A Tale From Tintagel
The cold wind gusting off the tossing seas, whipped Morgana�s hair as she stood on the shores of Cornwall. Gathering her cloak around her slight frame, she whispered a warming spell, and then began to pace the rocky beach. It was about an hour before dawn, and shifting mists hid her moving figure from time to time.

This was an age of transition, and she knew she would have to gather her powers and those of others in order to ensure that what all signs indicated, would come to pass. Morgana tilted her angular face to the sky..eyes closed�and took in a breath of the moist clean air. She knew she had chosen rightly, for this was the place where it would all begin.
After a few moments, she turned and headed toward the forests, her back to the gray seas. It was time to consult Vivaine du Lac and start the wheels of fate in motion. If they failed, then the Isle would be lost forever and fade away into a distant memory.

The journey wasn�t long, and indeed not so many days on foot to the shores of the Lake. It seemed for Morgana as she strode along the pathways ever burned into her mind and heart, that it took ages. Time ceased to exist, and as she prepared herself for what was to come, her spirit rose and shone out from her body � lighting her way at night; for she did not stop to rest, and warded off those who met her during the daytime..
On the 3rd day, late afternoon Morgana knelt at the shores of the Lake. Her body trembling from lack of sustenance and spiritual fervor. Outstretching her hands to the mist covered waters�she sang aloud the summoning. Calling to her Sisters on the Isle of Avalon to part the mists and let her enter.

The sky faded..the sun shooting up its last rays and the hovering mists glowed with an eldritch light. Morgana lay in a swoon, her cloak dragging into the cold waters. A warm breeze flowed from the center of the Lake..encircling her body�renewing her, replenishing her. Upon opening her eyes, she found that the mists had parted, and standing there atop the small waves, was Vivaine.

She held out her hand to Morgana, who arose�her eyes locked with Vivaine�s, and walked to meet her upon the waves. Hand in hand they turned, and the mists enveloped them, as they walked towards the Isle in the center of the Lake.
It has begun, and the magic that will bring in the Golden Age has been set in motion. There on the shores of Cornwall in the castle of Tintagel shall be born the Pendragon Arthur to rule by the sword fashioned by the Lady of the Lake. By man�s hand all will be saved, and as it once was, and ever shall be � women�s hearts shall bring all of this to pass. Until we meet again, fair traveler, Ninefold Blessings unto you:

May the Sacred Land ever uphold you;
May the Eternal Sea ever surround you;
May the Endless Sky ever watch over you;
May the Winds ever whisper your name;
May the Fire of Awen inspire you;
May the Stones remember your ways;
My the Earth comfort and cradle you;
May the Eternal Flame ever light your way.
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