Reaver looked around and found himself floating in a dark purple mist. He knew exactly where he was. It was the dream again...the one that had plagued his existence for over 300 years. The mist set him down softly before a small cottage, with heather and lilac growing along the outside. He could practically smell the sweet scent of flowers mixing with the earthy smells of Oakvale. He waltzed right up to the cottage and took a look inside. There was a young woman, and a small boy who was stubbornly refusing to wake up. Reaver smiled as he recognized the youth. Reaver fought back the tears.