The journey itself to the Valley of Dore was quite long and arduous on foot. The winding terrain and dense forests left Dunstan quite tired. Yet he kept his mind on Una and his hope of completing all the impossible tasks.

As the sun began to set, he stopped to rest beneath the sheltering boughs of a tree. Weary from the long expedition, he pulled threadbare coat tighter around himself, trying to ward off the bitter cold. Closing his eyes, Dunstan drifted into a deep slumber. His mind was open to the world of dreams. As the cover of night began to shroud the land, the stars emerged in their shimmering glory.

True to Una's word, the celestial voices spoke to him in hushed, melodious tones, weaving a tapestry of their wisdom and warning within his dreams.

"Listen well, brave mortal, to our words of old," the stars whispered. "For it is us the secrets we hold."

Through their ethereal voices, they showed Dunstan all the knowledge and skill he needed to accomplish the first impossible task. Yet they showed a foreboding vision of what awaited him at the valley. Their ethereal voices coalesced into shimmering visions, painting images of the treacherous path that lay ahead.

"In the Valley of Dore,'tis a land where fortune favors only the bold. Beware, brave mortal, for this vale is a wicked place where its siren song promises riches untold. It ensnares avaricious souls and the unworthy reap what they sow. To complete your task, it requires no skill—magical or craftsmanship. Drive your heart's sheer determination and passion into your labor. Take care not to let it falter. Lest you answer to the reaper."

Dunstan awoke with a start when he had seen the visions in his dream. Gathering up his strength and his things, he travelled onward to his destination to prepare himself to face the challenges that awaited him.

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At dawn's first light, the Valley of Dore came into his view. The vale was bathed in a golden glow from the rising sun. His eyes widened in awe at the breathtaking sight. It was true to what the stars had shown him in his dreams: the glistening golden fields that stretched as far as the eye could see, shimmering like gold and moved like liquid in the gentle breeze. Venturing through the fields, he let his fingertips caress the stalks, which felt smoother than silk. His touch seemed to evoke ethereal, seductive whispers that spoke of riches and wealth beyond his wildest dreams.

Dunstan found it really difficult to resist the seductive allure, given he had grown up a poor farm boy. The seductive promises seemed to weave themselves into the very fabric of the valley, stirring a desire within him. A longing to having all the wealth, power and glory filled his being.

Yet remembering the solemn warning from the stars of the perils that lurked in the valley, he steeled himself against the pull of temptation with a determined grit. His mind was set on freeing Una. His love for her was worth more than all the gold in this valley.

His gaze swept the landscape until he came upon a clearing in the heart of the fields. It was a haunting tableau that appeared to be frozen in time and an eerie hush fell upon the land. Abandoned tools, spinning wheels, spindles with unfinished spun gold lay scattered among the forgotten possessions. Surveying the area, his gaze fell upon the straw figures that stood in a strange imitation of human forms. A shiver rippled down his spine at the macabre stillness of this place.

Upon closer inspection, he was horrified to discover these figures were no straw effigies. As he beheld the frozen faces of the straw figures, their features cast shadows of vague expressions of frozen terror. At their feet were shredded remains of clothing and shoes along with bundles of straw and unfinished spun gold at their feet.

My God! Dunstan thought as the chilling realization dawned on him. These were once men!

As per the stars' warnings in his dreams, these mortals had succumbed to temptation: they had been lured by the siren song's false promises of riches, corrupted by the greed in their hearts, then punished for their deeds. Their haunting screams echoed softly in the air in a haunting chorus that spoke of their fate when they fell prey to their own avarice.

A dreadful sight met his eyes as crows perched on the hapless figures. They pecked at the straw, desecrating their bodies. Some had lost their limbs, others were missing their heads. Those that lost their legs had toppled over. The birds' caws mocked their fate. It was a grim spectacle that stood as a testament to the dire consequences of falling to the siren song of the valley.

This sight alone resonated through Dunstan's very being, sending shivers up his spine. With Una's guidance and the warning from the stars, Dunstan kept his vow in his mind. He had every intention of resisting this alluring trap that the valley intended to ensnare him. For Una's freedom. For True Love.

Gathering the straw for what he needed to make seven spools, Dunstan summoned his courage to complete his task. Sitting at a spinning wheel, he began the painstaking task of spinning the straw into gold. Taking a deep breath, he let his thoughts focus on his passion: his love for Una. His determination to free her from her enslavement from her cruel mistress.

Driven by his Heart's Desire, he pressed his foot pressed the treadle and the drive wheel began to spin; the sounds of creaking, clicking, and whirring filled his ears. As he fed the straw through the orifice, all his thoughts focused on Una and her freedom, every ounce of his sheer determination to see to it that he upheld his vow to her.

As his fingers deftly spun the straw, his gaze fell upon the miraculous transformation of the plain straw into the purest gold, a testament to his unwavering resolve. A sense of wonder and awe washed over him as he beheld the gleaming threads.

However, in the midst of his awe, Dunstan couldn't shake the feeling that there was an unseen presence. He sensed that something was watching him to see what he would do.

Remembering the stars' caution about faltering, he focused only on his work. With each click and whirr of the spinning wheel, the seductive whispers of the gold began to tempt and tease him with promises of wealth. Yet Dunstan steeled himself, his focus unwavering as he kept his thoughts only on his True Love. Of Una. Of his vow to free her.

The siren song of the gold grew more persistent in rhythm of the spinning wheel; its seductive hushed voices attempted to sway him. The young man remained steadfast, focusing only completing his task. He would not be swayed by the temptations of riches. For Una's love was worth more than all the gold in the world.

As the first glimmers of dawn painted the sky, at Dunstan's feet lay seven spools of spun gold. Sore and exhausted, yet Dunstan felt proud of his accomplishment. He had completed the first task. His heart swelled with a sense of triumph and renewed hope, knowing this was only the beginning of his journey to freeing Una. One step closer.

Gathering up a sack he had found among the abandoned possessions, he was stunned by the weight of each spool as he packed them up. Assuring himself that this was no different than the farm labor back at Wall, he was determined to show the witch proof of completing the task.

However when he attempted to lift the sack of spun gold, he was taken aback by the surprising weight. It proved to be heavier than he anticipated. With every ounce of effort, he strained to lift the sack. The leaden weight was immense, burdening him with each step. The task of carrying it out of the valley became so cumbersome that he was forced to drag it with every ounce of his strength. Grunting and exerting with effort, the poor lad was drenched in sweat; his strength was beginning to wane.

Once he had reached the border of the Valley, he stopped to rest. His energy was sapped, sweat soaked his clothes and his hair stuck to his forehead. His body ached and his hands throbbed from the effort of dragging the heavy load. The thought of dragging this leaden sack of spun gold all the way to the witch's caravan in what little time he had left him feeling disheartened.

"It's no use," he lamented. " I'll never get there at this pace."

Sitting at the base of a tree, his heart ached with the thought of failing Una; the image of her enslaved by the witch flooded his mind. Tears began to well up in his eyes. How could he save his True Love when he had to carry this heavy burden by the next sunset.

In the midst of his mournful thoughts, sudden rustling and a cacophony of roars and shrieks pierced the silence, startling the lad. The sounds seemed to be that of a lion and an eagle*, but whatever caused this seemed to be a terrifying beast. Frightened, Dunstan approached with trepidation as he concealed himself in the bushes. A few feet away he spied a magnificent griffin ensnared in a bramble bush. It thrashed its powerful form, letting out roars and shrieks of desperation, fear and pain. Its entangled wings beat while digging its claws into the ground in a futile attempt to free itself.

Dunstan had only heard of only tales of the mythical creature in Wall. Seeing this poor beast trapped stirred pity and compassion in the young man's heart. Slowly he approached the griffin like one would approach a nervous horse, careful not to frighten it.

The griffin stopped momentarily, panting and exhausted from the struggle. Its ears pricked up when it heard footsteps approaching. Its golden eyes regarded the mortal with panic. It roared and shrieked in fear, straining to get away from the stranger. Dunstan flinched from the piercing noises, but he had to calm it down. He could not back down in the face of fear. The pain-filled noises tugged at Dunstan's heart, reminding him of his own struggles of this impossible task.

"Shhh," Dunstan spoke softly, holding up a hand. "It's alright. Calm down. I won't harm you."

As the griffin heard the mortal speak to it, it cocked its head as if it sensed his compassion. Dunstan kept his steps slow and his voice soft as any sudden movement could agitate it more. Once he was in reach, he studied the brambles to decide what vines needed to be cut in order to free it. Tearing a section of his coat to protect his hands, he dug into his pocket to retrieve his pocket knife. When the blade glinted menacingly in the moonlight, it frightened the beast more.

"Shhh," Dunstan said. "I'm not going to hurt you. Just stay still. I'll get you out. I swear it."

Gripping a thorny vine, he began the delicate task of cutting away the brambles that ensnared the griffin. The beast's movements were frantic: its magnificent wings flapped slightly, the claws scraped the earth and its tail twitched. Yet Dunstan kept at his task, focusing on freeing the griffin.

Once he had cleared the vines, the beast shook its body, fluffing its feathers and preening itself, removing the last of the prickers. Its golden gaze softened as it regarded the mortal who had freed it. With a soft purr, it nuzzled the kind mortal who had freed it.

Chuckling nervously, Dunstan tentatively stroked its beak and the golden brown feathers. He trembled at the sight of its sharp talons and the lion's tail flicking behind it. He marveled at the creature's gentle purr, so unexpected from something so legendary. It was a soothing sound, reminiscent of a contended cat.

"I'm glad to have helped you," he said smiling. "I wish you could help me. I have to drag this heavy sack of gold back to a witch."

The griffin seemed to understand Dunstan's plight, padding over with regal grace to where the sackcloth bag was lying nearby. With one swift motion, the griffin picked up the heavy load effortlessly in its beak. The lad was filled with awe and wonder as he beheld this sight.

As Dunstan travelled with his new companion, he spoke to it as if he were having a conversation with a friend. He told the griffin about his quest to free his True Love from her enslavement by a wicked witch. He regaled his trials in the Valley of Dore, resisting its temptations and learning the secret to spinning straw into gold from the guidance of the stars.

Eventually evening descended upon the land, casting a gentle twilight glow over the land. Dunstan glanced over at his companion, announcing they should stop for a while as the witch's caravan was not far from their journey. As the weary travelers settled down, the griffin allowed Dunstan to sleep next to it. The creature protected its new mortal friend with its majestic wings from the cold night air. Its warm body radiated like a feather bed that Dunstan had longed to sleep in many cold winter nights.

As Dunstan drifted into a peaceful sleep, the stars spoke to him a warning in hushed voices. They wove a tapestry of what dangers lied ahead.

"Beware, brave mortal, for the witch's cunning knows no bounds. For she will seek the answers of your task. Her meal laced with limbus grass, it will steal the truth from your lips. Only true love may provide you safe passage from the herb's grasp."

Dunstan awoke with a start, startling the griffin. He apologized for scaring it. With a heavy heart, he bid farewell to his loyal companion, thanking it with a tender caress.

"Sorry, my friend," Dunstan said. "I must deliver this on my own. Thank you for what you've done. I hope our paths will cross someday."

The griffin nuzzled Dunstan one last time before he took up the bag of golden thread, dragging it to witch's caravan.

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The witch sat by a flickering fire, cooking her dinner for tonight. She had hoped this first impossible task would have sent the foolish mortal boy off to his doom in order to get rid of him. There was no way she'd ever give up her slave. The mortal boy was a fool to accept such Herculean tasks. He'd never complete them.

It was then she heard the sounds of grunting and straining and an object dragging. Narrowing her eyes, she was surprised by the young man's return. Dunstan was ready to collapse, soaked from the sweat and exhausted from the labor of his toil. Putting on a false smile, she regarded the sack that Dunstan had brought.

"You're back," the witch said, a sly smile playing on her lips.

"Yes," Dunstan said panting. "I've brought you what you've asked."

The lad made one last effort to drag the sack of leaden spun gold at the witch's feet. She examined the craftsmanship of the first impossible task she had given him. She regarded Dunstan with suspicion. How could a mortal have accomplished such a task? This could not be! It was impossible! She just smiled as she examined his work, holding up the spun spool of gold. For now, she'd bide her time and find out the truth of how he managed to complete this task.

"Well done, lad," she said. "Come. Share a meal with me."

Remembering the stars' warnings, Dunstan deftly steered the conversation. He was aware that the witch would steal the truth from his lips if he partook in her meal. He had to use cunning to win her game.

"I wish to see Una first," Dunstan said. "It would mean the world to her if she knew I had safely returned."

"Very well," the witch responded with a wicked glint in her eye. "It's the least I can do for doing such daunting task, boy."

With a snap of her fingers, the blue bird perched on her caravan soon transformed into the beautiful human form of his True Love in a swirl of blue smoke. Upon seeing Dunstan, Una was overwhelmed with joy. She hoped that he would return from his first daunting task, fearing he had been led to his doom. Tears of joy and relief streamed down Una's cheeks as she embraced the man who vowed to free her.

"You've returned, Dunstan!" she exclaimed joyfully.

"That I have," he said, cupping her wet cheeks and brushing her tears away.

As they embraced, he whispered in her ear what the stars had told him. Now that Una knew every trick her mistress had done since becoming a slave, she became resourceful in her ways of surviving.

"Tell my mistress you need to wash up," Una whispered. "I'll find you an herb that will surely protect you."

"You two done?" the witch demanded impatiently.

The two lovers separated, their moment of bliss was shattered. Una lowered her head at her mistress' sharp demand.

"I should wash up before I partake in a meal, madam," Dunstan said.

"Of course," the witch said. Turning to her slave, she clapped her hands sharply. "Fetch some water. And don't be dallying."

"I can fetch it," Dunstan offered. "I don't mind."

The witch regarded the mortal with a raised eyebrow. It was rather amusing to see a mortal boy running around doing slave work. She supposed he'd make a fine slave. While she couldn't afford to keep the lovers together, she'd consider selling him off to another witch or perhaps another shady person who'd pay a handsome price for him. He seemed like the type of lad who would be able to do heavy burdens.

"Very well," she said. "Slattern, set up a chair for our guest."

"Tea, madam?" Una offered.

"Of course." Then glared at the slave girl. "Offer the boy some tea as well!"

Dipping low, Una turned towards Dunstan, knowing full well that their plan was going in their direction. She played her role as a slave well, knowing in her mind that she would prepare a tea that would surely protect Dunstan from the effects of limbus grass.

"Tea for you, sir?" she asked with deference.

"Yes, please," he said. Then turned to the witch, "Where do you keep your bucket to fetch water."

The witch gestured to her caravan with her head, continuing to roast some creature that looked strangely like a skinned cat or something. Dunstan knew he had to play a role in deceiving the witch since Una's freedom was in a delicate balance. She searched her mistress' cupboards for her herbs and plants that she kept until she found a vial with a dried flower in it, wrapping it in a tea ball.

"Whisperbloom," she said in a hushed voice. "You can drink it in your tea. Just remember to drink the tea first before you take a bite of any food."

Dunstan nodded as he gathered up the bucket and headed to the nearby stream to fetch water. He could only imagine Una having to do such tasks as she'd been enslaved to her mistress. The bucket was heavy and the rope dug into his palm with biting prickles. He placed it at the fire while the witch was carving up the meat, moving her pot of what looked like boiled potatoes sprinkled with some kind of herb. She passed him a plate of her prepared meal while Una prepared the tea. She handed Dunstan his tea and he sipped it delicately. The fragrance of the whisperbloom filled his nose, giving him a sense of strength and resilience. He was ready to face whatever came his way.

"So," the witch inquired. "How was your journey to the Valley of Dore?"

Dunstan took a tentative bite of the meat that was given to him, giving the witch a shrug as he chewed on the meat.

"It was...difficult, yes," he admitted. "There were lots of trials that tested me, but I managed to pass."

"Good to hear," the witch said still smiling. "And how is it you managed to spin the straw into gold?"

While the truth was tugging at his being, he knew well that if he spilled the beans about how he accomplished his task, his quest would be all for nothing. He wouldn't fail Una. He regaled a clever series of lies and half-truths, describing how he had encountered a goblin-like creature who taught him the secret of spinning straw into gold in the Valley of Dore. He could only chuckle as he recalled the fairytale back in Wall, hoping the witch had bought his story. The witch seemed a little suspicious, yet it seemed that she was convinced by his explanation.

"Are you ready to do the second task then?" the witch inquired.

"I am," he said.

"The next task requires cunning and bravery," Ditchwater Sal explained. "You're to travel to the north to the mountains. Look for the Cave of Hiera and you will seek out a legendary weapon said to have been forged by the gods: a dagger made of black glass. It is said its blade is sharp enough to cut through any material or object."

"Sounds easy," Dunstan said.

"Ah you might think so," the witch said with a sly grin. "There's a guardian that protects the dagger. It kills any trespasser that crosses the threshold."

Dunstan gulped upon learning that he now had to face a fearsome guardian in this cave in the mountains. Yet in the back of his mind, he knew that the stars would guide him on his quest. He was so close to winning Una's freedom as the second task loomed over him. He was ready to face any adversary and challenge in his path.

"Might I rest for the night before heading out?" Dunstan asked.

"Fine," the witch responded. "But you are sleeping outside."

Dunstan would have objected, but in his heart, he was aware that the stars would whisper their words of wisdom and weave their visions in his dreams as he slept beneath their shimmering glory.

*Griffin sound:

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