• A man walked down a narrow, dark hallway, the crudely hewn stone walls lit by torches. The fire glinted off his pale skin and hair as he walked, a little bewildered, through the passageway. He didn’t know where he was, he didn’t know who he was; all he knew was that he was lost in this cold, unwelcoming place. There was nothing to do except walk, and maybe he could ask someone for help.
    He soon came to a small, cold room, empty except for a small bench against the wall and two figures near the back. A bruised and cut woman cowered beneath a tall, cloaked figure. The cloaked figure held a dagger in his hand, and its blade glinted in the torchlight. The man noted that it was dripping with fresh blood.
    “I have asked you this so many times, and you always have the same reply,” the menacing figure hissed in a soft, smooth voice. “I only wish to have the trinket that you once had in your possession, the medallion you found buried with the old man. Where is it?”
    “Your goal is not only to have the treasure, but those who carry it dead,” the woman said bitterly, her pale-gold hair half covering her face. “I will not betray my family to a selfish brute like you. You would have murdered your own mother, had she tried to stop you, and you nearly killed…”
    “That’s enough!” The man’s dagger swished viciously through the air and the woman cried out as it slashed her cheek. “We are not here to talk about my beloved sister, but about the object you got from the tomb,” the cloaked figure snarled hatefully, brandishing his knife. “I need it, you see; for revenge and to control the Runestone! Tell me where it is, you worthless piece of filth!”
    “I will not betray my family!” the woman shouted back, clutching her knees to her chest and glaring at the figure’s hidden face. Her cut bled freely, staining her clothes and making a little puddle on the floor. Her eyes were wet with unshed tears of pain, but she would not allow herself to cry in front of this brute. “I am not a lowly traitor, and I have values and a reason in life. I do not exist purely out of hate for those that love me, like you.”
    The pale-skinned man in the corridor had been watching this grisly scene in horror, but he had no idea what to do about it. He also felt a strange feeling of memories lost and buried stirring in his mind. Suddenly, a wave of shock and recognition pulsed through him as he looked at the beautiful, injured woman crouched by the corner. He let out a strangled gasp.
    “Maureen…my sister…” he whispered, a new wave of disbelief washing over his already muddled mind.
    The bleeding woman somehow heard him, or sensed his presence. She looked around the cloaked figure and gasped as she saw him standing in the doorway. The strange figure, following her gaze, turned towards the man. As the figure did so, its hood fell away and the watcher gasped.
    Wearing the cloak was a man, the strangest man he had ever seen. The man’s hair was pure white, like new paper. His skin was black; not dark brown, like some human’s skin; but black, like obsidian and the inside of lightless caves and the space behind stars on a moonless night. A grayish scar ran from his temple to his cheek, crossing the bridge of his nose and barely missing his eye. But most unnerving of all was his eyes, which were a bright, complete green with no pupil or whites. Something told the watcher that they were supposed to be red, but his shock and horror banished the thought as soon as it appeared.
    The woman made a sound of surprise, then started to shriek. "Accolon, you have to help me! They're trying to find it; don't let them get it!" The watcher reeled in confusion as the sound of his former name reached his ears. He tried to say something and failed, stepping backwards a step. He thought of trying to help her, but her shrieks were interrupted by the cloaked figure turning around and smashing the handle of his dagger into the woman's head. She fell unconscious to the floor, a bruise blossoming on her temple. The watcher cried out and tried to run to the woman, but the evil man stepped in front of her, blocking her from view. The cloaked man's almost handsome face twisted into a smile, making his scar stretch horribly, and his fell eyes burned in anticipation. His cruel mouth formed words as his gaze burned into the watcher.
    "I know you."
    The watcher's eyes widened as he panicked, stumbling backwards again as the creature advanced on him. Suddenly he found himself falling, falling backward into oblivion as the other man’s eyes followed him down, down, down…echoes of his sister's desperate screams pulsed in his ears as he fell... "They're trying to find it...don't let them get it! You have to help me,... Accolon! Help me..."
    He could see the bottom of the pit now, covered in jagged rocks, and he closed his eyes against the death rushing up to meet him. In his mind's eye, he saw a gold medallion fall in slow motion to the ground and clink as it hit the earth, bathed in a golden light, the air around it thrumming with magic as it settled without disturbing the dust, a sight that was strange but beautiful...

    And then he woke up in his bed in the inn, breathless. He felt the cold weight of the medallion his sister had given him on his chest, and shuddered. Awake now, he knew who he was, he knew where he was. He knew that he just experienced the same dream as he had been having for the last couple nights, about his sister. She had given him the strange medallion that now magically pulsed on his chest, hours before her final fight, to keep in case something happened to her. He knew that it was impossible for what he had seen to be happening, for Maureen had died years ago. But also, he knew that something, somewhere, was terribly wrong.