The light of a spring moon is pale and distant. It is hazy, weakened, tired from battling the sun over sovereignty of the sky. Often you can't even see it, but over the land that has been blessed by the lady of wind and shadow, you can always find it.

Beneath the canopies of mist-wreathed trees, green and blossoming in the recent warmth, the darkness is cool and everlasting. Shadows hold a certain density here at the edge of the world - sometimes it even seem like they move around. Shift, stir, swirl along with the ever present fog that blows in from the sea only to grow stagnant in the forest.
This is a land for mysterious creatures, riddles and dreams, and to some... it is home.

At a certain place, situated deep within the heart of the land, a spring bubbles up from the bowels of the earth and shapes a small pond. Normally the black water is hidden by a thick veil of fallen clouds, protected from sight and touch - and from knowledge of its existence. Few ever come to the small glen, where pale trees seemed to have stepped aside and now formed a barrier around it, a wall of dense forest and dancing petals, pink and white that swirl and fall in a sudden breeze. Here the birds are quiet, the rodents scarce. Untouched, unknown - serene.

When the Glazier slips from the embrace of the forest and steps out into the moon-touched world, it is with a dazed expression. The eyes are hazy, filled with the sight of the moon, the glen, the white dragon that fly quietly across the sky in silent reverie. Without a word he see the beady white veil slowly disperse from the surface of the pond, revealing the surface that is still black, empty.

Thoughtless, wordless. Something beckon him forth, and without question the blessed steed step into the water, so softly that the quiet surface doesn't even ripple around his sooted legs. But when he look down into the inky liquid, he beholds what few others have ever seen.

For the waters of the pond are far from empty. The darkness is only a perceived darkness, a preconceived lack of color and transparency. The truth is different entirely; for the waters simply reflect the vastness of the sky above, the black arch that curve softly above the face of the earth. When he look deeper, he find that the darkness is not eternal. It is broken, shimmering, speckled with the light of stars, so vast and deep that the mind boggle at the thought of what would happen should he fall in, drown, loose himself completely within it. He wishes to dip the muzzle below the surface and drink, fill his entire being with this water, consume until nothing remains and the creature that is Lace has vanished completely.

A shudder pass down the spine, and with great effort he tear the eyes away from the haunting sight.

The gentle touch of a breeze bring him back to reality, to the purpose of his visit to this peculiar place. He had been seeking these starlit waters, searched for them, because he had a vision in mind he wanted to bring to reality. An image, a thought - an idea, so interesting and tantalizing that he could almost taste it upon the tongue.

With a deep breath, the stallion graced with the gift of the Moon closed his eyes, gathered all focus to the one image in his mind. He held it lightly as a reference, and carefully, as if handling a very dangerous animal that might bite as gladly as follow his command, the thoughts reached out into the night. From beneath the bowing branches of the blossoming cherry trees he gathered the darkest shadows, from grass and under sleeping flowers the densest darkness, brought it to him and piled it up, stacked it high.

Slowly, patiently, the glazier began to shape it, and as he did the world around him began to transform. The night seemed to brighten, while the area right next to Lace darkened. Darkness came alive, wrapped around him, coiled and wreathed like a thousand reluctant snakes, attempting to escape his mental grip. Every shadow beneath the eye of the moon came alive, dancing madly around their source - fearing, hoping, wanting, to be selected and chosen to do the bidding of the Moon's proxy.

It was going to take most of the night to complete this. What he had in mind was big, and the task difficult; but hopefully, the result would be well worth it.


(gather round, and watch the Glazier at work. You may speak, but Lace won't answer - he's too busy at the moment)