Mists of Time

Doorways, That Never Reveal Secrets

She left Camelot and its holdings two days later, riding Kore south, giving the ebony mare her head, allowing her to run at her own pace. The scenery of Britain blurred and melded together as she flew down the hills and roads of the land. Trees, tall and dark, with animals of the forest running between them. Farmland, grassland, shepherds and their flocks, tending to their duties. She had taken very little with her on this ride, some foodstuffs, bread, cheese. Her dress, of course. She let Kore decide their direction, and Setsuna watched the land roll by from the horse's back. Slowly, she came to recognize their surroundings. Tintagel. It has been long since I have been here. I have interfered much in this lifetime. Arthur needs no more help from me. At least not for now. I will not think on the end of this story. Not now. Now I will think of a home, a place to watch and wait for the end. Somewhere warm, private and silent. Peaceful. I have traveled much over these many years. Igraine would welcome me back...but I do not wish to live in the castle. Perhaps I may find a cottage, empty. A garden. A stable for Kore. I will have to retrieve my books from Gaius. I will let Arthur take his legend from here. Ah...look! I remember this place. Beautiful as ever. The lake.

Setsuna drew Kore up on the beached side of the lake, pausing for a moment to cast a glance over it. It was glassy, the tiny waves smooth but shiny in the noonday light. Mists still hovered on the opposite shore, wrapping strangely around ghost trees, sliding through the solid ones. A cool breeze drifted off the water. Placidly, a family of swans paddled their way across. Setsuna's eyes fell on a small boat, a raft, actually, floating in the reeds not far from her. It was not tied, yet it did not drift away. She angled Kore closer to investigate. It was of dark wood, barely large enough to carry a single person in its hold. On the tiny prow, the sigil of a deep crimson tailed P had been carved.

The Pluto symbol? Here? Like this? Why?

The raft bobbed in the water, the P nodding itself up and down as Setsuna debated on the appearance of the boat.

An age of magic this is. Someone must be trying to contact me. Father? Checking up? But why now? And why a boat? Well...I suppose only one way to find out....

Setsuna swung from the saddle, dropping to the ground. She patted Kore's neck, and mumbled, "Be good, and stay here. I'll be back soon," the horse looked at her with liquid brown eyes, blinked once, then snorted, turning to graze on some nearby grass stems. Setsuna smiled and shook her head, clucking her tounge softly at her mount. She pushed a lock of hair back over her shoulder, and stepped into the boat, hitching up the blue robe's hem to keep it from getting wet. The moment she was fully in the raft, it dislodged itself from the bank, and began to float steadily across the lake. She remained standing, without anywhere in the boat to sit. The ride was unusually smooth, even on the calm lake. She folded her hands before her in a temple, holding her chin high, even though she was still uncertain what was happening. Vapor from the other side of the lake began to grasp outward, tugging further on the boat, drawing it closer. As the boat continued at a straight line, she began to understand the destination.

Through the mists. The other side of the lake. But not the usual side. The other place, the place there, but not there. I have wondered where it led to. Let me now see. Pull back the veil of time and space, and let the Guardian pass through.

The mists obeyed her thought, releasing their grip on the raft. She continued to float forward, the cloudy fog clearing away from her. She saw she was now in a stream, a narrow one, winding forward. The raft came to the shore, drawing up to the rocks. Setsuna stepped out, and took the two strides up the embankment. The raft waited for her.

Threads of sunlight wove their way through the cloak of the leaves above her. Patches of light, spotted by the shadows of the leaves fell on the floor at a slant. Many trees of many kinds stood taller and thicker than she had ever before seen. Alder, beech, ash, oak. Flowers grew from corners in the roots, which broke through the loam they rested in. Blue and pink and purple, dashes of yellow and orange, printed on a lush carpet of green. There was no time of day here. Light fell from all angles, and no coloring of the light, yellow or red in the sky, could indicate the hour. Setsuna turned her head up, to see only the thick canopy of branches above her. The mists were softer here, barely visible, a haze softening the images of the forest. The air shimmered with unearthly sound, tinsel chimes shivering with the music. A tiny footpath wound its way forward, and so she followed it, stepping silently along the narrow strip, avoiding a ring of mushrooms in the path.

Setsuna found herself in a grove of oaks. As the trees she hand passed before were large, these were still greater, a ring, with one that was so massive Setsuna needed to crane her neck back to see the branches twine themselves with those of the other trees. There was stillness here, and the feeling of held breath.

She turned in the clearing, skirts flowering out around her as she watched the trees above her. They rustled against each other, speaking in the language of the forest, whispering about the stranger in their grove. The feeling was not an unwelcome one, but one of curiosity. Of patience.

A bird fluttered past her, a sparrow, darting. It chirruped once at her, then flew back into the trees. Setsuna followed it, leaving the quiet grove of oaks to whisper about the stranger who had come and gone. The forest opened onto a hill, covered in blossoms. She wandered deeper inside the trunks, coming among them. Apple trees stretched upward here, and a white flower released its grip on a branch, swirling out to greet her, landing on her shoulder. The trees bore fruit of all colors, green, golden and deep red.

"You like my grove?"

Setsuna's back stiffened as she understood she was not alone in this peaceful place. She turned her head around to see the woman who had spoken to her. The figure stood under the draping branches of an apple tree, obscuring her from full view. Setsuna, though, knew the voice. "Mother."

Rhea stepped out from her tree, gently placing the moved bracken back to their places. The tree sighed as she moved away, several blossoms dancing after the goddess Titan. Her skin was the same white of the petals that balleted after her, and green hair like the leaves of the trees she had passed, tied low at the base of her neck, trailing down to the Earth. A dress of fiery red brocade flowed into the ground. Twin sets of garnet eyes met each other. Rhea smiled, even white teeth showing fully as she absorbed the image of her daughter, standing before her. "You have grown to be lovely, Setsuna."

"Thank you, Mother."

Rhea shook her head and stepped closer to her daughter, taking her hand in her own, leading her. "You like my Isle of Apples? The mortals outside...they call it Avalon."

"I have heard of it."

Rhea chuckled, then her eyes saddened. "You've grown so. I am sorry for leaving you at the palace so long. It is duty, for me as well as you."

Setsuna looked away. The joy she remembered of her father's return now mingled with the adult's sense of bitterness of abandonment. She said nothing.

"I will not beg forgiveness, Setsuna. This is my home, between the times. Forgive me for waiting until you were grown before bringing you here. I have been watching. Your Father wanted to keep the Knights if the Outer Planets after you, at a distance. After you went to Mona, I was able to convince him otherwise."

"I'd never seen them before."

"Few have. They rarely come from their hiding places now. They are for...times of desperation."

"And this is a time of desperation?"

"No...this is a time to protect the Guardian."

Setsuna had no reply to this, and allowed her mother to continue leading her around the apple trees. Rhea released Setsuna's arm, then reached for a glossy red apple. It shimmered a moment, then broke in half at Rhea's command. The core resembled the shape of a star in the way it broke. Rhea handed half to her. "Isle of Apples. I have made it my home now. Pushed it between the times, to protect it. So much has been lost, Setsuna," Rhea bit into the apple. Crisp, it crunched as she chewed. Setsuna couldn't help herself. Lifting her fingers to her lips, she giggled once, watching her mother's cheeks distended from the food, crunching on a snack. Rhea turned her ruby eyes on Setsuna, swallowed, then laughed along with her. "You have done well, Setsuna." Rhea told her as they finished their small outburst. "Protecting Arthur. Have you learned the lesson yet?"

Setsuna turned the apple core around in her hand, watching her half of the star turn on its points. "Ah, I see. You do not wish to leave yet. Do you think that Arthur will not live without you to protect him?"

"No. But...Mother, this is my home. Or...it has become my home. Arthur...he has Guinevere. Merlin. They will...."

"You know how things will work out with Guinevere," Rhea closed her eyes and sighed. "A loyal woman, kind and trusting. But her love...meant for another. It is hard to fight destiny."

"Mother...Guinevere...and Lancelot. They look...."

"Looks are irrelevant now, Setsuna. Incarnations of people in the past without their memories. They are not, yet they are. Different faces, different voices, different memories. Yet...the same mind. What is a mind, but a house for the soul? Some say the heart. An important part, surely, but...." Rhea smiled as she stepped around a broken branch, whisking her skirt from a snarl. "I leap ahead of myself. Someday, a heart may be replaced with another, to save a life. You have read of this process, in study, have you not? At the palace?" Setsuna nodded once, yes, she had, and Rhea continued, "When the patient awakens, they are the same person. But if the mind is altered, what then? Are they the same? If the brain, the house of the mind, is damaged beyond any reasonable repair, what then? The face matters little, Setsuna. The body, the gender, the eyes. It matters not. It is the soul. Do you understand this?"

"I believe so. No matter how many times we incarnate, the soul is the only part that matters, not the face or body that carries it."

"You have grown so, Setsuna. Are you certain you do not wish to tell me the lesson now?"

"Do I know it?"

"I believe so."

"Then I am sure. I wish to stay. But...is it wise? Can I stay? If I know the lesson...."

Rhea laughed, bells on the wind. "Then do not tell me! If you speak of it, it is done, and you return to the Door. Say nothing. I won't tell your father, don't worry."

Setsuna regarded her mother a moment. "Then I won't."

"Good. Now, a parting gift," Rhea held her hand out, palm upward. The seeds that were left of the apple glistened, then began to branch out, curling. They became harder, metal, changing in their alchemy. It became the metal of the Timestaff, a version in miniature, without the Garnet Orb, the same kind Father had not provided for her. Only the Timestaff she had kept in this place. The key rose from Rhea's hand, and hovered before Setsuna. "Take it, my daughter. Keep it with your Garnet Scepter. Use it when it is needed. And it will be. More time has passed in the outer world. There is one that waits for you. Farewell, Setsuna," with this, Rhea lifted her hand, and Setsuna could only open her mouth to protest before she found herself standing again beside the raft that had brought her there.

Before she stepped into the boat, she sent the tiny key to the place the Timestaff was held in wait for her. The raft started forward as she straightened herself at the prow. The curtain of mist drew apart as she passed through, remerging on the lake, drifting steadily forward, approaching the opposite shore. A figure stood there, a woman, carrying a heavy knapsack over her shoulder, garbed in the black robes of a druid acolyte. Somber blue eyes watched Setsuna approach. Long white hair fell in waves past her waist, each crest transparent with the shades of aqua or indigo. The raft bumped against the reeds, and Setsuna stepped out, both women watching each other warily.

"Who are you?" Setsuna asked the stranger.

The woman's lips quirked in a corner, and she said, "Once, many years ago, I told you I liked quiet, but wanted to see Britain before it changed too much," the woman shrugged. "Now I am. I've been looking for you, Setsuna."

Amazed, Setsuna managed, "Viviane?"

Viviane dropped the bag she carried, and smiled weakly. "Am I welcome?"

"Viviane!" Setsuna embraced the younger woman. "It's been so long! Of course you're welcome!" as Setsuna held Viviane, she slowly became aware that Viviane was trembling. It was when her shoulders suddenly heaved that Setsuna released her, still holding her shoulders. "Viviane? What is it? What happened?" Viviane gasped and fell to her knees, Setsuna joining her on the ground.

This isn't right. She's wearing the robes of a novice still. At this age, and point, she should be a ban-draoi, fully pledged to the Goddess. She shouldn't have been allowed to leave Mona while in training. There is no crescent on her forehead.

Tears splashed to the ground, and Viviane placed her hands over her face. "I failed, Setsuna. I was supposed to take the trials. I did, but I failed. I looked into the water, and all I saw was myself. I didn't See anything," Viviane managed miserably. "Mother thought it best if I left Mona awhile. Fended for myself. Came back when I was ready. But...Setsuna, no one who fails comes back. No one gains the mark of the Goddess away from Mona. I'm too weak. My powers aren't strong enough...."

Setsuna grabbed Viviane's arms and shook her. Viviane continued to let tears stream down her face. Setsuna slapped her sharply. At the sound of her hand contacting the flesh of Viviane's cheek, she gasped and stared at the garnet eyed woman across from her. She raised a hand to her cheek. "Stop pitying yourself. Viviane! Listen to me. You have more strength than you could possibly understand. How did you find me?"

"I scryed."

"You scryed. You found me, didn't you?"

Softly, "Yes. But only because the water likes me."

"The water likes you," Setsuna repeated flatly. Viviane did not explain herself. Setsuna stood, brushing dirt off her skirt and went to stand in the sand on the beach. She began to make a mound of the sand, heaping it high. "You say the water likes you. Is the water weak, Viviane?"

"It's soft."

"Soft, yes, but look," Setsuna plunged her hands into the water of the lake, and allowed drops to fall between her fingers. She tightened her grip, and more splashed out, falling onto the sand hill she had made. As each drop hit, the sand melted under it, and some began to fall off the hill, returning to the beach. Setsuna ran out of water in the cup of her hands, and she looked to see Viviane, staring wide eyed and open mouthed at her. A hand slowly came to her lips, and a light began to kindle in her eyes.

"Like a beach head."

"Yes. The water wears away the stone. The drop cliffs around Tintagel. They were forged by water, not fire or men with chisels or magic spells."

"The water...wears away the stone."

"And in time, it changes the shape of lands. It balances fire, as air does earth."

Viviane placed her hands on the ground before her. "I'm sorry," she managed at last. Setsuna sat beside her on the ground, and together they watched the lake, then the sun dip behind the horizon. "Maybe I should go."

"Go? Where?"

"You still want me here?"

"You're always welcome, Viviane."

"Thank you," more moments passed, and a chill breeze ruffled their hair. "Where is your house?"

"My house?" Setsuna suddenly realized that she had offered Viviane hospitality, but without a place to give it. "Ah...I don't have one," she admitted, feeling a little foolish. "I just got here."

"Oh," Viviane kept her gaze on the water, her brow knit as she thought. "What's that spot on the lake? In the middle? The water flows around it wrong."

"In the center?"

"Yes," Viviane turned her head to Setsuna, and tucked her knees up under her chin, the way she had as a child. She rested her cheek on them. "It's...a cave. Isn't it?"

And you thought you had no power, Viviane. If you only knew. "Yes."

"Then why don't we go there?"

That was what they did.

The crystal cave was empty, uninhabited. They moved in. Setsuna became fond of the hidden place. Few eyes were as sharp as Viviane's, spotting the place that appeared to be a placid spot of water. A place that did not blow with the other waves. Viviane accepted the hologram as a spell of glamour, and the force field that kept the water out as something similar. The cave was wide, but had no rooms. After some talking that night, the two women made final their plans to convert the cave into their home, each wishing somewhere private, quiet and out of the way. Over time, they bought material for screens, and they portioned off the cave.

A room for Setsuna. A room for Viviane. They gathered feathers left by swans and ducks and geese that visited their lake, which were plenty in the season. They stuffed mattresses. Two druidesses on their own in a forest were not women without resources. They went into the woods, finding the supplies they needed for trade with the villages outside Tintagel. They hurried, for during the time Setsuna had spoken to her mother on the Isle of Apples, months had passed in the outer world, and autumn was approaching.

By winter, they had traded medicines garnered from the roots of trees and the brush of plants for food and supplies. They mixed paint, and clumsily painted the screens in their cave into patterns of flying swans, of the moon and stars. Of owls and trees and apples hanging on them. Viviane had once laughed, green paint on her nose, that she wished she could draw better. Setsuna had told her that she had know a princess Michiru once, who had painted breathtaking pictures. Viviane had asked where she was from, and Setsuna was not sure if Viviane believed her, or even understood, when she said, "Neptune."

Rumor spread in that time, of the two who lived in the lake. Men and women whispered that they haunted the lake, saying they were not women at all, but water spirits that dwelled there, come to see the world of men.

That summer, Setsuna left Viviane for a few weeks to go back to her old cottage north of Badon. She had meant to collect her books, all of them, but on reaching the village, she found Gaius had set himself and a new apprentice to copying them. "Too much great literature! It must be copied!" he had protested, and Setsuna had relented, taking only the first copies he had transcribed in calligraphy. She promised to be back the following summer, for more. Gaius had happily assured her he would have more done then, and would be happy to return the books. So she had left with only three books rather than her collection.

Kore had taken to wandering between Avalon's shores and the shores of the outer world. Setsuna and Viviane had attempted to build a stable for her, on the shore, but she refused to go in. It is as well. She cannot come into the cave with us. The submerged bridge is wide enough for both Viviane and I to walk side by side, but it is still under the water, and slick. What good would holding Kore in a stable outside be to her if she needed us? So they let her wander, and Kore developed a sense for knowing when her mistress or Viviane needed her.

Setsuna had not known how much Viviane had loved to read at Mona, since most of Viviane's time with Setsuna and her group had been studying. She read and re-read each book Setsuna brought back until it was dog-eared, despite her nearly obsessive compulsion to protect the tomes. She memorized passages from the works. Viviane had spent precious money on soft lambskin, meaning to write down and organize their supply of herbs.

During the summers, they went to the outlying cottages and bartered their medical skill for food or other supplies. Setsuna had come up from the crystal cave, preparing for such a trip, to see Viviane, sitting on the bank, holding a sheaf of foxglove in one hand, in the other a book, one leg trailing in the water from where she sat tangled in the roots of a weeping willow. As Setsuna approached, she saw Viviane's lips moving steadily, as she recited along with the passage she read,

"With domineering hand she moves the turning wheel,

Like currents in a treacherous bay swept to and fro:

Her ruthless will has just deposed once fearful kings

While trustless still, from low she lifts a conquered head;

No cries of misery she hears, no tears she heeds,

But steely hearted laughs at groans her deeds have wrung.

Such is the game she plays, and so she tests her strength;

Of mighty power she makes parade when one short hour

Sees happiness from utter desolation grow."

"Boethius?" Setsuna asked as she stepped onto the shore, shaking water off her feet.

"The Consolation of Philosophy. Yes. It's strange. I have heard Christians speak, and they say that women are somehow to blame for the Fall they believe in." Viviane shrugged delicately, snapping the book shut and looking at the finely drawn picture on the front, of a woman holding a scepter in one hand, and wearing a dress with the pattern of a ladder on the front, different Greek characters inscripted on each rung. "This book, written by a Christian, yet it seems some ancient goddess who brings him this knowledge. A philosopher...one of the Hellenic goddesses, then? Pallas Athena? Minerva? Or maybe one of the Egyptians, Isis, or some such. Amazing, how knowledge is assimilated through different channels?"

Setsuna regarded Viviane. She's grown more confident of herself since arriving here. I'm glad. I should take her to see Gaius with me next time I go. Hmm...later this month, perhaps? I wonder how she would debate with him. Still trying to get me to be a nun, after how many years now. "One faith takes up the beliefs of the old, even as they make them their own. I'm heading to Milica's farm, to take her the arthritis medicine. I'm sure Eamon would love to see you," Viviane blushed instantly as Setsuna had expected. She couldn't help it. She smiled, faintly. "I'll be going," and with that, Setsuna whistled. Kore pounded out of the woods, tossing her head.

"You're good to bring it to me, milady. Can't get 'bout as I used to, and Eamon's busy 'ith the fields." Milica turned her wizened head towards the lands surrounding her little cottage. She spotted her grandson at the plow, the oxen churning up the land as they pushed their way forward. Milica squinted her wrinkly eyes and yawned hugely. "'S good o' you 't bring it out. Hands hurt 's much nowadays. That's good medicine you mix there, milady."

"Actually, Viviane made the new blend. She's better at medicine than I."

"Truly? Feels wonderful," Milica rubbed her hands together. "You sure you won't stay for supper, then?"

Setsuna blanched, but kept a straight face. She had made the mistake of accepting dinner with Milica the first time. She wasn't going to do that again. I wonder how Eamon eats it. Well, food making abilities don't reflect on kindness, I suppose. "No, Milica, I really need to get back home before it's late."

"'Course, course. Come next week with the salve, you will?"

"Yes. I'll see you then."

"Bring that pretty 'Vian w' you. Eamon likes 't see her."

"Next week, Milica."

"Be careful, milady!" Milica called to her as Setsuna swung up onto Kore, who waved back, then took off. They picked a leisurely pace back to the lake, and the sun was only beginning to crawl beyond the hills when she arrived back. Setsuna looked for Viviane where she had been last, curled up in the arms of the tree. All she found was the stem of foxglove and the book, discarded on a gnarl of tree. She swung from Kore's back and went over, looking around.

"Viviane?" she picked up the book, which had been placed face-down, open to the page she had read from when Setsuna had left. Bewildered, Setsuna closed it, then began to worry. "Viviane?" she called again, standing. "Viviane!" the water before her burbled as air reached the surface, popping as the bubbles burst. It swirled around. Viviane? Viviane! She dropped the book and took a step towards the water, only to be forced back as a wall of water rose up to meet her, throwing her back against the tree.

In the center of the sudden explosion of froth, Viviane rose, white hair flying, wearing a robe of midnight blue. An equally blue crescent now graced the place between her brows, framed by eyes the same color. The water swirled around her, lifting, then falling to the lake in a glitter of white foam. Viviane stood on the lake, not on the rock path that led to shore, but truly standing on it. She seemed to slowly come to realize she was being watched, and turned to the garnet eyes that stared. "Setsuna?"

"Viviane?"

Viviane laughed, throwing her head back and her arms wide. "I understand! I finally, finally, understand!"

They heard, on occasion, word of Arthur and his court. Camelot was described as a mystical place, beyond all mortal comprehension. The raids on England slowed, then stopped altogether. Saxons and Angles, Jutes and Picts feared the new King, who had somehow, miraculously, unified the island. Guinevere, as Setsuna had known, and expected, was called the greatest beauty since Helen of Troy. Lancelot became her champion, her protector, and any victory he claimed was for her. Word came that Gawain had set off in a quest, challenged by a knight who wore green armor, and thusly was dubbed the 'Green Knight.' "Very original," Viviane had commented dryly after hearing that particular story from a bard. The following year, they heard he had succeeded in his quest, keeping himself from being decapitated by the Green Knight. Some said that it was Morgan, called le Fey, who had sent the Green Knight, in an attempt to scare Guinevere to death, but Setsuna refused to believe that.

"If Morgan had wanted to kill Guinevere, she would do something more successful and reliable than scaring her."

Battles were fought, battles won. They watched, from the lake, time passing. Viviane slowly began to notice Setsuna's apparent agelessness, but said nothing. She herself had barely changed in the years that she had lived at the lake, little change occurring in her body. They heard of Igraine's death. Setsuna mourned, and they watched the funeral from afar. Age was fended off from the lake, and Setsuna wondered at times if it was from the proximity to Avalon's timeless shores. Viviane had never mentioned the strangeness of the side of the lake, the mist that hovered there all day, all night, and the strange trees that the mists mingled with. She knew Viviane saw it, yet remained silent.

All of Setsuna's old books were on a shelf in the crystal cave now, the rickety shelves bowing under the weight of the paper and vellum. Gaius had passed away the year before, and his successor had finished the copying work. They were surprised, once, when Gliten and Thitis had come to Tintagel, and Viviane had spotted them in the marketplace. The pair had happily stayed with Setsuna and Viviane for a week. Thitis had chopped her hair even shorter, and now wore men's clothes almost regularly. "Easier for travel," she shrugged when questioned. They liked the idea of living under the lake. Neither mentioned the strangeness of the mist, and Setsuna had no reason to believe they had even noticed.

They brought word that Guinevere was having a succession of unsuccessful pregnancies, and that the lords were beginning to despair of a heir. Even an heiress, at this point, Gliten told them, would be better than no child at all. She had then gone on to wait until Thitis was done ranting about how women should be able to rule as men. The pair had left laden with food and fresh supplies. Gliten had painted a pretty scene of the four of them on one of the screens in the cave, in exchange for the supplies. Viviane had given Setsuna an odd look after that, and had stared at Gliten very hard, but ended up shaking her head and returning to her book.

After Gliten and Thitis had left, they resumed their daily routine. It was at a summer fair that they first heard of a new quest, initiated by a young knight named Galahad, to search for a relic called the Holy Grail. It was said that it possessed great powers. The Christians claimed it was the cup their Lord drank of at the Last Supper. The pagans claimed it was far older than any god, and was for none to claim. Seasons later, men returned from the quest, never finding the mythical Grail. Some claimed that no man may touch it. Others that it was a fool's dream. Galahad, of all the knights, did not return, and the search was forgotten as the despair over Guinevere's barrenness grew.

It was quiet on the lake in the hours of the evening. The Moon had just risen, and the sky was still tinged in the west with the colors of purple and red. Swans moved silently through the water, fishing. Frogs croaked from their pads. Setsuna had a feeling of unease for the last few days, as had Viviane. They had grown so accustomed to the presence of the other at that point that they did not need to tell the other of the feeling. They took turns, searching for portents, omens, signs of what was coming. The night deepened, and moonlight trickled in through the portal that was the entrance to the crystal cave. Viviane slept, tired from searching the water for some indication of the source. Setsuna sat at the base of steps, holding the silvery scrying bowl before her. The Moon reflected in the water, and she held it perfectly still, daring not to breathe on the surface. It must be still. Completely still. Not a breath of air. Disturb the water, and lose the vision. Show me. Show me what is the source of the feeling. I can sense it. Viviane can sense it. It hangs in the air. Show me. Please show me. The waters misted as she watched, and Setsuna focused her vision on the bowl. In the reflection, hemmed by the vapor, she saw the face of a man, with short brown hair and cold eyes. They could have been sad. She watched the man lead others into a room of a castle. Beyond her ears, she heard the sounds of protest by women. He pushed past them, with the men at his back.

The room he entered was finely decorated, and in its center, stood Lancelot and Guinevere. The man, then, is Mordred. This, then, is the beginning of the end.... The scene in the bowl blurred and reformed. The image of Guinevere and Lancelot together, on what was surely Lancelot's stallion, charging away across the land, Guinevere's golden hair streaming out behind her head as they flew away from Camelot. Arthur replaced their image after a moment. There was a kind of distance in his eyes, a numbness to the events that had just taken place before him. Men lay dead on the ground where Lancelot had struck, breaking his way through to Guinevere. Among them was Beauhands, Arthur's nephew, Gareth. Such a death of a kinsman was inexcusable. The queen was gone, taken by Lancelot, her beloved. There was no heir to the throne of Britain. Lot would thunder about revenge for his son, though they had been estranged for years. Men moved now, not to Arthur's side, but raising armies against him, seeing that he was weakened without Lancelot, without Guinevere. His hard fought and hard won kingdom began to crumble as the greedy petty kings resurfaced, siding against the King, allying to each other to defeat him, rather than support him. War was being raised on Britain's shores again. Still, over all this tumult that followed, Setsuna could only see the emotionless face of Arthur, who turned from where he stood, walked past Merlin, who waited behind him silently.

The mists clouded the bowl, and a frightening sight greeted Setsuna's garnet eyes. Spears polished to gleaming marched in file across a plain, standards on flags flying high overhead. Once, they were allied to Arthur. Now they faced the Pendragon symbol, gold on a scarlet background. The armies were silent before her in the water, and the enemy, led under the flag of Lothian, charged. Mordred was in the forefront, hacking his way through the men before him.

Blood splattered to the ground as men found themselves cut, bleeding, dying. Some side had raised a steady battle chant as the opposing armies clashed into each other on the hill. Setsuna recognized the place. She had been through there once. It was not far from Cornwall, and was known in the rural areas for a new bridge that had been built there, on the river Camel. It was called Camlann.

The battle was a slaughter. From the images portrayed before her, Setsuna saw it began, as most battles did, in the morning. She watched the men steal armor off the dead when their own was destroyed by a mace or axe. Arrows sung in the air, and some archers wandered through the mess, pulling arrows from their victims, still covered in gore, to be shot again. One was little more than a boy, and Setsuna watched sweat fall into his eyes as he released another arrow into the fray. Night was falling now in the images, the sun setting. Again she saw Arthur, and now Mordred. No. I cannot watch this. This is the end. No! I will not watch it! As she stood, she saw a glimpse of Mordred's spear silently arch towards Arthur, and then the bowl was flung across the room, water splashing across the cleanly swept floor, clanging against the wall.

Viviane gasped as she jolted upright in her bed, as the bowl rang against the crystal wall. She clasped the blanket to her, then threw it aside, bare feet striking the ground as she came to Setsuna, who sat on the steps, face in hands. "It is done, Viviane," she told the other woman, who sat beside her.

"At Camlann."

"Yes. At Camlann," Setsuna removed the hands from her face. "You Saw?"

"I dreamed it. Yes, I Saw."

"It is time," Setsuna stood. Viviane stepped back watching her as she breathed deeply, and lifted her hands to the Moon, which shone through the portal to their home. "Pluto Planet Power! Make-up!" Viviane did not appear frightened as Setsuna completed her henshin, her clothes altering, a staff appearing in her hand. "Viviane?"

"It's all right, Setsuna."

"Sailor Pluto."

"Yes. Sailor Pluto."

Sailor Pluto held her hand out, a key in her palm. "Take this. Use it. Summon our sisters," Viviane looked at the key in her hand, the curling scrollwork, the silvery weight. It glowed faintly in the sheen of the moonlight that came through their doorway. Then she turned to Sailor Pluto, who stood before her and she clasped the key to her, close. Sailor Pluto nodded once, then lifted the Timestaff before her. "To Arthur. To the battle of Camlann."

She emerged onto Camlann's plain, the mists accompanying her. Sparse trees groaned out of the bloody Earth at places, their arthritic fingers scratching at the scarlet sky. Men still battled in knots, tangles that had not yet been cut down. Crows had begun to caw above the field, filling the air with hoarse cries as they awaited the end, and the feast that would begin with the sunset. A putrid stench arose from the rotting corpses. Flies, not so leery of man, as the crows, had already begun to swarm where the piles of men were thickest. She stood, and looked out over this carnage.

Of the palsied trees, a single one stood tall, but its once broad leaves had been ripped apart through arrowshot and spear. It was an oak, scarred now, deep gashes in its trunk where swords had sliced it. Bits of sap mingled with stains of blood on its bark. It was there that Pluto found the form she sought, the body of the King of Britons. She had reached Mordred first, a heavy blade cutting across his chest, a death blow. His face, the stare of death, was not a look of pain, nor a look of rage and hate, but strangely, one of relief. It mingled with touches of sadness at his closed eyes, but his brow still carried the mark of determination. Rest easy, Destroyer. I only hope your next incarnation is easier than this. You knew, even as a child, didn't you? That sadness. That coldness in your face when I first saw you. You knew then, didn't you, of what you were born for. Sleep, Mordred. Sleep. Forgive me for not having been able to help you.

Pluto left the side of the man named Mordred, and came, at last, to the side of Arthur. She knelt at his side and touched his neck. A rattling, shallow breath rasped out from his lungs. The puncture wound of the spear was in his chest, penetrating his lungs. Black blood stained the front of his armor. He still clasped Excalibur in his hand, fingers tightly bent around the hilt. His eyes flickered, glazed, at her. You, too, sleep, Arthur, King of Britons. You have never seen me as this. You would not remember me as a child. Not my face, if you do my presence. We met on your wedding day. Spoke, though briefly. Guinevere told me she liked my dress. Would you remember such a foolish thing as that? Could you? Sleep, Arthur. Sleep. I will protect you now, not from afar, but close. Live, Arthur. Please, make the legends true. Sleep, do not die. Viviane even now gathers the sisters, who shall take you to Avalon. As if her thoughts comforted him, he let his eyelids close.

She was seen, there, under the broad leafed oak, by one of the small groups of men who fought still. It did not matter, any longer, who she was, woman, soldier, warrior, friend. None left Camlann alive now. They broke into a run as they saw her, ran with weapons drawn. They will not do this. I will not LET them do this.

A new phrase came to her mind, then. It was not a phrase meant to be shouted. It was not a battle cry. It was a command, born of the aftermath of battle, where men lay dying after the clamor of murder's grist mill. It came from the silence following, the wails of the dying, the dead. It came from the quiet, invincible strength of will it takes to sit, to wait. Then, in the silence, to pick your way among the rotting carcasses, searching for husband, brother, father. That is the strength of wife, sister, mother. It was from there the words came. Long ago, on Mona, she had learned of the banshee, and the wail she loosed before death. Down at the creek nearby, an old hag, who was there, but not there, washed bloody clothes in the crimson water. These were the places that the words were born, to be said with their terrifying strength and power. The words flew softly from her lips as she twirled the Timestaff between her fingers, and the sound was of wind on water.

"Dead Scream."

Viviane led seven women after her. Morgan. Gliten, Thitis. Mazoe. Glitonea, Cliton, Tyronoe. She had gathered them with the magic of the key, from the different locations they had been in. The eight appeared from the mists on Camlann's field, Viviane holding the key in her hand. A cloud had settled over the oak, shrouding them from the vision of the men on the plain. They walked in two, even lines, four by four, following Viviane and Morgan, who led their way. The fog that shielded Arthur lifted as they drew close, and Sailor Pluto stood before them. No words needed to be passed between the sisters as they stood there. They knelt at the sides of Arthur, and lifted him between them, holding the body gently between them. Excalibur fell from his blood crusted fingers. Morgan picked it up, holding it reverently. She gave Pluto an even look, soft, even compassionate, but without the feeling of pity. Viviane, holding the key, then Morgan, holding Excalibur, with the six others, turned their faces to Pluto, who held the Timestaff above her. "To the lake," she whispered, and the cloud descended on them again, lifting only when they stood on the shore.

A barge awaited them, shaped as a black swan. They placed Arthur gently in it, kneeling around him, holding him. He made no sound, but slept, his breathing the only sign of life. Pluto boarded last, and the swan set off across the lake on its own, no one to pole forward on its journey. The veil of mist parted for them as they drew close to the shores of Avalon. None of the women spoke, but watched, wide eyed, at the forest they passed through. Time here, had not passed since Setsuna had left her mother several years before. The sun still shone in an unseen place, giving no clue as to it being morning or evening. The barge placed itself against the riverbank, and again Arthur was lifted.

It was a strange procession that Pluto led. She walked with the King of Britain on the shoulders of six sisters behind her, followed by Arthur's sword, and a key that would unlock the doors of time. It was in the grove of oaks, that whispered to each other, that she bid them silently set him. Arthur's head was placed at the base of the tree, laid out on the grass. Morgan stepped forward to place Excalibur on his chest. Pluto placed an arm out to stop her. The trees above them rustled, branches calling to each other, questioning.

They decided.

They parted.

A shaft of light from above the canopy glanced through, sparkling in diamond brightness. The light shattered, falling onto Arthur's still body. They danced out around him, alighting on his body. The roots of the oak above the King withdrew from him, circling, lifting him upward as the teardrops of light began to solidify, growing around him, encasing him in a barrier of shimmering crystal. Facets of the crystal still glowed with their own light as the oaks seemed to sigh that this was right.

The nine sisters found themselves, in the power of the moment, flickering with aural light, the clothes they had happened to be in when Viviane arrived, changed into gowns that would be called queenly. The blue moon crescents on their heads glowed in that eerie light, as Setsuna's tailed P glowed redly. "Excalibur," Morgan said, looking at the encased body. It was a question as much as a statement. She held the Sword in hand tentatively, as though afraid it would shatter in the hand of one who was not Arthur. Setsuna said nothing to Morgan, but turned, and they followed her away from the grove, back, not to the swan barge, but to the shore of the lake where they stood. "Setsuna," Morgan began softly. "I understand now," was all she needed to say. Setsuna gave her a pained smile, but a reassuring one. Morgan stepped away.

It was Mazoe, who finally broke the silence. She pushed a lock of wavy brown hair back from her face, and stood unblinking with her hazel eyes. "And so, Arthur is placed in Avalon by nine sisters, to heal from his injuries in battle. And he will come again, when Britain most needs him. But what of the nine queens who stand on Avalon's shores? Do they remain with the King?" her question was to Setsuna, who stood staring with her Timestaff in hand.

Softly, she replied, "No."

"Then what?" demanded Thitis. "Go back? Go back to Britain, without Arthur? Who will lead us? I've seen the Angles. The Saxons, the Picts. I don't know the future, but I don't want any of them getting ahold of Mona. I'm going to fight."

Gliten grabbed her arm, as though Thitis would be facing an onslaught of barbarian hordes alone. "I'm coming with you," she declared.

"Just the two of you, against all the forces that will come?" Tyronoe shook her head solemnly. "Two cannot do much."

"We can try!" Thitis argued.

Morgan stepped in. "Arguing will not help this. Together we are strong. Let us use our powers together. Drive back the enemies before they reach Mona. Before they reach Camelot!"

"No," interjected Viviane. Heads swiveled to her. Reasonably, sadly, she told them, "Mona is an Isle of peace. We cannot use our power, even combined, to kill. It would destroy what Mona stood for. Knowledge, learning, and the Goddess."

"Even the Goddess has her Destroyer aspect," Thitis retorted.

"And what is the great Destroyer, Thitis?" Setsuna asked, speaking for the first time. "What is it that devours all things? What is the one thing that swallows all others?"

The women looked between themselves. Morgan and Viviane reached the conclusion before the others. "Time," they said in unison.

Setsuna inclined her head. "We cannot stop what must be. But we can protect Mona. And Camelot," she did not wait until one of them asked how. She continued, "Morgan. Place the Moon Sword there. Stand in a circle. Viviane, place the key with the Sword."

Morgan stared at her out of her wide violet eyes. "The Moon Sword?"

"A Sword forged of Silver Imperium Crystal, to protect the Princess. But that is another tale."

"A Sword...." Morgan breathed. She closed her eyes, and the lids fluttered rapidly. A look of pain crossed her face, and she moaned softly. Viviane, beside her, did the same, touching her forehead, and the crescent that awaited there. But the symbol of the Moon was gone, replaced by a circle, a tiny cross beneath it, and atop the circle, a pair of tiny antennae reached up, glowing light blue. On the forehead of Morgan, a circle with an arrow, slanted, shone faintly red. Gliten and Thitis stared, and then both gasped, as their own crescents changed shape. A crowned circle. A trident. "I..." Morgan stammered. "I don't understand. What..." she touched her forehead. "Setsuna? What is wrong with my symbol?"

Viviane managed to say first, "Mars. That is Mars. But...I have never seen the symbols on Gliten and Thitis. What is on mine?"

"Mercury," Setsuna told her gently. "And on Thitis, Uranus, and Gliten, Neptune. Planets, like Earth, that have not been yet rediscovered by the people of Earth. You are...incarnations...of people of the past. Of a different turn on the Wheel. Now is not the time for your reawakening, so your memories have not been returned to you."

"And us?" Glitonea asked.

"I don't know who you are. Or were. Or will be. You may play a part in the future, when the time is right for the Princess to be revealed."

Morgan drew herself up. "I feel so strong. Setsuna. If we cannot destroy the invaders, then let us place a barrier to stop them. A wall."

Viviane shook her head. "A wall? A wall of what? Nothing lasts forever. No material on Earth lasts forever. A barrier, yes. A barrier that can exist forever."

"Then it would have to be..." Gliten started, then stared at Setsuna.

"Time itself," she responded. The six others on the shore looked at her. "Push Mona, push Camelot, into the mists of time. Place them beyond the reach of man. For Arthur, when he is healed by the crystal. Such power comes from us, ourselves. It may take all the energy that each of us carries. I cannot ask you to do this unless it is truly your own will," each woman cast her glance at the others.

"I'm not doing anything for the rest of my life," Thitis managed wryly. Faint smiles pulled at the women.

"If Thitis is willing, so am I," Gliten stepped forward, linking hands with Thitis. "I want to save Mona."

Mazoe nodded, stepping forward. "I knew Guinevere as a girl. We were good friends at the castle, before I went to Mona. She has Lancelot now. I want to save my love, my husband. He lives at Camelot," she took Gliten's hand. "I want to save him, even if I can never see him again," she was defiant. Tyronoe took Mazoe's hand in hers, silent as usual, but with the same determined look on her face. Glitonea nervously clasped Tyronoe's hand.

"Mona is my home. I still live there. I want to keep my sacred grove. I grew the rosemary there myself. My friends are there. I want to protect them, too."

Cliton breathed deeply and said, "I lived at Camelot for a time. There is such power there. If it is destroyed, what then? If England herself cannot be spared, let at least Mona and Camelot await the return of the once and future King of Britons," Cliton took up Glitonea's hand.

Morgan and Viviane looked at Setsuna. Viviane remained quiet, but Morgan spoke. "I said I would hate you for what you did, Setsuna. Forgive me. I stand with Mona, and magic. Save some small part of the magic in the world. Gift it to the future." She placed the Moon Sword, Excalibur, down on the beach. Viviane set the key beside it, then took Morgan's hand, and Setsuna's in her own, the Timestaff twined between their fingers.

"Pray," Setsuna told them simply. "Send your energy to Avalon. Change its borders to include Camelot and Mona. Avalon exists everywhere. Seal all that Arthur achieved away from harm. Gift it to the future."

Heads bowed in the circle, lowering. A ribbon of energy flickered around them, shivering. Mists from Avalon swirled around their ankles, reaching for the Sword in their center. The key and the Sword were uplifted by the mists. The Sword began to turn, end over end, shining as they prayed softly, humming tonelessly. Each mind was filled with the images of friends, family, loved ones. The Garnet Orb glowed as the Moon Sword's rapid turning became a silvery circle in their midst. Lightning crackled around them.

If a man had stood on the opposite bank of Mona, or on the hills that surrounded Camelot, he would have seen a mysterious sight. The water around the island began to let loose clouds of steam. Quietly, columns of mist rose from the water, surrounding the isle of druids and the castle of Arthur. They spun, and enfolded the two places within their arms.

Glitonea fell softly to the beach. Tyronoe followed her, and Cliton, moments later, with a sigh. Mazoe held tightly to Gliten's hand, but she, too, fell to the sand. Gliten and Thitis fell together, crumpling softly with a breath of air, hands still clasped. The Singing Sword stopped its maniac turn, point up. It then fell. The key that had accompanied it was gone, dissolved into the mist that had wrapped around it. Morgan fell with a feeble cry, collapsing, no breath left. Viviane knelt beside her, cushioning her head.

"Viviane?"

"I have to stay, Setsuna. There is a mission for me to complete," she rested Morgan's head on the ground, setting it there gently. She stood. "You must return the Sword to wherever it came from. The Moon, I suppose. I have something I must await. I will miss you, Setsuna," Viviane turned and walked to the water, stepping into the lapping waves.

"Viviane?" Setsuna called after her. She turned, looking over her shoulder. "Merlin was wrong, Viviane. Arthur's Guardian I may be, but it is you who are the Lady of the Lake." Viviane only blinked once, and gave Setsuna a sad smile. Then she returned her gaze to the water, and descended into the lake. Into the water, not their home, the waves covering her head as she submerged, her foamy white hair mingling with the surface a moment, then disappearing as well.

"Until we meet again, Princess Mercury," Setsuna tore her eyes from the lake, then looked at the crumpled forms around her. She knelt beside Morgan, brushed a lock of ebony hair from her face. Haruka. Michiru. Rei. Rei, in this life, you were my best friend. And Ami...you were...my sister. Someday, I will see you again. And even then, I will not be able to tell you of this. Of any of this. Memories of the past, of the present, of the future. I only hope our Princess has found some happiness in the rest of this life with her Knight and protector. Please, let that much happen. Different lives, different people. Same souls. Over and over again until the time of awakening is at hand. Sleep, all of you. Sleep, and await your next lives. I will miss you all. Setsuna took a breath, expelled it, closed her eyes and centered herself. She took the Moon Sword into one hand, the Timestaff in the other.

"Pluto Planet Power. Make-up," again, she wore the uniform of the Guardian of Time.

To the Moon....

And for the second time since the fall of the Silver Millennium, Sailor Pluto reached the Moon.

It was still, as it had been when she had left it so many years ago. The blackness of the sky remained thick, and the air, silent. Time passed empty here, unlike Avalon, with its lush trees and flowers. This place was barren now, empty halls crumbling and crystal spires falling from ancient attack. Her heels clicked against the marble as she returned to the prayer room. This time, Queen Serenity did not appear before her, a tiny, holographic version of what she had once been. It is as well. What would she say, to one who has taken her daughter's protective Sword? Sent Mona and Camelot into legend? She knew I would do this. Mother or Father told her, surely. They know far more than I. I cannot replace the Moon Sword into its sheath of crystal spire. It is chipped, broken. But if Arthur pulled the Sword from the Stone, then let her Guardians do the same! Sailor Pluto swung the Sword around her head, and struck it into the ground at her feet, the marble melting in a pool around the blade. She released it as it lodged deeply. Energy crackled around the hilt, and the blade hummed once more in its new home. The crystalline blade petrified into the stone around it, fixing itself there firmly. And so it is done. Arthur sleeps in a case of crystal, regenerating. The nine queens who took him to his home on Avalon are gone, on to await their next lives. Excalibur is again the Sword of the Moon. Which means this turn of the Wheel is complete. I must return to the halls of Time.

"Home," Sailor Pluto commanded, and she felt coolness brush on her skin as she returned to the long corridors of doorways. Mist rose high around her, and before her, her father stood, arms folded.

"You took longer than I expected," he said gruffly, folding his arms.

"I was unable to tell Mother the lesson."

His eyebrows lifted. "Unable? Or unwilling?"

Setsuna said nothing.

Chronos chuckled.

I never realized how empty Father's laugh is. How much he's seen. How many people he has seen die, be reborn. How many empires have rose to the sky then crumbled to the ashes as he watched. No wonder they say he devours all things. To the Greeks he is Chronos. But to the Romans, with their Latin names, he is called Saturn.

"Are you willing to tell me your lesson now, Setsuna?"

"Yes," she looked him in the eyes, evenly. Garnet met deep ocean black. When she continued to say nothing, he impatiently demanded,

"Well?"

To which she responded, "Time cannot reveal any secrets."

Epilogue-

An old man who had once been called "Merlin" by those who had respected him, reached the bank of a lake. The locals said that it was haunted by the ghosts of nine queens, sisters, witches of the old gods, who dwelled there. Most stayed away in fear. Others, who sometimes looked to the mists that lay on the lake, left simple offerings of flower necklaces for the spirits. One left bread, once. She found the crumbs on the handkerchief it had been left in the next week, when she had returned. Actions such as that fed the whispers. Taliesin, as he was again called so many years later, hobbled on his painful feet to the river's edge. "Lady? Do you live here still? Or is it your ghost who the villagers speak of?"

Taliesin watched the water bubble before him. A geyser of water exploded out, and in it the form of a young woman, with white hair tinted in shades of aquamarine and indigo. She had eyes the color of lazuli, and they fixed on the aged form of Taliesin.

"Viviane?" Taliesin breathed, recognizing his daughter from so long ago. His old eyes blinked as they drank her in. "You...."

"I am the Lady of the Lake."

"I expected...."

"Setsuna has returned to the halls of Time, to her post as Guardian of the Door of the Fourth Dimension. I stand in her place, to await what you have brought me, Merlin," her hand was ethereal, pale. From his blue robe, he pulled a small, seemingly ordinary cup, the color of fire hardened clay.

"Galahad returned. He was successful in his search. The Holy Grail," Merlin presented the relic to the Lady of the Lake, who came closer to him. She clasped his withered hands in her smooth ones, accepting the cup from him. She hesitated as she did this, holding him a moment. "It must be taken to Avalon. To await a new calling. It will come again. The Grail will be different that time, not so simple in appearance. Others will need it, our relic, as we needed theirs," she released his hand and floated back out into the lake. "Rest from your travels, Merlin. You will not be forgotten by history, by legend. You will come again, as Arthur will re-awaken. Rest, Merlin, and let legend run its course," she faded then, into mists that welled up behind her.

As Merlin watched, the lake steamed with magic. Mist rose so thickly he could not see, fogged and blurred. When the mist cleared, there was only a flat, broad area before him, bare of any flora or fauna, save a single, budding oak tree, where the doorway to a crystal cave had once stood.