Nearly continuously, the lightning flashed deep within the billowing clouds of the tempest, and it cast a strange pale light upon the scene before her. Thus, Livid’s fearful gray eyes beheld every horrid detail, for she could never wake herself from this nightmare though she had often tried.

She saw again the black tower which stood defiantly in the midst of the furious storm and the violent sea. The tempest above seemed to stir the angry swells like one would a boiling cauldron. Thus, the massive dark waves crashed against the glossy black spire with such force that white spray misted upwards almost to the pinnacle of its lofty battlements. However, it seemed nothing could cause the monolithic structure to tremble.

Upon the uttermost stonework of the glistening pillar-like watchtower there were all manner of strange markings, and there was also a silver crescent moon decorating its smooth stone floor. In the midst of the moon’s arc there was a round shallow pool of clear water.

As Livid took in these new details about the spire, a beautiful woman came up the tower’s inner staircase.

The woman’s skin was a golden color, and her long red and gold hair shimmered as the wind whipped it about. Her eyes were like the hue of a beautiful tropical sea, and yet they seemed full of anxiousness, darting back and forth as she stepped toward the pool. Though her expression was full of fear, her beauty was not in the least diminished.

The lovely woman wore a long pearl-white gown which was cut down the sides. The two flowing panels of the dress were kept together by many strings of pearls so that the golden skin of her sides could only slightly be seen through the narrow opening. There were also white pearls and small spiral seashells mingled into the rich fabric of its delicate lace-like embroideries.

Upon the woman’s fair brow, there sat a silver crown wrought to resemble scallop shells fastened together.

With a rumble of distant thunder, there came another woman’s smooth voice inquiring of the beautiful golden-skinned lady, “What do you seek here at the Tower of the New-moon, my queen?”

The golden woman gave a start at the sudden question, but then she hastily gave answer with downward turned eyes. “I must be freed of my burden.”

“I will help you lay down this troublesome thing,” the silken voice replied.

With those words, the woman in black robes stepped out, and with a graceful gliding motion, she moved toward the golden lady. Her deep hood was over her head as before so that it hid her pasty-white face and black eyes. However, Livid knew all too well that it was the same vile woman she had seen before in her earlier dream.

The gray-witch took the beautiful queen by her slender hand and led her to the small pool. Her own colorless hand contrasted sharply against the warm hue of the other.

Following the witch’s gestured directions, the golden woman stepped down into the pool and stood waiting.

From somewhere deep within the many folds of her black robe, the cruel witch took out a small flask made from mother-of-pearl. Then in the other hand, she made appear, as though from nowhere, a large, silver chalice. She held the ornate drinking cup out to the fair golden lady.

“As you know, my queen, I am not permitted, as a priestess of the New-moon, to touch the water,” the gray faced woman explained. “Thus, you must take the chalice, fill it from the pool, and then hold it out to me.”

When the golden lady had done as she was instructed, the gray woman let a single black drop from her flask fall into the out-held cup. Without being stirred, the dark drop gradually mingled, into the clear water turning the chalice’s contents to a dark red hue.

“This will cause your burden to come before its time, but remember, my queen, you must pass the thing to me as soon as it has come.” The witch’s face grew stern as she gave her warning. “Do not look at it and thereby delay, for it is written in the law that it must fall before its first breath.”

The beautiful woman nodded nervously and slowly put the chalice to her lovely red lips. After slowly draining the whole cup, she set the chalice down gently upon the pool’s edge.

At first, there seemed to be no effect, however, moments later, the woman suddenly convulsed and cried out in pain.

“Be brave, my queen, for soon enough, this shall pass,” the gray priestess counseled callously with no signs of compassion in her cold expressionless words. Though she was yet hidden from the other woman by her deep hood, Livid could somehow see the contemptuous look that passed across the gray-witch’s colorless face.

After the golden lady sent forth one more cry, the clear pool filled with blood. Wincing with pain, the woman brought up from the water a very tiny but perfectly formed girl-child.

The infant was in every way like her mother, but without gazing at the baby, the fair lady quickly gave the golden-skinned child to the gray priestess. The little girl was so small that the witch could easily hold her in only one of her thin gray hands.

The pale priestess of the moon wrapped the golden skinned child in a sable-colored fabric as she carried the tiny bundle to the edge of the tower. Leaning over the waist-high wall of the ramparts, the gray witch quickly dropped the little bundled baby. Down she plummeted while the witch watched, and with another sneer, the blackhearted woman hoped that the child would be crushed by the mighty waves that beat upon the high tower’s base.

In response to this spectacle of cruelty, Livid rushed forward full of anger. Balling up her fists, she attempted to beat upon the cloaked woman like one would beat upon a locked door. However, she never felt that any of her strikes made contact with the witch. Instead, it was as though she were only beating a thick hanging curtain.

With dismay, Livid drew back both hands and came down as hard as she could, but still, she could not penetrate the black cloak. As the dream lingered on, Livid felt like she had tried to beat the gray witch for hours but without success.

When the shepherdess finally awoke from this nightmare, her gray brow was dampened by sweat and silent tears filled her colorless eyes.

Pushing the dream out of her mind, Livid checked to make sure her friends were safe. They were camped beside the road to Mudbrick, and all seemed well. The sheep were sleeping peacefully, and Tender was cuddled up to Dawdle’s warm neck. The donkey’s rhythmic snoring did not seem to bother him in the least.

Once she was satisfied that all was well, the gray-maiden slowly closed her eyes again and drifted off into a dreamless slumber.

For many minutes, the campsite was silent but for the crackle of the fire and the snoring of the donkey. However, when it was certain that the shepherdess was no longer awake, the mummy-like figure unfroze and scurried away back into the shadows

“Rot and ruin!” the creature hissed out a curse. “She woke before my dagger could open her throat.”

“Rue must be caaaarefuuuul!” it answered itself while drawing out the words. “We’ve seen her kill many hares and even a few wolves.”

“She is dangerous,” the creature agreed. “Yes indeed.”