The roiling mists whirlpooled at the tips of her outstretched wings, snow-white feathers splayed for maximum effect as Alraune flew as fast as she could through the dreaming. Higher, above the mists and clouds, beyond the lowest stars, she arched her path seeking the rising moons at the distant horizon. Her heart trilled, beating so fast she could not distinguish the end of one and the beginning of another, the air that filled her owl lungs burned with each draw, each exhalation. Pain began to ply the muscles of her wings as she pushed her flight to the apex of endurance.

And beyond the landscape of the dreaming, the tapestry of the night like stone steps within a sea, Alraune stretched her white wings to their full extent and hung upon the air for an endless moment, pain and the mad rush of blood through her body a solitary symphony that overwhelmed even her tortured thoughts.

But the moment, suspended for an instant, ended, and the cacophony of doubt pulled at her as sure as gravity. Tucking her wings, she let the dreaming do the work, dragging her toward the ground, faster and faster, her feathered form a sleek arrow to skewer the clouds and penetrate the heart of the night.

The land rushed to greet her. She stretched out her wings, slowing her flight, her clawed legs reaching for the ground of the dreaming cliff she’d sought. Touching the dreamscape, Alraune shifted, the swirling mists of dreams cloaking her naked body as the feathers faded and her own dark skin and shining silver hair coalesced.

The moon Trammel filled the horizon, luminous and magnificent as it emerged from the sea that stretched far beyond the cliff. Wind played in Alraune’s hair, teasing strands across her face and tickling her breasts and shoulders.

Why are you here, child? The voice reached Alraune, a caress of a moonbeam, light in the darkness, yet grayed by night’s mystery.

“I don’t know what to do, Domina.” Alraune watched the slow ascent of the moon, her heart aching more from her admission then from the mad flight to the cliff.

The wind caressed Alraune, insistent, as if it pushed her toward the cliff edge. She steeled herself, her feet firm, her gaze locked upon the massive moon.

You think you’ve lost your way?

Alraune looked down a moment and nodded, her hair covering her face in a veil of shame.

That has always been your weakness, Alraune. You see the darkness, you see the light. Why do you dismiss the shadows between?

“There is no between, Domina. There is no such thing as just a little evil.”

Then perhaps you should be burned at the stake.

Alraune snapped her head up, glaring at the bright moon as it slipped out of the sea. “That is not fair.”

No, but to your way of thinking there is no other choice. Black and white. No gray...

“Domina, I am trying –”

To deny who you are. Alraune, you are more then the blood of your mother and father. You are defined by the life you have lived, the lives that have touched you, and that you have touched.

The wind tore across the cliff, the waves far below crashing in anger against the rocks.

Go ahead, Alraune. Walk in darkness. Listen only to your blood, be reviled, become your mother, the sanctimonious !!!!!. Shatter Adam, seduce the Duke, torture their souls, and make your father proud.

Alraune stared in disbelief, her heart constricting to the size of a thimble.

Perhaps you should seek the Virtues, cleanse your soul, turn pious and humble. Modest. Oh yes, I’m sure Adam would just love to see you clad in wool from chin to ankle.

Alraune wrinkled her nose, and stared at the moon, incredulous. “You’re making fun of me now.”

Do you see though? Shadows need not be feared and hated. You do not need to be evil to understand it, just as you need not be a saint to know what it is to do what is right. Look upon the ground and see what shape you cast by my light.

Alraune turned away from the white light of the moon and stared at the ground. Stretched long against the uneven terrain, her moon-cast shadow glittered like cut onyx, lustrous and rich, shining as black gold and crystalline bronze, far beyond her, across the smooth ground, from the pinning of her feet to the path that lead to a dreaming garden.

And on the path, lining either side, kin and kindred spirits stood watching her. Dominus, the Devil, far from the Tower, his hooves sparking against stones on the path, Leun the lion of Strength, stoic and calm, gazing at her with eyes that missed nothing, her oldest friend, Death, his cowl billowing in the wind, scythe resting against his bony shoulder, and Magus, the Magician waiting in the center of the path, his hand outstretched to her.

“We are all part of you, Priestess, as you are part of us. We are all within you, parts of you to draw upon when you turn the cards for those who seek answers. It is not up to you to choose the cards that make a person’s fate, just as it is not your choice to pick and choose which of us will influence your life. We are all one.” Magus said calmly.

Alraune looked over her shoulder at the Moon, the lowest edge of it nearly free of the sea, then turned back to the path, seeing for the first time the true singular nature of it. There was no fork, no spur, no alternative route. Her path led to the garden of the dreaming, a path lined by darkness and light and bathed in the eternal gray of moonshadow.

She was trying to help Keina, and maybe she would not succeed, and while her cards might have given Iljian the false promise of future happiness with Liana, she could only hope her words the night before might give him some direction to find a path more fitting his nature.

She stepped confidently onto the path, her bare feet light upon the soft sand. Within an arm’s length of Magus, she stretched out her arm and took his hand. He smiled, the light of the risen moon glowing within his warm eyes.

This was her path, she understood. It was light, and dark, and ever changing. She would continue to try and help those she cared about, would always love Adam with all her heart, but anger and pride, darkness, yes, was also a part of her soul. She looked at Dominus and nodded, respectful. She had never denied that he was a part of her, but now she saw more clearly that he was not to be feared, just accepted. Only then could she be of help to those she loved, and to herself.

Magus enfolded her arm into his grasp, and walked with her down the misty slope toward the unknown lands below.

No right, no wrong.

Only a path among the shadows.