A white unicorn, his right side and ribs heavily bandaged, a splint immobilizing his right leg, rests in the shade of the cottage, the sun beating down on the infant plants around him. A book lies closed on the ground beside him, with a few loose sheets of paper held in place by a staff laid on top of it… He uses the smooth back of a wooden plate in his lap as a writing surface, though instead of writing, he doodles on a loose blank sheet-crude, rough sketches of the things around him, and events from his past.

The unicorn makes rough sketches on the paper … heraldry from ages ago, back in the realm of Aeonia, existing here only as fading decorations on what pieces of his armor haven't been replaced yet.

A new shadow falls over him, and cloth flutters at his side. "Here," Sylvan says, squatting beside him, holding a smock out to the white unicorn.

The unicorn sets down his charcoal pencil, and reaches for the smock. "I decided to take a break from writing as well. I am having difficulty … focusing."

The black unicorn nods, her expression sympathetic. "What are you doing there? Drawing?" She cranes her neck to look at the page.

The unicorn says, "That you have to ask that suggests that my attempts are less than satisfactory." He regards his crude sketches. "I think, perhaps, I do this more to make certain I do not forget, than for aesthetic gratification, however."

Sylvan smiles. "They're not that bad," she comforts him. "What are you trying to remember here – with this one?" She points to a jagged lightning bolt over a crude keep, with the right side of the heraldic "field" black and the left side left bare.

"Heraldry," the white unicorn answers. He points to some very crude images of unicorn knights, whose armor seems more well defined than their bodies. "… and Galiel and Rand."

"I'm sorry," Sylvan says softly, brushing her fingertips over the images. "I … I'm sorry." She exhales slowly.

"As am I," the white unicorn says, his gaze hardening on the paper for a moment. He points at another symbol. "This looks remotely like what you might have noticed on my own armor."

"That's your sigil?" Sylvan asks.

"'Mine', insofar as I inherited it," Corwin amends.

She smiles again at the answer, then points to another drawing. "This one's pretty good. Who is she?" The sketch is of a human-looking figure - but too thin to be human, and with a horn like an Aeonian – seated on a boulder, before a round pool.

The clip-clip of hooves mingles with the rustle of water, as a young unicorn hops his way upstream, moving along the occasional stones that rise above the water level in the stream. He sings, loudly and rather emphatically, to himself as he leaps from one makeshift perch to the next, a pack full of things bouncing on one shoulder. "Stay above the lava! The lava will burn! Stick to the rocks – that's the thing to learn!"

The white unicorn child's song pauses as he teeters on one rock after a leap. "Waah!" He flails his arms to regain his balance, the loose, too-long sleeves of his shirt flapping. After a tenuous moment, he stabilizes, and resumes his song-chant with a different beat. "The river of doom! Boom burn boom!" He eyes the next rock, which rests near the base of a waterfall three or four yards high. The waterfall has an artificial look, composed of a series of worn-looking stone steps, but the young unicorn is more concerned with his next stepping-stone. It's a good three foot jump away, but he essays it bravely anyway.

"The lava's too hot but the stones are not!" he cries, mid-jump, then lands one hoof on the rock with a clunk, but the other overshoots his mark. Limbs pinwheeling, he tries to regain his balance, but to no avail. "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" he shouts, toppling into the stream. SPLOOSH.

For some moments, the boy flounders in the shallow stream. "Aaaa! I'm melting!" the little unicorn screams in what he imagines would be agony. "Aaaaaa! I'm burning up! A towering inferno!" Forgetting that he's supposed to be dying, he stands and starts thrashing around in the stream, throwing up handfuls of water like they're showers of sparks. "A raging volcano! Aaaaaa!"

The child clops around in the water, making shwoosh noises with his mouth and crackling by snapping his wet fingers and flapping his sleeves, interspersed with the occasional "I'm dyyyyyying!" cries. Suddenly, as he looks up to follow the motions of his hands, scattering water droplets, he sees a figure looking down at him from the top of the waterfall. He freezes, hands still held high, looking back at his observer.

The watcher has a shape both familiar and strange to the unicorn boy; an elongated, slender, feminine body, with skin as smooth as stone, and tinted a pale silver-grey. Her eyes are solid black, and gleam like the hair that cascades in a thick rope over one shoulder, ankle length. She wears a simple shift of white, folds of cloth draping to her ankles, gathered together at the waist by a wide belt of networked silver chains. She reminds the boy of one of the Sidhe, with her human-like face and furless body, though her skin and hair color are nothing like any of the Sidhe he has met. The single horn, spiraling from her forehead like an Aeonian's, as black as her eyes, does not fit with the Sidhe description, either.

"Are you all right?" the woman asks. Her voice, though mild, has a hollow, alien quality to it.

"Yes … Y-yes, m'lady," the boy stutters, blinking through wet lashes at this new apparition. "I'm fine. I'm sorry," he adds, not entirely sure what he's apologizing for, but certain that he must have done something wrong.

The lady smiles, her blue-grey lips curving upwards but showing no teeth. "You have my forgiveness. You made quite a commotion down there. I was concerned."

Abruptly remembering himself, the boy drops his hands to his sides, then bows to the lady, with the grace of long training, despite such incongruities as being knee-deep in cool water. "Thank you, my lady. Please permit me to introduce myself. I am Lord Corwin Stormshadow of Autumnshaven, son to Lord Chancellor Mikhail Stormshadow," he says, formally. A lock of wet mane drops into one eye as he rises from the bow, and he brushes it from his face with one hand, almost catching his sleeve on his horn. "Everyone calls me Cory," he adds.

The silvery figure smiles again. "Welcome, Cory," she bids him. "I am Lady Evesiense of the Circle of Still Waters, mother of the Sidhe, sister to the Kindred, daughter of the World." Her black eyes sparkle as she completes the formal introduction. "You may call me Eve."

Cory's eyes grow wide and round as saucers as he stares at her. "You are … you're … oh!" He drops to one knee and bows his head reverently.

Eve laughs, warm and also hollow, as if her laughter came with its own echo, reverberating off the walls of the world. "And here I thought your people had forgotten my kind, Cory."

"No-no," he stammers, ears bright red with embarrassment. "No, I came here to bring – oh! My pack!" He gets off his knees and staggers out of the stream, sleeves flapping as he unslings the pack and digs through it. He sighs with relief as he produces two ivory boxes, dry, from amongst scroll cases, parchments and boxes. "I brought a gift for the Circle – I mean … for you. From Autumnshaven."

Lady Evesiense nods solemnly, then beckons to the young unicorn. "Come. Bring your gifts, Cory. And your other things."

With alacrity, the white unicorn gathers his things back into the pack, stows the ivory boxes on top, then clops, careful not to slip on the wet stones, up the waterfall path to join the Lady at the top.

The Lady sits on the boulder, her arms out to her sides. On Cory's previous visits here, the rock has looked like an old stone a little indented at the top. Somehow, when this silvery figure sits on it, she makes it look like a throne, though she wears no crown or other trappings of grandeur. She watches him approach with an air of expectancy.

Cory sets the pack onto the moss, and takes the two boxes from it, looking nervous as he approaches the boulder. He kneels before the lady, between her and the pool, and bows his head, holding the two boxes towards her. "We of Autumnshaven offer these gifts to the Circle of Still Waters; our drink in thanks for your drink; our bounty in thanks for your bounty. Your Pool be eternal as our Hold, silent and deep," he says with practiced formality, not looking at her.

The silvery woman accepts his gifts gravely. She opens first one box, and lifts out a small crystal flask of amber liquid from a bed of velvet. She unstops it, brings it to her lips, and drinks the flask empty in one smooth swallow.

After replacing the flask in the first box, she opens the second and removes a single plum from within. With long, deft fingers, she lifts it to her mouth to consume it, in perfect bites that flash sharp, even, white teeth. Oddly, no juices spill from the fruit as she eats, nor trickle down her chin. In a moment, she is left with only the pit, which she places in the box with the same care she accorded the flask.

Setting the two boxes to one side on the boulder, she speaks to Cory. "Your gifts are generous, and I accept them with gratitude. The blessings of the World never be revoked." Although he's never heard the words spoken, and though she seems completely sincere, Cory feels certain that the words are as ritual and old as his were.

The little unicorn, uncertain quite what he's supposed to do next, just bows his head as low as he can without getting dirt in his nose, trying as hard as he can not to make the least little peep of noise.

"You may rise, child," she bids him. "Now, tell me what else you have brought. I ask of curiosity alone, for I understand that your belongings are yours alone, and I am more than pleased with those presents you have already showered upon me." She speaks solemnly, as if the boxes had contained riches beyond counting, and not just a little mead and a plum.

This little discrepancy is not lost on Cory, though he realizes he's been asked a question, and a question requires an answer. "Oh. Well … " He digs around in his pack, then produces a small red wooden figurine that looks like a rampant gryphon belonging more on a shield than in the hands of a child as a toy. "This is Twotail. He's got two tails. See?" Since wood that thin would break, for tails the figure has a couple of pieces of string, frayed at the ends to suggest leonine tufts. He peers thoughtfully back at the boxes. "But, begging your pardon, your Highness, but … were those magical, or something?"

Cory, meanwhile, continues to empty his pack, setting the contents out carefully – a set of watercolors, brushes wrapped carefully in cloth, and a collapsible easel, complete with a frame and some rolls of canvas.

She watches in all seriousness as he shows her the gryphon, bowing her head in understanding at his comment on two tails. "I am no Highness, Cory," the woman explains patiently. "You may call me Eve. As for the gifts – yes, they are magical or something." She says the last words without varying her informative manner, as if they presented an exact description of the phenomenon.

Cory nods, satisfied. Now that the lady has verified that magic has involved, that officially puts it far beyond his ability to comprehend it … or, indeed, any need on his part to comprehend. Magic is magic, and that is that. He demonstrates with his toy gryphon, flying it about this way and that, then sets it down. "I was working on a picture of Twotail … but … " He brightens at a sudden thought. "Lady Eve … I could paint a picture of you!" He scuffs his hoof. "Though, really, I mostly just do flowers and bushes and such, not so much people. You can kind of take shortcuts and scribble around to make leaves, but that doesn't work so well for people. Unless they have really really really curly manes … or … hair, that is. But that's not quite the same thing. Though if you're wearing flowers in your hair, I can really do a good job on that! And, well, I've got a bit of experience drawing horns, and you've got one… "

The mother of the Sidhe smiles again, and Cory gets the impression that smiling isn't something she is accustomed to doing. "Your request is granted. And since you paint flowers most prettily, I will wear some." She reaches out to one side of her boulder, and Cory notices a bush of miniature roses in peach, pink, and red, that he's sure weren't there a moment ago. She plucks the heads from the roses, and sets several at junctures along the thick braid of her hair. She drapes the braid over her lap, letting the end trail down one calf, then sits erect again. "Is there a particular pose you wanted?" she inquires with due courtesy.

Cory blinks in awe. "I … hadn't given it any thought, Lady Eve." Since he can't think of anything else at the moment, he bows again, figuring that it's probably the proper thing to do by default when in the presence of the Mother of the Sidhe. It beats standing there, jaw hanging, looking stupid.

In response to his bow, the Lady inclines her own head graciously for a moment, then returns to her former erect, regal posture. In a white cotton dress and with flowers in her hair, she manages to look more like a monarch than Corwin's own Queen on the most important of Festival days.

Cory tentatively looks up, then says, "That's … that's perfect, Lady Eve!" He scrambles over to his materials, and hastily sets up. "Now … this may take a while," he says apologetically. "I'm kind of slow at this. It's another reason why I'm a lot better at flowers. And Twotail. My friends don't sit still long enough."

I will sit still for you, Cory, Eve tells him, and it takes the unicorn a moment to realize that she didn't move her lips when she said it. The silver-grey figure is as still as her pool, not even breathing. The only thing that betrays her as anything other than a statue is the breeze which stirs the end of her braid, brushing the hairs against her dress.

Cory's eyes widen in horror. "Oh! Lady Eve … it's … it's all right to breathe! And blink. I'm not … I'm not that slow!" He gasps as horrible images flash through his mind of Lady Eve slowly turning blue while he's just getting started making a few circles that resemble a snow-elf more than the Queen of the Sidhe.

Be calm, child. I have no need for either breathing or blinking. Sensing his discomfort, however, Eve closes then opens her black eyes, then inhales, her chest rising and falling in an almost exaggerated motion.

Cory, despite the assertion, is visibly relieved at the concession on the part of the immortal, and to show it, he fixes as broad a smile on his face as he can manage … then quickly shifts to just as serious a look, as he goes about the task of painting the picture of … the Queen of the Sidhe. He gulps at the realization, but sticks to it, roughing out construction lines to get the basic idea of the proportions and pose before he starts adding any details.

As Cory works, the Lady of the Circle of Still Waters maintains the pose with seemingly infinite patience. If you have any questions you would ask of me, child, you may, she tells him, kindly.

Cory looks over the easel. He can't quite resist the offer. "Uhm … well … why do you look the way you do? I mean … with the horn? I haven't seen that before. I mean … of course… " He rolls his eyes up to try to peer at his own horn, somewhere above his range of vision. "… excepting my kind, that is."

The answer to that question is contained within the asker. Why do you look the way you do, Cory? she asks.

Cory ponders this. "Because I look a little like my father, and a little like my mother," he answers, though with a hinted question mark on the end, as if not quite certain that he has answered this question properly.

The young unicorn senses approval of his response, and she continues, Like you, I mirror aspects of my parent, just as my children contain qualities of myself. I am not of your people, Cory, but we are not unrelated. You might consider my horn the outward sign of the closeness between the Kindred and the Seelie court.

Cory nods. "Thank you, Lady Eve." He ponders in his mind, the nature of the Kindred and the Seelie.

Cory blinks, as he realizes something. "You … only have one parent, Lady Eve?"

I am the daughter of the World, she replies, making Cory remember the way she introduced herself.

Cory mouths an "oh", and his ears blush. He really has no idea just how she could be the daughter of the World, and he certainly had no idea that the World had a horn on it, but he has no reason at all to doubt the answer. "Uhm … if we're not unrelated … how about the Shadow Dragons and other Unseelies? Are they related to me?"

Cory firmly hopes that he's going to get a "no" in response to this. He feels like an idiot after uttering the question, and half hopes it will just go ignored.

They are related to you, too, Cory, Eve answers solemnly. Not as closely as you to I, but in the end we are all children of the World.

Cory jolts at the affirmative answer, but then relaxes a bit when he hears the "Children of the World" bit. All right, so everyone is a child of the world. That's not overly cozy…

Cory wets his brush again, and squiggles around a bit for hair, and jigs up a rough shape for the horn. The thought occurs to him to ask her if she has a very large family for some reason, but that's been answered, hasn't it? He frowns contemplatively. "Do you like stories?" he asks.

I think stories are the reason for existence, Cory, if not existence itself, she answers, rather cryptically, then adds simply, Yes, I like stories.

Cory smiles, feeling a lot better for some reason. "I like stories, too. Especially tales about great heroes and heroines and fantastic places, and magic and strange creatures and castles and knights … though those are heroes, too."

A sense of agreement from the lady. Those are good stories. Though I enjoy less dramatic stories, as well. For the caterpillar bursting from his cocoon as a butterfly, his achievement is as significant as the soldier whose strength in battle earns him a kingdom. Inside all of us lies the stuff of legends.

Cory ponders this, thinking he personally would far rather watch a soldier do deeds of valor than watch a cocoon, but if the Queen of the Sidhe says it, it must be true, so he nods agreeably. On a whim, he adds a butterfly cocoon to the background.

Cory asks, "I'd like to make a legend someday. I mean, you know, do something worth telling a story about. Are there many stories about you?"

There are many stories about me. The words carry a fleeting impression of … sorrow? There will be stories of you, too, someday, Cory. You will be a legend.

Cory blinks, feeling very sorry for asking all of a sudden. "A legend?" He smiles at the idea. "Do you think I would make a good hero when I grow up? That's what I want to be. Just like Father!"

I think you may make a very fine hero, Cory, she answers, though again, there's a fleeting hint of sorrow, just like your father. I hope you will not forsake your games and your paintings to become a hero, Cory.

Cory laughs. "Oh, don't worry. I'll still paint. I have to be able to make paintings for my castle, when I get one!"

Good, Eve tells him, solemnly.

Cory sobers a bit at this, wondering at what's so important, and figuring that it's something grown-up. He goes back and works on Lady Eve's face, and for a long time, he is silent, as he focuses on doing his best at making something that at least looks like a whisper of the Lady. At the very least, the humanoid face and horn ought to tip off the identity of the subject, hopefully.

As he works, he finds the painting is coming out surprisingly well, with more depth and detail than he had anticipated. Her face looks almost life-like, her lips curved in that small smile she's shown him a few times.

Cory smiles, quite pleased, and considers that this must be the benefit of having a subject who actually sits still for this long.

Cory looks at the smile, and remembers those fleeting hints of sorrow as a sharp contrast. He stammers, "I … I hope I didn't make you sad earlier. If so, I apologize."

Be at ease, child. You have done no wrong, the mother of the Sidhe reassures him.

Cory nods, keeping his head low, reassured a bit, if not completely better about it. Wrong or no, she was sad, and he did have something to do with it. "Well, I hope the painting makes you feel better," he says, smiling cheerily.

I look forward to seeing it. As ever, she makes no outward sign of eagerness, maintaining the same near-motionless pose.

After quite another long time of painting in relative silence, with only a few other little questions now and then, Cory at last declares, "There!" with the last little dab of a highlight on a flower in Lady Eve's hair. With that, he puts his brush in water, and picks up the easel to turn it around so that Lady Eve might see.

For a long time, the Lady of the Circle of Still Waters gazes at her portrait without comment, until Cory is afraid he has offended her. Then, she speaks. "You have the gift. I suspected as much … it shows in your eyes and your hair." She rises from her stone, reaching out one long-fingered hand to run it gently through his blond locks.

Cory wrinkles his nose at her comment. "The Lord Scryer says it's a sign of taint in my line," he says, with maybe a little bitterness in it. "My Father says it's nothing to worry about, though," he adds, more cheerful.

"They are both right," the Lady answers, "though I think your father is the wiser man. Your visit has been a pleasure to me, Cory. I would offer you a gift in return." She steps towards the circle of still water, standing directly above it.

Cory's eyes widen. "For me? That's terribly nice of you, Lady Eve!" He trots closer, peering curiously, wondering if it's something she keeps in the water. Maybe to keep it clean? Or maybe she's going to give him a pet fish. His nose involuntarily wrinkles at that, and then he wonders how he'd keep a fish. If he put it in the river, it might swim away. And then if he sees her again, and she asks about it, he'd feel really awful. But then, maybe a fish would rather be free in a river, and that's the whole point. Regardless, he figures it ought to be good, so he tries to put aside his worries and just patiently wait … or, that is, impatiently wait, but quietly.

As they stand before the pool, their reflections are mirrored perfectly by its waters, the tall, silver-grey woman standing beside the small blond unicorn with paint-stained fingers and violet eyes. "I will give you a vision; whatever you would like to see, you may."

Cory's eyes brighten, and he thinks of all sorts of wonderful things he would love to see. This must be how Lady Eve knows so much! He feels almost like he could burst with ideas, and that it would be so hard to choose just one. But … then a solemn note intrudes on this happy little melody. His smile fades into a more sober expression. He realizes that this is the sort of thing that his father would probably have an answer for, in a flash. "I … Thank you, Lady Eve. I think … I am obliged to request of you that I be allowed to see what the Unseelie Court plans." He ducks his head a bit, wondering if that's even a fair or a possible request.

Beside him, the mother of the Sidhe grows very still, as she was when he painted her. Granted, she says without words. Below them, the mirror-smooth surface of the pool clouds, and tendrils of darkness claw their way across from the edge.

Cory's eyes widen, and he shrinks back in fear … but he doesn't allow himself to pry his eyes away from the pool, for fear of wasting the Lady's boon because of his own cowardice.

The shadowy tendrils resolve into the indistinct shape of a shadow-dragon, crouched in a familiar wood. The angle of the pool's observation spreads out, and he can suddenly see dozens, then hundreds of shadow dragons, concealed with the ordinary shadows of the woods and fields near Autumnshaven. He hears, or perhaps feels, a single word from them. Attack. And the hidden, shadow army plunges towards his home castle.

Cory covers his mouth, clamping his jaw closed so that he doesn't let out anything louder than a muffled squeak at the sight.

Shadows swarm over Autumnshaven, hiding it from sight, until the pool is completely obscured by blackness. Then the pool clears, reflecting again the calm, sorrowful countenance of the mother of the Sidhe, and the consternation of the little unicorn at her side.

Cory's lip quivers, and he stammers, "I-I-I … I've … I've got to go … go t-tell … Father … " He executes a low bow, partially to hide his watering eyes. "Th-thank you, Lady Eve."

"My gift has not been as kind a thing as I would have hoped, Cory," Eve says, saddened beside him. "Now it is I who must apologize for bringing you sorrow. Before you go, child, let me say this: reflect on what you saw. Do not take an action in haste that you will later regret."

Cory nods. "I'll t-tell my father exactly what I … what I saw … and I won't make any … any assumptions. He'll … he'll know what to do," Cory says, grasping on this nugget for reassurance.

The mother of Sidhe lowers her head, though whether in agreement or resignation isn't clear. "Have a care, Cory. The World be with you; I will speed you on your way." She gestures towards the waterfall and the steps leading away.

The little unicorn bows low, and then picks up his belongings, careful not to turn his back to the Sidhe queen, lest he show her disrespect, and then he backs away for as far as is prudent, then takes the steps down (heading the correct direction) and away.