But Galahad knew that the vision was true and would not be dissuaded, so he packed up his armor, arms, paraphernalia, and journal and headed out in search of the swan that would be the salvation of the land and its people.

The dead wastes were slow in passing, treacherous and arduous. Many times did Galahad have to pull himself out of a bog. But all this did not dishearten him, for he was hanging onto the vision of the swan of his dreams. And though he had not met this swan, he knew as sure as he had a soul, that she was the key to his happiness and the salvation of the land.

As Galahad crested the edge of the wastes, finally entering the cursed land, he was spied by an unkindness of ravens who stormed into the dark sky and circled him. They circled him as if to draw some attention to him, to mark his spot. But after a few hours they abandoned their game and went to rest on the withered trees of the dark forest. But still the obsidian eyes of the ravens watched Galahad as he strove forward.

In the far-flung village of Draub, Galahad found his first night of relative comfort since starting his journey. He told the villagers of the vision he’d had and the folk were heartened knowing that one of the Knights of Old was once again acting on their behalf. Understanding the Knights’ quest they put him in the best room they had, that of the Mayor himself and fed him a feast of one whole chicken and some herbed potatoes. Galahad accepted these tokens of kindness with all the humility he could muster, for though it was the best they could offer it was meager in the extreme.

While Galahad was dreaming again of the Swan, the window to his bedchamber shattered and in flew three of the ravens that were watching earlier that day. Galahad, awake, unsheathed his sword and confronted the fowl birds.

One by one the ravens turned into caricatures of three wizards. The first one had arms like a tree, the next was clanky like some smithy had used scrap metal to make it, and the third was but a wisp in the shape of a man.

The wizards decreed that on the behest of the King, that Sir Galahad was to turn back and leave all hope behind of ever reclaiming the land. They explained that the swan of his dreams was in fact a fallen dove and now nothing more than a squab for his Majesty’s’ dinner plate and that has been the fate of the fallen ray of hope. Indeed, the King of Woe has consumed the hope that Galahad was searching for and thus he should turn back now or face the full might of the Ruler of Ruin.

Heartened, Galahad roared with laughter, for if this were the case, why would the Despot of Dispair even bother to challenge him, why not just let him run his futile course and thus crush his hope completely. This was a new ray of hope and Galahad waved his sword and banished the wizards from his sight, uplifted that the Majesty of Malady was concerning himself with one lone knight.