In the depths of the woods, a steadfast wind slipped lazily between the green and yellow leaves, making them dance mysteriously like marionettes on the end of an invisible puppet-masters string. In the darkness of the ancient oaks and pines, the figure wandered aimlessly from tree to tree, on occasion placing a hand upon the bark, letting its fingers lightly trace the contours and crevices of nature. Manipulating the leaves was one thing that the figure enjoyed to do in order to ease its mind into a perpetual coma-like state. It was relaxing.

The figure was walking with no particular destination in mind. Twigs snapped underfoot, as it passed along the narrow ledge of a two-hundred-foot ravine. Loose rock and twigs were cast over the edge, as the figure slipped by, disappearing into the darkness. Vague memories ran rampant through its mind, occasionally intersecting with other memories and thoughts, though never offering a solution to the figure's problem. Eventually, after having walked for nearly an hour, the figure came to a fork in the path of which it was following. Completely lost in its thoughts, the figure sat down on a rock that was covered with green moss, and heaved a heavy sigh.

A shadow fluttered over the ground in front of the figures feet. The figure looked up at the sky quickly, scanning the twilight for the source of the shadow. There were only the stars, which shone brightly with their eternal wisdom. Whatever the shadow had been was nowhere to be seen. What was it? A bird? No, impossible; much too small. Was something following them? No, also impossible. They were not being followed, he had seen to that personally. The figure was so ensnared in its own thoughts, that it almost didn't notice the abrupt change in the wind's direction.

The figure looked around curiously, as a tornado of leaves, twigs, and other forest debris surrounded it, pulling at its sleeves and hair. The figure got up off the rock, and began walking through the swirling wind. Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the wind vanished, leaving the woods bathed in an eerie silence. However, a light breeze continued to blow in the opposite direction that it had been a moment earlier.

The figure combed leaves and twigs out of its long hair with bony fingers. It uttered a few mumbled words, attempting to reverse the direction of the wind, but to no avail. It continued to blow persistently towards the East Mountains.

The Figure never put much faith in signs, but such were the times that a change of wind direction that it could not reverse, required further investigation. Then, there was a snap from somewhere in the dark, and the figure whipped around on the defensive, prepared for an attack. The attack, however, never came. Something emerged onto the path, that was just a little bit smaller than the rock the figure had been sitting on. As it passed under a beam of moonlight, the figure let out a sigh of relief.

"Hello, cat", the figure said. The cat mewed in response. The figure paused for a moment. "What he doesn't know won't hurt him". The cat mewed again. "No," the figure replied. "For now, we will bide our time. I must find out the meaning of this wind".

The figure set off again down the path, slapping at a hovering fly, the cat following closely at its heels. Red eyes watched them closely from a nearby clump of bushes. The eyes followed the two shapes until the creature which they belonged to, decided that the time was right to kill. It scuttled forward in a crab-like motion with terrible speed, yellow eyes possessed with blood lust, jaw unhinged and teeth glinting in the moonlight. It lunged and its teeth caught a hold on the cat's neck. Blood splattered across the forest floor as the cat yowled in pain.

The figure whirled around, and in a second it had its finger jammed up under the creature's throat. Crystal blue eyes clashed with terrified yellow. The creature relinquished its grip on the cat's neck, and whimpered in pain, as the figure drove its finger further into the beast's neck.

"You were sent to kill us?" the figure asked, in a menacing tone. The creature made several pained grunting noises.

"How many more of you are out hunting us?" The creature grunted several times again.

"Bags!" the figure swore. After a long pause, he finally said, "If you wish to continue living for now, I have a job for you". The creature whimpered. "There is a camp not to far from here. There will be a man and a woman sleeping. I want you to guard them for the rest of the night, unless you want me to kill you right here." The creature nodded in response. "In the morning, the man will no doubt kill you. You are to let him, do you understand?"

The creature struggled to get free, but the figure jammed his finger further into its throat until it drew blood. "Do you understand?" the figure repeated. The creature nodded fervently. "Then leave", the figure demanded and released its hold on the creatures throat. The beast scuttled a few feet down the path, and then stretched its leathery wings and took off to the skies, towards the camp.

"Bags", the figure said, as it knelt down to examine the cat. There was a large gash along its neck, which was slowly seeping along the pathway. The figure sighed, and ran its hands slowly over the dying cat. Sparks jetted out of its fingers and converged around the cat's wound, which began to mend itself; all the while the figure said nothing. When the wound was healed, the figure gazed at the cat. The cat mewed in what the figure could only assume was extreme gratitude.

"Cat," the figure said. "I have a job for you as well. I need you to go back to the Bone woman's house. I require a very specific bone, and there is no time for me to go. Do this for me, and I will let you retire in front of the fire with all of the mice you can eat".

The cat mewed one last time, and disappeared into the undergrowth.

The figure set off once again. The attack had disturbed him greatly. Their enemies were much closer than he had anticipated. The wind changed directions again, this time blowing strongly towards the north. The figure heard its name, borne upon the winds breath.

… Zedd…

What's this? Zedd wondered. He tried to change the direction of the wind once more, but once again, the wind remained blowing steadily north. "Bags!" Zedd swore again. He did not like being confused. Plus the attack had left him quite hungry.

… Zedd…

"Who are you?" Zedd asked, his words carried away on a large gust of wind. Eventually, he received an answer to his query.

… Shota… Shota… Shota… Shota… Shota… the wind replied.

Zedd froze in mid stride, as the name reached his ears. Shota? What could she possibly want with him? "What do you want with me?" he asked.

… Not you… Richard… the wind responded.

Richard? Bags! This was not good. Zedd would rather loose to Darken Rahl, than let Richard fall into the clutches of a woman with Shota's capabilities. He was just about to turn around and return to the camp when the wind brought more of Shota's words to his ears.

… You cannot save him, Zedd. His destiny's path is already laid out before him. One way or another his actions will bring him to me…

"The future isn't written in stone, Shota," Zedd spoke into the night. "You of all people know this."

He didn't receive a full response this time. Instead, two words reached his ears, which chilled him to the core.

… Must die…

And then the wind died completely. Zedd knew that there was no chance of Shota getting her hands on Richard back at the camp; not with the creature he had sent back to protect them. He knew they had time, but not a lot of it.

Zedd sighed and spread his arms in the middle of the pathway. The leaves began to shiver, the pebbles on the ground began to shake slightly, and Zedd became completely still. An eerie sound began to issue forth from Zedd, an unholy wail that sounded like bones being broken, and the agonizing screams of pain. Two silver tendrils shot out of his body, and began circling around him at an incredible speed until they began to solidify in front of Zedd's eyes.

Floating before him were two semi-transparent figures. One was a woman, who was very pretty, with blue eyes, brown hair and a long flowing robe, and the other was a man, with curly back locks, green eyes, and the same robe as his female counterpart. Zedd and the two spectres stared at each other for a long moment until the female spoke, in a voice that sounded like crystal.

"What is it, my son?"

"Mother," Zedd replied. "I am deeply troubled… Shota…"

"Is after Richard," his father replied. "We know of this Zedd. Much can go wrong if Richard falls into the clutches of the Witch-woman".

"I know; but what am I supposed to do?"

"We cannot tell you," his mother replied. "The veil of the underworld keeps the future hidden from us. You must follow your instincts".

"But beware," his father warned. "The Mother Confessor poises a larger threat to Richard than the Witch-Woman. She still has yet to tell him of what she is".

"She will do it in her own time," Zedd replied. "She doesn't want to hurt him".

His mother stared at him with misty eyes. "By withholding the truth from Richard, she might hurt him even more. What if he falls in love with her before she reveals her secret?"

"She won't let that happen," Zedd said defiantly.

"You take a great risk in thinking so, my son," his father said. "Kahlan would sooner turn her powers on herself, if it meant not risking her friendship with Richard. He is the first friend she has had in a long time".

"She will tell him, I am sure of it," Zedd replied. "But how am I to aid Richard in stopping Darken Rahl?"

His parent's figures were beginning to waver.

"That is the wrong question to ask," his father said. "Ask another".

Zedd paused. "Does Rahl have all three Boxes of Orden?"

"No," his mother whispered. "He only has two".

"That is a very dangerous game," Zedd replied. "He must know the repercussions if he doesn't open all three boxes by winter."

"He knows of the consequences," his father replied. "He is very confident in his mission".

"It is his confidence that makes him dangerous," his mother warned. "Do not underestimate him".

"How is Richard supposed to stop Rahl? The sword alone cannot destroy him, and that's all I've given him"

"Richard has knowledge. Richard has secrets. Only he will know how to defeat Rahl," his father said. "We must go now; the Keeper is drawing us back into the veil of the underworld".

"No!" Zedd shouted. "I have more questions! How will Richard defeat Rahl?"

"We have already answered that question," his mother said. "But do not ask him, for he will not reveal his secrets to you…"

"But…"

"Be patient, my son," his mother said. "You are wise. You will show Richard the way through his ordeal… We are leaving… Zedd… you're father and I love you very… much".

And the two spectres faded away into nothing. Zedd wiped a tear that was sliding down his cheek. He smoothed out his robes and began walking back towards the camp.

Zeddicus Zu'l Zorander, the Great and Honourable Wizard, arrived back at the camp, and sat down on the nearest rock to think.

"Bags!" the wizard swore. "Nothing is ever easy".