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imagined the fearsome boarlaque, a great, bear-like beast that lived in the mountains and terrorized villages, looking for victims.
    “Living beings weren’t the only things influenced by the god of the dead,” the Mystic went on. “All of the evil spirits hidden away during the daylight hours are his minions as well. They avoid the light and brightness of day, and once every year, they come out at night and walk among us. You see, Sobledthe is not just a festival to celebrate the ending and beginning of a new year and the joy of a good harvest. It is also a time to remember the dark spirits and creatures of the earth, and on Sobledthe Eve, they wait in the shadows to capture an unsuspecting soul.”
    Denaeh whispered this last sentence harshly, her young face looking very demonic and shrewd. Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede were entranced, and all three of them were afraid to breathe, in case one of these evil spirits was waiting to pounce on them the moment they did.
    The Mystic stood suddenly from her dramatic pose, causing everyone to jump. After a several seconds she continued on in a more normal voice, “And so, many remember the Harvest Day not only as a celebration of Ethoes herself, but also as a time to be wary of the creatures of darkness. For on the very day of this sacred festival, long, long ago, Ciarrohn and his underlings gained absolute power and corrupted many of the beings living in this world.
    “He sent his horrible grouldahs, a terrifying wolf-like, skeletal creature with a mane like a horse running down its back, to the far corners of the world to kill those who didn’t acknowledge him as the supreme god. Fortunately, many of those who opposed Ciarrohn survived this hunt, but they lived on in fear and darkness.
    “Many years passed, and Ciarrohn became lazy, assuming that all in the land obeyed him. But it was the dragon Traagien that finally overthrew him. He destroyed the god’s mortal form and hurled him down upon the western coast of Ethoes, his body becoming the Elornn and Thorbet Mountain ranges. This is why the Crimson King does not dare come to this part of Ethoes. It is a cursed place in the eyes of Ciarrohn.”
    Denaeh paused and looked at the attentive children. She smiled in spite of herself, and continued on, “But, the following peace would not last, unfortunately. A young boy had been born in the east, and he would grow to become a tyrant and a ruthless ruler, his father having already been tainted by Ciarrohn’s power. You see, the god had his sights set on this young boy, this child who would one day wreak havoc against the world once again.”
    Denaeh’s voice quavered a little as she spoke, but Jahrra and her friends were too captivated to notice.
    “No one knows why Ciarrohn chose him,” she continued, releasing a deep breath. “Like I said before, many suspected this young man to be the evil god’s own son, but it could never be proven. Time passed and the hateful boy grew into a cruel man. With the help of his father and those still loyal to Ciarrohn, he overthrew the elfin king of the east and began to gain power.
    “He captured what dragons he could find, the creatures that helped defeat his master, and began breeding them, creating his own warrior race. The terror and fear began to spread once more. This is the day the whole world changed.”
    Denaeh paused again, but this time she was not smiling. She was frowning and Jahrra noticed a glimmer of sorrow in her eyes. She watched silently as the Mystic’s features became almost glazed; as if she had been swept back to some other time, leaving the shell of her body behind.
    Jahrra suddenly wondered how far back Denaeh’s own history reached. She couldn’t be sure how old her eccentric friend was, but she had some idea about the lifespan of Mystics. Denaeh had told her a little about her kind once, hinting that once a woman became a Mystic, she also became immortal. Jahrra just wondered how long ago Denaeh became one of