Briefly, this is the image to go with Chapter 1 of my second tale. Full version of the chapter uploading tomorrow. All props made by me:-) “Two will come. Two souls with one heart. One heart with three minds. One cannot be seen, one cannot be touched, one is not known. “One among us will see them and will become part of them. One among us will become protector and saviour when the Mother of the Grey Ones rises again. This I have seen.” Children’s stories. Why was Old Mother telling children’s stories? This was a tale that parents told to make their little ones feel safe. Malian’s own mother had told it to her many times as she lay in the darkening night listening to the sandrats burrowing outside their cave. “Old Mother…” she said quietly. “The time is now,” said the old woman, “One of us is the third mind. One of us will be part of them. Tell me child, have you ever… felt a presence, believed yourself watched? Do you see signs where others cannot?” Malian nodded slowly. It was the reason she had been made Guardian of Thorkis. As a child, she had been painfully aware of the location and numbers of sandrats as she moved around, avoiding injury and possibly death on a number of occasions. As an adult, she had the uncanny ability to evade the Grey One scout parties, knowing with a degree of certainty where they moved and where they were going. Only the once had she ever let her guard down, and only that once had she ever seen them. Old Mother dropped her gaze to the bundle in her hands, loosened the ties and pulled the cloth away to reveal a dull and ancient looking dagger. The hilt was as black as night, inlaid with a huge glassy red stone where it met the lifeless blade. No gleam of razor edge, no hint of keenness could be seen. The grey metal was flawless, flat and dead. “This blade was found by the Sevren gatherers over three hundred years ago. It doesn’t come from the Colony, nor does it belong to the Grey Ones, it is far older than either. We Old Ones have kept it safe, knowing that the one I spoke of will own it one day, and that it will be needed. “Take the blade, Malian,” said Old Mother, turning the hilt toward the young warrior, “take it and follow your path.” “But Old Mother, I’m not…” stammered Malian. “If you are not, then we are doomed. My uncertainty is small, and I cannot permit it to stand in the way of our only hope. Take the blade, and pray that you are the one.” With trembling hands, Malian gripped the hilt. Old Mother’s hands closed over her own, and held tight. “Pray, girl, with all your heart. This must be right. “Now go, and wait for the two to find you. We are done here.” With that, Old Mother stood and turned away from Malian, dismissing her utterly. Dazed and confused, Malian pulled aside the curtain and stepped into the hot mid- morning sun. She looked at the blade in daylight; the dead metal seemed to swallow the light, reflecting nothing. Useless as a weapon, Malian failed to see its importance. She tucked it away out of sight, grabbed her spear from against the cave wall and made her way back across the sand dunes toward Thorkis and home. Old Mother waited as the soft footsteps of the girl receded, then consumed another chunk of the Sevren fungus. Closing her eyes, she focused on the events of the past few days, questioning her own actions. Was she right? Was the girl the one they had been waiting for? Would she save them all? Or, was this another ploy by the golden effigy of the Old One’s dreams, misdirection, a nail in the coffin of Humanity? Such were the dangers of visions and predictions.Such were the fears that Old Mother had lived with all of her long life. Only time would tell… *Time… Your Guardian, not mine…* Old Mother’s eyes flew open, and fear gnawed at her old bones as she shivered in the warm, red- lit cave.