The youthful heir of the Malfoy estate crouched forlornly on the forest floor. A thick fog encircled him, taking away all light too see by; all he knew was the sleepy scent of lavender that hung in the air. The damp fog clung to his bare arms and brow, as if the clouds had descended upon him.

“Good day, my blond and blue-eyed kin. My name is Duke of Damisin.”

The young heir jumped as the warm whisper tickled his ear. He reached a hand up to waft the whisperer away but only a snicker he got in return.

“Where are you?” Draco whispered, turning his head this way and that. He could see nothing through the haze; his efforts were fruitless, and so resigned he scowled in the direction of the snickering fiend.

“If your reason for being is what you seek, follow my voice and the mist will deplete.”

“Follow you where?” he growled. “I can’t see you, and I don’t much feel like being dragged down to some cave in the forest where you’ll have me for lunch!”

“If your reason for being is what you seek, follow my voice and the mist will deplete,” was all he got in return.

Draco sighed. He had no choice but to follow whatever creature it was; if he didn’t he’d probably be stuck in this fog for eternity. With great care the young wizard began to stand. His joints cracked from being stationary too long, but he paid them no heed. A stick in his hand served as a crutch. He used it to spot rabbit holes and stray branches that stood in his way. As he followed the laughter the mist began to lift, and soon he found himself alone in front of an ivy curtain.

He glanced around nervously, wondering if he had imagined the voice in his panic, for no owner was to be seen. Hostile trees closed in, and shadows cast by the rising sun darkened the foreboding place. Claw like branches reached out towards him with their spindly fingers grasping at his skin. Bushes of thorns promised dangers lurking within. Even the flowers seemed sickly and frail. Nervous, he backed himself up against the curtain, noticing fondly that the leaves of the drapes were light and welcoming, as were the dresses of angels that adorned the plant. Lifting his finger he traced the petal of one, and smiled at the silken texture of the flower. Taken by the beauty of the plant he soon forgot about the dark, twisted forest at his back.

He dropped his finger from the blossom and smiled as a songbird began to sing. It was a beautiful song: sad yet joyful infused into one. The notes danced in his mind, urging him to push the ivy aside and find the owner of such a sweet sound. His hand lifted of its own accord and gently brushed back the ivy just enough for a looking space. The sight that awaited him was one that would stay with him for the rest of his life.

High upon the branch of a plum tree a beautiful bird sat. It was the size of an eagle, and would look like one too, if not for the long, straight feathers that covered its body: buttery yellow like the light of the sun. Its black, shiny beak was held wide open as it whistled the most exquisite song Draco had ever heard. He knew now what the bird in his sights was; it was a rare creature spoken of only in old folk laws. It was a Vevila. They were said to be the musicians of the air, loving creatures that played the joys of freedom long-lost to mankind.

Another movement caught his attention, and so reluctantly he tore his eyes away from the magnificent creature and down to where something even more exquisite was dancing. Within the clearing, upon a carpet of white clovers, the most beautiful girl Draco had ever laid eyes on was frolicking. She was leaping and prancing, then twirling and laughing amidst the trees and the bushes. Her laugher was light and musical, and in her hands she held a daffodil flute that she lifted to her lips between her cheers to play a song of wonder.

Her hair of liquid gold spread out behind her, flickering in the breeze. The curled tips of it caused his fingers to itch in want. He wished to touch it, to feel it, to know if it would burn him, or welcome and warm him. Spell bound, he watched it whip around her. He saw as it danced about her rounded face, sliding over her carefree smile.

He leaned closer, wanting to go to her, wanting to dance with her in the sun. A silk saffron scarf lay loosely across her generous breast, the only thing securing them from view. It ran down her body, shimmering as she moved, and hung diagonally down her long legs coming to a point at one side, leaving the other leg in view. As she turned, the silken scarf spun with her body, giving hints as to what lay beneath but never giving way.

Her hands rose up in an arc above her head as she twirled, and the light caught the ring that sat upon her finger--a golden band of two entwined leaves framing a pristine Cat’s Eye gemstone. It seemed new, as though it wasn’t always there. The vision of it was faint and it flickered in and out of view as she moved. At the top of her arm a band of wood curved around her skin, fitting perfectly like it had been grown for her alone.

Draco sighed as the vision of beauty and perfection danced; the longing to join in began to overwhelm him. Only the knowledge of his flaws kept him in his dark forest cell.
She skipped and jumped, laughing as she came face to face with the Vivila. She lifted a hand and ran it down the smooth, soft coat of the songbird, and then she began to sing. Her voice was soft and welcoming. She sang each note clearly, and her voice entranced and delighted him. He needed to go to her, to dance with her, sing with her if he could. And yet he held back, for what was he but a fool in the dark? How could he taint her beauty?

“Walk on water, and dance through trees,
Whistles upon the gentle breeze,
The caressing hands that embrace life,
Freedom sings: release your strife,
Dance with me now, sway to my tune;
Spring in the meadow,
It’s a new born fawn,
Chirping swallows,
Dart through the lawn,
Dewdrops at morning,
As they glisten on the grass,
And smile of a babe,
And its very first laugh,
Don’t let the world fall silent; let it bloom,
Sing, sway, smile and swoon,
Sing the song of the Air
And the Air sings a song,
Sing the song of the Air,
Sing all day long.”

As her song came to an end she stopped twirling and with a cheerful grin she turned to face him. The music stopped playing. The sun drew cold. The magic of the clearing evaporated. As her hazel eyes, flickered with gold, locked with his grey; her carefree smile turned to horror. Fear and loathing contorted her face.

“Do you know now why you hold a spear in your hand, of what you and your master once had planned? Freedom she is; it is her you hate; you hold in your hand her inevitable fate. Look at your arm. Look into your eyes. You’ll never be happy until the innocent dies.”

The whisper in his ear returned, this time bringing with it a distant memory and a feeling of dread. He looked over to his arm, to the stick he had used as a crutch. On the top, a silver spearhead sat. Its tip was coated in sticky red blood. Not the first he had killed, he mused with regret. Then, as the voice said, he let his eyes travel to his arm. A skull and a serpent were burned upon his flesh. He shivered at the sight; revulsion filled him and nausea began to overcome him. The fog crept in again, slowly at first until once again he couldn’t see. The girl faded out of sight. Her wide, fearful eyes were the last thing he saw.

When the fog cleared again he found himself staring up at long green velvet curtains. A large black duvet was wrapped loosely around his body and below him the comfort of his mattress told him he was home. The reality of the dream settled in, the words of the song played with all rational thought. Jumping up with a beating heart, he yanked his arm from beneath his covers and scrutinised his pale flesh for any sign of a blemish. Nothing was there. No eyes of a serpent, no famished skull.

All of a sudden a thought struck Draco, and he once again raised his forearm to his eyes. Once again he saw only unblemished skin, but since when was that his wish? When had he gone from looking at the dark mark with awe, wonder and unwavering faith, to staring at it in horror and disgust?