"What happened?"
"The Order happened," the gorgon says, and I cannot tell whether her tone is one of anger or relief.
"Hadn't the Order always existed?"
"In a fashion. They were one of the tribes. Priestesses. Healers, mystics, seers. They ferried spirits across to the world beyond. They were the master makers of illusion. Their power was always great, but it grew stronger over time. It was rumored that they had found the source of all magic inside the realms."
"The Temple?"
"Yesss," comes the gorgon's slithery reply. "The Temple. It was said the Order drank of its waters, and thus the magic became part of them. It lived in them, getting stronger with each generation. Now, they had more power than anyone else. What they did not like they sought to correct. They began to limit the creatures' visits to your world. No one could enter without their permission."
"Is that when they built the runes?"
"No," the gorgon replies."That was their revenge."
"I don't understand." "Several creatures from every tribe banded together. They resented the power the Order held over them. They did not want to ask permission. One day, they struck back. As several of the Order's young initiates played in the garden, they caught them unaware, carrying them off to the Winterlands, where they slaughtered them all. And that was when the creatures discovered a horrible secret."
My mouth has gone dry with the tale."What secret was that?"
"The sacrifice of another granted enormous power."
Water rushes under us in a whoosh-whooshing, carrying us forward.
"In their rage and grief, the Order built the runes as a seal on the magic. They closed the border between worlds so that only they could enter. Whatever remained on either side of the border remained imprisoned there forever."
I think of the marble columns of Spence, the creatures caught in stone there.
"It remained thus for many years. Until one of your own betrayed the Order."
"Circe," I say.
"Yesss. She offered a sacrifice and gave power to the dark spirits of the Winterlands once more. The more spirits they brought to their side, the more powerful they became, the more the seal of the runes began to weaken."
"So that is why I was able to shatter them?" I ask.
"Perhaps." The gorgon's answer is like a sigh. "Perhaps, Most High.''