it.” She walked away silently into the dawn.
   “Huh.” Sharon said after she was out of sight. He looked at the raven. “I half expected her to vanish in a puff of smoke.”
   He sighed. “Ora, are you?” It nodded. “In all the stories the animal companions talk to their masters. You won’t though?”
   It ruffled its tail feathers.
   “I’m going to take that as a no.”

…

   It had only been a few days since Sharon had rejected Sésar’s offer. He had gone in search of somewhere to stay—a small village, perhaps. He was on his way to Hearing in the southern most part of Llayson. The raven had refused to be within ten meters of him, and the time passed slowly. Sharon stopped right outside of Hearing so that he could enter in the morning. He made a crude camp and went searching for a river or stream. He came across a brook that led to a small pond. Then sun had not yet set, and certain kinds of fish were active.
   Sharon waded knee-deep into the water and waited. He waited. And he waited. As time passed, he noticed that the fish all seemed to be heading in the same direction. He watched a Grey Sharkback sway back and forth, moving gracefully in the water. It vanished behind a forest of kelp and then reappeared on the other side. Sharon followed its path. It went all the way to the middle of the pond where it was greeted by many Sharkbacks and other fish.
   About seven feet beneath the surface, all the fish gathered in the center of the pond. An ominous glow beckoned them, called them to its presence. Sharon peered far-ther below the waters.
   That light… it’s so bright. It lights up the whole pond! The waters are clear—not murky. He saw a clear, flawless diamond embedded in a rock. He gazed at it. He had seen this be-fore, he was sure of it. Everything around the gem gave way to its hypnotizing aura… even the waters were still.
   Shhhh… oddly enough, Sharon was sure that the precious diamond appeared to be talking! Or, mumbling… Shhhhaaa… It half-voiced a word. A bird flew by. It looked at the diamond and, caught by its snare, dove to the water. A bright light flashed and the bird was gone. All that remained was a feather floating along the water’s edge. The dia-mond hissed.

None may proceed but the one who is chosen.
Only one may go forth to the land that is frozen.
Times have passed and sleep draws near,
Continue onward or forget your fear.
The heart of ice is melting within
And the hero shall follow the way of his kin.

   The water sizzled and boiled, and the fish swam away. All was silent. Not a soul stirred. The wind ceased, the waters stilled, and Sharon could not move. The waters grew deeper and deeper and darker and darker. The plant life withered away and the pond grew larger still. Sharon could not move. The water was closing in around him, the shining sun disappearing from his sight. The surface of the water froze over and shards of ice mingled with the rigid, icy water. Sharon could not move. The pressure was tearing at his limbs. He was suffocating. His eyes wandered to the bottom of the growing body of water. There were bodies; hundreds of corpses, lying on the lake floor… all frozen.
   The water glowed red. Sharon was drawing near to the bodies. Sharon could not move. And then he saw him. His father. His body was cold and lifeless; his eyes were staring into the murky nothingness that surrounded him. And there were countless oth-ers. All of them looked… familiar. He saw his aunt Thessa and his uncle Gorle. He saw his cousins and his grandparents. All of his relatives were there. His lungs were on fire. Sharon could not move. Dark ebony hair caught his attention. The hair swirled in the currents of the water. Sharon could not move.
   As the black-haired body came into focus, Sharon recognized her pale green dress. The figure was moving, struggling. She was the only moving thing in the water. Her eyes darted to him and they screamed of pain. Sharon could not move.
   That’s odd… he thought. She must be drowning. Why does she not swim to the surface? Then he panicked. He tried desperately to open his mouth, to scream her name. He tried in vain to reach for her hand, to rescue her. He rebelled against his own body and attempted to swim to her. Sahri!
   Her emerald eyes became dark and frosted. Her hand reached up towards the surface one last time. She desperately clung to the fading light. Sahri fought against the bitter cold that enveloped her, and she lost.
   Sahri! No! He could feel her hair brush against his cheek. He could feel her heart stop. But for some reason, even after the sudden panic, he didn’t care. Why should he care? She had done nothing for him, given nothing to him. She meant nothing to him.
   He allowed himself to give way to the growing darkness. He felt the ice on his skin, but he didn’t care. In fact, it felt nice; it was a cool relief after struggling against the current, icy though it was. But he couldn’t shake a nagging feeling that there was some-thing amiss. No, he thought. I must be talking myself into a delirium. There’s nothing wrong at all. Soon I’ll be—
   He could not continue. His thoughts stopped abruptly. His lungs took over all his attention and his eyes bulged. Sharon wanted to curl up and tear at his abdomen, wrenching the pain out by any means possible. He was on fire, his head was exploding, his legs were cold and unfeeling. He was stuck in an icy and fiery hell. There was no es-caping. Then he couldn’t see, for the haze surrounding his eyes. After that, there was a sudden, terrible nothing. He could feel nothing, see nothing, hear nothing, think noth-ing… and in a way, it was a relief. Perhaps his death had come and he could peacefully join his father.
   Yes, that’s it. I died. Now I don’t have to worry about the lady or the raven, I don’t have to scrub the floors and work all day. I am truly free.
   Though he could not feel it, he knew his mouth curved into a smile. Peace at last. What bliss! He had never felt so free, so alive! He chuckled to himself. Only now that I’m dead am I alive. Ironic.
   But then, there was no bliss. No carefree wonder, no ecstasy. No blithe delight. Only a growing light, harsh and blinding, and it was getting closer to him. He tried to cover his eyes with his arms but he couldn’t. In terror, he gazed at where his arms should be… but they weren’t. Instead, there were shafts of light, multicolored rainbows that shifted with the wind. The rest of his body was the same way. The light became stronger and stronger until there were no shadows and everything was glowing white. Sharon blinked. He could see faintly past the light, which had no source that he could see.
   Behind the light was… A forest? Large spruces and oaks and maples covered the hills, and Sharon could tell that it was night. Then he saw several things that he had never seen before. The first was the sky. It was completely starless. There were no guid-ing lights or points of direction. It was black.
   The second was something else that was in the sky; two things to be precise. One was round—it looked like a disk imbedded in the tangible night. The other was crescent shaped. It also hung suspended in the sky. The former was a creamy silver, like milk mixed with the shiniest steel. The latter was silver as well, but tinted with a golden auburn. They were stationed at complete opposites of the sky, and they complimented each other nicely.
   The third thing Sharon saw was not necessarily new to him, just done in a strange manner. He saw what he thought was a castle. But the castle was made of wood, not stone, and blended in perfectly with the forest. Actually, it appeared as though the castle was not just made from wood, but rather made with wood, in that the castle was a large hallowed out tree.
   From where Sharon was, he thought he saw a young girl running around a glis-tening pool and a boy riding a black horse along a forest trail. He saw a man blacksmith-ing in a cave—he could have sworn the smith was pounding his hammer on blackened wood. A young couple was walking hand in hand through the forest, and then the man swept her into his arms and carried her off. There was a brook several children were splashing in, and Sharon saw one of them lead the others into an expedition down to the waterfall leading up to the brook.
   He saw a black carriage pull up besides the strange castle and a nobleman step out. He put his arm out for the lady inside and she gracefully stepped to the ground. Her robe was as white as her porcelain skin and hair, and her red necklace clung to her throat. She carefully smoothed her hair slowly began to turn around. But Sharon’s vision was dimming. Her head turned completely around and her eyes darted all over the scene. That was all he could see—her emerald eyes, the same color as Sahri’s. Yet, they were different. There were flecks of gold in her eyes, penetrating. Her eyes focused on where he was and he panicked—not because of her gaze, but because he could no longer fully see her, or anything else for that matter. Everything was blurred. And then, there was nothing to be blurred.
   Nothing.
   There was nothing again. Peaceful and unnerving nothingness. He would have laughed, but he couldn’t. Sharon of Nothing, just as the lady called him.
   Then he was cold again. He couldn’t move, but he was on fire! He had to move, or else he would die from the fire. But, he was cold. He could feel the frost nipping at him. If he didn’t die from the heat, he would freeze to death! And then the burning wasn’t burning any more. It was eating, gnawing away at him. His head was spinning and his heart was beating rapidly, but getting slower all the time. He was floating through icy water.
   Sharon could not move. He tried and he tried, but he couldn’t. He gave up. If this was death, let it come. He would greet it, not fight against it. And then he saw her. It was the woman from the forest beyond the light. Her gold emerald eyes were looking up and her white hair was flowing in the water. Her green dress was the same color as her eyes, and she grabbed his hand. She swam towards the surface dragging Sharon with her. As he began to see more clearly he realized that he was wrong. This was not the otherworldly lady he had thought she was.
   Sahri pulled him to the surface and her black hair draped across her face. She stared at him. Her green eyes pierced through him and he longed to embrace her, but he had collapsed on the sandy ground they were lying on. She slowly crawled over to him and she leaned over him. Some of her hair slipped from behind her ear and she tucked it back. She moved slightly and the sun flashed brilliantly in his eyes. He looked back at Sahri and she was walking to the water. He squinted.
   Her hair was white, not black as it should be, and she was taller. She turned back to look at him and her eyes were neither green nor gold. Her eyes were white. The pupil was white as well. She turned back and stepped into the water. Sharon blinked and her hair was black again. She was just Sahri again.
   But her reflection was quite different. The lady stared at him from the water. Her red necklace broke and the gems scattered in the water. Sahri walked into the water and the ice vanished. The breeze came back and the birds sang again. The clouds hur-ried on their way and the grass swayed with the wind. And Sharon just lay there.