The Aboveground itself was a strange place then, deep and mysterious. The gods and goddesses of Greek Myth had not yet even been created, much less those of any other mythology. The world held more secrets than truths. Mankind lived in darkness and fear.

But one man was different. He lived with Nerissa’s people, on the edge of a vast, bitterly cold part of the world. And on the occasion that a snowstorm claimed a hunting party, that man (who was no more than twenty, the same age as Nerissa herself) came forward and told a story.

They were not dead, he explained. But the beautiful white woman who made the snow had seen them, and loved them, and carried them off to be with her in her palace.

It was the first story they had heard. Surely they had laughed over the tall tales of hunters around their fires hundreds of times, but this was something different. The look that came into the eyes of the people grieving for their friends and family was strange and new. They were comforted. They may or may not have believed, but that was what they said to themselves, nodding. Nerissa had not known the word then, or even the idea, but the truth was, they were enchanted. And her eyes turned to the man who had told the story.

His name had not been Asteroth then, any more than hers had been Nerissa. But the Sea Witch could not recall what his name had been. At any rate, it had changed that night, and so had hers.

Nerissa remembered those crude log structures they used for homes in that white wasteland. How she had entered the one he lived in, and found him alone, staring into the fire at the center of the room. She sat down beside him once more in her mind.

"I liked your story."

"Was it only a story to you?" he asked. He was distant. He did not let her through his wall then. Perhaps he never had.

She thought about the question. "It doesn’t matter. It made them feel better."

"Yes," he mused. He glanced at her with dark, gentle eyes. "I’m glad you liked it."

She smiled. "How did you think of it?"

"I do not know. But I have changed for it. Everything has changed."

And even as he whispered it, the fire suddenly bloomed into a raging pillar.

She had screamed, and he had dragged her backwards. "You see it?" he cried, his eyes wild. "You really see it?" He had said that over and over as she had screamed and the fire burned higher.

Nerissa hadn’t understood. Of course she saw it, how could she not see it, it was huge, it must have been burning the high ceiling of the log house, and then she realized it would catch fire and they were both doomed to die if they didn’t get out, and she had tried to get up and run, but the boy held her fast, demanding to know if she saw it.

"Yes!" she had screamed at him, desperate to get out. He began to laugh. And he wouldn’t let go of her. His arms went around her, and he hugged her tightly to him. She was unwilling in the embrace and wanted nothing more in the world than to get out of this place before they were burnt up. But oh, she loved the feel of his arms around her and his dark eyes on hers.

"You see it," he had confirmed, looking back at the flames. "You see it."

"Have to get out of here," she was trying to tell him, but he wasn’t listening.

"Speak to her too, then!" he cried. "Speak the dreams to her! Don’t make me go alone! I don’t want to go alone!"

He was insane. That was how he had come up with the story, he was truly insane. She knew now she loved him, that was true, but he was mad and that was also true. It was in his eyes, that crazed joy dancing in them for no apparent reason. And now he was speaking to the fire.

But then Nerissa realized that she was worried for nothing. She was mad too. Because the fire began to speak back.

The voice shimmered from the flames, a white vibration. SHE IS NOT THE OTHER.

"Speak the dreams!" he had yelled back, his voice breaking.

SHE IS NOT READY. YOU MUST GO NOW.

"Please! She can see it! She can see the fire!"

She wanted to give him some comfort, but the thought had been dim, in the back of her mind. All she could do then was watch the fire. And it seemed almost to sigh, the flames dimming a little, then it roared back to life.

COME INTO ME. IT IS TIME.

He immediately began to walk toward the fire, holding Nerissa’s hand. She had cringed. "No!"

SHE IS NOT READY.

"You’re just trying to stop her!" he shouted back in fury.

She heard this, and something set in her heart. She knew then that if she didn’t follow him into this fire, she would lose him. Better to die mad then find out later it was all true, anyway. And so she had straightened up, taken his hand, and followed him into that blazing heat.

And then there was darkness.

"Light," he said softly.

"What is this?" she asked. The light came, glowing pale and deep, and it slowly illuminated everything. But there was nothing to illuminate. There was only white.

"This is where the dreams come from," he said simply.

"Dreams?" she asked. Of course, then, no one had dreams. Sleep was like death.

"You will understand when you sleep next. I began to see the fire a very long time ago, it seems…and it told me things. That I would be the creator."

"And me?"

"I don’t know."

"What do you know?"

"Nothing beyond what I told you."

And out of the white light, there came a figure, a perfect shadow, sexless, ageless, faceless. Pure darkness, but Nerissa had felt no ill from it. It spoke in the same voice as the fire.

I AM MAGIC, BORNE OF YOUR IDLE THOUGHTS, WIZARD.

He had sighed, the burden of the word ‘wizard’ becoming apparent to him, the meaning still clouded in Nerissa’s mind.

YOU WILL CREATE. YOU ARE NEEDED. AND SHE WILL ASSIST YOU. Then it named them. YOU WILL BE CALLED ASTEROTH, AND SHE NERISSA, AND YOU WILL BE THE FIRST.

"How!?"

A crown appeared on his brow. He cried out, his hands going to the silver circle. She saw rubies laid into it. It was beautiful. It had burned him, but it did not show then.

ONLY THINK OF IT, AND YOU WILL HAVE THE POWER TO CREATE. AND DESTROY. THERE ARE NO MORE BOUNDARIES.

And the shadow vanished into the light.

Asteroth. He had closed his eyes. And then she saw the world around them taking shape. It was a lush, green forest. He had never seen the like; his life had been spent on the wild snowy plain. So his conjuring was limited. The color was a little dim, the forest itself completely silent.

She had looked at him, and he opened his eyes. Her love for him was solidified, completely and wholly realized then. He was no longer just a man, but a god in disguise. And she was his goddess.

She understood it all then. He had been the first dreamer, and that spirit of Magic had risen up from him to overwhelm him, to use him—but not in a wicked or hateful way. It needed him to care for it, to cultivate its new realm, to help it reach out and wrap around others who would believe. It had first spoken to him through the fire, and inadvertently Nerissa. It had not wanted her…but that was something that did not concern her. She was here, and she was going to stay. She would help this spirit, earn its trust. And she would love Asteroth.

That first hundred years had been so happy. They stopped aging, it seemed. Magic, she supposed. He built a world. And his children, the lovely, odd little creations of his hand, they called him the Dream Maker. The Wizard. The Wish Prince. The Fay grew, and Asteroth even began to create new places. He built a city entirely out of green. He began to build a maze. He had even started a dream within his dream world…beginning with a tower of pure, gleaming ivory. And through it all, Nerissa loved him, and he loved her.

Or so she had so completely and foolishly believed.

Raizel. How could she ever forget that name? The girl had stumbled into the Underground through one of the open places. Asteroth had left several doors to his new world, and often times, the people, bewitched by their new dreams, slipped in. She had been a painter, the first perhaps, with long black hair and blue eyes. And Asteroth had found her, brought her home to their little house on the woods beyond the maze…

"What is this?" Nerissa had demanded, her eyes mistrustful, searching over the girl, watching the way Asteroth held her arm in his, gently leading her along.

"This is Raizel," he’d said, his eyes locked on the girl, and Nerissa knew then that he was lost to her. And that girl had only smiled shyly, the mortal in the place of power, begging for their kindness, not knowing that she had already received too much.

Raizel stayed in the Fay for a month, Asteroth visiting daily. It was not long before their attraction became an affair, and the affair Nerissa’s undoing. She knew as she had from the start that nothing she could do would win him back. His love for her had been a reluctant thing, coaxed, and never crossing the boundaries of affection. And perhaps her love for him had not been so true, either…but she could not give him up so easily, not to this little mortal girl. It was only a matter of time.

And then her last day in that part of this world had dawned, bright and beautiful, and Asteroth had not returned home that night. Nerissa knew where he was. Raizel’s little cottage, one the edge of the maze Asteroth had only just finished building. She went to find him.

She had expected a great and horrible ending, something climactic and powerful. Nothing less would give her satisfaction. But instead, it had all ended so simply…He was standing outside the cottage, his dark eyes deeply thoughtful, looking at the garden growing around the perimeter of the cottage.

He had paused, glanced up, and looked at her.

Her heart had broken with the understanding of what was happening, that he was about to undo the ties of their relationship and cast his lot with the painter. He smiled sadly at her. She walked up to him, and he began to speak, kindly, softly.

"Nerissa. When we began this great journey together, we did not realize the power of the spirit of magic. When it told us that you were not the other, we did not understand. It was a mistake, Nerissa. I should have gone alone. I should never have brought you here."

"How can you say that?"

"You have done good to me, cared for me, helped me create this world. But magic has spoken to me. Raizel is the other. I know it in my heart. She is the one."

"No." The word had fallen from Nerissa’s lips. It felt as cold and numb as her heart.

"You gave me everything. Your love, your compassion…but it was never enough, didn’t you feel that? I said I should never have brought you here. It is not because I regret it. It is because I didn’t mean to hurt you."

"Then don’t."

"Nerissa, it’s not that simple…"

"It’s is that simple!" she answered back. "Send her home!"

"I can’t do that. How can you ask me to?"

"How can I ask? Because I love you!"

"And I love you, Nerissa…but it was never the way you loved me."

She broke apart, then, weeping. That girl had made her cry, and she had not cried in almost a hundred years. "I know," she admitted. "I know…"

He tried to hold her, but she had pushed him away. "Tell me," she said, her passion flaring up in her eyes, "why do you love her? What is she that I am not?"

Asteroth had bit his lower lip, a gesture significant only in that all his heirs would bear it. "I don’t know, Nerissa. She’s beautiful…"

"I’m beautiful! And I can look like anything, anything you want!" She suddenly began morphing, changing her face to be Raizel’s.

"Nerissa, it’s not that kind of beauty!" His own temper was beginning to rise. He had no right to be angry, but he was defensive and surprised by the fight she was putting up. "She’s kind and gentle and brilliant. She’s innocent. She understands me…"

"I understand you!" Nerissa had cried, returning to her normal self.

"No! You don’t, you never have! I’m a creator! And Raizel is like I am, a builder, a maker. You are not like me, Nerissa. You never had your own dreams…you simply borrowed mine."

It was true. And the truth hurt, as they said. It was all over her face, of course. He reached to comfort her again.

"Nerissa…I’m sorry…I’m so sorry, Nerissa—" His hand found her cheek. Tears slipped out of her eyes and onto his fingers. He began to put his arms around her.

Her eyes narrowed, and suddenly, her hand came up and cracked against his face. He gasped, backing away. There was danger in Nerissa. Terrible danger. He sensed the force of magic itself cringing in the face of her newfound hatred.

"Then have her. Take your stupid little mortal girl. I leave you to it."

"Nerissa…Nerissa, stop you have nowhere to go."

She gazed at him coldly. "I’ll find a place. I ask only one thing of you, oh mighty creator."

"Anything…"

"Let me create one thing for this world before I leave it forever."

He paused, his head tilted to one side. "I suppose…"

She smiled. There was no pleasure in the smile. She began to make the thing she knew would ease her pain…

Bright light flashed, making the sunlight seem dim. Magic stood there, now with a form. It was a woman, with brilliant white wings behind her, and long, golden curls cascading down her shoulders. She never moved her lips, but the words came as they had a hundred years ago.

NO! it cried. ASTEROTH, YOU MUST NOT!

"You’re too late," Nerissa laughed.

SHE MEANS TO KILL YOUR BRIDE!

"I am his bride!" she screamed at the woman.

The woman looked at her with brilliant, flashing, silver eyes. YOU WERE NOT INVITED. YOU WERE ASTEROTH’S MISTAKE, it spat out. AND NOW HE WILL PAY THE PRICE. EVERYONE WILL PAY THE PRICE.

"Not Raizel," Asteroth whispered.

HER MORE THAN ANYONE, it answered.

"No!" he cried, and grabbed Nerissa. "Don’t do this."

"You’re too late. I’ve already begun."

"Raizel!" cried Asteroth, running around the house, to the garden where the girl would be.

Nerissa followed, her teeth clenched, fearful that Asteroth would find a way to protect the girl. And when she got to the garden, her worries were confirmed.

"All right," she heard Raizel say, her voice quick and tight, but still sure. "I’m ready."

Asteroth nodded once, and closed his eyes. The girl in his arms ceased to exist. Then Nerissa narrowed her eyes, looking around.

There was a rosebush growing beside the house, with but one single bud on it. Furious, she reached out to destroy it. It was Raizel. Raizel in the form of an innocent flower.

Asteroth grabbed her hands. He said nothing, only glared at her with his dark eyes. He held her in front of him, speaking volumes with his freezing stare. He would not let harm befall the rose.

Suddenly, the ground rumbled ominously. Asteroth pushed Nerissa away. She stumbled and fell on the grass. Beside her, the ground broke, and what thrust out of the earth was a tower of thorns. Shocked, Nerissa shrieked, and crawled away. Another came up where she had been, and yet another beside it. They went up until they formed a perfect wall, sealing her off from Asteroth and the rose.

And she felt the world shift, and found herself in the darkness of the caves below the island world, banished by Magic.

That had not been the end…oh, no, not by a long shot. But it was a setback. A setback that lasted an entire year.

Asteroth had been right. She was not a creator. But on occasion, when one wants something badly enough, inspiration can take them to new heights. And when Nerissa heard the stories of the rose behind the thorn wall, she was not far from it.

The thorns were impenetrable to all but Asteroth, and Magic. But they told what they saw when they came out.

The rose had begun to grow. There was something inside it. And it was possible, just ever so slightly possible, that the something was the child of Asteroth and Raizel. That was what Nerissa’s cards told her, as she waited in those dark caves. Nine months later, the thorn walls vanished, and word spread that Asteroth had a daughter, a child in Raizel’s image.

But Nerissa waited longer, years and years of careful planning. She listened to the tales that came to her. Asteroth raised his daughter and created more of his world. Nerissa hid in the caves and plotted.

The child aged slowly, inheriting half of Asteroth’s strange immortality, along with many powers that could not be explained. Her one defense in the world was to turn the offender to a dead rose. But most strange was her painting…

She could paint the future.

Nerissa still had the ability to create one creature, and she did so in the darkness. It was beautiful. And it was hungry for one thing.

The rose-born child.

She had failed then. It had failed her. And she couldn’t think on that now, on the way Asteroth had defeated the creature and saved his daughter. She couldn’t think on it now because someone was screaming in the entrance to her rooms, pulling her out of her reverie.

That smell. It was the smell of the rose-born. The Herald.

Nerissa’s lips moved into a humorless smile. "Welcome," she told Aeris. She pushed back the hood of her cloak, revealing her red curling hair and green eyes, and the visage of a young woman. "It’s not all that bad, is it?"