He paced through the empty rooms of the great stone castle all that night, his mind in turmoil.

He knew so much, and yet he knew so little.

He had performed wondrous feats of magic, yet could not explain why a blind peasant girl had been able to see when she touched him.

He paused in front of the looking glass that adorned one wall of his chamber, stared at the reflection before him as though it could give him the answers he sought, but he saw only what he had always seen: a tall man, broad of chest and long of limb. His hair fell past his shoulders, long and straight and black save for a narrow streak of gray at his left temple. His eyes changed color with the seasons - cold gray in winter, pale green in spring, deep brown in the fall. This night, they were the warm blue of a summer sky.

She had touched him and seen the world through his eyes. How was that possible? Were he to touch her while in his human form, would the same miracle occur?

He walked slowly through the great stone castle that was his domain. He had lived here alone all his adult life, watching the world change, watching the people in the village below as they went through the endless cycle of life and death.

He had watched Channa Leigh grow from being a plump, pink-cheeked babe, to a long-legged girl, to a beautiful young woman. It seemed he had always watched Channa Leigh, that he had ever been drawn to the beautiful green-eyed girl who now stared at the world through sightless eyes.

He paused in the great hall to stare up at the painting of his parents. His mother was as fair as his father was dark. She had been a pale, slender creature with light brown hair and eyes as blue as a deep mountain lake. His father had been darkness itself - dark of skin and hair and eyes. Dark of soul, some had said. The people of the village had called him the Dragon Lord of Darkfest Keep.

Darkfest left the castle and wandered through the quiet night, bedeviled by questions for which he had no answers, knowing only that should he surrender to the darkness that dwelled deep within him, he would be forever lost, forever damned.

In the days that followed, he tried to put Channa Leigh out of his mind, but it was impossible. Like the ache from an old wound, she came back again and again to torment him. He felt anew the touch of her small, gentle hand on his head, relived her wonder as she saw the world through his eyes. And because he had ever been selfish when it came to satisfying his own wants, a fortnight later he again changed into the guise of a mountain wolf and made his way down the mountainside to the village.

He knew which house was hers, knew in what room she slept. But even had he not known, her warm, familiar scent would have beckoned him as surely as candlelight drew the tiny white moths.

He hesitated a moment, weighing the risk of being discovered against the prize, and then dismissed the danger. He was Darkfest, more than a match for a few lowly peasants.

Her window was open and he leaped effortlessly over the low sill, then padded soundlessly toward her narrow bed. She slept on her side, facing the window, one hand tucked, childlike, beneath her cheek. Her eyes were closed, but he knew them well, wide and innocent beneath delicately shaped brows, as green as the leaves of the pine trees that grew close together along the river. Her rich golden hair fell in a long braid over her shoulder. He lifted the heavy braid with his paw, closed his eyes, and breathed deeply. Her scent filled his nostrils, warmed every nerve.

Would she wake if he dared to lie beside her? It was a temptation he could not resist. Lightly he jumped onto her bed and stretched out beside her, his back to her front. A low growl of satisfaction rambled in his throat as she snuggled against him.

A sigh, soft as a summer breeze, whispered past her lips, ruffling his fur.

Of what do ye dream, my Channa Leigh? he wondered, and closing his eyes, he covered her hand with his paw and let his mind meld with hers...

At first there was only darkness, and then, gradually, the world brightened and he saw her walking along the river-bank, one hand resting on the head of a huge wolf. And she saw the world through his eyes. He experienced her wonder as she watched a gray squirrel run up a tree. She stopped to touch the soft pink petals of a brier rose, stooped to run her hands over the green velvet grass. Now and then she paused and gazed up at the sky, and then she moved on, her head turning slowly from side to side, examining everything she passed - flowers, leaves, rocks, a fat brown caterpillar.

He felt her fingers in his hair as her hand stroked the dream wolf's head. He had thought to change into his true form but decided against it now, afraid she might sense the change and awaken.

In her dream, she sat down in the shade of a flowering oak, and the big wolf stretched out beside her, his head in her lap.

As she stroked the dream wolf, he felt his own body tingle, his skin ripple with pleasure, as though she were caressing him and not the wolf in her dream.

"Isn't the world a wondrous place, my dark one?" she said. "I had forgotten how beautiful it all was." She ran one hand over the grass. "This is green. 'Tis a glorious color.

And the earth. 'Tis brown, like Papa's cow. Oh, and look at the sky. "Its a wondrous shade of blue. As blue as your eyes."

Time passed. An hour, a day... in a dream, time had no meaning, not that it mattered. He had all the time in the world. Man or beast, in this world or in the world of Channa Leigh's dreams, he was content to rest there, by her side, to feel her fingers stroke his fur, to breathe in her scent, to imagine himself as a man at her side, his head cradled in her lap, his lips tasting hers...

As if she knew his thoughts, the dreaming Channa Leigh pressed her fingertips to her lips. "Tell me, dark one, do you think I shall ever find a man to love?" She laughed softly, sadly. "I think Ronin has feelings for me, though he has never spoken them aloud." She breathed a heavy sigh. "But even should he care, what man would want one such as I? "

What man, indeed, he mused. Just lying beside her, watching her sleep, made him ache with a need he had never indulged.

In her dream, the big wolf rolled onto his back.

He sucked in a deep breath, felt his desire stir to vigorous life, as she began to scratch the dream wolf's stomach. In three hundred years, he had never known a woman, never felt such a sharp stab of desire...

A low growl rumbled in his throat as he took his paw from her hand, severing the bond between them. The dream dissolved, like a shadow running from the sun.

Witch woman, he thought. What are ye doing to me?

With a start, he realized she was awake.

"Oh!" Channa Leigh exclaimed. Her fear quickly turned to pleasure as she saw a ray of silvery moonlight filtering through her window, saw the huge wolf stretched out beside her. "What are you doing here?"

He growled softly, then licked her hand.

She shivered with delight at the touch of his tongue, warm and rough against her palm. Sitting up, she glanced around her room, one hand clutching the wolf's fur. There was her chair. Mama had made the cover in shades of blue, because blue had always been Channa Leigh's favorite color. The cross above her bed was delicately carved from dark wood. Black, she thought. The color was black, like the wolf. The quilt on her bed was dark blue; the curtains at the window were white with tiny red flowers. Colors. So many colors. She had learned them early and never forgotten them.

She glanced out the window, her hand still stroking the wolf's coat. There was so much to see. "Would you like to go for a walk?"

As if he understood, the big wolf leaped to the floor, stretched, then moved to her side of the bed, waiting patiently as she stood up and drew on her wrapper. Then, one hand fisted in the long fur at his neck, she tiptoed quietly out of the house lest she wake her parents, who would certainly object to her taking a walk in the moonlight with the wolf.

The night was bright beneath a full lover's moon. Awed by the beauty of it, Channa Leigh walked through the village, stopping at each cottage, each shop. As a child she had been inside most of them, but the memory of how they looked had been lost.

The big wolf paced slowly at her side, stopping when she stopped, sitting patiently while she stared in wonder at the small stained-glass window set high in the wall of the church. Lit by the lamp that burned from within, she recited the colors.

"Red. Blue. Green. Yellow. So beautiful." She paused to study the summer roses that grew alongside the midwife's house, ran her fingertips over the petals. They were soft, so soft.

" 'Tis just as I always dreamed it," she mused as they walked on, leaving the town behind, "and it's all so beautiful."

She paused atop a grassy hill and sat down on a log, her hand stroking the wolf's fur. "Have you a name, I wonder?" She tilted her head to one side, and her braid fell over her shoulder. "What shall I call you, hmm?" She cradled his big head in her hands. "Magick," she decided. "I shall call you Magick, for truly, that is what you are."

He growled softly and licked her hand.

"Like it, do you?" she asked, and her voice was like music in his ears.

He laid his head in her lap, inviting her touch.

"Ah, Magick, isn't it a wonderful world? Look at the stars, shining so brightly. And our village, there, below. See now, there is the house of Lazlo, the baker. He has a son, you know." She sighed softly. "I've not seen his face since I was a small child, of course, but he has a lovely voice. And he has ever been kind to me."

He licked her hand in an effort to draw her thoughts away from the son of Lazlo the baker. He knew the boy. Tall and lanky, with a shock of wheat-blond hair and guileless brown eyes. It startled him to realize he was jealous of her affection for that callow youth.

"Papa says there is a pool up here. Shall we find it?"

She stood up, and he stood beside her. He knew where the pool was. When she had a firm hold on his fur, he led her farther up the hill.

"Are you sure 'tis this way?" Channa Leigh asked. She spoke to him as if was the most natural thing in the world, as if she expected a reply.

A low rumble in his throat was her answer.

And then, as they topped the rise, she saw the pool, shining like a crystal placed in a bed of green velvet The surface of the pool shone like a mirror, reflecting the light of the moon and stars.

"Oh, Magick," she murmured, "have you ever seen anything so beautiful in all your life?"

And the big wolf, looking at the wonder in her face, the radiance in her eyes, knew he had not.

He stood before the hearth, gazing into the flames. The fire was his to command. It had no power over him; he could walk through it unharmed, call it forth from darkness. He could command the wind, call lightning from the sky. His powers were many and awesome to behold, yet in

Channa Leigh's presence he had felt weak, defenseless, as vulnerable as a suckling babe. They had walked until dawn came to steal the darkness, and then he had taken her back home and seen her safely tucked into bed.

Channa Leigh. Leaving her had made him ache deep inside, as if some vital part of his being had been cut away and left behind.

He raised his hands and a small ball of fire leaped from the center of the hearth into his cupped palms.

"I am Darkfest," he said, his voice echoing like thunder off the stone walls that surrounded him. "Master of fire and flame. Show me the woman, Channa Leigh by name."

The fire danced in his hands, became a shimmering sheet of flame, and there, like starlight reflected on the face of a still pool, he saw Channa Leigh's image.

She sat at a rough-hewn table in her small kitchen, singing as she peeled potatoes and dropped them into a pot of water. He watched and listened, mesmerized by the sound of her voice, the quiet beauty of her face, the soft womanly curves evident beneath her coarse clothing. He had a sudden urge to see her clad in silks and satins, with gems the color of her eyes at her throat and ropes of diamonds woven into the golden strands of her hair.

"Mama," she said, "do you think the wolf will ever come back?"

"I dinna know, child," her mother replied. "Perhaps we could send Ronin to hunt for it."

Hope brightened Channa Leigh's face; then, with a sigh, she shook her head. "No. The beast would surely die in captivity. Sure and it would be cruel to keep it caged."

"But, child, if we could capture the beast, and tame it, think what it would mean to you."

"No, Mama... it wouldna be right. Besides, Ronin would probably kill it, don't you know, for the wolf has a fine pelt that would surely bring a good price..."

"Flame, begone." He could look at her no longer, could not see the yearning in her face, hear the resignation in her voice. Nor did he understand such sweetness, such tenderness, that would make a blind girl choose to remain blind rather than keep a wild beast against his will.

Using all his considerable self-control, he banished her from his mind, determined to think of her no more.

For three hundred years he had lived alone, complacent in his solitude, content with his magic. He would not let one evening in a woman's presence shatter his hard-won tranquillity.

He would not.