They call me Red Riding Hood. I had another name, though, before my story was twisted. Before you heard the tales of a little girl who needed rescuing from wild wolves by brave woodsmen. How quickly that lie spread. Far and wide, of a wolf stalking a helpless child. Of a woodsman saving the day, brave and kind. They feared the truth, knowing it would mean what it did. That a lone girl could protect her own, red hood on her back, her trusty axe in her hand. Woodsman! How lies have fed your fame. How dare they make you the hero when you were the one to blame! There were wolves and axes, alright, but the details are all mixed up. The axe was mine; the valour was mine. You see, before I was known as Red Riding Hood, they called me “The Girl with the Wolf Eyes”.

I was to be queen, the throne was rightfully mine. Until the king and his court cast me out as a child, afraid of the power within me. A power he could not possess, could not control. I wandered lost for weeks, and just at the edge of despair, the Lady of the Forest took me under her care. She taught me control, how to wield my power. To quieten a storm, tame a fire, and even make it snow in summer. Soon, I was ready to take back my throne, but seven tasks lay ahead before I was home. So, seven kingdoms did I liberate, seven kingdoms of old, each ruled by a tyrant whose power was dwarfed by my own. But great power can sometimes take a toll, and we all need a reminder, sometimes big, sometimes small. So one final thing she taught me - before the Lady of the Forest let me go. And that is why, anytime I need counsel, you can hear me call - to that “Mirror, mirror, on the wall”.

I am a traveller, a vagabond, a wanderer. I have stories to tell of worlds I have seen; that will stretch your imagination beyond the wildest of dreams. Of door mice and pumpkins as large as an ox; of palaces, of princes, and even of a slipper I once lost. But my travels are treacherous, my destinations unknown, for Time is my coachman, his arrival beyond my control. You see, I am trapped in a temporal whirl, and as the clock strikes midnight, I could be off to another world. And so I make the most of every day in each land, for after all, I’m just a plaything in Fortune’s hand.

Visuals for this image inspired by the surreal work of Brooke Shaden.

The Evernight is coming. As sure as the wind blows cold, the Evernight advances on our land. And so, she sends them to me. The Weaver to Dreams sends me every soul seeking passage and refuge from the dark of the Evernight. So to one I gave a gift over Time, to ride where it would lead her. To another, magic to defeat tyrants, she still calls on me through her Mirror. To a third I taught, the art of the axe, to pair with her wolf-eyed nature; and these are but, a few of the souls I've guided and helped crossover. For though my stature maybe tiny - smaller than a thumb - my power is a force colossal. I am one of few, the Lady of the Forest, I prepare them for the Evernight's arrival.

A desert kingdom. A tale of deceit. An age of struggle and of men who crave power exclusively. This is my reality, granted to me by the Weaver of Dreams. To survive this quandary, I needed a guide, so I sought her out to train at her side. And what she taught me was profound, an ancient secret revealed, the Lady of the Forest allowed me a glimpse into what was to be. You see, you may have heard of Arabian nights, but those concocted tales had me portrayed as a child. So listen to what’s true, to this story of mine - there are no flying carpets, nor genies of any kind. There is only Magic, and the woman skillful enough to wield it. I am Channeler, Healer, Spellbinder, Seer - pursued by viziers and urchins alike. I am Prophetess, Enchantress, the most powerful in the land. I am, the Sorceress of the sands.

I am queen of the deep, Eurybia’s daughter, my golden voice held sway beneath the shimmering waters. My dominion was absolute and my subjects spanned, three times and more of those living on land. But the Sand Dweller folk sought control of my domain, and they plotted and schemed to bring me to shame. With dark magic they stole my golden voice, and left me hoarse, what before was pure melody, they rendered harsh noise. Then I remembered the tales, from the lips of the Traveller, of a Lady so tiny yet a conduit for colossal power. So I trained as she asked and over time I regained, a fraction of what I’d lost, but that whisper restored my reign. I am still queen of the deep, Eurybia’s daughter, but I have another name now - the Viridian Whisperer.

The Evernight is coming. As sure as the wind blows cold, the Evernight advances on this land. But the cosmos will provide a deliverer. An oracle with visions to remake all of creation. And though her story will be lost to the mists of time, she will come not to heal, but with a purpose most high. To tear apart reality like a veil that lies, to darken the sun and turn the world itself inside out. And five heralds will she choose, five daughters of men, to prepare for the future of her unfettered reign. She will be foremost among least, she will be hidden, unseen. She will awaken all of creation from its slumber diseased. She will be, the Weaver of Dreams.

- The Seventh Prophecy (an excerpt from the forgotten epic, The Weaver of Dreams)