The sun was rising as Taleka made the long flight up to the highest home carved from the face of the cliffs of Alsais. Generations of Alsaians had carved out a thriving city out of the mountain. The cliff face was densely planted with a vertical garden so that the facades of the buildings seemed to almost be growing. Each facade was different, some were simple, merely doors and windows. Others were elaborate with carvings and pillars.

The highest facade was shaped of granite in a soft pinkish-red, the entryway flowed from the sheer cliff face and made sinuous almost flame-like shapes. Carefully tended flowers, a brilliant blue, almost formed a pattern over the shaped stone. The landing area was walled on two sides by a delicate, iron filigreed railing. No door barred the entryway, no door barred any of the entryways in Alsais. Taleka landed gracefully on the smooth stone, her bare feet making only the slightest sound. Her wings folded even as her feet touched the ground, large black edged blue wings similar to those of a butterfly only stronger and much much larger.

She stood for a moment, looking out over the desert sands toward the rising sun, letting the first rays caress her dark skin. The exhaustion was readable in her yellow-brown eyes as she studied the vast stretch sand.

From behind Teleka came a reedy voice, “Were you planning on entering, child, or merely lingering in the doorway?”

Squaring her shoulders, Tekela heaved a sigh. “Coming, Grandmother.” She called out as she entered the cool, shaded, dwelling.

The old woman gave a contented sigh as the younger entered. She sat, nestled in a small pile of pillows and blankets in the light cast by one of the windows on the outer wall. “It does my soul good to see you this morning, Teleka.”

Even Teleka’s smile was tired, “I am glad to greet the sun with you once more.”

Grandmother hummed deep in her throat. “I do not suspect there will be many more for me, child.”

“Don’t talk like that, Grandmother.”

“When have I ever spoken anything but the truth? The threads of my life grow short. It is best to recognize such things and make use of what time we have left. Come, there is much yet to teach you before your threads are joined to mine.”

“Are we not going to talk about what happened last night?”

The old woman snorted, her wrinkled face making a wide grin that did not reach her deep, brown eyes. “In order to understand the Weave, you must learn to recognize the warp and weft of the patterns that came before.”

“Grandmother. The Weave-”

The old woman rose to her feet, faded red and black wings fluttering behind her for balance. “Oh child, you want answers so fast, you want to work so quickly to fix everything. You have not yet learned the balance of all things, the give and the take of the Weave. I haven’t much time before we must join your threads to mine that the Weaver’s pattern can continue.”

“But, Grandmother, you have taught me of the balance. I understand that.”

Again, Grandmother snorted. “Oh, child, would that you could understand the true nature of it merely from being taught.” She sighed deeply as she walked toward the entrance to her dwelling. “Bring me the Teller and her apprentice. Tell her that the time has come.”