i hear the wicked get no rest, but when you do ---------- i hope you dream of me Each night that Gale spends in Tephra, he has spent with nightmares. They are dark and vicious things, not unlike the beasts that haunted the darkness of the Eclipse. They are dark bodied and bright eyed, and they carry fear and terror and sorrow, pursuing without distinction each and every sentient mind that seeks to rest in the jungle.  (Some of those minds ward him off, and for now he avoids them. Later, he will hunt them down. Later, he will ferret out those immune to his magics.)  Meanwhile he enjoys inflicting the nightmares on the rest of the residents, feeling a flicker of pride as he crafts monsters to haunt the dreams of the Tephran residents. They are not nightmares meant for him They are terrors for others, shadows and blackness and the sensation of something wordless and impossibly loud, telling them to be gone. Almost belly deep in the waterfall, the brindle stallion stands perfectly still. The grey mist that settles across the warm water is darker where he stands; the black tendrils of shadow that are ever at his side melding with the water vapor. Now and then, lightning flickers along his sides, sending fingers of light through the storm-like clouds around him. It is only here, near the heart of Tephra, where the waterfall flows and steam rises in a constant mist,  that the dreams do not enter. When Gale rests here, it is soundly and without dreams, while a blue-eyed osprey (just like those from neighboring Islandres) watches from a kapok tree. The osprey swoops down now, low to the water, and grasp a silvery bass beneath the midnight stars. The sound pulls Gale from his magic, and he glances up at the source of the sound, then along the water’s edge. GALE