Blessings resonated, harpsichord strings and open rhapsodies, melodies of the magnificent and sonnets of the spring, she flowed through the buoyant particles of joy and ebullience, explored the regions of information Alysanne uttered, brought, exuded. How easy and quickly the world altered, changed, for while their last conversations had ravaged and mauled over glowing stones, expressed foundations of grandeur and flickered along arrays of peace in a crooning crypt, this molding, this sculpture, seemed only to foster happiness and generosity. She hadn’t come alone or without recognition, a newfound companion, fledging and nurtured by her caregiver, and a title pressed into her efforts. Alysanne had received worthy gifts, bestowed and enriched, proffered and gathered for a deserving individual, and the genuine elation Lena felt for her friend’s successes courted the elongation of her smile, the gentle reel of her lips. Her honeyed gaze flew first to the tiny owl, a snippet of her coiled, mellifluous tunes dabbling and springing through the vestiges. “Hello, little one.” Imogen sought to join in the festivities, chirping towards the little, flying babe, tails wagging and brushing over the long tendrils of newly established grass and sustenance. The sylph had no doubts that Hemlock and his connected would invoke angelic qualities within one another, beneficent and protective, safeguarded and sanctified, hallowed, consecrated, ordained. Only thereafter the healer’s silent, singsong musings did the nymph return to the structure and harmonies of Alysanne’s achievements, piecing and stitching, layering and weaving, the tender commendations and praise the flier merited, warranted. Moon Doctor, D’art’s prior title. This one, dear gentleheart, however, is without poison. “Goodness, how busy you’ve been! Congratulations on all of your efforts.” She paused as the Pegasus asked of her own accomplishments, how to reflect on which had been growths or failings. She’d learned of the Regime, the awful, tormenting blight scarring and scorching her brethren, and likely countless others beyond the walls and fortifications of the wild, untamed earth. She’d gone with Roland, with Illynx, to tell sovereigns of their wayward haze, of their chaotic frays. The only one she mentioned, without the air of enigmas, of villainy hovering in tangled warrens, was their mirrored roles. “It seems we are counterparts! I was recently named Time Mender.” She warmly extended her maw into another grin, incised and invoked by the clarity of their equivalency. “I’m glad you came. Is there anything you’d like to see?”