Mists swirled amongst the trees in the forest Nur.
The boy wandered, scared after seeing his
parents butchered and hung from the hanging poles in the town square.
"I will avenge them some day," he thought to himself as he ran.
"I will become the most fearsome warrior ever to walk this realm."
As the boy's thoughts ran more sinister he saw a dull glow trying
to make it's way through the mist.  Curiosity drew him closer,
his heart racing.  Slowly, step by step he crept
towards the throbbing glow, not a normal light, but one that radiated no
heat, and seemed to draw the mist itself into it.
The boy shivered though sweat was pouring down his face.
Crouching low he froze as he heard a twig snap behind him and a low growl.
"Wolves," he thought to himself.  "Best to be still."
Quietly he lowered himself down to his belly
as the growling grew closer.  He began to shiver
as his thoughts lightly ruffled his memory.  "I remember my mother
telling me stories of boys and girls lost in the woods and never seen
again.  I remember her telling me of an ancient legend of a
foul beast, black as midnight."

As the feeling of dread left him he moved closer to the cold light.
Crawling on his belly he moved through the undergrowth deeper into the mist
when something hard came down on his hand pinning him there.  He screamed
and tried to escape.  His hand ached and writhed with more and more pain as
he struggled to get away from whatever was there keeping him.

"It is no use boy, the abyss has hold of you," a voice said to him.
The boy looked up, but saw only the swirling darkness and the cold, dull light.
"Who are you?" the boy asked.
"I am your savior," the voice called back from farther away.
"Follow me now if you want to be saved."
The boy pulled on his hand gingerly and felt that it was at last free
again.  He picked himself up and walked slowly towards the booming voice
calling to him through the darkness.  He wanted to stop.  He wanted his
mother to tell him it was all lies made to scare naughty children,
but he couldn't.  The voice was right.  The mist had him.

"Where are you?  I cannot see anything," the boy cried desperately.
"You know the way," the voice whispered in his ear.
"Where am I going? Where are you taking me?" the boy called out.
"I am taking you nowhere.  You are going only where you were born to go, boy."
"Where I was born to go?"
A vision swirled into the boy's head of a baby crying in the woods.  A
young couple walking the path together holding hands, laughing.  A man
dressed in a velvet cloak standing over the baby whispering words of magic.
Suddenly the sight of a unicorn and an archer on top of a small rise
letting loose an arrow.  The man turns.

Tears streamed down the boy's face.
"That cannot be me," he thought to himself.

Suddenly he found himself in the middle of a circle of stones.  He searched
for a man who might be behind that booming voice.  He walked around the
circle looking, scanning between the pillars of granite, ancient,
foreboding, carved with symbols he did not understand.

"Come to me," a voice whispered to him.
And the boy turned, placing his hand on one of the symbols.  It began to
glow, softly at first, then brighter.  The boy started to shake
uncontrollably and he went to his knees.  He tried to pull his hand free,
but could not.  Right before his eyes rolled back into his head, he saw an
abyss appear in the middle of the circle,
and a voice whispered to him again...

"Your name is Hesiod."