Anpu heard the heavy, rhythmic beat of wings long before the creature
appeared. It began as a whisper of anticipation, and what
forebodes. Anpu scanned the skies with his far-seeing eyes. The
sound grew louder, heralding the creature's arrival …

… and with a rush of wind and a pop of displaced time, the owl
swooped out of empty space and lighted on the aged steps of the Goth
house.

It was a magnificent beast, snow-white with a black-speckled breast
–
it stood eight-feet at the shoulder. Anpu stared at himself staring
from the dual reflection in the owls huge eyes.

Upon its back sat the rider, concealed in a scarlet robe. The owl
stepped up to the door, and the rider held forth a package. Anpu
read the flowing script on the top that stated the parcel was:
"For
the Librarian".

Anpu opened the heavy door and, with a nod, stepped back to let the
rider and his large companion through.

The gathered company in the main hall -- who spoke and gestured as
though a reunion of friends long lost had, at last, come to pass
–
paused in their conversation to behold the new arrivals. Some mouths
and eyes gaped at the beauty and mystique of the wise avian and rider
… other watchers cocked a curious eyebrow. The great talons
clacked
across the stone floor as the messengers approached, and the patrons
gave way to let them pass. They stopped alongside of Rhio. The
rider held forth the package for her to take. She did, with care.
The rider's head gave a short nod, then the owl turned, and it
strode
out of the hall.

On the stairs, Anpu watched the owl pass by, then lift its wings to
take flight. Anpu said, quietly, "This isn't what it
seems."

Both owl and rider stopped. Both turned to regard the omnipresent
doorman. The rider pulled back its hood to reveal a thin face haloed
with long, black hair. The rider's skin had a tinge of blue, its
eyes the color of jade, and its ears poked – long and thin –
from
beneath its sable locks. In a gentle, musical whisper, it
replied, "Is it ever?"

With one beat, the owl lifted itself and the rider into the air.
With the same rush of air, they vanished from that part of Arcadia.

Inside the House, Rhio set the package down on the bar. She undid
the silver ties, which evaporated into the scent of lilies as she
loosed the knot. She pulled the covering cloth away – which fell
away into rose petals – and revealed a box the shade of midnight,
inlaid with sapphire and mythryl. As she laid her slender hand on
the top, the assembled heard a click, and the lid lifted away and
settled on the bar next to the box.

In the box was a scroll, and two objects wrapped in silk. Rhio took
the scroll and unrolled it. At first it was blank, she noted with
confusion, but then words appeared … as though written in a
flowing
hand that moment. And, as one word of script flowed, the preceding
words would disappear in a small flash of purple-green flame, leaving
a scent of roses … but no mark on the page. The words existed
long
enough for Rhio to read their message …

"My Dearest Rhio,

I am enrapt in matters most maddening and wondrous. Please take
these gifts as remembrance of me, and know I shall be with you soon
–
and always. The one I found in the seas of the Dreamstorm … the
other is of my making. Add it to the knowledge of the House. My
return is imminent.

In what is left of my heart, I hold you close."

The scroll was unsigned, but Rhio had a good idea who sent the
package, and she let a smile lift her face. She pulled out the two
other items in the box. Rhio lifted one that was oblong. Removing
the gossamer cloth – that promptly flew away as a large butterfly
--
revealed what looked like a large conch shell … save that it was
translucent, and looking deep into it revealed a storm raging within
its form. Holding it up to her ear, Rhio heard a cacophony of myriad
sounds crashing together … whipped against a gale of manic
imagination.

She put this down and removed the cloth from the other object …
and
this cloth twinkled out of existence like an ancient star. Revealed
was a large book, bound in silver and leather. Her mouth forming
an "o" of wonder, Rhio turned back the cover and read the
title
within: "What Is Not and To Become In the Dreamstorm".

Below that was inscribed the author's singular name: "The
Ravenlord".


Michael(DJ Poe)