Far, far east of the group, in a place where no one lived nor traveled—a place that some would call the end of the world, pushed against the boundaries of the land—a tiny butterfly fluttered. One that had nearly exhausted itself traversing countless miles, avoiding predators and weather, skimming over a dozen towns and barren lands. It pressed through a mist that separated reality from dream, life from death, time from infinity. Fluttering effortlessly, it landed upon a thin, tan finger. The finger moved and a dazzling woman with fiery-red hair and emerald green eyes pulled it up to her ear, face inquisitive as she waited. As slowly as the finger had risen it pushed back, releasing the butterfly to return back to the mist. The woman turned and drew further into the fog. “You were accurate in your assumption, My One. Valaira has returned,” the woman spoke to the seemingly empty air.
Then the air replied in a deep, serene voice that surrounded her, “And Grahamas the True?”
Her thick, red lips turned up in a smile, “He has returned as well. Just as heroic and honorable as when he had a kingdom to protect. Perhaps even more so.”
The mist around her shimmered, waves of gold and radiant silver rippling like a disturbed sea. “It seems the threads of destiny are beginning to entwine much sooner than we had anticipated.”
The woman stilled herself, and let her head drop in recognition. “Indeed, My One. How would you like me to proceed?”
“I wish for you to go to Grahamas; guide him. It is time for him to begin the long awaited journey towards Fate.”
The woman dipped even further, and draped her hand over her abdomen. “As you request, My One.”
“Travel well, Lornya. Safely and swiftly.”
Lornya rose and turned, easing her way back and into the barrier. The mist drew around her form as she traveled out into existence for the first time in a long time.