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Secret stood on the treetops, mist swirling around her feet. The flow of magic here replenished her as she gazed up toward the sky.

"The stars are screaming. Trouble... darkness, true darkness.... ohh, see how the moon bleeds..." she moaned, addressing some unknown audience. She reached one withered arm up to the harvest moon, almost attempting to take hold of it from the sky. Her arm stopped just short of her goal as if she suddenly thought better of it. She spun around in a huff, furious for no apparent reason.

She started making a strange noise: a cross between a whine and a scream. This trembling tone started to take on shape. "No... you shall not have it. Shadows, thence! I shall not abide this!" She began to storm off, thoroughly upset at nobody. A few footsteps later, she fell straight through the treetops. With a tiny whine, she landed on her feet and kept on walking. Her mind swirled with images as she made her way through the thick, ethereal fog. The swirling clouds enveloped her in a mysterious embrace, not at all impeding her motion but clinging needily nonetheless. Once she reached the edge of her demesne, she began the mundane task of checking on her wards. At this phase in the moon cycle, some of these were bound to be undone.

As essential as this was, she still dreaded it; this routine labor was too taxing on her shattered mind and she had difficulty focusing. She began whispering the words of an old, long-forgotten song, hoping to make time pass more quickly. Unfortunately, this caused the magic currents to swirl around her, and she quickly lost interest in the task at hand. It was just as well, though: she began to sense a presence on the other side of her demesne.

Snapping to attention, she summoned some nearby vines to suspend her body in the trees as her consciousness shifted to the location. She decided to watch and wait; if it was a threat of any kind, she had a few choice spells in store.

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She awoke with a start, clutching at her chest and making a valiant effort to catch her breath. Pangs of pain wracked her brow, which she slowly kneaded to aid in the relief. She eased herself up against the back of a tree, leaning against it as she pulled up into a standing position. Her legs were still a bit weak from lying in a prone position for such an extended period of time. It never seemed to get any easier to recover whenever reality interrupted her bodiless excursions.

A few minutes passed before she was able to function again. The memories of the building she had visited came flooding back to her, and a wicked smile spread across her face. "That's right," she managed to say, "I found myself a little trinket today. I do hope it comes..."

At this, she sauntered forth through the forest, repairing and preparing her demesne for potential visitors. Her attention span proved to be a hindrance every step of the way, but she got enough done to make herself feel secure enough. Finally, she pulled herself up on some vines and climbed into the forest's canopy. There, in Nature's Ceiling, she laid upon the top branches of a mighty oak, daydreaming about the era to come.

Secret had only been waiting for an hour or so, but she was already drifting off. Just between being awake and asleep, there was a certain state of consciousness that came as close as she could manage to the Ethereal Realm in this world. With any hope, she'd be able to recreate that here among the mortals. Ah, what a day that would be! She could just envision how the currents of mana would--

GRAAAAAAAAAAAH!

One of the totems protecting the borders of her demesne began to howl. It was low, soft and barely audible to the human ear, but anyone with an ounce of magic power would be able to sense it. In her mental state, it hit Secret like a truck. Then, the next one on the circuit went off. They were like babies: once one started crying, all the rest would follow out of sympathy. She quickly grew annoyed and silenced them with a wave of her hand. With any luck, she hadn't scared her guest away. Spirits, she'd made too many oversights lately. Thinking quickly, she made the shadows and mist retreat from the path leading forward. She prayed silently that it was enough to reassure the new presence in her forest.

It wasn't the shout echoing throughout the forest that put Secret's worry to rest but rather the glorious glow that emanated from the artifact that was now in her woods. As thinly as her consciousness was spread, she could sense the aura as clear as day. What's more, it seemed to be growing stronger. She longed to be near it, to bathe in the essence of the beyond...

A single tear carved a path down her porcelain cheek before falling away to the forest floor. It's been so hard since she lost her Ethereal home! Yet, here was hope before her--a chance she could regain the paradise for which she longed...

Secret immediately dropped down out of the treetops, the branches guiding her softly down to the ground. She stood at the base of a large, ancient oak and turned toward the artifact.

Secret tried to find the right words, but it proved a formidable challenge. She practically had what she needed, and yet she couldn't manage to stretch out her arm and take it. She wasn't accustomed to this, so she tried her best. Her voice came out hazy and disconnected as she inquired, "I'm sorry... you are... afraid?"

Secret nodded, wary herself of Penelope's words. "Secret. I mustn't reveal my True Name. Words are power, and Names are control. This is the way of the Ancients."

Secret took a step back and drew her arms up to her chest; it appeared as if her subconscious felt defensive but her conscious mind was too ashamed to make the full effort. Her face fell as her eyes dropped down and to the right. With a slight tinge of sorrow in her voice, she continued, "Your aura is salty; it reminded me of the sea. You must be Unnamed. You have great power, but you are in grave danger." She sighed and looked up, crossing her arms in front of her hips. "Have times come to pass when your soul screams and the world screams with you? Perhaps something strange is noticed or some object affected when your spirit burns?"

She watched the artifact closely and waited briefly for some sort of response. Her eyes flashed with many feelings, none lasting more than a moment: curiosity, mischief, wonder, intrigue, and innocence, to name a few. She abruptly added, "...do you... believe in magic?"

Secret nodded sagely. "Come, there is something to be witnessed."

She walked back to the old oak tree and crouched down to its roots. "My ways are those of the Ancients. Those who first walked the earth and imbued it with their presence. Over time, their bodies turned to dust to feed the plants; whole civilizations were lost to the world and, in time, returned to the earth. But, they were never forgotten, for they lived on through the land of their graves. Now, here in this forest, they are in the trees, the mist, the shadows. This forest contains the very essence of the Ethereal--" she said, choking on those last few words. Fear and despair seized her mind and soul, paralyzing her for a few seconds.

She stood up and motioned toward the base of the tree. She began again, speaking through labored breath. "Listen," she insisted, "Not with your body or mind--your soul already knows how. Simply let yourself hear."

"Nothing," Secret replied, a bemused grin spreading across her face. "Do not try to hear; simply listen."

Secret walked back to the ancient oak. "This forest has much power. Nourished by the remains and souls of the dead--animals, humans, and itself. This oak has seen many lifetimes come and pass; their feelings, their secrets still echo here. Do not force yourself to listen; merely open yourself and give the words a way to reach you. You are a special child; it will come easy to you once you relax."

With that, Secret placed both hands against the rough, gray bark of the tree and began speaking very softly. Her words came out as wispy, dreamy whispers. As she began communicating with the tree, it spoke back to her in slow, pained, nearly-inaudible moans and sighs. Secret stood there, swaying and speaking inside the wind.