In the temple cell, an old man and his young apprentice were staring at a dead plant. “This is your final test Lido,” said the Elder, “you must give life back to the plant.”

Lido slowly walked over to the plant and looked around it carefully. He moved his hands around it slowly and carefully, without touching the plant, and then smiled and held his hands still where they lay. Taking a deep breath, he covered the plant with his hands, and then blew out with all his lungs and stood back as the plant went from brown, to yellow, to green, and began lifting up on its stem.

“Wonderful, you have completed your final task,” said the old man with a smile. “Now, go to the door and prepare to meet your guests as they arrive.”

Lido began to run to the great hall when he turned and said, “Thank you, Elder Hallen.”

Hallen laughed, “Run along, young one.”

The first Lido met were his parents, who placed a small, leaf-shaped pendant around his neck. “What does this say, momma?” he asked as he brushed his fingers over the inscription.

“Why, it says ‘Lido,’ your name, son,” she said as she put it around his neck. As the other guests began to come in, Lido saw out of the corner of his eye, a white light. He looked around to see if anyone else had noticed this. When he saw that no one else was affected, he began to get curious. Without being seen, he followed the light, which appeared to be in the shape of a beautiful maiden. “Come where it is safe,” it seemed to be saying. Lido followed the light until it disappeared into a storage closet. He began to rummage around in it when the door snapped shut behind him, locking him in.

All of a sudden, a flaming arrow flashed through one of the stained glass windows and pierced a table. The sprites screamed and shouted as more began to rush in, until, all at once, the great hall was flooded by a legion of men in pewter armor. The Elder was grabbed and pulled outside, yelling and kicking, while the rest of the soldiers began stabbing and slaughtering the helpless victims within.

On the verge of the town, on top of the valley where the temple stood, the General stood, hands behind his back, smiling devilishly at his work. Around him, archers were firing burning shafts into the thatch cottages.

A pair of knights appeared; between them, an old Creedon was being dragged. “You are the Elder of this temple, are you not?” asked the General as he brandished his sword.

The Elder refused to answer.

Calmly, the wrinkled General said pompously, “Whether you answer or not, I already know that you are. I also know that in your training to be an Elder, you have traveled a pilgrimage to Creedos. Give me the location of this site?” Again, the Elder was silent.

Losing his control, the General pulled his sword to the Elder’s neck and hissed, “You will tell me the location of Creedos, or you will watch your entire community burn to the ground.”

Shedding a tear, the Elder put his face flat to the ground and fell silent.

As Pogo climbed the last hill over the valley, he saw a giant mass of smoke over the village.

He burst into a run, cramming his gift into his jacket along the way. He reached the top of the valley just in time to watch the old general put his sword through the Elder. Around him, the town began to smolder down into ashes, only the temple had remains of charred stone.

A pair of soldiers made a final plunder of the temple ruins, their regiment just about ready to pull out. As one turned towards a pile of rocks, he noticed that there were shattered wooden remains of what seemed to be a door. Must’ve been a closet, he thought. He worked away the mass of rock and rubble to find, covered by a crossing of wood beams, a little boy, a young Sprite, with a tag around his neck labeled “Lido.”

“Hey, there’s a survivor over here,” he called.

“Fix it,” yelled back his officer.

“It’s a child, sir, I can’t draw my sword against a child.”

“Then drown it.”

“Yes, sir,” he replied hesitantly.

The knight carried the boy, still unconscious, out of the temple and towards the river before a great, dark horse stopped in front of him. “Where are you taking that boy?” asked the General.

“I’m going to drown him in the river.”

“This river’s water is not deep enough this time of year. There’s a lake not too far south of here. Drop the boy there then return to Lucra.”

“Yes, sir,” said the knight as he rode towards the lake.

To the knight, the ride to the lake was a long and pensive one. Every now and then, the moon beams would take on the form of a young woman telling of future events, none made sense to him, but it filled him with a sense, greater than fear, but more fulfilling than pride. Yet, he still did not know what his future would come to.

As he walked up to the water’s edge, child in arms, he looked up to Mount Hian under the moon and knew what he had to do. Placing the child back on the horse, he knelt at the water’s edge and wet his face in the lake.

Immediately after he withdrew his head, a blade was set against his throat. “How dare you slay a child in cold blood?” said the voice, courageous in its words but quivering in voice.

The knight instinctively grabbed the body behind him and tossed it into the water. He saw what came out as a half-sized, bearded Sprite before it broke the surface. “I’m not going to kill the child. I’m going to save him from the Faction.”

“And raise him yourself?” asked the Sprite as he pulled the reeds off his face. The knight looked to Mount Hian again. The sun was rising behind it now. “No. I will hide him.”

All day and all night the knight rode toward the mountain with his two new companions, the lifeless boy, Lido, and Pogo, the fisherman, until finally he arrived at his destination. After a quick visit with his sister, the knight and the fisherman disappeared into the night.

June, the knight’s sister looked at the small boy and lifted the pendant into her sight. “Lido,” she said, “you should get along well with my son, Pollen. You’re about his age…”