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The pungent aroma of the turmeric infusion wafted about the fog-ridden clearing, melding with the hazy vapour and spreading around the night air. Sappho thought it such a delightful tea, with a curious flavour unlike any other she had tried, perhaps she enjoyed it so much because it was so similar to herself - nothing like one would expect. She contentedly sipped her tea, a warm smile upon her crimson lips as the foreign woman introduced herself. Deciding it best to do the same, she conjured a wooden stump to place her make-shift tea party upon and arose from her seat,

‘Ah, you must be from elsewhere, to not be so wary ‘round these Woods. There is evil lurking all about, even where you least expect. I could be such an evil myself, had you not considered that? Oh, but I should introduce who I am before you start wondering about whether I am evil or not.’

Lowering herself gracefully in a delicate curtsy, she announced, ‘I am Sappho. I am, how should I phrase this… the Witch of these Woods. I thought it strange that you were so relaxed about these parts; there are many well-known tales of the evil Witch who lives here. Neither native citizen nor traveller of the road would dare come this deep into the Woods, for fear of crossing paths; any person unfortunate enough to stumble across me would be quick to run away.’

Placing a porcelain finger upon her chin inquisitively, she pondered, ‘Since you did not copy their example, I must assume you are from elsewhere, and your peculiar garb furthers this. Indeed, I am quite curious, where do you come from?’

hat glimmer of a smile which had come about from her enjoyment of Vanna’s presence faded into a blank look as Sappho stared at the empty abyss which had been previously occupied by that charming girl. She had not wished to set off such an easily-recognisable trap such as this - so cautious she had been about dealing with it - and yet her efforts had been for naught but failure. Unable to recognise that she had let her newly-befriended companion fall to a certain fate, Sappho cautiously edged closer to the opening black as pitch that had opened by her machinations and called out Vanna’s name. No response came, merely silence.

A strange pain tore through the back of her mind as she admitted this to herself; images poured back into her memory that she would rather not remember, but memories that she only now realised were what she had come to honour. She had been to this decrepit temple before, she knew that for sure, but why had she not recognised the various trials it presented? It may have down with the changing times, but it seemed like it had not been touched since the last entry into it which must have been many centuries ago. Further still, had she not experienced the same sharp feeling when she had entered the temple? She was trying to his something from herself, but that was unravelling as she travelled through this halls. What was it she had forgotten? What had she done so many years ago? What was she here to do now?

As she struggled with the answers to these questions, Sappho was broken away from it by an angry shouting originating from the unsealed entranceway. With eyes ablaze from the rage of losing her friend and frustration of being unable to remember why this was so irritating for her in this place, she turned to this new character in her tragedy and questioned her with no friendliness in her voice,

‘What is it, bannik?’ Sappho let out an exasperated sigh as she saw that small winged form of the fairy, but composed herself to a reasonable degree so that she could answer her question. ‘Forgive me if I am misunderstanding your intentions as mocking me, dear lady - but I am a pilgrim, nothing more. Yes, just an ordinary pilgrim delving to find this place’s secrets. Secrets I seem to have known once but cannot seem to remember. Secrets that have now resulted in my mourning of a friend. It seems that with me opening this temple, I opened the many traps hidden in its depths; traps I thought long rusted and broken that have stayed perfectly intact throughout all the centuries. And now my friend is gone, having fallen prey to them. Well, death comes to all of us, it is an inevitability... except for you and me. We must continue to live while suffering the losses of others…’

sigh of exasperation escaped the golden-haired beauty who was slumped over on a tree stump. ‘Curse those vague goddesses, do they not understand how irritating for ‘mortals’ to interpret their riddles? I merely wish for my century long question to be answered, but it must have been foolish for one to expect that to be fulfilled.’

She steadily rose from her exhaustion with difficulty and headed further into the dark forest covered by that overcast sky with purpose of returning to civilisation, ‘I need the familiar scent of stale revolution to fill my head before I can decipher the hidden meanings behind those words given by those damn goddesses. After hearing those divine nuisances, one forgets the annoyances provided by mortals’ wrong preconceptions.’

She ambled along the winding path littered in rotting leaves with intent in mind to leaving nature behind, but was interrupted by an interesting magical trail; there was another individual who held considerable prowess in that field. Following her instincts, she discovered a strangely disconcerting yet normal-looking girl - an ordinary appearance in the business of the oddities which the woman with the flaxen locks encountered often.

But she was interested in the intent of this girl in intruding upon this most hidden of places within the woods, ‘Good evening, Miss. What brings you to the woods of the lost? Do you wish to bring offerings to some forgotten and useless deity, or to escape your dreary life into one of a different sort? Not that I can blame you for either, mortals do strange things on mere whims. A ‘mortal’ such as me has forgotten the pleasures of those simple and unreasonable habits.’

grimace arose on those beautiful red lips; pristine white skin contorted in displeasure; furrowed brows met one another at the bridge of that petite nose - Sappho was not in the mood at all to be diplomatic in her discussion. That delightful woman to whom she had opened up to, who had learnt of her deepest secrets and had divulged her own tragic story to Sappho, she had betrayed that trust. That despicable woman had given her over to those infernals villains who, though they had no direct contact, she found them to be vile in all sense of the word and wished to have no relation to them. And here she was, in their hands. A trouble which she doubted could have become worse.

‘Up. I want you awake when they get here.’

Those words rang in the dulled range of Sappho’s hearing. Despite years having passed since the last time she had heard that particular tone, there was no mistaking it at all. Opening her burning eyes, she beheld a sight that she thought she would never have seen again. A sinister smile twisted her delicate expression and matched the smouldering eyes that were dyed red with a collection mixture of negative emotions. From the fiery gates of her red lips came a single seething comment as all of her pent-up anger released itself in a few words.

‘Nynaeve, I was waiting for this time to come.’