The search did not take long. The windy path that leads out of the gardengates mayhap once-upon-a-time struck through a lush greenery, yet all that remains are trees felled bare and naked bushes. The grass is charred and dead leaves are wildly strewn about. The deafening silence is chilling – almost hostile – to the sounds of footsteps; there is no wind, and the ashflakes and popping mists are left back at the battlegrounds. One could think a crow or two might pass overhead in accompaniment to this desolate scene and yet there are none, which somehow makes it all the eerier. In the midst of this bleakness, a sitting figure all dressed in gold from head to toe while fashioning a white parasol is easily clear to any eye.

Although cautious as he approaches the figure so as to not startle her, the knight allows his presence to be known by not hiding the sound of his arrival. In front of her is a thin bonfire burning neatly up to the height of his shoulders, seemingly conjured with magic. Brought to awareness, the figure dips the parasol to the back of her head and looks up at him with a greeting smile.

“Hail, my good knight, won’t you remove your helm?” She gestures to a fallen log across from her. “Please take a seat. Night is falling, let us rest through it here. I have much to tell you, as much as you are so wishing to hear.” With gleaming golden eyes and locks of gold falling in curls down to her waist, all that keeps her from being a living golden flash is her fair human skin and the white parasol she is holding.

The knight stays standing, piecing together the familiar yet alien sight before him. He remembers the words of Lady Dream, but what past could he possibly share with a goddess? Yet the sense of recognition lingers. It is her presence that he finds uncannily reminiscent, he decides.

“Ah, introductions. Of course. I am Iacy, Lady Luck and Goddess Of The Blue Moon. You are here on my sister’s behest, yes? She must have already informed you of the necessities. Oh, won’t you remove your helm? I have with me some provisions, and bottles of ale to dampen the heat of what you just went through. Please be comfortable, you will need to be so to listen to my story.”

Finally returning to his senses, the knight goes down onto one knee with his hand on his heart.

“Please, there is no need for such…Ah, very well then. Knight Diastre, I bless you with myself, and I grant you the solace of blue moons ahead.” The goddess falls silent for a moment before giggling lightly. “Are you satisfied? Now rise and with me partake in bread and ale. Come.” She extends to him an armlong flourfold, still soft and warmly steaming as if just out of the oven.

The knight lifts the helm from his head and places it by the log before taking his seat, the hot bun in hand. He gives the goddess a thankful nod and takes a bite, his hunger now properly felt. Almost immediately, however, he is choked by his dry throat.

“Quickly now.” She passes him a bottle of bright red ale and watches him gulp half of it down, smiling with an expression of solemn relief. “Hm, then, I shall begin where you might presently be most interested in. A long two centuries ago, I descended to the mortal realm to punish a merchant. He had only just made an excellent trade.” Her smile creeps wider. “I was stubborn; I thought that he should appreciate me with a tribute of sorts, because he didn’t. Long short, I became stuck here, and slowly and surely he became a very dear friend and companion to me. But alas, he was mortal, and in time I had to part with him. After he left, I returned to the heavens. It’s a pretty story.”

His curiosity piqued and attention grappled, he stays in his thoughts, a bite or two away from finishing his bun.

The goddess allows the silence to lengthen, and only when the knight’s eyes meet again with hers does she continue: “I trust that you see where this is going.” She takes a deep breath. “You are a Memento, one of the Mementos Of Time’s Moments. I did not wish for it, but you must understand that I cannot pass up such an opportunity. Will you take me as a companion on your journey? I can be of much assistance in your any endeavour, this I wholeheartedly promise.”

In her eyes glisten a gentle eagerness that would not accept refusal. After all, who is he to decline the wishes of a goddess? He shall be her escort, her guard, her sword and shield.

She claps her hands tight. “Then please, from now on, call me Iacy. May we have pleasant travels together.”