A/N: As far as I know, the Dragovian Lord doesn't have a name in the game, so I chose the name Tatsuya.

And here he thought people could only find him once in a lifetime. Ishmahri sighed and sank down onto his stool, flexing his aching fingers. After centuries of seeing maybe one or two visitors per year, business had really picked up. The word must be out, he thought as he stared glumly at his calloused fingertips.

Last full moon he had had two visitors, but this time, he had had four already-- and the night wasn't even over yet. The first had been a princess, the same one who'd been stuck as a horse for all those months. Ishmahri had been pleased to see that she'd regained her human form.

"Please," she'd said once she walked up the path that led to the dais where he waited. She'd clasped her hands together and gazed up at him sweetly. "I know it is selfish of me to ask for anything, for I have been blessed so greatly. The terrible curse upon my father and myself has been lifted, and I have finally been wed to my true love. Yet. . . there is one more thing I wish."

"And what is that, my dear?" Ishmahri had asked.

"I. . . I wish that my husband and I would be blessed with a child," the princess had whispered.

Well, that was an easy one. Ishmahri barely had to turn his thought waves towards her to see that she was already with child; he had been able to feel the life-force of two souls emanating from her. He'd plucked on his harp a few minutes to bring to life the memory of a baby she had seen once; as she fawned over it, Ishmahri promised that her wish would indeed come to pass.

Still, it wasn't going to come true because of him. What most people didn't realize was that Ishmahri's powers were limited. He could neither predict nor give visions of the future, or really do much of anything other than bring to temporary life memories of the past. As the princess left wistfully, Ishmahri had felt like something of a cheat for letting her believe that her wish was going to come to pass due to her visit to the Moonshadow Realm.

His next visitor had been another woman, older and considerably less modest than the princess. Ishmahri had taken one look at her scanty crimson attire, then pointedly refused to look any lower than her shoulders for the rest of her visit.

"I want treasure," she'd demanded. "Lots uvvit!"

"Treasure. Right," Ishmahri had sighed. Pity that the majority of the visitors intrepid enough to find him were the ones who only wanted material wealth. However, when he'd peeked into the woman's mind to discern just what type of treasure she wanted-- likely jewels, he guessed-- he found something surprising.

Well, two things, actually. For one, she already had plenty of treasure, most of it ill-gotten. But more interestingly, she was in love. Ishmahri had to hide a smile as he glimpsed the tender affection this tough woman felt for her decidedly unhandsome business partner.

Ishmahri had played his harp again, this time making visible the memories of all the treasure his guest had found over the years. The woman gasped and knelt down in a pile of coins and jewels, sifting them through her fingers.

"Izzit. . . izzit real?" she'd asked. Before he could answer, she'd frowned and picked up a nearby sword.

"Wait! This. . . this is me own sword!"

"All of it is yours already, my child," Ishmahri had told her gently. "Some of it you've spent or squandered, but you possessed it all at one point or another." As she looked up at him, puzzled, he went on, "Don't you think it is time you started securing another kind of treasure-- one that will truly make you happy?"

"But-- money does make me 'appy. A' course it does." She got up, scowling with her mouth, though her eyes were thoughtful. "Ya batty elf. Fine, if ya won't 'elp me, I'll get it meself!" Her demeanor was almost enough to convince him that she really was only interested in money, but the slightly sentimental wave of thought he felt from her as she left said otherwise.

Ishmahri's third visitor had been a man for a change. He had scowled as he trod the pathway up to the dais. Ishmahri had studied him as he approached; the rather tattered clothing he was wearing marked him as a Templar, yet he wore no ring to confirm this status. When he reached the dais, he had glared up at Ishmahri with exhausted, challenging eyes, unspeaking.

"Yes?" Ishmahri had asked, drifting towards him a bit. "What is your wish?"

"Peace," the man had all but snarled. "I wish to be at peace. They say you can grant any wish-- but I don't believe even you can grant me that."

"Hmm." Ishmahri had looked into his hard eyes for a moment, then mentally approached his thoughts. The pain he found there was far greater than what his eyes conveyed, and it took all of Ishmahri's strength not to physically recoil from the man. The visitor had led a tortured life, had done terrible things-- but he did truly repent of them. There was that.

"Only you can grant yourself the peace you seek," Ishmahri told him softly. "But perhaps my harp can start you on that journey." He began to play gently, trusting the Moonshadow Harp to select the memories that would most soothe the man. As he played, a handsome platinum-haired boy appeared, brought to life from the other's memories.

"Angelo?" the visitor snapped. "Why do you show me him? He's the cause of my troubles."

"Then perhaps," Ishmahri whispered, "he is also the first step to their end."

The visitor took a step towards the vision, who smiled at him and reached out a hand.

"Marcello," the dream-Angelo said warmly. Ishmahri watched with interest, knowing that the vision was responding to Marcello's subconscious thoughts and wishes.

"You're not real," Marcello spat, though he moved to stand beside the vision none-the-less. It did not reply at first; apparently the visitor's mind was unsure whether it wanted the vision to speak or not.

It needs to speak, Ishmahri thought. His own delicate lips formed words, but they were spoken by Angelo.

"I am as real as you need me to be. If there is something you wish to say but cannot speak to him-- say it to me."

Marcello's mouth worked as he stared at the vision who looked innocently back at him, then he clutched its hand with a force that probably would have hurt a real person.

"I'm sorry," the visitor snarled in a tone purposefully harsh to hide his emotion. "I never want to see you again, but dammit, I'm sorry."

This time Ishmahri did not have to make the vision speak; Marcello's subconscious did it for him. Angelo's eyes widened with pain and his mouth trembled.

"My whole life, you never wanted to see me. But I wanted to be with you! No matter how you treated me, I still loved you, Marcello!" the vision whispered.

Well, this is interesting, thought Ishmahri. He wondered what the real Angelo would have to say about that, but it was what Marcello wanted to hear. Marcello's hands were now resting on the vision's shoulders, trembling. Suddenly he drew the younger man to him in a tight, almost violent embrace.

"I love you too," Marcello hissed through clenched teeth. "Damn me to hell, I love you too." He drew back for an instant, then crushed the vision's mouth to his.

Oh, Goddess. Ishmahri felt his cheeks color, and he looked away discreetly. He wondered briefly how the two knew each other-- there was a slight resemblance between them that unnerved him-- but he didn't look into Marcello's mind to find out. He had a feeling he didn't really want to know.

When he looked again, Marcello was shoving Angelo away from him. Ishmahri stilled his fingers, and the vision faded as his harp fell silent. The visitor stood turned away from him, shoulders hunched and heaving as if he were seething with anger. But the words he muttered to Ishmahri were "Thank you." He stalked away without looking back; apparently, he had gotten his wish.

The fourth visitor of the evening, another women, had arrived almost immediately after Marcello left though she came from a completely different location on the corporeal world. What had surprised Ishmahri was that she had been to the Moonshadow Realm twice before. So much for the once in a lifetime rule.

"Uh, hi. Again." The woman, whose name Ishmahri remembered was Jessica, had looked at him with her chin held high, bright eyes fixed on his.

He had inclined his head toward her politely. "How may I help you, child?"

Jessica cocked her fiery head to one side, pigtails bobbing, and looked him up and down. "Do you just sit up here waiting around for people to show up and ask you for stuff?" she asked abruptly.

"Well. . . I do have other pursuits between the full moons," Ishmahri replied after a moment of surprised hesitation.

She started walking around him in a circle. "Are you married, or do you have a girlfriend?"

"N-no, neither." He turned his head, trying to keep his eyes on her. "I'm quite alone here."

"So what do you do all the time?" she cried.

"Well, my music occupies most of my time. . . ." Ishmahri quit trying to follow her with his eyes; it was making him dizzy. "Um, did you need something, or--"

"All that's been bugging me ever since we met you!" Jessica blurted out, finally stopping her pacing and folding her arms across her rather well-endowed chest. "I'm glad to have it cleared up."

". . . quite all right," Ishmahri said lamely.

"I do have a wish though." She dropped her arms. "I. . . I know now that you only grant wishes through memories, but this is something a memory can give me."

"Yes, my little one?" He regretted his choice of endearment immediately; she was far from little, particularly in certain aspects. I need to retire the clichés anyway, he thought.

She didn't seem to have noticed. "I would like to see my brother, Alistair, one last time. I. . . I have seen his death, but now I want to see him as he was when he was alive. Just to speak with him-- one more time--" Her voice wavered, and she broke off, obviously determined not to cry in front of him.

"That is certainly a wish I can grant." He smiled at her tenderly, relieved to have another easy, innocent one. He didn't think he could have handled another Marcello.

As Ishmahri began to play his harp, the music penetrated Jessica's memories and drew forth an image of her brother. He was a handsome young man clad in armor, strong but with a kind smile.

"Alistair!" Jessica cried as she ran into his embrace. "I know you're not real-- but I don't care. I'm so glad to see you!"

"My little sister." He hugged her tightly. "I am real as long as your memory of me remains."

She looked up at him with an unusually tender smile on her sharp face. "Then you'll be real for as long as I live-- and then I'll join you, wherever you are." She hugged the vision again. "I'll have so much to tell you!"

Watching them reminded Ishmahri of his own sister Raya, who lived in Tryan Gully. He had not seen her in nigh on a hundred years. Perhaps I'll visit her after this full moon, he thought with a little smile. I suppose I should do more than compose music alone, after all.

"Goodbye, Alistair," Jessica was whispering. She touched his cheek, then stepped away from him slowly. "All right, Ishmahri. You can stop playing now."

"Goodbye, little sister," the vision murmured as it faded and the harp's music ceased.

"Thank you." Jessica turned to Ishmahri and impulsively clutched his hand as she gave him a slightly watery smile. "That's all I needed."

"Y-you're welcome." Ishmahri couldn't remember the last time anyone had touched him; that small, human hand warmed his heart as none of the visions he conjured could. Jessica turned and descended from his dais slowly, hands clasped behind her as she returned to her own world.

And now he was finally left alone. Ishmahri tilted his head back, feeling his long blue hair cascade off his shoulders and brush the floor. It seemed significant that all four of his visitors had sought out human contact as their deepest wish, even if two of them would deny it. The love of a child, a lover, a brother-- this was what they wished for.

And love is one thing I cannot grant them, he thought. I can only show them that they already possess it.

Then he heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Goddess, another one? Ishmahri slowly raised his head and stood, ready to trot out the usual "my child" greeting, but the words died in his throat.

No diminutive epithet would suit the man who was now making his way up the moon-phase path to the dais. Without going anywhere near his thoughts, Ishmahri could feel power washing off of him in waves. From a distance and to a human, he might have been thought an elf, but Ishmahri knew instantly that he was a Dragovian in his humanoid form-- the larger, ridged and violet-tinged ears gave his race away. Long, very straight blonde hair hung down his back almost to the waist of his rather gaudy-colored, hot pink tunic.

"Greetings," Ishmahri said faintly when the man drew near to the dais. The Dragovian raised his head and gazed up at Ishmahri with eyes that proved to be turquoise blue when he was closer. Once he mounted the dais, he was taller than Ishmahri, who was then the one to look up to meet his gaze.

"You are the one who can grant any wish?" the Dragovian asked.

Ishmahri nodded slightly. "My name is Ishmahri."

"I am Tatsuya, Lord of the Dragovians."

"Oh!" Ishmahri was amazed; he had heard of this man, who was possibly the most powerful being in the world. "And you come to me? Surely there is nothing you wish that I could grant. . . ."

"So is the legend a lie then?" The corner of the man's elegant mouth twitched in a little smile. "You cannot grant any wish?"

Ishmahri felt himself return the smile automatically. "I'm afraid you're right, though I have selfishly allowed most humans to believe that I can do anything."

"Ah, but I am not human. Please, tell me the truth."

Ishmahri lowered his eyes. "My magic is tied to memories. When I play my harp, I can bring to life any memory a person-- or an inanimate object for that matter-- possesses. The memory can be touched, or even interacted with to some degree. However, the memory will live for only as long as my harp sounds, then it will fade. Therefore, I can grant some wishes-- allow someone to see a lost loved one again, for instance. But I cannot grant any wish."

"Then you cannot grant mine."

Ishmahri looked up at him again, wondering what such a powerful man could possibly desire yet could not take for himself. "I'm sorry if you came all this way in vain."

"Oh no, not in vain." Tatsuya smiled fully then, brilliantly. "Already the knowledge you have shared with me has made it worth the trip. Merely getting to meet you would have been worth it."

"Me?" Ishmahri felt his cheeks burn as much as when he had seen Marcello kiss his vision.

"Yes, of course. I've never before met anyone who possessed your magic. . . nor who lived in a place such as this." Tatsuya gestured at Ishmahri's dwelling. "And I have met very, very few elves-- none at all such as you. Would it be too much to ask for you to show me more your realm, before I depart?"

"No, not at all!" Ishmahri carefully placed his harp on its stand, then turned back to his guest. "No one has ever expressed an interest in seeing my home before. They merely ask for their wishes, then depart."

"What a pity," Tatsuya said as they walked outside of Ishmahri's small gazebo. He tilted his head back to look at the moons hanging above them, revealing a perfectly-formed profile. "This place is beautiful. My valley is so dry and desolate. . . beautiful in its own way of course, but not like this."

"You are born of the sun," Ishmahri murmured, tracing with his eyes the long golden hair, "and I was born of the moon."

"Yes." Tatsuya half turned his still-tilted head to glance at him with a little smile. "We might still be friends though." He raised his eyes to the moons once more. "My heart was too long closed against races other than my own. I learned my lesson far too painfully for me to ever forget it."

"Were you. . . against elves then?"

"No, humans." Tatsuya straightened and looked around at the vast, star-spattered blackness around them. "One of our race fell in love with a human, and I. . . had a part in separating them. Both died as a result of my actions." His handsome face contorted

slightly in pain. "My whole race would have died if not for their union. After that, I learned to let love grow where its seeds fell."

"But surely that wasn't the first time a Dragovian had loved outside of your race," Ishmahri mused.

"As far as I know, it was-- and I've been around for a long time," Tatsuya said softly.

"Have you ever visited Tryan Gully?" Ishmahri asked impulsively. When Tatsuya shook his head, Ishmahri went on, "My sister lives there. It is a settlement of elves, monsters, and humans-- and all live together peacefully. I haven't been there myself in ages, but perhaps you would enjoy visiting it too."

"I cannot leave my own settlement at this time," Tatsuya replied. "In fact, departing for even a few hours this evening was risky, but I. . . I felt that I couldn't wait another month."

"I see." Ishmahri looked down, until Tatsuya touched his arm.

"But maybe someday. . . you would take me there?"

Ishmahri looked at the hand on his arm, then up at the Dragovian's face. "I. . . yes, I will."

Back inside the gazebo, Ishmahri showed his guest his instruments. "Do you have need of food, or sleep?" Tatsuya asked rather humorously. "This seems a small place to spend all of your time."

"I have no need of food while I am here," Ishmahri replied, "for I receive my energy from the Realm itself. If I stay in your dimension for any length of time however, I must eat. And yes, I do need sleep as much as anyone else. I have sleeping quarters nearby."

"Do you get lonely?" The Dragovian's question reminded Ishmahri of Jessica's earlier grilling, but he felt compelled to respond more honestly.

"Yes, often. When I play or compose music, I forget loneliness for a time. But when I'm waiting for sleep. . . yes." He looked thoughtfully at his harp on its stand. "Although lately I've gotten many more visitors than I used to. I've been so exhausted after each full moon that I'm grateful for the peace for a week at least."

"I'm sorry," Tatsuya said abruptly, "I never even thought that you must be tired. I'll leave you and--"

"No!" Ishmahri turned to him swiftly, then blushed at his own rudeness. "I didn't mean-- I wasn't talking about you. Please, don't leave." Tatsuya looked down at him with a slightly confused expression, and Ishmahri stammered in explanation, "You still have not told me your wish. Please, even if you think I cannot grant it, I may be able to help."

"All right." The Dragovian turned away from him and paced to the edge of the gazebo to look out at the darkness. "I have been thinking often of the couple I told you of and wondering at the strength of the emotion that could have caused them to suffer so much. My wish is to experience that for myself-- to know love."

". . . oh." Ishmahri closed his eyes and felt for Tatsuya's thoughts. Approaching them was a bit frightening; he could strongly feel the force of the Dragovian's power. Fortunately,

Ishmahri was able to learn the information he sought without getting very close: Tatsuya had never been in love, and there were no memories from which the harp could draw to kindle that emotion in his breast.

"You were right; I cannot grant that wish," Ishmahri admitted softly. "I can show you the love of others as you witnessed it in the past, but I cannot create a lover for you."

Tatsuya turned back to him once more. "I do not wish to see others." He smiled faintly. "I knew before I came here that it was likely a futile wish, but I had to try, you know."

Ishmahri thought of the humans who had visited him earlier. Jessica and the princess were so young, Marcello little older. Even the lady bandit was far younger than the Dragovian, who was as ancient and virtually unaging as Ishmahri himself. Yet all of them knew love, whether familial or sensual, where Tatsuya did not. Even I have Raya, Ishmahri thought. He has no one.

"I'm sorry," he said to Tatsuya, meaning it.

"No, I should be the one apologizing," the Dragovian insisted. "I wasted your time on a useless wish."

"It's not useless. And you didn't waste my time." Ishmahri made himself smile, though his heart was sad. "I enjoyed holding an intelligent conversation for once. And maybe if you have another wish someday, you could. . . come back."

"I thought a person could only visit this place once in his lifetime."

"It isn't true. One girl who came tonight had been here twice before." Ishmahri took an impulsive step forward. "You may come back as often as you wish."

"But only on the full moon?" Tatsuya asked.

"Yes." Ishmahri looked down. "You can leave at any time of the month, but even I may only find the door to this realm during the full moon."

"Then I will come back someday. Perhaps when I find another wish." The Dragovian moved back to Ishmahri and touched his hand as Jessica had done. Ishmahri's eyes widened slightly as he looked down at the now much larger hand against his.

"Maybe you could still help me," Tatsuya murmured. "I thought that when I came here, you would conjure some perfect lover for me. A single kiss would have sufficed, if your magic could only simulate the feeling of love in me."

"No magic can do that," Ishmahri repeated.

"No-- but you could still grant me the kiss."

Ishmahri raised his eyes to Tatsuya's blue ones in shock. "You mean. . . me? But if you just want a kiss, I could 'conjure,' as you put it, any person at all from your memories, and you could--"

Tatsuya put his free hand to Ishmahri's face, laying it alongside his jaw. "I don't want to kiss anyone from my memory. I want to kiss you." His eyes moved over the stunned Ishmahri's face. ". . . Did you know that your ears turn pink when you blush?"

"My ears?" Ishmahri hadn't known, which only made him blush all the harder. The Dragovian brought his other hand to Ishmahri's face, cupping them both against the elf's jaws as he bent his head slightly.

"Please?"

Ishmahri was trembling, but he tilted his head up in assent. He closed his eyes as Tatsuya further bent his own head, then touched his lips to Ishmahri's. It was not the violent, self-loathing kiss Marcello had inflicted on the vision of Angelo, but a caress of infinite gentleness. When he felt Tatsuya's mouth leave his, Ishmahri involuntarily tilted his head further up, trying to preserve the contact. He heard Tatsuya draw in his breath, then felt the Dragovian's mouth return to his.

This time Ishmahri parted his lips beneath Tatsuya's, bringing his hands up to clutch the other man's arms. The Dragovian opened his own mouth, and Ishmahri felt the man's tongue caress his lower lip before probing his mouth. The sense of power and energy contained in Tatsuya's body and conveyed in the motion of his tongue in Ishmahri's mouth was nearly overwhelming, overwhelming and intoxicating. Despite his own considerable power, Ishmahri knew he would be completely helpless if the Dragovian Lord turned on him. But instead, Tatsuya was sharing his strength with him, letting him taste it as he darted his own tongue into the other man's mouth.

But I don't care about his power, Ishmahri thought. I just want him. . . .

Finally, though, he made himself pull his lips from the Dragovian's. He was sure that if he didn't stop kissing Tatsuya then, he wouldn't be able to stop at all.

"I. . . I hope that was at least part of what you sought," Ishmahri stammered. "I cannot grant your wish, but--"

Tatsuya let him go, though he held Ishmahri's blue eyes with his own gaze for an instant longer. "Oh, but you did." He turned away and descended from the gazebo, murmuring, "Goodbye, Ishmahri."

"Goodbye. . . ." Ishmahri drifted to the edge of his dwelling and watched the Dragovian walk back towards the gateway into his own world. Ishmahri felt like his heart was being pulled from his chest with every step Tatsuya took away from him.

I'll never see him again, Ishmahri thought desperately. And he won't even look back. . . . But as he reached the doorway, Tatsuya did look back at him. He rested one hand on the doorway, but the other was clenched against his thigh.

"Do you really want me to come back, when I have another wish?" he called across the short distance between them.

"Yes," Ishmahri said in a voice he had to fight to control. "Please."

"Then I'll see you again." Tatsuya paused, smiled. "Maybe next month."

When he was gone through the door, Ishmahri looked up at the sky automatically to check the time. The night of the full moon was over, based on the position of the shifting moons Ishmahri could see.

He can't come back now, he thought, not for another month. And he probably won't ever come back. He tried to make himself believe it, tried to quell the hope that was already rising in his heart. But he couldn't.

Ishmahri walked slowly to his nearby sleeping quarters, another gazebo-like structure but with solid walls. After he had undressed and gotten into his bed-- a high, elegant affair with a canopy and satin sheets-- he closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

Please come back to me, Ishmahri thought, and I'll grant you any wish you desire.

To be continued