That night I retreated for the last time to the mountain peaks behind the castle...

That night I retreated for the last time to the mountain peaks behind the castle and roamed along moonlit paths in the cool end-of-winter air. In the distance I heard the harpwinds, but this time I saw no one. The harps thrummed their weird threnodies, and from peak to peak reed pipes sounded, clear as winged creatures riding on the air, until the night was filled with the songs of approaching spring, and life, and freedom.
The music quieted my restlessness and buoyed me up with joy. I climbed the white stone peak at Elios and looked down at the castle, silhouetted silvery against the darker peaks in the distance. The air was clear, and I could see on the highest tower a tiny human figure, hatless, his long dark cloak belling and waving, and star-touched pale hair tangling in the wind.
In silence I watched the still figure as music filled the valley between us and drifted into eternity on the night air.
The big moon was high overhead when, one by one, the pipes played a last melody, and at last the music stopped, leaving only the sound of the wind in the trees.
It was time to return, for we would depart early in order to get off the mountain before nightfall. When at last I reached the courtyard and looked up at the tower, no one was there.