Xahn was running. Not the steady, loping run that he sometimes did with his father, but a full-out sprint that made his legs and lungs burn. Away. He had to get away. Something was chasing him—something evil, something terrifying.

He ran in near darkness, barely able to see the dim path before him, constantly afraid he was going to put his foot in the wrong spot, trip, or break a leg—and then that thing would get him. The path led Xahn up a steep hill, causing him to gulp in his breaths as he pushed himself to climb higher and faster. He did not dare pause or slow down, as tired as he was; that thing was catching up.

Xahn crested the hill and froze in confusion. The path split a thousand ways through an enormous field of tall grass. Though he was desperate escape whatever was chasing him, he did not know where to go. And the sky overwhelmed him. Dawn was breaking on his right, painting a bloody red swath from behind an enormous dark mountain that loomed in the east. Directly before him floated the largest thunder cloud Xahn had ever seen. It was full of lightning, shooting forked blue bolts from its roiling dark center to the crimson clouds over the eastern mountain and into the black clouds in the west. As he watched, Xahn saw a lightning bolt hit the ground directly in front of him, less than a half mile away. As the scene flashed blindly bright and thunder rattled his teeth and his bones, Xahn clearly saw myriads of tiny, serpentine paths through the grass that lead in every direction imaginable. Amidst the smaller trails, though, there were three distinct roads—all straight and wide—that began at his feet.

The first road, made of gray paving stones, lead eastward, toward the dawn and the dark mountain. The second road was a wide, smooth dirt path heading north, directly under the lightning-filled thunder cloud. The final road—a dim, grassy highway distinguished from the grasslands around it only by its freshly mowed appearance—led westward, where the horned crescent of MaHo’Ni, the second moon, hung in a starry strip of sky between the black clouds and the horizon. Unable to wait any longer, Xahn made his decision and raced westward, toward the calm darkness.

Something grabbed his left arm and held him fast. Xahn screamed and pulled as hard as he could, unwilling to turn and look at whatever horror had hold of him. With all his strength, he pulled away and slapped at it, trying desperately to free himself, but its grip on him was like iron and would not budge.

"Xahn," said a quiet voice—a woman’s voice.

Xahn gasped and pushed his feet against the grass-covered ground, trying to gain enough traction to pull himself away, but his feet just slid from under him, and he fell to the ground in a heap. Instinctively, he curled into a ball to protect himself, even though his left arm was still in the tight grip. Xahn was now breathing so hard and so fast that he was light-headed. Spots appeared behind his tightly closed eyelids, and he could feel himself begin to fade.

“Xahn,” the voice said again. It was strangely calming to him, like a balm for his nerves, and almost made him want to open his eyes. "It is alright, my boy. Look at me." Xahn held his breath and opened his eyes, terrified. Then he lost his breath—and his fear—entirely.

Before him was the most beautiful woman Xann had ever seen bending over him, tenderly holding his arm. She was thin and tall, with auburn hair elegantly braided about her head. She wore a long dress of deep green with a tight-fitting bodice, wide sleeves, and full skirts that pooled around her feet. The green of the dress matched the eyes in her heart-shaped face—eyes that were full of compassion and wisdom far beyond her youthful appearance. Across her forehead she wore a diadem—a thin ring of finely filigreed silver, more delicately wrought than the lace on her dress, holding a palm-sized glowing green crystal between her brows. Xahn instantly fell in love, though she looked at least a decade his senior.

“Who are you?” he asked, breathlessly, both from his run and from the woman’s beauty.

“You may call me Tern,” said the woman in green in a smooth, contralto voice. The name sounded familiar, but Xahn couldn’t place it. His eyes strayed to the crystal on her forehead which pulsed with a green glow, almost like a heartbeat. “You are notsupposed to be here,” Tern told him gently, without reprimand.

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“I—I really don’t know how I got here,” Xahn whispered. In fact, Xahn couldn’t remember anything at all before running. Running. Why wasn’t he running? Suddenly, the fear of being followed gripped him again. “I have to get away,” he said, loudly, and sprang to his feet. He turned toward the west and tried to run, but Tern held him tightly in her grip.

“Not that way,” Tern told him, softly. She turned him toward her, put her hands on the sides of his face, held him firmly, and looked deeply in his eyes. “You cannotlet fear get the best of you at the Crossroads. Fear will seize your heart, push you to decide quickly; but you must always look first and carefully review all your possible paths before choosing one. A hasty decision can trap you here for all eternity. Or worse.”

Xahn did not understand all her words, but they sounded wise. He tried to follow her counsel, calming his mind, looking past her, looking forward. It was difficult; he was petrified with fear, even though he couldn’t place what exactly scared him. But Tern’s voice comforted him, allowing him to breathe deeply and focus. As he did, a memory came to him-his father teaching him to bow hunt. He closed his eyes. “Breathe and hold,” his father would say, again and again. “Draw the bowstring, your hand brushing your face. Next, place your thumb under your jaw near your ear. That’s right. Now, breathe and hold. Use this time to look and to see.”

Xahn opened his eyes, and he looked—and he saw.

To the west, down the grassy road beneath the horns of MaHo’Ni, was a tree. It had a tall, bare trunk that ended in a widespread canopy. The darkness obscured the tree’s distance, height, and width, which was disturbing because beneath the tree’s outstretched limbs stood a figure, who could have been either tall or enormous, depending upon the tree’s height. The figure was not touched by the red rays of the sun in the east, but only backlit by dim moonlight, making details impossible to discern. Squinting, Xahn thought he could see a hooded black robe that covered the figure from its head to feet. Two faint glints from within the hood looked like glowing eyes and Xann had a menacing feeling, like whoever—whatever—was inside the cloak was watching him … very closely.

“Who is that?” Xahn asked.

“I don’t know,” said Tern. “I don’t even know if that is a man, a woman, or something else entirely. I do know that no one who has approached this figure has ever returned.”

Xahn swallowed heavily. “Not that way, then,” he said.

“Not that way,” Tern agreed. “Not today.” The woman in green eyed him carefully. “If I release you, will you stay still?” When Xahn nodded, she removed her hands from his face, her gaze drifting, as if she was searching for something or someone.

“What is this place?” Xahn asked, timidly.

“That, my boy, is a very good question,” said Tern, still preoccupied with her search. "Someday you and I will have a long talk about it. Right now, though, I need to find you a way out." Her expression brightened slightly, and she nodded over Xahn's shoulder. "Found it," she said.

Xahn turned—thrilled by her promise of a future conversation—to see a wall of blackness rolling toward him like a storm cloud. He froze, heart pounding. This was what had chased him, he was certain. He wanted to turn and run.

“Ignore the blackness,” Tern’s voice whispered at his ear. “Look below it, down the hill you climbed.”

Failing to slow his heartbeat as he’d done earlier, Xahn tried to do what Tern bid him. There were hundreds of paths snaking through the grass down the hill, like those in the opposite direction. These paths, however, looked faded, almost nonexistent in places, some vanishing even as he watched. Only a single path, curling and twisting among the others, looked bright, new, and solid.

“Do you see the bright path?” Tern asked, quietly. Xahn nodded. “Good. Follow it to the large clearing over there—that is your way back.”

“The black cloud is coming,” he whispered, his voice quivering. “I can’t—I can’t make it to the clearing before it does.”

“You must!” Tern replied sharply. “If the blackness swallows the clearing, you might never return to the real world.”

Swallowing his fear, Xahn started down the bright path. He turned to look at Tern, who had not moved. “Aren’t you coming with me?” he shouted, panicked.

“I cannot,” she told him, sadness in her kind eyes. “It is not my path. But I will join you later,” she promised. “Now go!” She waved him forward. “There is no time! Go!”

Obeying instinctively, Xahn sprinted down the hill, his legs wobbly with fear. Twisting and turning along the bright path, he ran directly toward the roiling black cloud. The blackness had already reached the clearing’s edges. He was not going to make it in time. Closing his eyes, he pushed his legs as fast as they would go, his breaths coming in gasps, a stitch in his side.

Abruptly, Xahn was unable to run, breathe, or move. With great effort, he tried to scream, but no sound came. He pried his eyes open, but the blackness pressed in on him, cold and suffocating, until everything disappeared.