In me present world, the world of the Four Lands and the Races that had evolved out of the chaos and destruction of the Great Wars, that time was all but forgotten. There were animals to be seen as well, both large and small, creatures whose evolution could be traced back to that distant time when all f-ings lived in harmony and psace. Forsythia clustered just beyond, dogwood and cherry farther back, fuchsia and hibiscus, rhododendrons and dahlias, beds of iris, azaleas, daffodils, roses, and a hundred other varieties of flowers and flowering plants that were always in bloom, a profusion of colors that stretched away into the distance until lost from sight.
His fingers reached out to brush the crimson petals of the cyclamen that grew thick about his feet. And all the while, the King of the Silver River thought, the Shadowen grow stronger. Everywhere the creatures who lived upon the land sickened and died as well, unable to sustain themselves as the nourishment they relied upon grew poisoned. Everywhere the land sickened and died, rich black earth turning to dust, grassy plains withering, forests becoming huge stands of deadwood, and lakes and rivers either stagnating or drying away. What he saw left him sad and discouraged. He King of the Silver River stood at the edge of the Gardens that had been his domain since the dawn of ' the age of faerie and iooked out over the world of mortal men.
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