The rune speaks, a faint but ever present humming beneath my skin; like voices, like singing. Sometimes I fancy I hear the sound of my father's voice, Ted's, Gremio's, the old man I met so long ago, in a time that was not mine. I can never make out what they're saying, and I don't try. I know it would drive me crazy. Familiar voices. Unfamiliar. Sometimes sad, sometimes happy. Sometimes, just.. there. Sometimes I think I hear my mother's voice, and then I know it is all just fantasy, because she died before I knew enough of her to remember her. Or know that I wanted to. The rune speaks to me, and its voice is not its own, but the voices of all the souls it has ever taken. It is the forbidden rune, the cursed rune, and its name is eternity, salty-sweet, passing bitter. There are more voices than I know how to deal with. But the rune is, after all, very old, and when it does speak to me- itself, in its voice made of images and hollowness, it tells me of time and destiny. Destiny, and the stars that rule us all. It's strange, but things were easy during wartime. Then there was black and white, and perspective; sword straight battle-lines. We have to do this, or this will happen. Don't think about the big picture. Don't think too much. Don't think too deeply. Just do what your heart tells you to. Destiny? What does it matter, except that it is reality anyway? The dragon settles into the isle with a beating of wings, and I get off and give the dragon knight a smile. "I'll be back soon," I say. He's old enough to not mind the wait. He shrugs. "Take your time," he tells me. I don't need to be told. The paths of Magician's Isle wind differently from memory, and its guardians number more thickly. It is a long, cold walk from where I leave the dragon knight, but the wind howls in my ears, drowning out all other sound, and I don't mind. By the time I reach the center of the maze she is waiting for me, standing solitary at the steps of her dwelling, wrapped in a cloak against the cold. Her eyes, sightless and seeing, unnerve me. I speak first. "Greetings, Lady Leknaat." Her voice is melodious; not the voice of a seer. "Hello, Tir. So formal today?" "Well, it's been a while.." I hear myself say. I sound younger than I feel. I don't sound like myself. "So it has." She agrees. "Come in out of the cold." As I follow her in I notice that her hall is bleaker than I remember, although it has never struck me as particularly cheerful; and the Lady herself seems older somehow, even though her rune prevents her from aging. She leads me through the stone corridors and halls to a set of smaller chambers, where she sits me down on a plush couch and her summoned servants serve me hot tea from a delicate and unusual teapot. All the while she makes small talk: how have I been? do I like the tea, which is of a variety grown only by the Gate Rune Clan? It is hard to sound so dignified and regal while asking such mundane questions, but the Lady simply is. And yet she is not distant, a faraway star, as I had thought of her at first, but concerned, almost motherly. Oh, I think, as the warmth of the tea soothes out the biting cold of the wind. Since she came to meet me herself, Luc must be away. It slips out carelessly. "Where's Luc?" I ask. Her smile falters. She recovers quickly, but not so much that I fail to notice. "As of the moment, Luc is in the Grasslands." Far from the Isle. "Another gathering of the Stars of Destiny?" I say, careful to keep my tone light. Her voice is expressionless. "Of a sort." "I'd heard that the Grasslands were at war with Zexay again, but of the sort that happens every few years. I had no idea it was important enough to merit Luc's attention. But in any case.." I hesitate, thinking over how to phrase my questions. "I came today to ask your advice about.. Destiny. And about other things." "Your rune speaks to you." "Well, yes." I say. "Only it speaks in the voices of the dead, and the things it tells me disturb me, even though I can't really make them out."