Where she came from I have no idea. Just one moment she was there, sitting beside me, strands of her silver blonde hair being frisked by the breeze.

“It is a shame all this has to come to an end.”

Her words, poignant, hung like fragile leaves on the air. Somehow it made her sorrow all the more potent for her beauty.

“End,” I said. “This isn’t the end, it’s just time for the land to rest. At the end of winter a new life will begin and the beauty of it all return.”

“Not this time, Martin Washul.” She shocked me by saying my name. “This time, without help, the land will die. This tree, this hill, birds, insects… All of it is doomed.”

“Heh. Impossible, life has gone on for centuries. This will never end.”

“Impossible?”

She took my right hand with her left. Then muttering softly stroked my fingers with her right. I felt my fingers crackle, stretch. Long sliver-like blades replaced my fingers, the amazingly thin metal glowing softly.

“We need a Guardian, Martin Washul. Will you serve?”