The Isle of bliss is shrouded in mists, which seduce and intoxicate the weary traveler. .
its heady perfume like thick mossy rains, delicious and overwhelming at once.

Nestled around the fortification of the Sapphire Castle and its magnificent gardens lie a moat entirely filled with the ethereal mists.  Fathom less, haunting as you approach it, its expanse wide, gapped only by  a single, thin and precarious drawbridge.  Like steam rising from a kettle, it flits through the cracks of the ancient looking timber and steel, the trade winds of the island making it creak against its moorings.

Deep below, a shadow lurks, the protector. . . the guardian. . . who's master lays within, and rests peacefully as his beloved dream weaver is on watch.  Yes, my friends, a dream weaver, a rare and exotic creature, made of the mists of time and the stuff of dreams.  Long and sinewy with gracious wings floating ethereal through the moat of mist. . . .

It is Mortimer, the dream weaver come to halt you.

"Ssssso traveler," speaks a hissed and graveled voice, "you've come to ssssee the King?  Woe be he to ssstep upon the bridge who wishesss the enchanter harm.  Look deep into the misssts that flow, and despair within the bottomlessss pith of doom.  Dare you ssset foot on my bridge who meansss to do peril to him, sssshall fall within, and I will sssswallow you whole into a hell of eternal nightmare".

Halted at that bridge's edge, as bidden gaze into the depths.  Swirled and fluid, soft and delightful it seems, so becoming and welcoming you to its pleasures.  A step, a foot lifted and set upon that bridge...... and though you today step firm upon wood, others wake realizing, they have stepped over the edge of the cliffs to the sea.

Mortimer knows what lay in your heart, for he has been in your dreams, watching..... waiting....... until the day you came to call upon the Sorcerer King.  Eyes of a color no mortal can describe watch the traveler cross, ever vigilant and protective of his patron.  A wicked and harsh laugh low in its breast.

"You wish to learn about Azeauro?" he chides in that graveled ancient tone, "Look all you will but ssseek his courtesan Jezelle, ssshe will find him.  Heed my warning, ssstay you far from the most southern tower, never go there lest you have a taste for your eyes burnt out.  Ssstay you from the garden of the Ssssilver Queen, no one is permitted, no one is permitted".....

Abruptly his back arches, and he disappears into the mists, leaving a plume of white velveteen clouds wafting high into the air in his wake.  The enormous doors of the castle quietly creak open, allowing a traveler to enter.