EPILOGUE

In the weeks and months that followed, there were wild tales that grew up around a patch of forest north of Camelot. Hunters and charcoalers swore that a huge swath had been destroyed in a day and then grew up again, in only one night. It was true that there were enormous broken stumps alongside young, healthy trees. There were terrible, deep gouges into the green earth that echoed now with vines and flowers of all kinds.

There was game aplenty in the green shadows of that forest. But it was seldom that a hunter caught anything or killed anything there. It seemed the animals anticipated every move and melted invisible into the verdant camouflage at the first sign of a weapon. But there were fox cubs that peered curiously from the ferns; deer gazed cautiously from the screen of bushes and vines, and in the spring, the sound of birds and the hum of insects set the greenery alive with music. Rabbits were abundant and the call of quail and pheasant echoed in the rolling terrain. Wild flowers made broad swaths of color under the singing green of the tree canopy.

It was said that the beautiful forest was a place of magical power. It was rumored the Dark One herself wandered the pristine beauties of the verdant shadows, finding peace from her own powers of annihilation. There were whispered rumors that in the heart of the forest, beside a tranquil pond, grew a rare and beautiful flower, whose leaves could bring a loved one back from the edge of death if the Goddess willed it.

Stories grow over time and the truth is obscured and exaggerated. But some things are true and this is one of them. There were many who murmured a prayer for the impossible as they journeyed into the depths of that mysterious forest and there were many, who received the mercy of the Morrigan.