Osarin stood on the edge of a cliff, the water below roiling against the jagged rocks. The sky a similar order, the clouds almost dancing in the clear blue sky. "Osarin." a voice whispered, Osarin's calm smile faded, the voice echoing softly around him. "Osarin..." He felt eyes on his back, but dared not turn to see the owner. "The circle..." the voice trailed off, he could feel the warmth of the breath on the back of his neck. "It shall be formed. The chosen must be called."<br/><br/>"Who?" Goosebumps erupted on his skin. He turned slowly, sweat forming in beads on his forehead. As he turned, all he caught was a glimpse of glowing eyes, and felt hands on his chest, pushing him back. Before he could catch himself, he was falling. Falling. He felt the wind whipping past his ears, chilling his skin. He landed, with a sudden gasp in his own bed.<br/><br/>"The circle..." Still it echoed in his mind. He was sitting up, gripping the sheets white-knuckled. He breathed hard, his deep green eyes tried desperately to take in the room, but it was so dark.<br/><br/>"Osarin? Osarin... are you alright in there?"<br/><br/>"Yeah dad." his voice cracked as he stood. Leaves crackled beneath his feet. "What time is it?"<br/><br/>"Noon. uhm... is there a reason vines are growing out from under your door?" After a moment, Osarin could hear his step-mother's voice. "You're mother's worried about you." The worry plastered on his face made his age shine through, at nearly seventy, his father was worn and ragged, but his youth still shined in his eyes.<br/><br/>"My mother's in a tree. The woman you married to replace her is worried that I might accidentally destroy her perfect little home she worked so desperately to wreck."<br/><br/>"Osarin!" The vines receded, light filtered in through his window, and from under the door, which opened first chance it got. "I know you miss your mother, but that's no reason to take it out on Heather. She cares for you." His father was tall, and dark, Osarin was reminded, at least daily that his father was quite the catch. It takes quite a bit to earn the love of a dryad, and his father had.<br/><br/>"Sure. Thanks for letting me stay here while I was back in town." Osarin pulled on his loose sky blue shirt, and worn cloth pants. His feet left bare, he made his way from the room. "I'm gonna go see mom."<br/><br/>"Osarin..."<br/><br/><br/><br/>"Mom?" He called through the grove. "Mom, it's me, Osarin."<br/><br/>"Osarin? It's been a while, you've grown so much." Osarin turned, and his mother stood before him, her long red hair framing her perfect, pale skin, and glowing green eyes. Bark grew on bits of her skin, and flowers bloomed in her hair. "you look so like your father." She smiled.<br/><br/>"Don't say that." He didn't like being compared to his father, who had driven his mother away, tried to separate her from nature. "I need your help." He looked past her, staring out into the clearing of oaks.<br/><br/>"Are you alright?" She asked, her voice sobering.<br/><br/>"Yeah, I think, I've just been having really odd dreams lately, I don't want to talk to dad, I assumed it was a dryad thing."<br/><br/>"Dryad's don't dream, sweety." She stared at him worriedly, "What kind of dreams?"<br/><br/>"Well, I'm usually in a clearing, or on a cliff, or near water." He walked to a nearby, overturned tree, sitting down, he cringed slightly, having to recollect his dreams. "In the latest, I heard a voice."<br/><br/>"What did it say?" She sat next to him, her green eyes full of worry for her child.<br/><br/>"I don't remember. uhm...a cycle.. a chosen cycle or something." he shook his head, and ran his hands through his short, dark hair. "I don't remember." he repeated.<br/><br/>She stared at him, the worry fading, replaced by a stark stoicism, "Was it a circle? A circle of chosen?"<br/><br/>"Yeah!" He looked at her, hopeful. "You know what it means?"<br/><br/>"Kind of, I've heard stories about a circle of chosen ones, but I don't know much about it, I can't say I have much of a taste for human lore."<br/><br/>"HA." Osarin scoffed, "I wonder why." He remarked on the lore that dryad's were lusty beings of ill-repute, often only wanting to trick mortals out of money.<br/><br/>"Sorry I can't be of more help."<br/><br/>"It's ok, Mom, I'm just glad to see you again." The topic changed, his mother smiled, her face showed no signs of the last 2 thousand years she had been alive, while Osarin showed signs of maturity at an age most immortal races consider little more than infancy. "I stayed at dad's. He's remarried. She's a bitch." he laughed in sync with his mother.<br/><br/>"That's horrible, you shouldn't talk about his choices like that." She knew she should lecture him, but didn't honestly care what he said about his father's new wife. "I'm sure he's happy with her."<br/><br/>"After life with a dryad, how could he be?" He remarked on her unearthly grace and beauty. "Oh, I got a job, I'm officially a bard! I work three nights a week at a local tavern back in Soles." His voice showed signs of pride, he had worked at being a singer for a long time, although many saw him as unnatural, or his competitors saw his heritage as an unnatural advantage. His voice was haunting, a trait he inherited from his mother.