The mists of Avalon swirled endless and mysterious as they had for centuries beyond number. Within this hidden realm of magic and wonder, all was not as it seemed. Forces stirred in the shadows that even the wisest sorcerers could not foresee. Deep in an enchanted glade, a young woman walked alone. Isolde was her name, though she knew not how or why. Visions had plagued her dreams of late—visions not her own. Scenes of people and places she was sure she had never seen played out behind her eyes each night. A name echoed in the deep recesses of her mind, spoken in a familiar voice though the face remained a blur. Each morn she woke more confused, grasping at fading images of times long past.It was here, in the glittering mist-shrouded forest, that the presence came upon her stronger than before. She halted, feeling the weight of watching eyes upon her neck. Slowly turning, Isolde’s breath caught in her throat. For there, standing as if materialized from the ghostly wisps themselves, was the man from her dreams. Tall and fair, clad all in forest green and brown, with eyes that held the wisdom and sorrow of ages untold. “Lir,” she spoke without thinking, the strange name falling from her lips unbidden. A faint smile turned at the corners of his mouth in response. “My love,” came his soft reply, the voice sending echoes through her soul that felt as familiar as her own. “At long last, we meet again.”