"Once upon a time..."

Alysia started quietly with a chuckle. Lucien slipped his free hand into his pocket and wrapped the other about the Priestess' side. His gait was leisurely as he walked along side the Priestess, relishing the time shared.

"...a long long time ago, there were two young men that lived on a small emerald island named Brendan and Ceallach. Brendan was the first born son of a wealthy noble family and Ceallach was the only son of a humble farming family. The lads met at a school run by a monastic order and became fast friends, inspite of their vastly different backgrounds."

Lucien continued to tell the tale of the lads' time at school, as he and Alysia made their way home, telling of the mischief the lads stirred together, their shared victories on the athletic field and their shared struggles in academics.

"If it weren't for Brendan's tow hair and fair complexion and Ceallach's dark hair and tanned complexion, folks would have sworn the two were one in the same. Indeed some folks believed the lads were kin, but most simply agreed the two shared the same spirit."

The avenue broke off the main road, heading northeast and leading to the Manor. The muted sounds of the lake could be heard against the sleepy evening as they stepped onto the road, announcing they were home. Lucien paused, silencing and drew a deep breath of soft fragrances of the lilies, irises and jasmine that greeted them.

"Now," quietly Lucien broke his momentary silence, as they neared the warmly lit structure. "Where was I?" he asked with a grin, turning to Alysia.

"Oh yes, the lads." He glanced up at the faint flash of lightening and chuckled at Alysia's remark. "There are a few things that will cause me to melt, "he admitted with a crooked grin. "But the rain is not one of them."

Lucien stopped outside of the manor and looked up at the storm rolling in. A content smile was plainly evident upon the barrister's features. "The lads spent five winters together in school before they parted and each returned to the lives they each came from," Lucien began taking up the tale once more.

"Brendan was trained up and continued his education, being groomed to be a noble. Ceallach took up the plough and harrow. Several winters past, each young lad grew into manhood. Life's lot was as expected." There was a faint edge to the barrister's almost resigned intonation as he spoke the last, but it didn't last nor linger as he continued the story.

"Ceallach was up late one night," Lucien paused and looked up to the night sky, chuckling quietly as the thunder rumbled and the rain started to fall steadily. "In fact, it was a night much like this."

He went on to tell how the young man, who had become a councilman of sorts for the small community, was working late, going over the ledgers and matters before the council. "The hour being as late as it was, the man soon fell asleep.

"In his dreams, he saw himself in a ship, sailing out to sea. All around him the crew moved in a chaotic orchestra of movement and activity. The white sails snapped as the wind caught it, and the ship pitched as the waves lurched against the hull. And amidst the din of men grunting and running and climbing and calling out, one lone voice rose. The voice was familiar to Ceallach, it was a voice from his past."

Lucien paused to catch his breath and smiled at Alysia, watching the rain fall around them.

Lucien smiled, slipping one hand into his pocket and traced the other hand along Alysia's arm, before slipping it into his pocket as well. He lifted his gaze from the Priestess into the raining night.

"Ceallach woke before he could see who the lone voice belonged to," he started once again. "Each night for the next seven nights, Ceallach had the same visions come to him with small variations. But inevitably, he woke before he would see the face of the one, who's voice carried over all the others.

"The young man didn't need to see the face, however. The tenor of the voice was unmistakable. It belonged to the friend of his youth. And his dreams were not happy or nostalgic, but they were troubled. The visions that marked his dreams were visions of trials and death.

"Ceallach went into the town the next evening, the eighth evening. He figured if he spent some time at the local town pub, drinking and sharing in the camaraderie, he'd be too tired to dream that evening. The young man settled at a table, and was enjoying his first flagon when...

"Ceallach!" Lucien dropped the tone of his voice when he barked out the man's name, playing out the part some, before finding his own voice as he picked up the story. Lucien smiled as his attention returned to rest upon the Priestess once again. He nodded. "Yes...the young man heard that same unmistakable voice from his dreams...and his past.

"Before Ceallach could even react, Brendan was upon his childhood friend, arms locked around his head and playfully jabbing him with a fist in the man's ribs as they used to in their youth." Lucien dropped his voice once again before he spoke. "You are a hard man to find, Old Friend. But I had to find you. We've much work to do! We've must embark at once!"