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Miklós stood on a tiny island, gazing out to sea. Though, to call the speck of dirt and sand that he found himself upon an island would more than likely be considered and exaggeration. In a matter of two or three strides he could cross from one side to another, and chose to do so, if for no other reason than to confirm the fact to himself. The little island on which stood was little more than sand, though it did not seem to want to wash away. Turning and looking down, Miklós saw that there were no prints in the sand where he had strode.

Looking up once more, Miklós saw that some distance away, another island had appeared, though this one was much larger, complete with palm tree jungles, and a jagged mountain rising some distance back. The beach of this other land stretched away to his left and right until it was lost to his sight, but none-the-less, somehow he knew it to be an island. On the island Miklós could make out people walking along the beaches. Multitudes of species, some he recognized, and many he didn’t. Though to him, all of them felt wrong somehow. None of them seemed to notice him on his little island, and they all seemed cold and uninviting, in a manner that he couldn’t put words to. On impulse, Miklós turned around to look the other way.

Again, he saw an island that had not been there before. Except this one was not of jungles and mountains, but rather plains, and rolling hills, as far as he could see. Upon those lands he again saw a multitude wandering about, but these he did recognize. Every last one of them were minotaur. They were not of any one tribe or clan either. He saw members of related clans, the Borgha and the Hannu, as well as those less friendly, such as the Nartar and Yudann. The tribes were almost too numerous to pick out, but he definitely noticed markings belonged to the Cold Sky Hills, Dark Grass Valley, and Long Root Forest tribes. But then, coming to the seaside, were a group he recognized all too well.

His kinsman, the clansmen of Ahton. The head of his clan, and the elders of the Blue Stone Plains, stood still and silent, gazing at Miklós. Slowly, one by one, they raised their heads to the sky, and then turned from him. Miklós could feel their judging eyes, their sneers, and most of all, their disappointment. When all had turned from him, Miklós felt furious. He wanted to hit something, to break something, but there was nothing on the island but him. But then he saw it. Lying there at his feet, was his glaive. Picking it up, Miklós’s anger was such that he considered the inconsiderable. Turning the blade to face him, he held it at arms length, before suddenly swinging it towards his face.

<<<<<>>>>>

Opening his eyes slowly, Miklós took in the trees on the opposite side of the clearing first, and the sound of hushed voices speaking not far off. Doing a quick inventory of his gear, and finding everything to be where he left it, Miklós slowly sat up. He hated those dreams, not because of his actions, but because of constant reminders it gave. Stretching his massive arms out, Miklós loosed a yawn that would put war horns to shame. Rising to his feet, Miklós stumbled into the nearby woods for a little alone time before the day got started proper.

Beann gasped at the bellow that shook her and dropped Vasilisa'a hand. Forgetting the fae, she stared wide-eyed at the huge monstrosity that arose. It was the color of iron rust and resembled a huge hairless ox standing semi-erect on its hind legs. It turned and disappeared thunderously into the dense forest, damaging plants and trees as it went. The cries of her fauna enraged her and she strode over to curse the being.

She didn't get far when she saw to her horror the carcass of Ayjis, a resident hind, lying in the roe ring. Next to her, a human form appeared to be sleeping. She immediately threw a curse at his fields and cattle and was mortified when it had no impact on him.

She looked at Vasilisa for a moment and decided it was time to call a council of the fairy queens of Lough Gur.

"You'll do no such thing. Responsibility for my actions lay with none other than myself." Tan rose, drawing his full height in human form. Though he may fall short next to the towering minotaur, 6'4" was a respectable height for most humanoids.

Tan had felt the curse wash past him, feeling vague amusement at someone cursing properties and possessions when he had none, and indeed, no real concept of such ownership. To a phoenix, the world was a single, open place with no borders. The phoenix was born of the sun and the deep fires of the earth, and only to those did they answer.

"I give no apology, and ask no forgiveness. I am what I am, and what I am must have sustainance. Is mercy required for those who must eat? Were I in the deep fires of the earth I would not need such things, but I am not. I can, however, give assurance that this One did not suffer, and knew her time would soon be over anyway. I am not without pity, but I am without regret." Tan hoped words would be enough, as his only other option might be to truly take full phoenix form, a far more dangerous move than his typical fire-bird shape. Doing so meant revealing the full nature of the phoenix, and Tan was unsure he could restrain himself from reveling in his truest nature. That was usually reserved for volcanic regions, and for good reason. Not all volcanic eruptions were caused by nature alone. Some marked a re-birth, the only time a phoenix was truly without control.

Tan took a deep breath, seeking to remain at peace. He saw a ring of withering grass around his feet. His fire sometimes seemed to will itself into action, occasionally with very bad results. He found there, at his feet, an ironic reminder of the dual nature of his kind. His internal fires died down as calm returned. He stepped back, making sure that he no longer exuded damaging heat, and knelt next to the patch of scorched grass. Holding out his hand, flame leaping between his fingers, he sought the other side of himself. The flames turned golden, and the grass turned green. In very small amounts, he poured the healing nature of the phoenix onto that patch of ground, repairing the accidental damage. Glancing up he said, "I would remain without regret. I ask you to hear our story, and then decide if you would remain here, or join us."

Beann wailed in desolation and fell on the neck of the hind, hugging her and rocking; her anger was completely given over to self loathing. She had already forgiven Vasilisa her trespass and had not been aware of the others, until she was right there.

All these years guarding the lake and taking human sacrifices to guard it and now... was she any better than Beann Toice? A council of the Beann Righean na Brugh would at best declare her unfit to rule in Lough Gur. She deserved the worst, but didn't dare think of it. She was unfit. She would submit herself to the justice of the Queens' Council.

She hugged Ayjin longer and patted her and begged her forgiveness. Then she stood shakily and turned to leave without a word or look. She felt a heaviness and weakness she had never felt before. The forest rocked to and fro and would not hold her steady. Perhaps she was already being punished.

Miklós's ears perked up and twitched at the sound of the wail that drifted through the woods. The sound had come from the direction of the clearing, and Miklós couldn't help but roll his eyes. Why everything always had to wait until he had wandered off, he would never know. Quickly refastening the massive belt buckle around his waist, Miklós gave a snort as he took off for the clearing as quickly as he could manage. As he trampled and crashed through the foliage, he drew a knife that he kept hidden in the back of his belt. And though the blade did seem small in his massive grasp, the average human might see the thing as more of a small sword, than a knife.

Bursting from the tree line, Miklós skidded to a halt, his hands raised before him ready for whatever may come. What he wasn't ready for, was nothing. Or at least nothing that required him to be ready to go down fighting. Lower his guard, Miklós took in the clearing. The stranger Tan, and Vasilisa, were standing close to the camp site. Tan, down on one knee with a hand hovering above the ground, had a look upon his face that seemed almost grim to Miklós's eye. Vasilisa was speaking to him, and looking as meek and humble now, as she did last night. There was third individual, stumbling out of the clearing. She was what some might call dainty, though he saw her as thin as a twig. Her eyes seemed blank, and her gaze distant. Miklós had seen the look before, on lesser warriors in the midst of long sieges, or gruesomely bloody skirmishes.

Sheathing his blade with perhaps a slight excess of force, and giving one of his horns a slight tug, Miklós made his way to where Vasilisa and Tan were. As he passed them on his way toward his gear, he tossed a glance over his shoulder in the direction of departing girl.

"What's the problem with that one?"

Beann struggled to keep upright. She hung onto a sapling to steady herself. The forest continued to reel and she had a terrible headache. She heard a voice behind her, strong, smooth, calm. She couldn't understand the words and turned to focus on him. It was him. She couldn't focus...

She called out to the trees and they gave her strength. They witnessed that they indeed had called him, had directed Ayjin to his mercy. Then they sang a song of parting to her. Beann's work was done here. The portal between the worlds had been sealed, and another would take her place.

The song was full of joy and gratitude. She was swept up in the song and added countermelody to theirs. They were soon surrounded by animals expressing their love and bidding her farewell. She sang to them all, from the bear to the gnat. They added their songs to hers and to the trees until the woods reverberated with orchestral voices rising and falling in sacred tones.

Beann's heart was as full as it had been desolate just minutes before. She stood strong again, and thanked the sapling for aiding her. Then she turned to the voice, to the phoenix and took him by the hands. She raised up on her toes and kissed his lips as a sign of trust and went with him.

Vasilisa smiled as she heard the forest's song and then saw Beann embrace Tan.
"It seems there is no problem now," she said to Miklos, "Lady Beann was the guardian of this forest, but now it seems she will be able to take a holiday and rest.
Sitting by the fire, she took out her orb and once again concentrated on the magical energies and lay lines of this strange world. Beann was right, the energies weren't nearly as chaotic now, in fact they seemed almost at peace compared to what they were earlier.
Vasilisa furrowed her brow, and twisting the orb this way and that, concentrated on the energies further away from her, to the northwest to be exact. Perhaps she could get an idea of what powers held Ivan.
The orb turned ice cold and she yelped and almost dropped it. Only through sheer willpower did she hold on to it, slowly bringing her mind back to her present location.
As it was, when she finally let the orb quiet and put it away, she was exhausted. Something of dark power held her husband, she was certain of it now.
But what? And what did they want with Ivan, a mere mortal?