You are on vacation in London. As you pass a little antique shop, your eye is caught by an ivory pendant hanging from a beautifully crafted gold chain. Escaping from the noise and traffic, you enter. The shop is dark and musty inside. A little man with a long beard smiles at you from behind the counter. A telephone rings from a room behind a drawn curtain. Excusing himself, the man tells you to feel free to browse. On the counter before you is a strange book. It is very old, and the gold lettering on the cover is almost worn off. You can barely make out the ancient word, METHWYR. You pick up the book. Gazing at its yellowed pages, you are drawn into the old engravings. To your amazement, the odd letters form words you understand. As you read, childhood memories and thoughts long forgotten pour back into your consciousness. You feel someone calling to you from beyond time. All you know is that she is in pain, held captive. Then you feel yourself falling into a swirling tunnel of light. Deeper and deeper you fall.
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