PROLOGUE
The soft whisper of silken robes and the occasional bird song were his only companions.The grove stood before him as it had for centuries, lush, green and peaceful.

Grey eye's flared  with barely controlled anger, things were about to change.  He searched for some clue, some tiny spark of knowledge that would stem the rising tide of chaos.

Leaning heavily upon his staff his left hand caressed the fine spider web incantation,  bonded into living metal by his old master, a gift given on graduation.

He closed his eyes and whispered arcane words in the pretty sing song lilt of magic, as he called forth the power to witness the prophecy again.

Gently the mist rose from the ground and danced amongst the  silver and gold of the trees as a slight wind stirred the
fallen leaves, the magic grew and swelled around him.

"Prophecy" he whispered.  A tiny blue whirlwind sprung into being in his outstretched palm.  His face contorted by the rapture of ecstasy and pain found only in the pure magic.

His arms flung wide to accept the vision as it took hold of his slender body. Gently and rhythmically he rocked back and forwards in time with the vortex that now encompassed his  being.  His brow lined with concentration, beaded with sweat as he remembered all that was given to him.
 
"Enough" he gasped.  The tempest subsided and spun harmlessly in his hand.

This prophecy disturbed him  for it awoke a desire within he thought long gone.  The thrill of battle and the taste for adventure enthralled his sense, swooning he leaned heavily upon his staff.

His hand disappeared beneath the folds of his robe as weary and sad eyes watched the  pale moons rise zenith ward to bathe the scene in an eerie light.

There was sorrow in his eyes now as he looked out over his grove, and something else was called from within him, the familiar summoning.  A soft sound from behind jolted him from his reverie.

"You woke me." the voice that issued from the proud Olympian  was smooth and deep.  The calm reassuring tones of an old friend.

For a moment only the robe continued to stare at the grove before reluctantly turning to face his friend.

Neither man wishing to break the silence, the Olympian simply shrugged his strong shoulders.

"I know that look," he said at last,"Your sending me back again."

The mage pulled the dark cowl over his head and suppressed a shudder as he recalled the vision.

"I have no choice."

The Olympian smiled and for the first time in centuries the face of his friend looked old and tired.
 
"It's too soon," the mages voice strong yet barely audible as if in some private conversation ,"there has been a breach and you must return."

"It would be nice," answered the Olympian with a mischievous grin,"if just once you told me what to expect when I get there."

The mage smiled, "You know it's against the rules, but," here he paused and smiled wearily, still unable to lift the foreboding that always lingered when the visions would return,"I promise I will help."

"You always have." the Olympian thought.