Chapter 3

The morning was hazy grey from rain, the sun straining to break through cloying fog. Utena's boots squished onto the grass. These boots held up better, she thought, much better than sneakers. Even if she loved a good jog, the aftermath of a rain never failed to make sneakers soggy. She would much prefer the feeling of wet grass on bare toes than a wet sock sticking to her skin. Rainwater felt cleansing, pure.

The lines of cottages disappeared in her mind's eye, and she was back in Hokkaido. She was running, walking across desolate fields of snow, the roads along shallow rice paddies, and a warm earth full of growth in summer. When she lived with Aunt Yurika, it seemed like everyone wanted to leave the fields for the packed concrete of Tokyo. Not her. Even when the summer seemed unbearably short and she would be forced to confine herself to the house, she never wanted the city-life. At least she still would have the fields to return to in the spring, to hope for in the dark of winter. Tokyo was a world of smog-stained office buildings and neon lights.

Utena drifted from her reverie when the village began to stir. Men, women, and children slowly began to pour from their thatched houses. The men were out immediately, off to tend to the fields. The women had other duties first, boiling porridge and tending to their small herb gardens. They were a people near to the heart of nature, their culture born from soil and rain.

A man–Lanzo, Bartram had told her earlier–was leading his livestock out to pasture; he looked like he was having a rough time of it. The lone bull snorted irritably at Lanzo's jabs, ring jangling from his nose with each huff. A calf stopped to push its pink nose into his mother's warm belly for a drink. The geese, however, had quickly waddled out, now squawking happily to greet the wet morning. Lanzo was the one who had cared for her horse while she had slept. It would be old for such a journey back, Bartram had said, but an old horse was better than none.

They walked past her towards the fields, many of them slowing to stare at her for a moment. The children were less restrained, and often had to be herded back into the fold by their mother. This was April, the sowing season. The villagers would have to perform boon-work for such a busy time. Bartram had laughed when he had to explain it to her, saying, "I knew any Lord didn't know nothin' about anythin'! What wit all that complainin'!"Brigitta had turned her sorrowful brown eyes on him and whispered into his ear, his demeanor changing to reverence immediately. "Beggin' yer pardon," he muttered with embarrassment, "I didn' know about yer...uh...unusual condition." Utena had sighed, knowing that even with her memory restored, she still might know little about the peasants that had toiled under her.

She set her sights on the windmill. She'd have to meet the witch to the right of it. The structure was tall and rickety, its wooden blades jutting into the sky. Tall grass grew at its base, every now and then tousled by a gust of wind.

Utena turned her head when she heard the sound of pounding hooves and the jangle of tack. It was the Messor and the Hayward, leaving their homes to do their job in inspecting the field work. She could see that the houses around the castle had wider frames and a full second story instead of a loft. The Messor slowed his horse upon seeing Utena, looking at her suspiciously. She returned the expression. Brigitta had not spoken fondly of them, and his actions were winning him no further favor. He curled his lip disdainfully before silently moving on.

The woods were hazy with fog; Utena could see nothing. She worried that perhaps she was late, that the witch had already left in a huff. But as if on cue, a black form surfaced from the haze. She threw off her hood and looked Utena straight on. "Are you prepared?"

"I guess so," Utena said hesitantly.

"There is no guessing in this. Either you are, or you are not. Come," the witch said, gesturing with her thin hand. "We will go." The witch then turned back and reentered the fog, her beckoning hand being the last to disappear. Utena dutifully followed.

This was the first time Utena ever felt claustrophobic outdoors. The fog grew thicker between the tightly-packed trees, as if the mist originated from its dark depths. The trees loomed over her, blocking all but tiny specks of sunlight. She felt the urge to reach out and grab the witch's cloak–to not lose track of her–but decided against it. She did not know the woman well, did not know what might upset her. From the villagers reactions to her, she definitely did not want to risk it.

As morning crept towards afternoon, the sun burned away the mist. Now it was humid in its place, Utena feeling her clothes stick tightly to her skin. Green vines and twigs caught at her, sometimes too forcefully for her to believe they were inanimate. As they walked closer to the house, the overgrowth became thicker, taller, greener. The trees seemed even more tightly packed together.

"Is it close now?" Utena asked. "Is it coming up soon?"

"Close? It is just up ahead."

Utena stared at her, puzzled. The thick overgrowth crunched beneath her feet. Sometimes she couldn't walk on top of it and her foot would sink in, making her worry each time that she would lose her boot. "Where is it then?"

"Right in front of you."

"You must be kidding me," Utena said, slumping forward, "There's nothing in front of us. Nothing but more trees!"

"Secret things must be kept secret. Hidden things must be hidden."

"Whatever."

"Do not dismiss it, child! The world you live in revolves around these truths. I know you are tired and confused, and tired of being confused, but you must take heed."

"Sorry, sorry," Utena sighed, putting her hand to her forehead. Utena followed the witch forward without another word. The witch passed her hand over a giant gnarled tree, almost lovingly. She continued walking around it, her hand sliding over rough bark.

Utena's eyes widened when she finally saw it. The witch's home was made from a living tree. Alterations were made with wood to make it wider, but the main part of her home was the cavernous tree. The tree bent over the top as if to shelter the witch, to make its leaves her roof. A separate structure with a brick smoke stack stood not far off.

"Come in, come in," said the witch, opening the door wide for Utena. She stepped in carefully, unsure of herself. "What is–"

"Oh, I have almost forgotten," said the witch, stepping towards a shelf to pick up a pair of sheers. She approached Utena again and lifted up a pink braid.

"Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing!" Utena yelped.

"What you agreed to, child. I will not cut off much, so stop your fussing." The witch sliced off a few raggedy ends, the pink threads of hair falling into her open hand.

"I don't remember agreeing to–" The witch was out the door before she could finish. Utena poked her head out the door and saw the witch entering the small brick house. Smoke puffed out from the stack a few seconds later. Utena sighed and turned back into the house.

Utena had not seen so many vials in her life. She wasn't sure what any of them were, but the entire back wall of the cottage was covered in shelves full of them. She stepped closer. Some were full of an unknown liquid, some full of herbs, others full of ghastly things she did not dare to guess. Next to the shelves were instruments, mostly deerskin drums of various sizes and wooden pipes.

The other side of the cottage had shelves mostly covered in stones. Some were large rocks that looked as if the witch had chipped them off the side of a mountain herself, the biggest sitting on the dirt floor. Others were small and colorful, fit for jewelry. A few other items were interspersed between the rocks–metal daggers, candles, and glass bottles full of paint. A wooden stool sat next to the shelves, near the witch's small cot with strange symbols drawn onto the ground.

The witch returned, looking satisfied. "It burned quick and bright," she said, as if Utena should have understood her.

"Will you tell me my story now?" Utena said after a pause, smiling hopefully.

The witch sighed. "You are like a child. Sit down." She gestured towards the stool. Utena obeyed. The witch crouched down before her and took Utena's hands in hers.

"Once upon a time," the witch said, not looking up from inspecting Utena's fingers, "In a far-away kingdom, a King sojourned across his domain. He stayed for the night in the house of his vassal, who lavished him with dazzling gifts and entertainment. Each and every night was a new grand ball, with singing and dancing until the first light of dawn. However, the King found himself bored.

"Knowing the penchant his master had for the hunt, his vassal suggested he gather up a hunting party and set out in the morning. 'I warn you though, my King,' said his vassal, 'That for your own good, you should not enter the forest behind the lake. The peasants refuse to enter it no matter how badly they need a bit of game, and even my men fear it.'

"However, the King was the fearless sort and refused to listen. The vassal, seeing the obstinance in the King, told him, 'If you must, my liege, at least take these with you.' The vassal gave him a great sword made of steel and flint, as well as a bundle of Forget-me-nots. The King accepted them, but was confused by his vassal's strange gifts. The next morning, the King had taken his hunting party down towards the lake–which itself was a clearer blue than any lake should ever be, the forests dotted with heather and bluebells..." The witch trailed off. "When did you last cut your nails?"

Utena stared at her, bewildered. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Remember what we are here for, child."

"I can't remember anything. I definitely don't remember that!"

"Hm. That is right..." the witch said to herself, momentarily stroking her chin. "This will make things more difficult."

Utena tried to conceal her frustration, making her smile strained. "Could you, uh, please continue?"

"Aye, aye," said the witch, rubbing over Utena's nails with the tips of her fingers. "But open your mouth. I have more work to do."

Utena's brows lifted, but she still obeyed. The witch squinted to stare into Utena's open mouth, finally drawing her fingers into the open space and running the tips across her teeth. Utena yelped wordlessly in protest. "Quit your fussing. You agreed to this," said the witch. She finished quickly and removed her fingers, Utena immediately clamping down on the empty space. "So like a child."

"Are you going to tell me the rest?" Utena pleaded.

"Of course. But first, stand up and take off your clothes."

"What! No!"

The witch huffed. "Royalty and your insensible modesties! I am not some swain intent on stealing your maidenhead. I am here to do work!"

Utena's eyes were wide, her lips drawn back in a grimace. She did not want to risk angering the witch, and knew even past her reservations that she meant nothing by it. But just how invasive was she planning on getting with her clothes off?

"Do you want me to continue the story or not?"

Utena sighed deeply, rose to her feet, and slowly began slipping off her clothes. A deep blush made it way from her cheeks down to the rest of her body, revealing itself immediately after the expanse of skin was revealed. She made a pile in front of her, which the witch quickly slid aside with her foot. The witch stood in front of her and watched her squirm. "A good girl," she said simply, rewarding Utena with a smile. The naked girl was too self-conscious to notice.

"W-what exactly are you doing?" Utena asked meekly.

"Looking for moles, scars, birthmarks. What they are and where they are is very important," she said, eyeing Utena up and down. "In any case, shall I continue with the story?"

"P-please."

"The King and his party were stopped by a beautiful maiden on a white horse, a drawn sword in hand. She had eyes as blue as the lake before them and long hair like the petals of spring flowers. The woman was dressed like a noblewoman, but with clothes far finer than the King had ever seen. 'This is the forest of my ancestry, and none but my own may pass,' said the maiden.

"The King was outraged, but said nothing since the woman unsettled him greatly. He sent his men after her, who were each–one by one–felled by her great sword. He was soon alone, but the King was still a quick-witted man. 'I am sorry if my trespassing have offended. However, it would not be thus if we were to be married.' In this way, the King hoped to gain a bride and still save his neck.

"The maiden was reluctant. 'Only if you best me shall I marry you. Even then, you must never know my name. So do not ask me or any other, for then I will be forced to bring our family to ruin. However, if you lose, your head shall adorn my mantle.'

"As they fought, the King thought it strange that the maiden should so suddenly weaken when faced with his new sword. He was no better a fighter than his men, perhaps even worse. The King was certainly ignorant of the ways of the forest," said the witch, stopping to share a haughty smile with Utena, then continued suddenly when she saw that the naked girl did not understand this either. "He then remembered the other gift, and quickly threw the Forget-Me-Nots at the maiden's face."

"Doesn't seem very fair of him," Utena said simply.

"Shush, shush," said the witch, poking a mole on Utena's back with her index finger as she circled the girl. "The maiden shrieked and wailed as if struck, allowing the King to knock the sword from her hand. Now beaten, she obediently followed the King back to his kingdom and the two were soon married. The King set aside her sword to be used by their first son, and onward unto each generation. " The witch paused for a moment. "Lift up your arms. I want to get a better look at them."

Utena did just as the witch told her. "That was a weird story..." she blurted.

"Silly child, that is not the end of it," the witch said, inspecting the underside of the Prince's arms. "Now, they lived happily together for many years, the King knowing neither her name nor where she came from nor what she was. His Queen bore him two children, a boy and a girl. However, after many years, the King became anxious. He had lived and shared a kingdom with this woman, yet knew nothing of her! The mystery of his victory against her haunted him, as well as his children's aversion to the very same sword. It troubled him greatly, and–one afternoon while walking through his garden–he could stand it no longer. He yelled out, 'Who is this woman to whom I am married, whom I won in battle in the woods of the West so long ago?'

"The plants and creatures laughed at him. "The woods of the West are ruled by the Fay King Visvaldas, whose daughter went missing many years ago! Oh, what a jest, for a fay princess to be married to a man! Vitalija Visvaldas is married to a mortal!'

"The Queen soon caught word, for the entire forest had soon erupted with the news. For breaking his word, she placed a curse on their only son Zarasai. 'Zarasai shall sleep a long and enchanted sleep, but even if he wakens–he will be like the dead. Only if a hundred lives are saved by my sword will he be saved.' Her white horse then appeared outside the castle, and took her away just as she had come.

"The King, already beginning to grow feeble with age, was struck hard by these happenings. He was too sick to leave his bed, yet alone remove Zarasai's curse. The lineage, it seemed, was hopelessly lost–just as the woman had promised." The witch paused for a moment. "You can put your arms down, you know."

"But if they have another kid, then how could the lineage stop? That doesn't make any sense," Utena said, flopping her arms back to her sides.

"Hmm. I see why you did what you did," said the witch. "You are quite a queer one."

"Seriously, are you going to answer that?"

"Nay," said the witch. She then turned to look Utena in the face, her voice becoming more tender. "But the daughter knew the duty lay with her now. She took up her mother's sword and swore to become a noble Prince in her brother's place, and save him and her family from the curse."

Utena was silent, lost to her own thoughts. Her brows knitted together in concentration. She stared into nothing, finally seeming less concerned with her naked state. Her head swung around to look at her sword and scabbard amongst her pile of clothes. "So...you're telling me that I'm part fairy or something? It's not like I have pointed ears or anything."

The witch sighed. "Pointed ears? I do not know where you find these strange ideas. Nevertheless, I would recommend you stay away from steel from now on, Utena Visvaldas."

"It's funny...I know all this should mean something to me," Utena said, "But to me, it just sounds like a sad story that happened to someone else. Gives me a goal, at least. So I'm not completely aimless here." Utena sighed wearily. She had hoped it would have ignited something unknown in her heart, melting away her haze to uncover hidden memory. She was glad she at least had some knowledge of her origins–even if it could not explain how or why she had come here–but thought the truth would have made her feel full, whole. Instead, it had only brought forth more questions. "Well, can I at least get dressed now?"

"Aye, aye, put your clothes on," said the witch, not even looking at Utena anymore. She was busying herself with her shelves full of potions, studying them and deciding which would be used.

Utena eagerly began dressing. She quickly slipped her tunic over her head, which puffed up any stray wisps of hair that escaped her braids. "I'm surprised you don't need a urine sample after all that," Utena joked, jumping slightly to draw up her stockings.

The witch stopped stirring her potion and recoiled, for once struck momentarily silent. After staring wordlessly at the Prince, she said, "I never thought you would be quite this...queer when I first heard the story, you know."

Utena gave her a sheepish look. "Sorry." Now finished dressing, she sat down again at the stool.

The witch sighed, walking towards her. "I must keep reminding myself of your condition." She carefully smoothed out Utena's hair, handing the draught of potion to her with the other hand. "Drink this. It will bring you luck and good health."

Utena took the drink hesitantly. She looked into the murky liquid and grimaced. "Not while I'm drinking it, it won't."

"Quit your fussing,"said the witch, now beginning to sound like an admonishing mother. "Few have the honor of it. Drink it quickly if it is so distasteful."

Utena followed her advice, exhaling deeply before gulping down the thick liquid. It was painfully bitter and tasted like rotting leaves. She could not help but grimace as she finally pulled the vial away from her mouth. "There," Utena said, struggling to sound triumphant instead of sickly.

"Good, good," the witch said, taking the vial from her and quickly tucking it away on a shelf. She returned to stand in front of Utena, drawing the Prince's hands into hers. The witch looked into Utena's eyes with an expression of earnestness. "Listen to me, child. You may not quite understand, but take heed. The mysteries are strong in you. Be careful of what you say, else it come true."

"What do you mean?" Utena asked, genuine confusion evident in her voice.

"The world you live in is made up of stories. The words which tell them control everything. The stories have been a bit queer since the Great Disruption, but it is still true nonetheless. The right turn of words–with enough earnestness–does not just make an animal talk or a scarecrow dance. Those are mere tricks, child. Say nothing unless it is truly meant, for you do not know when you might use just the right words. It is strong in you, and you may be treading upon dangerous ground soon enough. Here," said the witch, lifting up a leather strap from around her neck. On it hung a metallic disk with an etched symbol Utena could not discern. "Wear this. It will protect you, but only so much, child. You still must take heed."

"T-thank you," Utena said, stunned. She lowered her head so the witch could slip the leather cord onto her neck. This was not quite the cold and remote woman she had met yesterday. She was still often shocked and disapproving, but more of her softness began to shine through.

"And, above all else, child," the witch said passionately, cupping Utena's face with both hands. "You must believe. In times of danger, listen to no one but the spirit inside you. Trust that it will not lead you astray. Will you swear this?"

"Y-yes," she said. It sounded like solid advice, but the passion in the witch's voice confused her. It seemed so sudden and uncharacteristic. Like everything else in this world, she simply could not understand.

"Do so and all will be well," said the witch, slipping her fingers away from Utena's face. "Now, we should be going. I have done more than asked for. Come, Her Ladyship surely wishes to see you." The witch rose up and beckoned the Prince out of the house. Utena followed as if in a daze.

The walk did not seem as long now that Utena knew their destination. She now knew how to walk on the thick underbrush, to follow closely the witch's movements in the mist. It seemed as if the branches and vines no longer tried to catch her, as if she had already reached what they had been protecting.

"Um, I know they call you just 'The Witch' all the time, but well, if you don't mind me asking, what's your name? I just feel so weird talking to you all day and not knowing your name."

The witch simply stared at Utena for a moment. "Well, it is not often used..."

"But they had to have called you by your name when you were a kid."

"They called me Witch-child."

It was now Utena's turn to stare. "You mean...I mean, come on, your parents had to have–"

"They called me Witch-child."

Utena paused for a moment in shock."But...why?"

The witch said nothing for a moment, her mouth drawn taut with an emotion that Utena could not grasp. "It is said that a witch is not so much a person as a vessel for the divine mysteries. There is no need for a name except to distinguish a witch from other witches. We are chosen from birth for this gift."

Utena gave her a puzzled look. "By who? How do they know?"

"By another witch, when the need is great and the shadows answer the call. I had chosen and taught one myself, in the city of my birth. When Her Ladyship came to rule the little village of Flussegen, I knew I had to come. I trained another to serve in my place."

"How...how do you know which kid to pick? How did you know you had to come here?"

"It is not something you could understand," said the witch quickly, then paused and turned to stare into Utena's eyes. "Ah, but what is certain about the future anymore? Perhaps you may understand one day, perhaps not. It is not my place to say. Nevertheless, it is not something that can be told."

Utena nodded, her gaze shifting downward. She was silent for a moment before looking up at the witch again. "So...um, will you tell me your name?"

The witch smiled. "Sunniva. I am Sunniva, the witch of Flussegen."

The forest gradually began to thin. They approached the fortress of white-washed stones. Utena had noticed it before as a destination marker to meet the witch, but the structure seemed much more imposing now that she knew she must enter it. Flags–yellow lions against a red backdrop–flapped weakly in the afternoon wind. Utena guessed it to be three stories tall, perhaps higher. At the very top–just near the battlements–she could barely make out the form of armed guards.

"Here, child," said Sunniva, drawing her towards the lower end of a side wall. She walked towards a fore-building, greeting the guard there amicably. He opened the door readily and bowed with a smile for both of them.

"Aren't you supposed to enter in the front? With the big gates?" Utena asked. At least, that was always how she imagined it to be in stories, and she supposed the giant wooden doors she had seen must be used for something.

The witch chuckled slightly. "Perhaps if you were like every other royalty, coming with horses and a large retinue. But it is only you and I, and there is no need for such trouble." Sunniva lifted up her skirts and began to walk the stairs, confidently walking straight through the darkness. Utena carefully followed, walking upwards towards the light at the end of the tunnel.

They entered into a gigantic hall, the walls whitewashed and wainscoted. Most of it was an expanse of empty space. A fireplace smoldered inside the left wall, a great mural painted around it. Utena could make out the meanings of most of the forms in the mural, some not. There were painted pumpkin coaches, country children, forest animals, fairies, and elegant princesses with their saviors on white horses. Utena stood there for a moment transfixed. They were rendered with careful detail, the brush strokes turning paint into wisps of a maiden's hair or the matted red fur of a fox. The largest and most lovingly rendered was the image of two children running from a house of gingerbread and candy.

Utena turned when she heard the swish of fabric echoing in the chamber. She immediately stood up straight. A woman slipped from the huge throne and onto the stone dais. She was half-aware that others were silently playing chess on the platform, but Utena's nervous attention was stuck fast to the woman walking towards her.

"Your Highness! I am Agathe, Duchess of Flussegen. I welcome you to our humble home," said the woman as she drew up her skirts and bowed. Her veil fell far over her shoulders as she did so.

Utena moved to do the same, then realized she had no skirt with which to do so. In her confusion and fear, she hurriedly clasped her hands together and bowed as she was used to doing in Japan.

"Oh, Your Highness, you are too kind!" said Agathe with surprise as she rose, "You honor us with your presence, there is no need!" A wimple and veil completely covered the woman's hair and neck, a golden coronet set upon the top of her head. Her features were sharp and defined, with high cheekbones bearing up her dark blue eyes.

"It's, uh, my pleasure," Utena sputtered.

"Please, stay here as long as you like. It is an honor to not only have such a noteworthy Prince in our home, but one which is responsible for our town's welfare. Ask anything you wish of us, Your Highness," she said, arm outstretching to welcome her farther into the chamber.

A whirlwind of yellow silk and brocade suddenly swept towards Utena. "Good afternoon to you, Your Highness,"said Lady Flussegen's daughter with a honeyed voice. Her smile was tight and full of false earnestness. She curtsied elegantly, drawing up her skirts as if she reveled in the motion. Her headdress and clothing made her mother's robes look plain in comparison. The edge of her gown tried to push others out of her way at every opportunity. Her head was adorned with a headdress that made her head seem heart-shaped, a veil atop the two beaded protrusions. Long fluffy blond hair swept out from underneath it. Utena could only imagine how she looked at a ball.

"I have heard much of your grand adventures," she said, seeming coy. She again rose to her full height. "I am Lady Gretel of Flussegen. Please excuse my attire, I was not expecting you so soon!"

"No, you're not..." Utena blurted out, eyes wide. "You're...you're Nanami Kiryuu. You're..."

"Oh, what jest!" said Gretel, trying to hide her confusion. She daintily drew her hand up to her mouth to laugh. "Your Highness has such a sense of humor!"

"Are you so eager to escape?" said a masculine voice farther back in the room, partially obscured by Gretel's huge dress. "You take every opportunity to evade a good game of chess, Gretel."

A man stood up from his chair at the chess table, dressed in embroidered tunics and brown leggings. Utena could see the confidence in his strut as he walked towards them. He nearly put a hand to his sister's shoulder, but withdrew it upon noticing Utena. "Ah, you must be our guest," he said, flashing a rakish smile. His facial features were sharply defined, bearing a striking resemblance to his mother. His back began to lower out of reflex before he stopped himself and said with a little chuckle,"Forgive me, Your Highness, if I am unsure whether to treat you as a Lady or a Prince."

Utena wanted to faint, or shake convulsively, or run–perhaps all at the same time. How could she have not guessed it earlier, looking at Agathe? She recognized the voice, the face, the presence with striking clearness. This must mean others are here as well, but how? And why, dear God, out of all the people she could have encountered did the Kiryuus have to be the first?

She then realized with horror that not only was he waiting for an answer, but that she had no answer for him. Neither option sounded fitting. The title of Prince shamed her, and being a Lady only made her compare herself to the feminine monstrosity in yellow silk that lay before her. "I'm, um, not very particular about formalities," she said uneasily, hoping that was enough.

"Then forgive me, Your Highness, for the confusion," he said, his hand elegantly sweeping to the side as he bowed before her. With the other hand, he gently took her hand in his and planted a small kiss upon her ring. His long red hair fell over his face as he did so. The action gave Utena a deep ache of deja-vu. "I am Sir Hansel of Flussegen, and am honored to have finally met you."

Utena desperately wanted to scream. Was this her punishment for failing, to live with the Kiryuus for all eternity? But more importantly, why were they calling themselves those names? "I'm, uh, Utena," she said, supposing she would have to play along.

The witch cleared her throat. "If I am no longer needed..."

"You may go, if you wish. There is nothing more I ask of you," said Agathe kindly. "Your fee is with the steward."

"I will be in my home if needed," said Sunniva, turning back to Utena. "Remember what I have told you."

"Thank you," Utena said, trying to put on a cheerful smile for Sunniva.

The witch returned her smile with one of her own before drawing her hood over her head and walking out a separate door to collect her earnings. Once the doors were closed and she was finally left alone, she lay her tired body against the door and curved her hands into strange symbols only she would understand. "Shadows, take me when you wish. I have done what I have come to do. I have seen the face of the Avatar."