“To lift the mist,” my aunt had said, “the Shepherd King went deep into the wood to barter once more with the Spirit. When he returned, he penned this,” she’d said, tapping The Old Book of Alders on her lap. “He wrote about the dangers of magic, and how to safeguard oneself in the mist with a charm.” My aunt had paused for effect. “On the final page, the Shepherd King wrote how to destroy the mist.”
