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Alvis stood at the northern edge of the western forest, the crisp chill of the air seeping in around the edges of his dark green cloak, which hung silently to his form. Winter's little white flakes covered the field ahead in pristine armies, now and then cutting apart the moonlight like a million tiny prisms. Alvis's breath moved in and out slowly, a foggy stream emanating from his mouth. Thoughts of recent plots dominated his mind. He would not see it yet, but they clouded his memory so fully that he had completely forgotten the seeress with whom he had spoken much, and from whom he had requested another meeting. That was too long ago.

Thoughts of the Gray man...

Led to thoughts of potions...

Led to thoughts of Azuros...

Led to thoughts of the woods...

Led to thoughts of the Northern forest...

Led to thoughts of beautiful music...

Led to thoughts of Carinia. A sudden realization.

Carinia