The darkness of night lay across the land like a blanket of silk, draped softly into every hidden crevice. The impenetrable black of the forest framed by the dappled light of the stars. The moon roes in the west, not visible for its common luminescence, but rather a dark spot in the sky, blotting out stars as it passed across them on its path across the night sky.

The mountains ranged from the north around to the east. The Teeth of Aran, named after the mythical creatures that were supposed to live in the mountains, marking the edge of the forest as the land rose up to meet their snow-capped peaks. There appeared to be no light in the world save for the stars and the constellations of the sky. Around the stone tower by the lake a garden of thorns lay, invisible in the night, but just as deadly. The waters of the lake sparkled, reflecting the starlight in all directions, creating patterns on the land nearby.

She stood at the window, hands upon the its glass panes which were damp from the night. They would surely come morn be bitten by the sharp frost that had befallen on the land since the coming of winter. She breathed slowly, evenly, her breath frosting on the glass, only to melt into small droplets of water from the heat of her hands. She noticed the drops running down the glass and studied ones path as it made its way down, blending with the pool of water that was gathering on the window sill. She stared at the puddle for a moment before her eyes were drawn again to the beauty of the night.

((My lost one. ))

She jerked from her silent reverie, surprised. She opened her mouth, only to quickly close it again, unprepared for the rush of cold air that entered. She waited, unmoving; expecting something yet not knowing quite what it was.

((My lost one. At last I have found thee. ))

She heard a voice, yet she did not hear it. It was as if someone was speaking into her very soul. There was no sound, and yet she understood.

((You are my soul, my Fhyre. ))

She felt a presence within herself that she knew had not been there before. She quested towards it. Each time that she felt that she might have it within her grasp, it darted away, eluding her touch.

(Who are you? ) her mind beseeched the presence. (What are you? What do you want? )

She felt strange inside, her mind felt as if it was in free-fall, as if all its bonds had been released and that she was finally free to think her own thoughts. She again waited, wanting a reply, all the while hoping one never came. She was scared. The things she felt were strange and new.

((I am yours and thou art mine. I want thee, my soul, my Fhyre, and I shall have thee.))

She was slightly shaken by the demanding words of the stranger. Confused, she forced the words of her reply.

(I am Fhyre. I belong to no one.)

Fhyre waited, steeling herself for a reply. She held her arms stiff by her sides; her fists were clenched so tight that her nails dug into her palms. The wind began to rise; she could see the canopy of the forest rippling under its power. Fhyre moved away from the window, peeling her hands from the glass where they had been nearly frozen to the glass. She backed away towards the centre of the room, her feet regaining the comfort of the circular rug draped across the floor that served as her carpet.

She closed her eyes, wondering if it were all real or just that of her own imaginings. Fhyre's eyes shot open at the feeling of the wind on her face. Seeing the window open and assuming it had been blown so by the wind, she forward to close it. She found that she could not move from the spot she had taken only moments before. She sensed something happening, something unbelievable that she was being forced to believe. Fhyre somehow knew that the voice was behind it.

((Thou art mine and no others. ))

As the voice spoke, the wind began to spin around her, now only as gentle as a summer breeze. Caressing her skin, playing with her long golden hair, her long pale nightgown brushed against her legs as the tendrils of wind tugged at it gently. She began to become lost in the feelings the breeze produced, a soft smile spread across her rose coloured lips.

((It is written, dear one. Fates have decreed it to be so. It is inevitable, unavoidable, destiny. ))

(No.)

Fhyre surprised herself at such thoughts, yet she came to agree with her one word. Choice was the one freedom she had still within her grasp; none would take it from her. And yet her heart began to beat faster. Tendrils of wind had wrapped themselves around her, seeming to both cool and heat her skin at once.

((Thou cannot deny Fates, my Fhyre, my lost one.))

(Who are you? )

Fhyre could spy the beginnings of the pre-dawn light through the frosted window. She felt the tendrils draw away from her skin and sensed that the presence would soon depart. Overcome with desperation, she tried to grasp the wind and pull them back to her, only to discover that she was still frozen in place.

((I am yours and thou art mine. ))

Fhyre felt the loss of the wind terribly and cried out in despair when she began to feel the second mind pull away from her own.

(Fates? Destiny? Who are you? )

At last Fhyre was free to move. She ran to the open window, hoping to see something, yet knowing that nothing was there. The first true rays of sunlight were cracking through the peaks of Aran Mountains in the east. The grey pre-dawn light was slowly ebbing away.

((Seek and thee shall find. ))

Fhyre could see the first birds of the morn rising above the forest canopy. What she would give to hear them.

(What do you mean? )

Fhyre felt angered that nothing was ever explained, nothing was ever finished.

((We are destined, my Fhyre. Bound by fate. Eternally joined. We are inevitable. Do you believe it? ))

(Yes) Fhyre's mind became resigned to the fact and believed.

((I found thee, my Fhyre, my lost one. ))

His presence was fading, leaving her feeling bereft, adrift from the world. Then he was gone. Nothing remained of the unearthly visit but his last echoing words in her mind.

((Now thou must find me. ))

She was left in silence.

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