She arrived with the gloaming, wreathed by the rising moon’s first silver. Barefoot, only the whisper of her deep green robes betrayed her measured step as she gained the competitor’s ring. Above her, a trio of ravens filled the sky with raucous music.

Her eyes, a mercurial blue and lambent in the deepening dusk, lifted and she smiled with rare sweetness. “My friends,” she said, her voice finding each ear without effort. A hand turned gracefully palm up and the ravens three came together, spinning with dizzying speed and became, with a silver flash, a banner. Upon a field of rich green, entangled in intricate knotwork, the Lady’s ravens stood out in fathomless black.

The hush was absolute when the announcer recovered his wits and voice, “She came! Lady of the Fair Isle, Lady Across the Deep Waters, Verdant Lady…we bid you welcome Lady Jessica Cahill!”

An errant breeze stirred wisps of her auburn hair as she bowed low. Straightening, she held her arms out, and said into the silence, “Let there be magick.”