Avalon's Hope

A story about a world hidden from the eyes of humans, a pair of gypsy twins, a vampire inquisitor, and a pack of werewolves all forced to push their differences aside and work together.

                   

 

                Prologue - Gypsy Attack

 

 

 

 

 

                Shadowed by the skeletal remains of what was once the Palace of Whispers, a small gypsy camp is nestled in between the dark woods and the high cliffs of Avalon. It was a traditional camp, not one that blended well with the modern times of a computer age. Their camp was a step back in time, and it refused to let go of the old ways of their people.

                Large decorative wagons sat in the grass. They were adorned with bright colors of emerald greens, sapphire blues, and the deepest maroons. Large towering horses graze in the fields behind them. A traveling caravan's high wooden wheels were caked in the stubborn dirt that refused to let go. Each of the five wagons had very detailed carvings along the edges of their curved roofs and down the sides of low hanging steps that led into the back. For almost a year they had stayed in the low valley between the ruins and the woods, hidden from view, and minding their own business.

                Tonight, the gypsy camp was alive with the sound of laughter and music. Bright fires flickered, dancing as they fight against the soft brush of wind licking at the flames. A soft melody of beautiful music drifts up the sides of the surrounding cliffs, clawing upward into the dark night sky. The tune carried on the wind, struggling to find an escape out of the valley, as if wanting desperately to share the sounds of celebration with the world. It was a special occasion for the close-knit group. Tonight, it had been exactly one year to the day that their numbers increased by two. Twins had been born in the camp.

                A young beautiful woman sits by the fires holding a baby wrapped in a blanket to keep the child warm. She had dark smoldering eyes, long curls of auburn trail down to the middle of her back. She has a glow that lights up her face. The young baby coos quietly in her arms, the gentle music seemed to sooth him. His bright brown eyes already seemed to have the curiosity of a cat, wide eyed with fascination of the world around him. It was his sister that seemed to have defiance in her shimmering dark eyes. Even now she was pushing the blanket away from her to get to her father’s fingers that were wagging teasingly near her face. Her father was tall and muscular, a gypsy of pure heritage. Rough cut auburn hair slithers against his broad shoulders, but its the strange wild look in his grey eyes that catch a second glance.

                The celebration continued into the long hours of the night. Even as the telltale signs of an abrupt storm peeked out from behind the ruins.  The threat of a thunders rumble wouldn’t be enough to stop their joyous occasion. Unaware of the approaching danger, a boy with wavy black hair that stubbornly slides down to cover his coal black eyes was playing an uplifting tune on a violin. There was a sense of marvel about the skinny kid, a wild- fire of curiosity burned beneath his skin. He eyes a young woman dancing around the fires, her raven black hair slides down her back almost to her waist and wraps around her as she spins passionately to the music. Her flowing skirt lifts some, then wraps around her legs with each turn of her graceful body. She laughs with the delight of a child playing in the rain. As the tune picks up faster and faster, she dances with it like someone possessed.

                 Clouds begin to creep over the open sky and cover the bright glow of the full moon. Silent lightning flashes in the distance somewhere over the waves of the sea that surround the island. The woods begin to come alive. Tree branches creak in the wind while leaves whisper to each other and hug the limbs for dear life.

                A man in his late twenties sits with his back against one of the weathered wheels, long dirty fingers playing in the silver mat of fur on the back of a wolf cub. He barely looks down as he feels the animal lift its head and look out into the darkness of the woods in the distance. The animal acts as if it can hear the leaves talking to it. “What is it hmm?” He asks quietly, as he looks out towards the woods himself. “What's got your attention tonight?” With a glance upwards to the clouds overhead, he notices the ominous storm moving in on them. It was moving with impossible speed. Lightning suddenly flashes overhead, illuminating the valley and the tree line in the distance. Like a flash from a camera, the world around the small camp explodes in light. The cub gives a little whimper and shrinks back against the man’s muscular arm as thunder drowns out the sound of the camp.

                A young girl with her brown hair tied back in a deep blue scarf jumps at the crash. Her dark coffee colored eyes stare upwards wide eyed and fearful. Gusts of wind begin to whip at the edges of the fires, making them flap in defiance of the increasingly bad weather. The boy stops playing and looks up towards the angry sky, the light of the moon all but smothered out by the threatening storm. Quickly the gypsies scuttle to tie down their tarps and secure the large wheels of the caravans. The wolf cub ducks under one of the wagons out of the path of fast moving feet.

                Cold wet drops slowly start to fall. The sound was like a small army of light footed creatures approaching. Steadily the rain increases, the soft sound turning swiftly to the deafening pounding of a torrential down pour littering the ground around them. CRACK! Another flash of white rips open the black sky and splinters a tree not far from them.

                The gypsies run for the cover of their caravans.  Drenched and hunched over they try to avoid the soaking sheets of water crashing down upon their heads. The twins are pulled in tight to their parents and quickly taken into their small home just as the last light of the camp fires are strangled out by the rain

                The violent sky tears open like a canvas stretched too tight over its frame. For a moment, there seems to be a glimpse of another realm on the other side, and then darkness hides it again.

                Suddenly, from the ruins high above the camp four figures cloaked in darkness slither from the rubble. Their black skin seems to suck in the light, eating it with a voracious appetite like a lioness and her prey. Closer and closer they get to the unsuspecting camp, to the twins. Without warning a bright red flash erupts near one of the caravans and the camp ignites in a blaze of fire. Screams of panic and fear ring out in the darkness. Confusion and chaos stab at the night as the gypsies are attacked from every direction.

 

 

 

 

 

                CHAPTER 1 �" The Fae Dream

 

 

 

 

 

                Oberon sits bolt upright and looks around realizing he must have fallen asleep again. He was lying against the rocks jutting out over the cliffs of the usually peaceful island of Avalon. It was a place that some called paradise, a land of beauty and secrets. For thousands of years it had taken on a life of its own, creating stories that entertained and tales that tantalized the imaginations of young and old. From the ancient gods to the beginnings of civilization, the island had been home to so many. She had welcomed all with open arms and pushed back the coils of the so called real world. The modern world had choked the life out of anything good, and slowly Avalon was losing its hold on what the world used to be. No longer did the world live in wide eyed wonder of what was around them; the wonders that were given to them. Now, they only cared about going faster, or making more, or building bigger. There was no regard for what their modern way of life was doing to the old ways. If they only stopped and looked around they would see a magical world surrounding them. It was a world to be in awe of, a world born from dreams and imaginations of those who believed in them.

                Oberon lifts his head; a single tear rolls down his cheek and falls onto the hard stone as he rises to his feet. Twice tonight, he had been plagued by the same dream and he knew deep down that this was no ordinary nightmare. This was something much more. It was a sign of things to come, and he knew deep down that eventually this day would arrive.

                Long shadows travel away from his large body as if startled by the sight of the enormous man, or perhaps it was just his presence. Oberon was at least eight feet tall and looked every bit of twice that to a child. He looked far more imposing than he let on, a giant of a man if that's what he really was. His shoulder length hair was uncombed and of a mind of its own. It twisted and slithered in the wind like dueling dragons. The strands of dark gold and brown play in the moon light and give them a life of their own. His large hiking boots creaked with each step, screaming as if ready to burst under the strain of his massive bulk. With long strides, he navigates his way down the steep cliffs. Gigantic hands grasp at the sharp rocks making them submit to the sheer strength in his arms. Surprisingly agile for his size, Oberon makes quick work of the steep path to the bottom and ventures towards the open marketplace of the city.

                It was an exceptionally dreary night that seemed to settle over the island. Even the gentle breeze washing in with the tide and the taste of salt in the air didn't seem to take the edge off. Something was troubling him tonight. Had it just been a dream? Deep down he held hope that it was nothing more than his mind playing tricks on him. He even tries to convince himself that the flurry of images that had haunted his dreams that evening were really the effects of the spicy dinner he bravely had that afternoon.

                Perhaps if it was just the one dream he wouldn't be so uneasy.  Tonight, was the second time he was assaulted by the same nightmare.

                Reaching the edge of the city, Oberon cuts through the large open marketplace. The old   wooden booths were covered over by colored tarps and made them seem like decrepit shelters.  Instead of bright colored fruits and their pots of blindingly rich flowers, the marketplace was as empty as a bone yard. Every morning when the first warm beams of light licked at its edges, the market came to life. Intoxicating aromas of the freshly baked breads and exotic foods filled the air. People moved about carrying fresh produce from all over the city. Handmade jewelry was lovingly stacked on tables in expectation of the coming day.

                It was here that Oberon escaped on occasion to become a muse for the willing.  To him there was nothing better than to mingle with the mixed crowds of Avalon.  He could spend hours there feeding from the imaginations and dreams of children, and young adults.  Their wide-eyed fascination with everything they saw opened their minds to impossibilities only dreamed about.

                Much like a vampire needs blood to survive, so was it for his kind.  The fae folk were the creatures of myths and legends. They were mystical beings that have existed for thousands of years, hidden in plain sight.  Over the centuries they have been called hundreds of names. From the magical faery folk, to the dangerous and loyal trolls, Redcaps that eat anything and anyone to the pleasure filled Satyrs of Greece. These creatures thrive on the dreams and sometimes nightmares of believers. The precious few who didn't let their imaginations die were really what kept these beings alive. As with many things time progressed, and science explained away the fantastical.  Fewer and fewer people believe in fae folk of any kind, and because of that they've been forced into hiding

                Powerful illusions covered their existence, and they have faded into their own realm away from the modern world.  Places like the Sanctuary only thrive because they are masked with fae illusions. The burned out building down the street, the glade in the middle of a forest, even the ancient cemetery overrun by vines of ivy could all be havens of the fae folk.

                Still stories of their kind litter books and paintings. The signs of their existence are all around for those few who just open their eyes.  It was no different on Avalon. In truth, Oberon knew it was easier for their kind in a city like this.  The ancient palaces and reminders of myths conjured up day dreams in the tourists every day. 

      A sudden crisp sound of footsteps behind him drags Oberon from his thoughts.  Quickly assessing the area, he catches sight of a silhouette standing nearby at the corner of a booth. He is barely able to make out the figures shape but notices the pair of familiar twinkling eyes looking back at him. Oberon stares at the figure and gives a wave or recognition that beckons him out. “How long have you been watching me, Puck?” He asks.

    Slowly the tall slender figure steps into sight. A large toothy grin creeps to the corner of his lips like spilled molasses. “How did you know it was me?”

                There was a strange confidence radiating from the young man. His hair was cut short and spiked back giving him the strange appearance of a hedgehog, if only it wasn't for the purple coloring in it. His hands folded together in front of him, long tapering fingers nervously caress the tanned flesh of his palms in the darkness. For a split second, he resembles a child caught doing something he shouldn't have been.

                “I wasn't watching you,” he admits truthfully. “I was following you.” With a chuckle, he walks towards Oberon. “In my defense, I was in the neighborhood.” He seems to notice the large man’s gaze on the ear piece hanging from his ear to the black phone on his leather belt. Puck abruptly brushes a set of fingers over the cord to pull it out to hide it. He was aware of the giant man’s opinion on modern technology and how it would eventually destroy them all.

    Oberon turns and begins walking back towards the East side of the city, towards their haven. His tone wasn't as disapproving as usual tonight. “So, was it Willow that sent you, or one of the others?”

                “Oh, it was Willow.” He adds quickly and falls into step with Oberon. “You know how she worries. It isn't safe for anyone out here lately, least of all us.”

Oberon glances up into the dark leaves of the trees overhanging the road, their limbs creaking in the breeze. He stays silent for several passing moments, as if listening to them talk. “We can't go through life fearing our own death Puck. Our time will come, but we have work to do still.” He noticed the odd sideways glance from Puck and lets out a breathy laugh. “Relax, I didn't mean to insinuate your time specifically.” He gives Puck’s shoulder a pat wondering if he should tell him about the dream but decides better of it. Instead, he asks as casually as possible. “Do you still go and watch the gypsies?”

                “As often as I can.” Puck answers quickly before he can even stop himself.

                “What is it that draws you there?”

                “They still believe,” He states simply. “It's a warm feeling, like crawling into a pile of clothes just out of the dryer.” The fae's hands mimic holding a hot shirt up to his face and his toothy grin makes another appearance. “Don't worry; they never know I'm there.”

                Oberon smiles fondly at Puck though he isn't so sure that he stays hidden from the eyes of the gypsy camp. “What are they like? Tell me more about them.”

                Puck is more than eager to talk about the gypsies. There is a new hop in his step while he begins to paint a picture for his friend. “They all seem so close to each other. Lianna, she's the elder's daughter. She's beautiful, long dark hair, and a smile that lights up their camp. She takes care of everyone like a mother, which is surprising because she is so young. The way they interact with each other and live, it's a lot like we do.” He sighs longingly at the thought of the young woman. Noticing the odd expression from Oberon the man stammers out an explanation. “Uhhhh, you know it's probably living the life they do in a camp.”

                Laughing deeply, Oberon nods to his friend. “You talk about her like you have feelings for her.”

                Puck holds his fingers apart a little bit. “Maybe some.” Puck chuckles gleefully as he thinks of the young gypsy girl, and gives another wistful sigh. He speedily continues, not wanting Oberon to get the wrong idea about him and an outsider. “There are others there too. Ursula, she's the camps oldest, wise too. They all seem to look up to her and listen to what she says. A few times I thought she might have seen me.  She kept looking out towards the woods where I was hiding. I was sure she was staring right at me, and she even smiled as if she knew I was there.”  Once again catching Oberon's look of disapproval, he abruptly adds, “but there was no way she could have.”

                “You know what happens if we are seen Puck. Don't take any chances with them.”

                “Oh, I'm careful.” Puck hesitates before telling him anymore about the camp. He stuffs his hands into his pockets, uncertain if he should continue.

                Oberon becomes aware of Puck’s silence but lets him take his time if he wishes to tell anymore. Soon they are walking down the cobblestone streets of the old city. Their uneven steps are drowned out by the busy sounds of motorists going about their nightly rituals. The windows of the scattered buildings shed a yellow glow of their light onto the sidewalks. There was a warm and inviting glow coming from the dens of the hypnotized people staring at their picture boxes. Yet, he still couldn't shake the feeling of dread clinging to him like some death bringer.

                Snapping out of his stupor, he realizes Puck is talking again about the gypsies.

                “...And then there is Sophia, she's one of the Harmon clan. She isn't really a gypsy, but her sister married the camp elder. That's rare for a Gaje you know.”

                “What's a Gaje?”

                Puck scratches his head as they leave the marketplace behind and walk towards their haven. A stray dog crosses their path with barely a glance their way. “Oh, that's what they call outsiders. You know, non-gypsy folk,” he replies. “I don't know how they met, but anyways, she's married to Osian and they had twins last year. There is something odd about Osian, but I can't put my finger on it yet. He seems different from the rest....” Puck jumps, startled as Oberon interrupts him.

                “Twins... Are you sure?” He doesn't seem to realize he's grabbed Puck’s arm and has turned to face him.

                Oberon ignores the deafening blare of a motorist’s horn. An old white Volkswagen barely misses the pair standing in the middle of the road. The loud curses leap from the open window and fade as it speeds off.

                 “Is it a boy and a girl?” The intense gaze burns right into Puck as Oberon waits for an answer.

                Puck looks shocked by Oberon's reaction to the news of twins. He stammers, frightened to say any more about them. The look in Oberon's sudden cold gaze seemed like ice, and his grip clamped on his arm even tighter.    

                “I... I uhhh, don't…don't know.” Wincing, Puck half expects to be hit, and cringes backwards.  The last thing he wants is to upset the large man any more than he already was.

                Seeming to realize he has a hold on Puck, he slowly lets go and takes a deep breath. “I'm sorry my friend.”

                “Sorry?” Puck asks with worry in his voice. “What was that all about?” He rubs his arm and takes a step back so he can't be grabbed again. “What has been bothering you Oberon, and don't tell me it's nothing. You have been up on those cliffs since you left the Sanctuary this morning.”

                Oberon hurries across the road before he slows down to wait for Puck to catch up again. Ahead of them an old cathedral rises from the ground and towers above their heads. Staggered stone spires reach for the sky, clawing at the night as if trying to escape the hold of the earth. The once strong structure barely stands on its own now; the towering skeletal memorial is only a husk of its former glory. The burned-out building stood there for years, threatening to crumble to the city streets.  It should have been condemned.

                Ask anyone and they probably couldn't tell you when it had happened, or why the structure still stood there, but it did. No one really knew when it had caught fire and burned, or maybe they didn't care. Of the dozens of people who walked past the structure daily, only a few bothered to even give it a passing glance.

                Shadowed windows looked like blackened spider webs from a distance, but as they got closer the colored stained glass and the remaining pictures of forgotten stories beckoned to the pair. Cold stone walls still clawed their way upwards, struggling for one more clean breath of air. Oberon hurries up the stairs two at a time and reaches for the arched charred doors.

                Puck places his hand against the door and holds it closed. “Tell me what has you so concerned about the twins.”

                Oberon pulls the door open despite Puck’s weight against it then steps through into a long hallway lined decorative tapestries. The floors echo with his heavy steps and his voice bounces off the walls. “I had a dream, that's all. It's nothing.” He insists.

                Lanterns that hang from the ceiling throw strange black shadows off Puck’s face. They scatter like rats towards the darkened corners and walls just as fast as they appear. At first, it looked as if the orange glow had lit his hair on fire, but that was just another trick of the mind. Pulling the heavy door closed, he snaps the lock shut then hurries to catch up to his large friend.

                Oberon hopes Puck would let it drop at that but notices the silence that follows and knows he won't let it go. He could feel the now curious gaze on him as they walk down the impossibly long corridor. “It was just a dream Puck. Don't you go telling Willow about this either.”

                Puck seems to consider that for a moment then waves his hand towards the far wall they are approaching. Instantly, as if by magic there is a rumbling, a scraping in the darkness like thunder overhead. It was coming from the thick wall ahead of them. The heavy stones were shifting, and cracking. They were moving, opening wider, lifting upwards on their own - No, not on their own.    

                Dozens of hands made of earth come into view underneath the widening hole.  There were small ones like a baby, old weathered fingers that looked like they would crumble to dust, large strong hands with fingers that gripped the surface and tugged at the stone pulling it upwards.  Fingers of all sorts entwine in a peculiar game of thumb war, or so Puck imagined. Small pieces of rubble fall from the bewitching sight, littering the floor.  Higher and higher they danced, revealing an archway beyond the old cathedral. Soon there was a doorway large enough for them to get through.  The multitudes of fingers scrape at the wall, holding the entrance to a hidden realm open for them.

                Oberon shies away from the warm sunlight that comes charging through the opening like a bull seeing red.  The warm rays hit them with the force of a pillow full of feathers as they step past the new archway and onto soft grass.

                Puck looks back at the unsettling sight of the doorway closing behind them. A cascade of fingers, knuckles and hands roll down into the crevasse where the wall meets the floor seals them inside.

                It was as if they had stepped into another world all its own. Ahead of them was one of the wonders hidden from the eyes of the world, and the non-believers. They had walked right into the pages of a story book.  This was Sanctuary, a haven for the fae of Avalon and Oberon was its guardian.

                Inside, a short path rolls down a hill that leads to the edge of a pool of the clearest blue water. Ripples from a diving waterfall disturb the surface enough to make the water appear to have a life of its own.  Beautiful mounds of white foam leap from the water like dolphins playing. Splashing water like a cascade of a thousand crystals tickle the rocks teasingly then tumble into the pool.  For a moment, the shimmering body of a woman reflects on the surface of the pool. The silhouette of her features swimming in the ripples, as if made from the water.  Long transparent hair waves across the glassy surface then she was gone again, lost to the depths.

                Bright colored birds fly overhead; there were red ones with deep blue in their feathers that changed colors in flight. Green birds blended with the trees, their feathers waving like leaves in the wind. There were pure white crows squawking amongst themselves, chatting away in their own language. Flowers of unimaginable vivid beauty and color crawl across the hills to bow at the roots of mighty oak trees like servants to their wise masters. The scents and sounds are nothing short of a symphony of addiction to the senses.

                Down by the edge of the water was a fragile looking woman that stuck out in the sea of bright colors surrounding her. Willow immediately gave off an aura of someone who had seen dark times before and barely lived through them. She was skinny and at first glance looked sickly. The pasty pale skin was ghostly white in contrast to the lengthy black hair hanging to her waist.  The silky strands were like raven feathers matted against gray stone. Sunk in dark eyes looked around sucking in every detail offered while her long fingers absently rub at the harsh jagged scar on her neck. She didn't appear to be part of this world and was instead a lost soul in a deep sea of wonder.

               Willow glances over at the odd-looking pair that just came in. Oberon was so much bigger than Puck, he dwarfed the man. She smiles fondly to both, “I've been waiting for you to get back.” She says, covering her concern.

                “Puck said that you were worried. I hope you weren't waiting all day like this.” Oberon's tone is gentle and caring as he sits down beside her at the pool.

               Puck looks between them and gives Oberon a few moments to tell her, then blurts out faster than his words can catch. “Oberon had a dream! He won't tell me what it is though!”  The outburst surprises him, and he lowers his voice slightly.  “He was up on the cliffs outside the city too...”

               Oberon snaps an attention-getting gaze at Puck, annoyed that he would tell Willow before he had the chance to.

                Willow lays her thin hand on Oberon’s arm. The nasty scar on her throat makes her voice raspy and strained. “A dream sent you to the cliffs. It must be disturbing news,” She says in a questioning tone.  “Tell me what it was about?”

                Oberon turns his attention back towards the cool water. The silhouette returns to the surface of the pool and swims close to his feet. Unable to shake the images that have haunted him since the dreams, he succumbs to their assault and tells her everything.

                He begins with a heavy heart, “it was about gypsies. I saw twins, a boy and a girl. They couldn't have been more than a year old if that. They were in danger; I saw darkness and a storm.  Someone was coming there for them. Someone was there to kill them.” He can hear Puck suck in a sharp breath but continues before he can be interrupted. “I hoped it wasn't real, but I fear now that it may be. Puck told me the gypsies he visits have twins with them.”

               “Do you believe these twins to be the two in your vision?” Willow tips her head curiously.

               “I don't know who would want to hurt them, but I am sure they are the twins I dreamed about now. It's too much of a coincidence for them not to be”

                Puck rakes his long fingers through the soft hair on his head, the purple spikes now a fiery red. “No!  No, I won't allow anyone to hurt the gypsies. I'll go there myself, tonight!”   

                Willow’s gravelly voice was almost a whisper as she questions him. “And tell them what, Puck? Will you tell them that their children are in danger?” She asks in a condescending tone. “There will be questions then, if not police or worse.” Her fingers reach down towards the water, pale skin slips beneath the surface and strokes at the cool sensation of the figure in its depths. “No, someone else will have to go. Someone they will trust.”

               Puck looks dejected but gives in for the moment listening to her idea. He scuffs his foot on the grass and folds his arms across his chest impatiently.  Try as he might, he can't stop thinking about Lianna being in danger. What if it was happening tonight, right now?

                Rising to her feet without so much as a sound, her ghostly pale form seemed to drift above the ground a few inches. “Where is Sawyer?”

               Puck blinks in astonishment at the very idea of her suggesting him. “Sawyer? He isn't up to going to the gypsies. He is nothing but trouble.” He exclaims in desperation. “Just let me go. I can do this.”

                “Sit down Puck! She is right.” Oberon's deep voice was commanding. ‘Sawyer is a good choice for this. He isn't close to the gypsy girl like you are. His judgment isn't clouded.”

                “You think mine is?” Puck yells.

                “Can you take it upon yourself to steal the children?” The raspy voice was much more deliberate. “You are still young Puck. This is not something you can take upon yourself. Sawyer is the one.” Willow gives him a sympathetic look, understanding how he must feel. “He can keep them safe.”

                “Keep them safe? He can barely stay sober. What about the others there, they won't trust him?” He draws up to his full height, voice cracking with the realization and meaning of what the dream meant. “You can't leave them there.”

                “We have no choice!” Oberon's booming voice rattles off the trees and sends a few birds scattering towards the ceiling…

               Puck shakes his head, his face contorted in a mixture of desperation and loss. For the first time in his life he defies his friend, his leader. Turning swiftly, he runs back up the hill and trips over his own feet.  Staggering unsteadily, he is barely able to crawl through the entrance and scurry down the hall of the gutted church.

                Getting to his feet the large man prepares to go after him but it's the soft thin hand of Willow that stops him this time. “Let him go.” It isn't easy to lose someone you love.

                “His love for the girl is forbidden. She is an outsider, she wouldn't understand our world.” He says as he stops to look back at her.

                “It's his path to take and his decision.” She walks towards the tree line but calls back as loud as her voice will allow. “Besides, aren't the twin’s outsiders too?”

                Oberon watches the woman as his mind grasps for anything to argue his point.  All he can manage is to blurt out, “I hate it when you do that.”

               She laughs softly. “I know, now go see to Sawyer.”

                Oberon watches her vanish in the caress of the trees then hurries out into the night to find Sawyer.

                This was life in Avalon, a world hidden from view. Few knowing of the truth, that sometimes dreams, and nightmares can be real and sometimes worlds collide violently.