As Randolph caressed the emblem of Sirato, he felt not only relief at being face to face with the past, but apprehension at what it could mean; where will it lead? The full moon illuminated the canopy of the forest so that beams shone through and scattered the floor with patches of gem-filled light. Close by, a rustle brought Randolph’s focus back to his situation: he was alone, no one knew he was here and his instinct told him this area held scorn for his kind.

At first he couldn’t make it out, but resting against the bark of an elm he was able to suspend his breathing and catch the faintest of sounds: a soft female voice, maybe a childs.

Bygone? Be gone? Randolph couldn’t be sure at first. And then he heard the rest.

“Bygone the woods that once spoke truth.”

Randolph froze. From behind a large elm stripped of its bark appeared a young boy, a boy which he recognised: himself only 45 years younger.