“And as ye can see, the ole church abbey is in ruins, but there is still a spiritual air to the ancient grounds.”

Annalia looked around as the tour guide droned on about the history of the ancient abbey while leading them through the broken pillars and moss covered paths that had once been a thriving religious center in ancient Britain. She shivered slightly as a cool wind blew over the lake, bringing with it trailing wisps of the ever present mists that floated amongst the broken ruins.

“Legends have it that the ole sanctuary of the Druids and Priestesses of the Celtic religion also had connections with this historic site and that they even worked together. But that is said to be mere speculation by the leaders of the Christian belief.”

Focusing a bit more on those words, Annalia frowned slightly in thought. Could that mean that this was the place? ‘The chosen of the forgotten few must never find the land of mists…did they mean this place? Am…am I the chosen? Is this…the land of mists?’ she wondered as she stopped in the courtyard and ignored the rest of the group as they continued on. She looked out over the mist enshrouded land and lake and felt a sudden urge to go out into that land and find something. But what that something was she didn’t know.

With a firm nod, she started walking towards the yard and the fog covered marshland there and began picking her way through the trees and grassy knolls that lined the lake. She stopped and tilted her head as she was suddenly surrounded by the vaporous clouds and shivered once more as she wrapped her cardigan around her tighter. She walked forward carefully, keeping her eyes to the ground as she concentrated on not stepping into a hidden marsh.

Suddenly, she could hear the faint sounds of chanting floating around her, surrounding her from all sides. It was filled with peace and love and warmed her from within as she stopped and listened to the enchanting song. She turned slowly, following the melody as it twined around her comfortingly, heartening her as it seemed to guide her feet along an unknown path. The lake glinted at her from between the trees, though the light shining upon it was muted by the dense mists.

The gentle touch of the wind surrounded her as securely as the mists while she walked along the wooded path. She traveled the grassy trail, looking around and recognizing various trees that were known for their ancient ties with the world of Celtic magic. Oak, willow, birch, alder, apple, hazel, and holly all swayed around her, guiding her encouragingly down the path that they guarded. Feeling another strange urge wash over her, she stopped and bowed to the ancient pillars of nature, feeling secure in their sacred presence and filled with an unequaled respect for them. As she watched them in bemusement, the wind passed through their rising branches, causing them to sway in an imitation of her bow.

The forest grew sparse around her as she continued down the path, steered by nature itself as well as a mystical calling that drove her to find its source and answer it. She came over a small hillock to discover herself within a hidden cove. She looked around unhurriedly, clenching her hand around her pendant tightly as the chanting increased in strength around her, filling her with a sensation of certainty that she was on the right course.

An impression of another's essence that vibrated with an almost stifling intensity surrounded her, causing the hair to rise on the back of her neck. She knew that an otherworldly force was gathering there, enchanting and yet terrifying in its strength as it enclosed her in its embrace. Suddenly, the wind shifted, becoming still in the near silent cove. The chanting also faded, but the intensity was still present as if waiting…watching.

Taking a deep breath, Annalia bowed her head as her eyes closed. Her body swayed ever so slightly as the invisible force pressed in on her, pushing out her breath and thoughts as it moved onto her, almost as though to possess her. She breathed in deeply, feeling herself change as she allowed the power into her, its presence becoming welcoming and reassuring to her as she adjusted to its existence.

Slowly, she opened her eyes and gazed unwaveringly into the thick blanket of fog. Instinctively, her hand began to slowly rise in the air, slicing through the cold mists steadily as it climbed to shoulder level. Her head tilted back as the presence filled her completely and she began to sing softly, unconsciously giving song to the mysterious poem that had brought her to this place.

The chanting resumed and increased in volume as she sang, harmonizing with her melody as fluidly as the mists surrounded her. Her eyes focused on the center of the fog as she slowed her song, then her hand dropped swiftly, cutting through the thick haze and causing it to swirl disjointedly while silencing the chanting as well inadvertently. As she watched, a beam of light gradually broke through the fog, growing in intensity as the minutes passed until the mists had all but dissipated, seeming to have been parted as the Red Sea had been for Moses.

Blinking slowly as she came back to herself, Annalia realized two things: 1.) That the fog no longer felt as oppressive and 2.) That it had warmed substantially around her.  Confused and more than a little curious, she looked around her as if for an explanation to what had just occurred. She had a clear memory of what had just happened, but it had been as if someone else had performed the deed while she had watched from the sidelines.

She turned her gaze forward again and gasped as the light that had been building suddenly flared up brightly, blinding her to her surroundings. She covered her eyes with her arm as she cried out, surprised and now somewhat fearful. Eventually though, she lowered her arm and watched as the light dissipated along with the remaining cloud of fog, revealing a golden bridge created from a hidden sandbar from the lake bed. Stunned, Annalia went to the edge of the bridge and toed it hesitantly with her foot. Finding it firm, she tentatively took a step, and then looked around, as if for permission. Finding no resistance, she focused forward and began to carefully step across the inviting bridge.

Looking around cautiously as she advanced along the bridge, Annalia considered once more just what she was doing there and where whatever had called her was going to lead her. She still couldn’t understand how or why this was happening to her, but a part of her knew that she wasn’t going to give up on this adventure until she had seen it to the end. But she was also certain that she would not have been allowed to avoid her fate as the compulsion to continue forward towards the knowledge of who it was that was calling her…and why…almost overwhelmed her with its intensity.

But in a way, she knew that she wanted this. She was filled with anticipation as well as certainty that she was indeed in the right place. However, she still wanted to know just what that place was and what it meant for her in the future.

She faltered as the bridge came to an end and she stepped onto a pure white sand beach. Slowly looking around, her eyes widened as she took in her surroundings. The beach rolled up in a small dune that led up to a grassy knoll, where emerald blades of green blew in the welcoming breeze. She tucked a strand of reddish brown hair behind her ear and started the trek up the sandbank to the grass, smiling as she got to the top. She stretched and breathed deeply, sighing happily as she took in the fresh smell of the smog-free natural surroundings. That had been one thing that she had instantly enjoyed about the rural areas of England. She loved New York and all its sophistication and activities that kept life exciting and passionate, but she felt at peace in Bristol, England. It had almost felt like she had come home when she had stepped off that plane. Now she felt like she was on her way to knowing herself completely.

Gazing at the scenery that surrounded her now, Annalia’s mind tried to comprehend just what she was seeing. The remnants of a village stood stark against a field that could have once been a large garden within the weeds that now infested it. The huts that were still standing displayed the obvious fact of having once been a pristine white, but now they held the signs of time and decay. Their straw roofs were collapsed and the debris long scattered by the wind and weather, while the openings that the doors should have protected held hints of once having wooden shields.

Slowly, she walked along the weed broken path that traveled amongst the dilapidated buildings, somehow sensing traces of joy, peace, and immeasurable sorrow. She saw indications of a fire having broken out among a few of the huts, leaving black marks of destruction along the once unspoiled walls that had shielded the people of the isle. She eventually came out of the silenced village and strolled along the remaining path as it continued on through the sparse forest. She stopped as she arrived at the edge of the forest and looked up, wrapping an arm around her waist as the wind blew around her.

Rising from the trees was a hill that almost vibrated with power. She turned her gaze up unhurriedly, taking in all of the details of rocks, grass, and trees that bedecked the powerful Tor. She stopped her traveling gaze as she focused on the faint silhouette that stood atop the daunting spire of earth and smiled faintly as she understood that somehow her answers were soon going to be answered. With a determined nod, she began her trek up the rocky winding pathway that twined around the inclining terrain.

She smiled softly as she hummed while hiking, letting the chant that had led her to this place mark her time as she stepped carefully along the gravelly path. She looked up once, stopping as she caught her breath while leaning against a large boulder. She noted that the top wasn’t as far as she thought and smiled again, feeling warm despite the chill wind. Her excitement was rising as she climbed the stony path and had to balance herself here and there on boulders and the occasional twisted tree that was trying to live on that craggy hill.

Finally, Annalia came to the top of the Tor and stepped cautiously through the gap between two of the towering pillars of stone that were before her. Her breath hitched as she recognized the familiar pattern that the circle of stone was set in. ‘Stonehenge? But…I thought that was farther away…’ she wondered silently as she went to one of the ancient columns, touching it delicately. She looked at it closely, eyes widening as she saw the aged writing on the weathered, yet sturdy stone. ‘This is ancient Celt if I’m not mistaken!’ she concluded excitedly, eyes wide with wonder as she traced the delicate characters of a long forgotten language. ‘Chosen of the forgotten few…is this Avalon?’ she speculated as she straightened and looked around.

Her gaze fell upon the center of the dual circle of stone and she stepped around the pillars to come before it. The column came to about mid-waist and was topped by a deep basin that held sparkling water. She shifted forward and her eyes widened as she saw that no hint of algae or other pollutants were touching the crystal clear liquid, nor did it look as though the water level had ever dipped past its current level from evaporation or weather. She looked around when she felt her skin pimple as if a static charge had just passed over her body while she came to the side of the pedestal. She looked down into the basin of clear water whilst bracing her hands delicately on either side of the marble vessel.

A soft chime sounded in the air and the water vibrated as if a drop had landed in the center of its pristine depths. She closed her eyes slowly, peace and a sense of encouragement flowing through her as she whispered quietly, “Secrets wait on paths of old. Darkness falls as tales have told. A new light is needed this day of new. Come forth chosen from the forgotten few.” The chime resounded again, carrying a duality in its tones as it responded to her incantation before she opened her eyes and looked down once more into the gently swirling liquid.

Deep within its almost fathomless depths, Annalia watched as a dim glitter began to appear amidst the dark water, sparkling within it just as lightening bugs would flash in the summer night. Her eyes became hooded as she watched it swirl faster until it became still and pictures began to flicker to life on the surface. Feeling as though she was falling away from her body, she watched the images and lived them as her own.

Sunlight shone around a young man as he traveled down the dirt path that ran through a forest. He arrived at a small pool of water that was fed by a flowing waterfall and knelt before it, drawing forth a small clay bowl and dipping it within the clear blue waters and drank what he had gathered slowly. He whispered softly, his words flowing around Annalia as she watched detachedly. “Lady of Life, protect this traveler. Lead him in the direction to better serve you. God of the Hunt, give strength to your believer and the means to spread your word and protect your people.”

A spiraling column of water slowly appeared in the pool, building in height as it gathered the wind to it as well. The figure of a woman appeared within its sparkling depths and smiled at the man. She was slender and yet held the form of a middle aged woman, hair reddish brown but was tinged with signs of white. Her eyes were gentle and a deep blue and the gaze was filled with wisdom, kindness, and warmth as it focused upon the one that had invoked her. She was cloaked in robes the color of the pool that she emerged from and a silver hood draped over her graying red.

“You, Merlin of Britannia, shall lead my people and be the balance between my people and nature. I will teach you of my wishes and guide you in protecting both my children and the land that you live with.” Her voice was like the wind, gentle and loving, but filled with a power that could be as a storm when released in wrath.

Bowing his head, the traveler trembled before her visage. “My Lady, you honor me. But how may I do this? I am but a mere mortal…how can I bring about such a thing?” he whispered faintly as he clasped his hands before him in homage. “How might I protect your children?”

“I will teach you as will my love, the God of the Hunt. You shall know us and you will have followers and helpers, Merlin, my son. Fear not. I will give you the power to fulfill your destiny. You are to promise to use your gifts and calling to protect…never to injure others. You will remember this rule: All wishes affect in threes. Remember this first and foremost and you will understand all things that you shall learn.” She smiled at him as he bowed deeply to her.

“I live and obey…”

The voices and images faded and Annalia felt herself being swept along once more, time taking on no meaning to her as she watched what was being shown to her.

A group of women of all ages traveled unhurriedly up the path to the center of the dual circles of stone pillars, their periwinkle and white robes rustling in the wind as they walked, heads bowed. The moon was coming up gradually, crowning the circles with its pure white rays and reflecting upon the basin of water that stood within the center. Annalia instantly realized that she was looking upon the same location she was in, only thousands of years in the past. They circled around the pedestal and began to chant softly, calling upon the moon and the Goddess for guidance as one of the women stepped forward and raised her arms to the sky.

“Mother Goddess, protector of your daughters, guider of your people, and maker of all creation...give us your wisdom on this night of the full moon. Show to us what we can foresee for your people and lead us in the direction that will fulfill your will.” The woman’s voice rang clearly in the night air, supported by her sister Priestesses’ voices as they rose up in song and plea.

The Head Priestess suddenly swayed and moaned as an aura seemed to press in on them, nearly suffocating in its intensity, before her arms dropped slowly as her gaze became blank. “In the time that darkness is overwhelming and war is bringing about the death of brothers of life, a King shall be born of both Druid and Christian blood, fusing the two worlds in peace. He shall lead Britannia into a time of peace, binding both worlds through his blood and love. The Pendragon shall guide us all into a golden time.”

As soon as the prophesy was foretold, the Priestess swayed once more before falling into the arms of the closest of her sisters. The presence lifted from the circle, making it feel as if a chill had dropped over them. The Priestesses gathered close and began the descent towards the village that rested within the shadow of the Tor.

The images wavered and swirled away around Annalia and she looked around as it shifted. She glanced forward once more as it calmed and wondered on what all of the visions meant.

The soft sounds of a mother singing to a cooing baby floated around the area as Annalia found herself in a small cabin. She watched as the vision shifted so that she was in front of a rocking chair and stared in shock as she watched herself rock a baby in the chair. She noticed that the baby was feeding and tilted her head as she listened to herself. “Soon, my little Arthur. Your father will come home and then we can go to our picnic. Just you, me, and your papa. Eat up, my sweet Arthur…even the Pendragon must have his fill.”

The vision faded as her laughter floated out, mingling with the baby’s gurgles as he fed on her breast milk, which threw Annalia into confusion. But she didn’t get a chance to think on it as the view shifted once more and she focused on the new scene being shown to her.

The sea roared around her as thunderclouds loomed close to the churning waters. Wind blew the frothing waves to frenzied heights as the sounds of screaming and destruction scratching on the air like the lightening that etched its way across the black sky. Annalia stood on the cliff overlooking the Moors in England, brushing back her hair as it was whipped around her face by the turbulent gusts from the storm as she watched for something that she did not know the identity of.

Slowly though, on the crests of the breaking tide, several riders appeared, galloping madly towards the shore. Her breath caught in fear as cold and darkness was driven before them, freezing all souls that were in their path with malevolent mercilessness. She put up her hands, warding them off as she cried out, pleading with some force to protect them from the invading evil.

As the scene swirled around her shivering soul, she heard a hiss of evil threaten her from the wind. "Seo Sceadu sie gecierde. Eall hwa fylgan le Leoht sceal hreosan. Wearnian hie hwa sien forgitan, lungre þystro sceal forswelgan hie beforan seo cyme þæra Frea." (Translation for Old English (rough): The Shadow is returned. All who follow the Light shall fall. Take heed they who are forgotten, soon darkness shall swallow them before the coming of the King.)

A soft cry of terror left Annalia as she trembled while clutching the pedestal as she panted for breath. She wanted to break free of the visions that bound her to watch, but was unable to loosen the hold that kept her attached to the revelations within. Cold sweat covered her shivering body as she struggled to deal with everything that was being thrown at her before her world was lost once more within the churning waters of images.

She nearly screamed with confusion as an overwhelming flow of images passed before her. She saw the Roman flag fly as soldiers attacked innocent villagers, Druids, and Priestesses. She gagged as she saw young and old women alike being raped and beaten by the soldiers as the invaders laughed through their cries to the Goddess. Rain fell all around as sorrow filled her while she witnessed the births of so many unwanted children and the suicides that came thereafter of the Priestesses who had born the shameful seed.

Fire and smoke filled the air as rebellion rose up, pushing the Roman Eagle back as the Druids rallied their people under leaders such as Queen Boadicea, but a new banner faced them and gave power to the failing Roman Empire. The symbol of a cross whipped in the wind as a new leader rode forth and the Romans changed into Brits and Anglo-Saxon warriors as they collided with their warring neighbors.

Horrified at the carnage, she watched as a church rose up amidst it all, pushing aside the great stones of Stonehenge from the Tor she stood upon. Annalia watched as hate-filled monks who claimed to love Christ gathered troops from the failing Roman army to destroy another religion that was not like their own. Flashes of people being murdered at Samhain, Beltane, and all of the sacred gatherings surrounded her as she trembled, unable to withstand the appalling images of agony that a dying people showed her in a silent plea for aid.

The world swirled around her again and she gasped for air as a tall man stood before her. His hair was as black as a raven's feathers, glossy with health and youth that shone in the sun as it was whipped by the wind that surrounded him as he gazed up at the pillars of the Tor's Stonehenge. He bowed his head and then knelt to the ground of the isle, facing a small group of women, all ranging in age. Behind him stood another group made of men, also varying in age as they faced the Priestesses. Three women came forward, faces solemn as they gazed down at the young man.

The first girl from the left, who looked to be maybe in her teens with her unlined face and youthful green eyes, raised a hand and spoke solemnly. "I am the Maid, the face of the Goddess representing Youth and Virility. Do you, Taliesin, accept my words and the task of providing nurture to those that are called into life? Will you sow fertile seeds within the offered land and protect it so that the fruits will be shared within the world? Do you accept me and promise to follow the orders which I have passed down from the first?" Her voice was soft and gentle, yet a mixture of both playfulness and steel could be heard lurking under the calm demeanor.

Looking up, the young man nodded. "I accept thee, Maid of Life. I will protect what is sown, reap it as it becomes fruitful, and guide all along the path to protect such life," he murmured firmly and his voice was a mix between tenor and bass. It dipped low with each proclamation even as he smiled warmly up at the young woman.

"Come and embrace your Life." The Maid opened her arms and he rose before stepping over to her and holding her close as he kissed her lovingly, acceptingly. He stepped back from her just as she stepped back into her place and he turned and knelt before the second woman.

Moving forward, the older woman looked to be in her middle thirties or early forties as she stood before the young man. Her own dark green eyes gazed wisely into his own eyes, looking into his soul as he stared steadily back at her. "I am the Mother, the face of the Goddess representing Life and the Home. Do you accept your duties to protect your people's ways of life? To teach them in peace times and war that life is to be dear and not wasted needlessly? Do you give yourself to fight when necessary and know when to guide them into those times?" Her voice was deeper and more mature than the Maid's, but it also held a sense of being matronly, representing the mothers of their people with their sorrows and joys.

Bowing his head once again, the young man replied in a firm voice, "I accept my duties as leader of my people. I shall teach both peace and protection, seeking always for a balance between them both. I shall protect and nurture both my people's hearts and homes." He looked up at the Mother and smiled softly, confidently.

Smiling in return, the Mother opened her arms. "Come and embrace your Heart," she commanded quietly. He stood gracefully and moved into her arms, holding her close as he repeated his gentle kiss, welcoming her warmly, tenderly. She cupped his face as he pulled back, a motherly smile shining up at him before he stepped back and turned to the last of the women as the Mother went back into her place in the line.

Kneeling once more and bowing his head, the young man awaited the last of the Goddess' representatives. Slowly, the oldest of the three shuffled forward, her black robes falling over a frail form before skeletal arms rose up to push the hood back slowly, revealing a heavily lined face surrounded by scraggly grey hair. She looked down her hawkish nose and her dull bloodshot green eyes narrowed as she gazed at him. "I am the Crone, the face of the Goddess representing the Future and Death. Do you accept that you are subject to fate as much as the rest of your people? Do you understand that even with death, new life is born and that it shall continue no matter what you seek to change? Do you acknowledge the charge to be the leader and follower of those who fight against the Shadow that, even now, rises to overwhelm those who would serve the Light and the Goddess?" Her voice crackled as broken leaves on a fall day, harsh and cold as she gazed at the young man before her.

Looking up slowly after a moment of silence, the young man gazed at her steadily. "I accept that there are things that I cannot change and that I must have the will to not struggle against fate no matter what my heart may desire. I gladly take up the sword and the shield that will protect all life against the Darkness that gathers, willing to risk all I am in its protection from destruction. I swear to abide by all that is good and work for the better world, using my calling to guide those who seek my aid in the ways of the Goddess." His voice was steadfast and filled with determination and conviction as he stared up at her, almost daring her to question him.

Silence fell upon the gathered as time seemed to slow, revolving around the two in the center. Slowly, the Crone smiled slightly, seeming to crack her face as she pushed its fallen skin to the sides in her amusement before she opened her arms to him. "Come and embrace your Future." He stood once more and held her close, kissing her in the same loving and gentle way as he had the other two women before they stepped back. Annalia felt her heart stop as she finally got a good look at the young man. His face, which was framed by the raven hair, was strong, yet gentle at the same time. Green were his eyes, piercing and filled with youthful vitality and an early wisdom gained from seeing life's troubles prematurely.

He was then surrounded by his fellow Druids and stripped bare before blue, indigo, and green paint were placed upon his body in various symbols and other markings, which were then touched by white paint. He looked up at the sky, detaching himself slowly from what was happening as he focused on the Tor. He vaguely heard the Priestesses chanting as they surrounded them, but then he was being led to the giant hill that rose up from just behind what was left of their village. He continued walking forward even as the rest stopped at a certain point and watched as he went up the Tor and disappeared from sight.

The scene swirled around Annalia as mystification washed over her. Who had that man been? And what had that been all about? She shook her head briefly before her surroundings changed once more, sweeping her away into another vision.

She stared as a man stood before her once more, looking up gravely at the towering hill that her body stood on while her spirit traveled through time. She watched him ascend and tried to see his face as he climbed to the top and entered the Tor's Circle. She wavered as she heard his voice was raised in song and praise to a people that she had witnessed dying. His voice was joined by the chanting that had guided her to this place and it warmed her as she watched him. He turned and looked over straight at where she was, which startled her. Did he sense her?

But it was not so as a woman appeared, dressed in a light blue iridescent robe. She tilted her head in interest and listened to them speak. She gazed at them and took in their similarities, yet also noted their power as well as their fatigue. They had been struggling for a very long time, but with what, Annalia was still uncertain.

He bowed his head silently as the figure stopped before him and gazed at him from within her light blue hood with pale blue eyes that told of many things. “You have appeared, Priestess of Avalon,” he murmured in respect as he straightened and stared at her.

Annalia started as she blinked in surprise. The voice was so familiar! Indeed, as she watched them, she realized that this was the same man that she had just seen accepting vows from the three forms of the Goddess. Interest piqued, she focused even more.

Bowing her head, the Priestess smiled softly as she folded her hands before her. “As have you, Taliesin, last of the Merlin,” she replied quietly and her eyes shone with amusement as she looked back up at him. She drew back her hood, revealing black hair that was touched with the red of fire in the highlights and an unlined face that was adorned by a blue crescent moon on her forehead.

'Taliesin…so that is your name…' Annalia contemplated quietly and felt warmth wash over her as she smiled softly. She had seen his eyes, filled with love, wisdom, and kindness, and had fallen deep into his grasp. She wished that this was recent and not something of the past. But then she remembered that she had seen herself with a child and wondered again on it.

“Last and only, I fear. You have seen the visions?” Taliesin asked as he nodded towards the pedestal before sighing as she nodded and turned to stride slowly to its side. “The Pendragon must be reborn, for Avalon had not been strong enough to sustain him in his despair. How do we choose the one who will bear him?” he continued as he followed her to the basin.

'Pendragon? That's…that's what I said in that other vision! What does it mean?' Annalia wondered as she watched them in surprise before finally realizing that the circle that they were in was the same circle she was in physically and watching them even at that moment.

Reaching into the basin to touch the still waters within, the Priestess focused on the rippling surface. “You will be the bearer of the seed, last of the Merlin, for you too bear the blood of the great Kings of Britannia." She looked up slowly at Taliesin and witnessed his shock at his own part of the prophesy. "Your strength and guidance will become necessary in her protection for the darkness that is on the edge of the world has also foreseen the rebirth of the One King,” she murmured firmly and her voice sounded unearthly as she looked into the future. “The one chosen shall come to us, beckoned by the song of Avalon. You will know what to do.” She smiled wryly as he blinked and flushed slightly.

Gasping aloud, Annalia covered her mouth in shock even though they didn't or couldn't hear her. 'H-He is the one that…' Feeling faint with shock, she steadied herself as their conversation continued. 'That can't be!'

Bowing his head in acceptance, Taliesin clasped his hands before him. “As the Goddess proclaims, so shall I fulfill her wishes,” he whispered softly before feeling her hands on his face.

“Beon wæccende, Taliesin. Seo Sceadu sie weard,” the Priestess murmured in warning as she traced his face tenderly. (Translation of Old English: Be watchful, Taliesin. The Shadows are watching.) Her eyes searched his features and eyes before she nodded in acceptance of something, though he knew not what. Her hands came down then and were hidden within the sleeves of her pale iridescent robe as she turned and walked away, heading into the sunlight to disappear.

Taliesin watched her leave somberly, her words echoing within his head as he looked over at the basin. He laced his fingers and bowed deeply to it before turning and going to his sanctuary. Confused, Annalia wanted to follow Taliesin, but even as she tried to move, the images swirled around her and jolted her to another vision.

She stopped and watched as two different visions appeared, overlapping themselves. She watched as immense rocks were hewn from various mountains and were taken over the countryside to a small isle, where they were constructed into two large Circles. As she watched inscriptions being carved into the stone, she realized that she was watching the creation of Stonehenge, or rather, the Stonehenge there on the Tor. She then watched as several dozen Priestesses and Druids gathered among the finished, yet older rings of stone, calling upon the Goddess to shield them. Fear permeated the group as a great burst of power broke through and gathered the mists to them, shrouding them forever from sight.

Her vision shifted once more as she watched the man she realized was the first Merlin as he walked among the newly created Stonehenge, chanting softly as he touched each stone and blessed them. She rubbed her arms unconsciously as she felt the power that was bestowed upon the ancient formation of rock before the vision was replaced with another of the group surrounding a man as he lay dying within a pair of women's arms. She blinked back tears as she heard their whispered vows to the other and the sacred promise that bound the three deeply until their souls would meet again. As she looked at the dying man, she felt a sense of strong recognition flow over her before his image faded out to the sounds of grief.

Feeling tears roll down her cheeks, Annalia sobbed in despair at the visions that were continuing to present themselves. What did this have to do with her?! Her sight wavered and swirled once more as she plunged into another vision.

Looking around, she saw Taliesin standing before her, but then realized that he was smiling. She watched as he turned slowly, revealing an almost altar-like table where a woman was laying. She gasped loudly as she realized that the woman there…was her. She watched, stunned, as he laid down with her, their lips meeting in a tender kiss that was both loving and worshipful before the vision grayed and faded. She called out, reaching for the man before bright light flared up all around her.

"Secrets wait on paths of old,

Darkness falls as tales have told,

A new light is needed this day of new,

Come forth chosen from the forgotten few.

Songs of wisdom be your guide,

Spirits of past be at your side,

Look for the mists of places gone,

And know the nature of what is born.

All that is old shall be new,

All that was lost shall come into view,

For as the night draws close to shroud us all,

The Pendragon reborn shall ensure its fall."

Looking around as she shielded her eyes, Annalia tried to see where the chanting was coming from. "Who are you?! What is all of this!?" she cried in both fear and frustration.

"Chosen of the forgotten few…your path has been fated to bring to the Light the Pendragon." A soft clear voice echoed around her, surrounding her as both trepidation and wonder washed over her as she looked up.

As she watched, the light dimmed ever so slightly as the vision of a giant silver tree appeared. She watched as a young man came forward, looking vaguely like the one she had watched dying in the two women's arms, but he also carried hints of her own features within his. His hair was black with reddish brown hints as his eyes flashed green blue. His face was square, chiseled, yet softened with another's features. He strode forward, his face filled with determination as he held up his sword. "The Pendragon must be reborn for the Shadow rises and moves to claim all who serve the light. Let your heart guide you, Annalia of the forgotten ones."

Shaking as her vision darkened, then cleared, Annalia looked around as she panted for breath. She straightened, trembling as she rubbed her eyes and sobbed. "What does it mean?! Why did I get shown that?!" she demanded aloud as she stared around at the stones almost angrily. She was confused and frustrated yet her heart filled with sorrow and fear at all that had been shown and asked of her.

"Because you as well as I have been chosen to bring about the end of the Shadow by the Goddess."

Whirling around at the deep voice, Annalia stared as the man from her vision stepped forward, a gentle smile on his lips as he came forward.