A young man trudged down a small, boulder-strewn beach along the western shores of Nentan, close to the Great Manilly Mountains. He was searching for something very dear to him. He had been up and down the beach several times and had to face the fact that his search would bring him no answers. He had just enough hope left to walk down the shore one last time before returning home.

The man did not notice the half-submerged form until he was mere inches away from tripping over it. "What on Mystica...?" he wondered aloud. He bent down for a closer look. It was a woman. She was unconscious, looked nearly dead from exhaustion, half drowned, and..."What happened here? It looks like you've been stabbed and shot at from the look of those wounds in your side and shoulder."

He lifted her up as gently as he could, all the time cautiously avoiding the multiple knives she was armed with. I wonder how she managed to stay afloat with that...arsenal? Life on and near the sea had given him a strong body, so her small weight didn't pose much of a strain.

As he headed up the path to the top of the cliff on which his combination home and work place were located, the man turned and faced the choppy waves with a look that seemed to say, "Forgive me, I tried."

Mystryl awoke with no knowledge of where she was or who was bending over her. She panicked and before the man could give an explanation, she fumbled for a knife and pressed it to his throat. "Where am I?" she demanded.

"Look, I'll tell you everything I can, but will you please put that knife away first?" he asked, swallowing hard.

Mystryl's eyes narrowed and she pressed a bit harder as she said, "Sure I'll put away...right into your throat!"

The man decided to risk speaking. "Is that any way to treat someone who just saved you life?"

"Huh, you mean this isn't PSI HQ?" she asked him, releasing some of the pressure. She cautiously surveyed her surroundings.

"I don't know what you're talking about, all I know is that I was looking for some sign of my brother or his boat on the beach when I almost tripped over you. I thought I was doing you a favor when I brought you up here, now I'm not sure if it was such a good idea. Some trade, my last family member for a rude, paranoid woman!" His eyes blazed with barely restrained anger.

"I...I'm sorry. I didn't realize...," Mystryl said, her dagger long forgotten. "I guess I did sort of overreact. It's just that...the last thing I remember is battling PSI troopers on a ship. Though, now that I think about it, they may have been with SIGS. Then there was a horrible explosion, and the next thing I remember is you bending over me just now," she paused, "I just realized I haven't told you my name. Where are my manners?"

"You mean you have manners?!" he asked, feigning shock.

"I should have killed you when I had the chance. Anyway, I'm Mystryl Nightshade," she said offering her hand to him and gasped as she recalled too late that she had been shot in her right shoulder. She tried to steady herself as a wave of dizziness passed over her. He took her other shoulder and gently eased her back down on her bed.

"Shh, just stay calm. You really have been through a lot, huh? Just rest for a while. I guess I'll...make some porridge or something," he told her.

"I didn't catch your name," Mystryl remembered. She also remembered her knife as she almost leaned on it, and decided that sheathing it would be wise.

"Oh, Tristan Nightshade," he told her with a wide grin. "Welcome to my humble lighthouse."

"Your name is Nightshade too? Hmm...not a very common name...I wonder if our families are related," Mystryl mused aloud.

"Well, let me get the family log book," Tristan suggested. He stood up and turned toward the nearby staircase.

"The what?" Mystryl asked, a confused look on her face.

"Sorry, I meant family records, genealogy. Dad was a true mariner at heart and insisted that we call it that," he explained to her. "The porridge is pretty much done, why don't you get started on that while I run upstairs and get the book?"

"Yeah, ok," Mystryl sighed. I think he got the better job, though.

Tristan returned after a while, carrying a heavy looking book. He scooped some porridge into a bowl, pulled a chair up beside Mystryl and they began to compare family lines. A half-hour and two bowls of porridge later, they concluded that they were in fact related. Very distant cousins.

"Hmm, maybe our great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfathers were brothers...uh...Mysty was it? I'm not very good with names."

"Mystryl," she corrected, "But I guess Mysty's okay."

"Right... So how was your food?" he asked.

"I...don't mean to be rude, but trying to finish it all was a very...'gruel'ing experience."

"So I can't...what is it?" Tristan asked in response to Mystryl raising her hand for silence.

"I'm thinking!"

"Well, think out loud if you don't mind," he told her. He walked across the large room to the side that served as the kitchen area and began to wash the small amount of dishes.

"Why should I? My thoughts are none of your business...oh...fine. You DID save my life, I guess I owe you something. My parents were captured by the military organization called SIGS over ten years ago, I became what I am today in order to have a better chance of finding them."

Tristan assumed by her clothing and weaponry she was a thief of some sort. "How does being a th...er...treasure hunter effect that?" He caught his slip just in time as a warning look passed over Mystryl's face.

"Let me finish. The passengers and some of the crew of the ship I was on were captured by SIGS too...I think. If they survived. I would have thought it was PSI who attacked us except that..." Mystryl paused, not wanting to reveal too much.

"So maybe if someone has heard where the people from Seabird's Flight were taken, and I can find the place, my parents might also be there!" she finally finished.

"Well...IF nothing has happened to your parents in all those years, I'd say that is...maybe...a good plan," Tristan agreed, "Before you leave, you have to recover your strength though."

"But...," she protested.

"But nothing. Try to get some sleep now. If you need anything, just shout. My room is through the door on the other side of the kitchen. Good night."

Mystryl awoke the next morning feeling a bit better, and feeling very annoyed with Tristan for not letting her do anything. No, I take that back; he let me eat my own porridge. I wonder if he even knows how to make anything else?

Finally, she got so fed up, she just had to say something. "All right, Mr. All Knowing Doctor. If I can't go outside or even get up yet, what AM I supposed to do today?"

Tristan stopped scrubbing the wood floor, cocked his head and thought for a moment. "You can do some mending, tell me more about yourself, or both."

"Unless I 'want' to do both I probably won't get to do what I want, will I?" Mystryl asked, even more irritated now.

"I think you could safely assume that," he replied. "If you get too tired, don't be afraid to stop." He left the room and promptly returned with a needle, thread, and some badly abused clothing, then went back to scrubbing until the floor shone.

Mystryl took a deep breath. I guess he won't tell SIGS about me, so why not? "It's not much of a story, but...let me see...before I left home, my life was more or less uneventful. Except for my parents vanishing, of course. My brother and I--he's three years younger than me--were raised by two bachelor uncles after our parents disappeared."

"Yes, hence the lack of manners. Go on," Tristan commented with complete innocence. He finished cleaning and sat down on a colorful, braided rug.

Mystryl glared at him. "Now you made me forget where I was!"

"Your uncles."

"...Thanks. In any case, they did their best to teach us manners, but they also taught us fighting and survival tactics. Rare skills in a farm village like Meadows."

She stopped a moment, concentrating on a difficult stitch. After several unsuccessful tries with the stitch, she threw the piece across her bed in frustration and picked up the next one.

Tristan raised an eyebrow. "Somehow, I can't picture you living on a farm," he said.

"Yeah, that may be why I left. I spent a few years building up my skills, and then I left home. I started earning my keep, and bit by bit I found out some about my parents' disappearance. I ended up here. I said there wasn't much to tell."

"Well, since you never elaborated on your line of work, that did shorten the tale. I'll bet you've had plenty of adventures while 'earning your keep', huh Mysty?" he asked.

He has no right to accuse me! He doesn't know anything about me or my circumstances. He's probably right though, and that just makes things worse..., thought Mystryl. "I never said I was proud of my profession. It's a necessity," she said, her eyes unable to meet the piercing look in his dark gray ones.

They sat in silence for several minutes. Mystryl finally spoke, "Here, the mending is finished. All but that one stubborn piece, that is. So ah...when do you think I can get back to my quest?" she wondered.

"See how you feel in two, preferably three weeks," Tristan answered.

"WHAT!?"

"Sorry, Mr. 'All Knowing Doctor's' orders. Get some more rest. I've probably strained you too much anyway. I'm gonna go up top and clean the lenses on the lighthouse." With that, he turned and headed to the door that connected the small house to the lighthouse staircase.

As much as Mystryl wanted to resist, her body craved every moment of rest it could get, and she soon drifted into a healing, dreamless sleep.

She awoke with a start without realizing why. It was after midnight and all seemed to be peaceful. Still, Mystryl knew something was amiss and called out into the inky darkness, "Tristan?" He was out of his room sooner that she would have expected. "Tristan, what happened?" she asked with a shaky voice.

"So you felt it, too. I thought I was imagining things. That last big storm...I think...well, it may have weakened the structure of the cliff we're on. Those were some of the biggest waves I had ever seen. Strangely, there was no warning, it just seemed to come from thin air," he said grimly.

Mystryl groaned, "Ohh, I knew Dacota and Duncaan's storm was powerful, but who would have guessed it would have been that powerful?"

Tristan gave her a sidelong look and asked her, "Your shipmates...made that storm? Are you telling me that they have the powers of the Ancients or something?"

Mystryl gave a nervous laugh. "Y...you don't believe those faerie stories, now do you?" she asked.

"Well, I didn't think I did, but now..." He slowly turned his head in her direction. "...You have some sort of power too, don't you?" It was more statement that question. Mystryl looked away.

Telling him about farms and uncles is one thing, should I really tell him this secret? She hesitated. "Well I...think I may. That's probably how I managed to stay mostly afloat instead of sinking with all these knives. What's the word...levitation? Plus, I... I seem to be able to control light to some extent. Very useful in my profession I guess...." she finished.

Tristan slowly shook his head. "Amazing... I'm...sorry if my questions have seemed a bit personal. I think the waves have calmed down, so you should try to get back to sleep."

Mystryl gave a long, tired sigh. "Sleep, sleep, sleep. That's all I get to do around here."

Tristan chuckled softly. "Well, I could always rustle up a midnight bowl of porridge if..."

Mystryl plopped down on the bed and interrupted him, "Gosh, I feel so tired suddenly! Good night!" Tristan laughed again and went back to his room.

A few days passed and Mystryl was allowed to get up for a few hours at a time. Late one afternoon, Tristan came in, exhausted. His clothes were muddy and wet. Mystryl could tell by his expression that something had happened.

"Are you all right, Tristan? What happened to you? I set a pot of coffee on the stove. Let me get you some before you freeze." Tristan shrugged off his dripping coat, sat at the table and drank several mouthfuls of the steaming liquid before answering. When he did, his voice cracked.

"I...found my brother. Or what was left of him. The ground around here is full of rocks, so burying his body took a while. At least I know what happened to him." He was silent then.

Mystryl walked over and knelt beside him. "I'm so sorry. Believe me, I know how you feel."

"No!" he burst out at her. "How could you know how I feel? The sleepless nights, the fear, the pain when you realize all your hope was for nothing. How could you possibly know?" She waited until his frenzied breathing had slowed before answering.

"I may not have lost my parents, but I know about the waiting, the doubt and agony that you feel. For years I've had trouble sleeping, and each moment I lie awake at night I wonder, 'Am I too late? Are they already gone?' And then my imagination gets the best of me as I picture all the horrible ways they might have been killed. Sometimes I can hardly bear it. But I don't think your family would want you to be this way. I think..."

"I don't care what you think! You don't know what they would want. You don't..." Tristan stopped, buried his face in his hands and wept. Mystryl let him alone for a while before changing the subject.

"I figure if the ground was that hard, you must ache pretty bad, huh?" He shrugged his shoulders once. "I thought so. If I can't do anything about your bigger problem, maybe I can at least work some of the kinks out of your muscles."

She stood up and set to work massaging his back. Several minutes went by and he seemed to calm down a bit. "All right, enough of that. Let me have a look at your hands," Mystryl said. Tristan pulled away from her reach.

"Don't be ridiculous. You're acting like a baby! Just to tell you, I already know you tore up your hands by digging without gloves or other protection. Can you tell me where to find some ointment?" He made no reply.

"...Okay, fine. I'll just find it myself. Umm...here it is! Which hand first? Wait! I forgot that you aren't speaking to me. The left one I guess."

Before Tristan could pull away again, she grabbed his left fist, peeled his fingers open and started gently working a big glob of ointment into his raw and blistered palm.

"Ow! Why'd you have to do that?" he nearly yelled.

"It'll make them heal faster," she said calmly. He stared at her for a long time and started to laugh. "What's so funny?" Mystryl asked.

"You are. It's not as though a few blisters are going to kill me, and you're acting like I'm bleeding to death."

Mystryl looked annoyed. "Well, I had to do something to get your mind off the events of the day. Now that I think about it, you must be starving. I suppose you want porridge?" she sighed.

Tristan laughed again. "No, if you can make anything else, please do. I hate the stuff, but every time I try to cook, the food burns, melts, or blows up. My brother cooked, I cleaned. You really thought I liked that slimy goop?"

"I did wonder how that was possible. I can cook a few things, especially bread and stews. Do you have any meat around here?"

"Yeah, lots of dried fish in the second cupboard. There are some vegetables in a crate outside, but I really don't know if you should be working."

"It won't kill me."

Mystryl started immediately. As she went outside to get the vegetables, Tristan called softly after her, "Mysty?"

"Hmm?"

"I...thanks. For everything."

She gave him a wide smile and finished her errand.

Several more days went by. One evening while dicing some carrots, Mystryl looked out the kitchen window. The sun was just beginning to set and the skies were filled with a spectrum of colors. "Tristan, do you mind if dinner is a little late?" she asked.

He came out of his room. "Why, is something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong, I only wanted to watch the sunset for a while. Just look at it!" She indicated the small window.

He came up behind her and looked out. "Whew! Yeah, I think that one is worth a delay. You go on, I'll get a blanket for you since the soil is still a little muddy."

Mystryl walked outside and took a deep breath. I love the smell of sea air! That is probably the thing I liked the most when Mom and Dad took us to the coast near Meadows. I miss those times.

She was so caught up in reminiscing that she hardly noticed Tristan spreading out a blanket on the ground. He finished and started heading back to the lighthouse door.

"Don't you want to stay for a while? There is plenty of room on this blanket for two, three or even four people." She sat down and patted the blanket next to her.

"All right, for a while anyway. Yeah, I know it's big. My mother used to take my brother, sister and me out here to watch sunsets, and that's the blanket we used. Mom was always making up some silly story to amuse us with. She once told us that the reason the sea glitters during a sunset is because so many pirate ships sank and all the jewels in every treasure chest spilled out and drifted around on the sea floor. When the light hit them, they all shone and glistened. Those times ended all too soon."

Mystryl looked over at him, trying to figure out what he was thinking from the look on his face, but it was expressionless, staring out to the open sea. "Would it be too painful for you to tell me how they died?" she asked him.

"I won't deny that it still hurts, but I don't mind telling you. It was a sickness; I don't know the name. My father caught it first, then my sister. Neither one lasted very long after they got sick. For some reason, my brother and I were spared, though I don't know why. Mom was the last to succumb. She was happy that she would be with Dad soon, but I think she didn't want to leave my brother and me to fend for ourselves. She knew how...unique...my cooking skills were." He smiled at the bittersweet memory.

Neither person spoke. The sky had reached its full brilliance and was filled with vivid colors. A chilly breeze came over the water and Mystryl shivered unconsciously. Tristan moved closer and slipped an arm around her shoulders.

What does he think he's doing? Doesn't he remember that I have to leave in a few days? Why did this have to happen? Mystryl stood up. "Well, dinner's been delayed for long enough, I'd better get back to work," she said hurriedly, and walked quickly back to the house.

When she was out of hearing range, Tristan groaned and looked around for something to bang his head against. A tree, a wall, anything. There was nothing to be found.

To Mystryl, the last few days seemed to last forever, although each day she was given more freedom. Besides, there seemed to be a tension in the air that hadn't been there earlier in the week. At long last, the week was over and that night at supper, she felt she had to say something.

"Tristan, you've been very kind to me and all, but I can't stand being this close to finding my parents and not doing anything about it. Besides that, my wounds are almost completely healed. With your permission I'd like to be on my way."

A muscle on his jaw twitched, and he took a long drink before answering. "You're right about your injuries, so I guess...you can leave. When were you planning to go?"

Mystryl fidgeted and pushed her food around on her plate as the wind howled angrily outside. "Um, this may sound abrupt, but I was thinking right after the dishes are done and I can gather my things."

Tristan's face carried an expression of shock. "But Mysty, there's a bad storm on the way!" he protested. "Surely you don't intend to travel in that mess of weather? What if you come down with pneumonia and get laid up somewhere for another week or two?"

Mystryl tried unsuccessfully to hide a smirk. "First you're my doctor, then my guard, now you're my mother?"

"Fine, if you're so set on risking your life, just go. I won't stop you," he said angrily, conceding defeat.

The storm came up quickly however, and the skies were black before Mystryl could even begin to pack her small store of belongings. She hurriedly finished her small task, and wondered why she was having such a hard time keeping her mind on her packing. Maybe I'm just tired. That must be it.

The tide was in, so the waves came higher than normal. All at once, the ground beneath her feet seemed to heave and she lost her balance. Tristan caught her before she hit the floor.

"Now what did I tell you?" he told her as he tried to steady her again.

"Oh come on, what could possibly...” She stopped abruptly as the ground shook again and took a sharp intake of breath as a crack ran swiftly from floor to ceiling.

Tristan's eyes were glued to the crack as he motioned her out the door. "Mystryl, get out of here. Run as far from the house as you can. Go!" he shouted above the thunder.

"What about you? Surely you don't plan to stay here? You'll be killed!" she shouted back.

"I'm going to get my log book, now hurry!"

Is he losing his mind? If he's hurt... she thought to herself, but she obeyed and ran out into the tempest.

As she waited, wave after wave crashed against the cliff side. She silently pleaded that he would make it out, at the same time wondering why his safety was suddenly so very important to her.

After what seemed to her like an eternity, Tristan's silhouette finally appeared in the doorway. Mystryl breathed a sigh of relief. He waved to her, signaling that he had found the precious volume.

To Mystryl's horror, she heard a sound like an explosion. Time seemed to slow as the magnificent tower began to collapse as a result of the weakened cliff giving way beneath it. Tristan fled as far as he could but was pelted with stone and mortar just at the edge of the destruction.

"NO!!!" Mystryl sprinted over to him and pulled his limp body free from the rocks that held him. She cradled his head in her lap. "Tristan! Wake up!"

She thought frantically to herself, Keep calm, panicking never helps. Oh there has to be something I can do. I can't let him die, not now that I've realized how much he means to me! Wait...there is something!

She closed her eyes and concentrated, then she murmured something from a language long forgotten. A warm, yellow glow entered her eyes, and then surrounded Tristan's battered form, healing him at an incredible speed. His eyes fluttered open.

"What happened? I thought it was all over. Did...did you do this? You said you had power, but I've never heard of the ability to heal."

Mystryl smiled affectionately at him and pushed his reddish blonde hair out of his eyes. She would have answered if she hadn't heard the low mournful sound of a ship's foghorn in the distance. "Can't talk now Tristan. I have to go play lighthouse. Wish me luck!"

Before she rose to leave, Tristan caught her hand. "That and more. Be careful," he told her, with a look that carried a much deeper meaning than his words.

Mystryl left him and cautiously ascended the pile of debris until she had reached the top. In a brief flash of lightning, Tristan could see that she spoke, but couldn't make out the words.

As she spoke, a point of light appeared between her outstretched hands. The point grew larger and larger, and as Mystryl threw back her head from the strain of concentration, a beam of brilliant light shot out into the darkness and began to guide the straying ship to safety.

Mystryl stood atop her perch far into the night. If only I have enough stamina to last me through the night, she thought.

The rain and salt water dashed against her face, but still she stood. Fell winds swirled her golden-brown hair into her eyes, yet the light remained, unwavering. Tristan continued to watch from his vantage-point below.

I can't believe I am seeing something like this! She looks like one of the warriors from the ancient tales.

An hour or two before dawn, Mystryl couldn't take the strain anymore, and the beam began to waver. Tristan sensed something was wrong and struggled up the rubble heap to join her.

"I know you must be about to collapse from fatigue, but you can't stop now, Mysty. There is still another ship scheduled to come this way before dawn."

"But I hardly have any energy left. It's too big a job for just one person." The light was nearly gone. "Wait, maybe I don't have to be the only person. My father passed down my powers to me. Several other Nightshades have also had some limited abilities. Will you try to help me?" she asked. It was a desperate hope, but they were getting more desperate with each passing moment.

"I guess it won't hurt. Show me how,” Tristan replied.

"All right, take my hand and repeat what I say."

It took a while, but with the added support, Mystryl was able to make the beam shine brilliantly again. Now however, it carried a stream of rainbow light spiraling down around the outside of it.

Dawn finally arose and Mystryl half sat, half collapsed next to Tristan. "I hope we don't have to do that ever again. That has to be the most tiring thing I've ever done."

Tristan helped her to her feet. "At least it gave me a chance to be close to you," he said, only half joking.

"To be...why you...you... Ooh!" She folded her arms and turned away crossly.

Tristan turned Mystryl's head back to face him. "Are you that angry with me? Of course that wasn't the reason I joined you. It was to save the crew of that ship."

Mystryl sighed, "No, I'm not angry, even though I probably should be. To tell you the truth...I didn't mind it."

"Good, then maybe you won't kill me for this." He reached out and drew her into his arms, gazing deeply into her eyes, then raised her head to his and placed a gentle, lingering kiss on her lips. After a while, Tristan reluctantly stepped back.

"I...uh...probably shouldn't have done that. It certainly won't make saying good-bye any easier."

"What? You expect me to just up and leave now?" she nearly yelled.

"Easy, Sweetheart. Yes, I still think you should go. I suspect that someday soon, the magic users will have to unite themselves and oppose people like the ones in SIGS. I know that the two that summoned that storm a few weeks back are strong, but we can all use some help from time to time, and you never know when healing might come in handy. Besides, your parents are waiting."

Mystryl was still reluctant. "But...will any one else be waiting?" she asked quietly.

Tristan's eyes twinkled with mischief as he spoke, "Yes I'm sure your brother will be waiting for the three of you." Mystryl glared at him.

"Sorry. Seriously though, there will be someone. You have my word. Remember that when things get difficult, and believe me, they will. Now get moving, girl. You have a long journey ahead of you. Unless of course, you want me to see if I can excavate some porridge..."

They laughed together and embraced again before Mystryl set off down the path leading away from the remains of the lighthouse.

She tried not to, but after a while, Mystryl had to look back. She saw a lone figure, still watching, raise a hand in a last farewell. She returned the gesture and once again turned to her path as two silent tears rolled unchecked down her cheeks.