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I would have hardly that your name was as absurd as ‘Beast of Briarburn’, Beast of Briarburn.”
    The Beast stared at the plate of bones, fidgeting with its edge. No one could know what it felt like to be bereft of name. To exist but to be less than real.
    Madam Urda reached over the table and placed a wrinkled hand on the Beast’s paw, stilling the nervous tic. She leaned further still until they were nearly nose to nose. The cloudy whites of her eyes flashed in the firelight.
    “A name is only a name, my friend. Nothing more. It is our action, or indeed our inaction, that defines who we are... Defines our legacy. Instead of chasing a name you seem to have misplaced, why not pursue a name you have earned?”
    “I do not believe--”
    “Of course you do not believe! And why should you? You’ve believed in nothing since the day you awakened in the wood alone and unable to find your way back to a home you cannot remember.”
    “How did you...” The Beast shrugged a defeated shoulder. It was true. One learned quickly in the wild to rely on no one and believe in less.
    Urda extended an empty palm. A crystal’s tint turned pinkish and glided to her hand. The orb hovered, awaiting the unspoken. Urda’s voice fell to less than a whisper.
    “There are many magicks in the world, my boy. Seeing in the crystals is amongst the eldest of disciplines, as old as Star Seeing .”
    So delicate was Urda’s whisper that the Beast did not realize he was perched nearly halfway over the table. His hackles jumped at an unsettling combination of nagging intrigue and apprehension. A little voice in the back of his mind chanted a familiar mantra: Cursed was magic no matter its name.
    “The crystals share with those so privileged the stories of the past and promises of the future. They are both written record and guiding cartograph. They... can pull back the veil.”
    The Beast hesitated, but only for a moment. His curiosity was unrelenting.
    “Veil?”
    “The veil of memory,” Urda replied with a coy smile. “You need only have the courage to let them look within.”
    The Beast’s head tilted slightly and a furry eyebrow was snagged up by an invisible hook.
    “Yes, yes, I know. You fear nothing. My boy, it’s been this old hag’s experience that those who claim to fear nothing tend to fear deeply something very real. I wonder if you are that sort.”
    The Beast’s eyebrow fell back into place and his jaw squared. “Only one way to find out.”
    “Ah, splendid then!” Urda tapped the floating crystal up and clapped her hands like an excited child receiving a gift. “Let’s have a look.”
    The crystal sauntered to the Beast’s nose and began to spin. Its shining facets churned through the spectrum before finally selecting a shade matching the Beast’s amber eyes. Satisfied, the crystal moved into orbit around the Beast’s head. It moved slowly, taking a full minute to complete each turn.
    “This is ridiculous,” the Beast grumbled under his breath.
    “Patience, my boy, patience. Any magic quick to impress is almost certainly an illusion.”
    “Fine, but my patience is already worn thinner than my cloak.”
    Urda chuckled and waved her hand towards the Beast. The remaining crystals shot across the table, joining their yellowish sibling, adopting shades of identical amber. The crystals crisscrossed paths as they accelerated, forging three golden halos that crowned a feral prince.
    The Beast’s stomach churned and threatened revolt.
    “Worry not. That feeling will pass. Always happens the first time.” Urda snickered, remembering her own first trial with the crystalline halo.
    “There won’t be a second,” the Beast groaned.
    The room joined the crystals in a wobbling spin of its own. The Beast’s vision grayed at the edges. Across the table, Urda’s smile held fast. Had the old woman tricked me? His stomach lurched and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. He fell through the floor and into the blackness