Samara Mistress of Dark Mist stood at the topmost tower of her keep and watched the knight approach. For but a second she entertained the thought of instructing the gate keeper to shut the portoculis closed, but she had given her word and her word was a sacred thing. She drew her cloak close and descended with something akin to fear in her great heart. As the knight and his riders bowed before her, Samara felt the weft of fate changing. She lifted her grey gaze and found him pleasing. He was life wrought and truth soothed! Samara was an old soul and she didnot see a space to change neither weft nor way of him, she merely observed him. She bid him welcome to the kingdom and at the welcome feast she sat at her customary place aceeding him the seat to her left: the seat reserved for her lord.

She listened and spoke, she laughed often and gloried in his answering smile. As she rose, he handed her his sword, Samara felt something stir inside her. She who had handfasted marriages for so many of her friends, was she fated to have her own story. Samara offered him, the hospitality of the great castle, and bade him welcome in all quaters but the topmost tower. If the Knight felt her words strange he showed neither sign now sigil of it. He merely took his leave and left Samara to hopeful dreams under a spangled sky. The next days passed in a slow waltz of knowing, of showing and revealing as Samara and the knight danced around the idea of themselves as one. Every soul in the great keep thrilled to see their mistress smile and hear her laugh. Then one morning the Knight said to Samara: ' perhaps a lighter cloak would be more becoming?'

And Samara wanting to draw his smile abandoned the dark cloak of custom for the colours of spring. Then a few more days and the Knight said to Samara: perhaps the great sword is not a weapon for a lady to wear? And Samara wanting to keep his eye left her ceremonial blade in the tower. Soon his requests became daily, and whilst Samara would give him the stars out the night skies should he desire them, She soon wondered if there was aught in her face, character or spirit that the Knight loved. For he was ever after her faults, tallying and prescribing them, until one day he asked: Samara I would see the top most room of the highest tower.

Samara looked upon the knight she was slowly coming to love and she turned the lock on the door. Inside the room under delicate glass and wrought in delicate silks was the magical heart of Darkmist, knotted and wrapped in the mysteries of time, Samara's heart for without it, she and her land would wither and die. She lifted the cover and for the first time, she gave her beating exquisite aching heart into the care of the Knight. The Knight gazed at it for but a second, then his eyes fell upon the other treasure piled about the tower, and the Knight asked: Samara you speak of love yet you would not share this treasure with me?' So saying he put down the heart and hefted the jewels strewn about the room. Samara glanced at him, and she noted the fine fine cracks forming on the heart of Darkmist. Here he was her Knight, the one she chose. Samara called for her men and asked them to fill saddle bags with gold and make ready for the Knight to go.

Samara turned to him and she said: 'I let you walk in the halls of my fathers and share in the warmth of my mothers blessings, I nurtured dreams and hopes for your greatness above mine own. I who shunned the company of men, would have given you the comfort of my skin and the legacy of a son. I would offer my soul in your place and tonight I give you my heart, yet you do not see! You seek to unmake me and not to delight in what I am.'

So saying her tears icy on her cheeks, Samara turned from him and from the very tower where she had watched him come with hope dancing in her heart, she watched him leave.                       

The Knight sought for years after to return to Darkmist, to seek Samara's counsel yet try as he may, he could never find his way back. One cold night at the edge of a dark wood, where he was sure Darkmist had once stood, he saw a small woman tending a fire. He hailed her and she bid him welcome. As they shared a meal in the misty cold, talk turned to Darkmist.

 And the sad eyed woman looked to place where the Knight was sure Darkmist stood: 'it is a dark tale, my lord They say some careless boy broke the Lady's heart into a million pieces and she could no longer live in the mortal realm.'

 The Knight knew the careless boy! 'Can she never return?'.     

'Without her heart, she is but a shadow thing, she will never come again'.                                    

The Knight felt tears on his cheeks as the old woman looked to the night sky.                

 'They say her voice is heard of the night of waning moons, they say she sings of pain and hurt'.                                                

 The Knight closed his eyes and waited for the sound of Samara's voice but alas she never sang to him.