Baldur's Gate : The Sword Coast Chronicles : NWN2 Persistent World

The young girl stares deep into the forest. Her terrified eyes dart about. She shakes and speaks.

"Those who would come steal
Without stealing they will take
Eyes watch without sight

Those who would come speak
Speaking dark words black as night
Promising nothing

He who sleeps sees hearts
Blood runs from rocks, trees broken
Children scream, run, hide

He who sleeps wills sleep
He who sleeps gives you this once
Give thanks for all gifts"

Running through the woods, she breaths heavily. Trees tear at her cloak, the ground desperately grabs at her feet. Light breaks in the clearing and she rests.

Her pale eyes strain in the dim lighting of the Elf Song. The handsome man sits and listens as the cards speak to her. They silently laugh, scream, drag their nails across her ears.

"The road of truth, the winding road of truth will require strength. Great strength to discern."

The second card is turned and forcefully warns, firmly gripping her eyes.

"Many will keep you from walking this road. Many will force your hand. Do not let them push you, blow you astray."

The final card is turned. She strains as the angry woman laughs. She dances around him, screaming.

"The road leaves you alone."

Defiant, she pulls a forth card and steels her heart.

"So be it."

The four men stand around the circle of stones as her young eyes stare deep into the skull in the middle.

"We who sleep have called you four. Each alone have what I ask, all together break the mask."

With each man offering selflessly a tusk, a leaf, a ring and a bow, the spell holding her shatters, the girl sleeps.

"Walk with him."

The girl blinks. A man covered in scars leads. One foot in front of the other.

"Walk with him."

The voice cries to her. The road stretches and turns, the rains soak. She walks, step by step by his side.

"Walk with him."

Her body strains, frozen by the cold. Step after step the voice screams.

"Walk with him."

Faces pass, speaking, asking. She walks.

A man sits across the table, a man of kindness shown. The cards are drawn and she speaks.

"Standing against fate will not change your destiny. Anger will not smooth your struggle. Your battle will truly be lost."

"Desire not what is not yours. Covet not what will not be yours. Surrender and you will conquer, by losing you will win."

"Hear not these words, act not on the truth, your heart will starve, wither and truly die."

He thanks her pleasantly and leaves as she stares at the table.

Bruised and broken, she drags herself forward. Broken and bruised she walks as asked. The cold breathes, the cold screams, the cold demands she speak

"He Who Sleeps, Ancient One Who Dreamed, Chosen of the Forever Night wishes sleep. He will rest."

Cold. The cold. Biting unforgiving cold.

With the blowing of the wind
The dreamer is born

Amidst a thousand books, each with a thousand dreams, she takes the seeker where his feet will walk. To sit before a wandering king, to look upon a beating heart, to see the gift he brings, she turns the cards.

"Without a road for feet to walk, the seeker seeks for beating heart and burning soul. For the light to shine, for the lover's kiss, for the darkness to lift. The seeker asks none, but asks all."

Her hand moves, relentless seeking, turning again, she speaks.

"The twisting road the seeker walked, the lonely questions asked. A father, a king, a rock, a bridge has been made."

Her fist clenches tight above her heart, she strains, silently begging, screaming pleas unheard, the third card is turned.

"What the seeker knows, the seeker knows not. An ocean of lies, a heart of trickery, a world of cheating, burning anger he sees."

Her heart beats fast as she looks to the seeker. Walking away, she waits...

A woman, a man, a boy. A heart pierced with three swords.

"Speak," the voices scream inside her mind.
"Speak," the voices demand.
"Speak...."

"He Who Sleeps, The Ancient Dreamer wakes. What was forgotten will be known."

The questioner questions, the shadow stays, the liar hears.