The Web of Time

A meeting of destiny

Fate often decides to show its hand in one of two distinct ways; through the foretelling of prophecy or the retrospection of hindsight. The first is far too often ignored and the latter is too little too late, and thus neither tend to be of any great good. It was no surprise that the events recorded here are to unfold as they do. It all began with shattering drops. The rain came slowly down from the heavens above at first and within hours it would grow to the penultimate and deafening crescendo that is common to the summer thunderstorm. In hindsight it really was a perfect analog to the destiny unfolded. I can still recall those cataclysmic drops… They were as if to be the gods tears, thick and yet from seemingly nowhere. It was here during this storm that a few notable men paid heed to the prophecies of old. It was a meeting of three that began when the drops, those big shattering drops began to cascade downward, riding along the exterior of the heavy glass window. As each of these drops became solemn tears foretelling the prophetic desolation ahead, two of the men watched through the thick window of the abandoned country tavern as small puddles formed on the street outside. It had been several hours since either of them had spoken, for each knew what the other had to say. Neither of the men wanted to believe what was going to happen, nor did they want to believe what had already come to pass.

Trest Akay, the shorter of the two men sat quietly with his short fiery hair frozen amidst the stillness of the room. Although his gaze is fixed upon the heavy window, his mind sits far beyond the swiftly growing storm outside. The other man, Allenkind seemed as if a statue; His grey eyes as unmoving as the table in the next room. His long silver hair and soft bearded face complimented his royal blue robes. The men seemed as if they were waiting for something and neither broke the stormy silence that had long since engulfed the room. The storm outside had already reached full force, its mighty winds blowing debris along the exterior road. Every few minutes thunder would shake the quiet of the room and yet somewhere beyond the storm the sun was serenely setting. After each thunder strike a sharp lightening stroke followed, it was only the quiet sound of breathing that remained. Another hour passed.

Allenkind was the first to speak, breaking the silence amidst the room. The only other noise was the muted glancing of the hard rain on the other side of the windowpane. Allenkind’s archaic but firm voice echoed strongly among the walls of the room. Trest began to nod slowly in response as the awaited urgent knock reverberated heavily upon the sealed wooden door. The knock sounded as a violent eruption compared to the kindness of Allenkind’s voice. “I’m here, sorry that I am so late” rang the peaceful voice of the visitor.

Before Trest could finish his nod Allenkind quickly stood up and crossed the room to welcome the mutual friend. An azure bolt of lightening struck, which added instantly to the soft light of the fire as the ancient man unlocked the tavern door. With a shrill creak and a blazen thud, the door opened to reveal a tall lanky man wearing a brimmed hat that dripped in forte with the ongoing concerto of rain. “I am much relieved to see you gentle Allenkind, it would appear as if the years have treated you well.” Allenkind smiled and said, “a thousand years would pass, I would grow old and come to rest and you would still be the same untouched man, Mr. Arethe”. “‘Tis very good to see you again dear friend. Come in. come in. before you drown in this torrential rain.”

After exchanging a few more greetings the men moved from the entry chamber through the old dining room and to the inner library, which had once been a kitchen, with heavy thoughts they gathered around an oblong table that shimmered as if obsidian. The table was covered in piles of papers, of which many were in various states of disarray. A diagram was clearly visible among the disorganization. The room smelled of fresh ink. On the visible diagram a long thin line with several branches protruding from it was drawn, it resembled the drawing of a tree on its side. There were two words written hastily Ashes and Shattering. The men began to converse.

The cozy library was lit by torch and candlelight, each book reflecting the pinpoint glow as to envelop the room with unexpected brightness. As the tidal wave of rain continued outside, the urgency of the conversation became apparent. The soft voices of friends were now woven with worry and despair. “We must act now, if we wish to see the prophecy fulfilled” said Trest. “Nothing should be done before the time is come and destiny in line” replied Arethe. Allenkind remained silent through the long debate; his expression did not betray the secret held within. “There must be some way to make you see the folly in waiting for the time to come, especially when we can set the clock ourselves.” said Trest a twinge of regret sounded from his tone. “You intend to lecture me on time, disciple of Trace? Have you forgotten of my patronage.” replied Arethe in a soothing tone which could calm even the most raging of nature’s beasts.

The argument continued as the falling rain slowed to a soft misty crawl. “I remember who you are Temp” said Trest sharply,” But with all due respect, your god is dying and your powers are waning. I understand the philosophy of waiting for the right time; however that usually refers to common situations. This time there is no right time, this time we don’t have the time, this time nobody has the time.” The distress in Trest’s voice became dire as he continued; “The future is running out, we must act now before the present is gone too.” Temp paused before responding, letting the words soak in. Temp smiled and calmly spoke, “we still have the past Trest.” Trest became infuriated as he responded, “The past, The Past, how can we wait for the past, it would be like waiting for sunrise after it has risen. How can we wait for help that has already come? If it had already come there would be no problem, and clearly there is a problem.” Temp nodded and softly said, “Yes you are right, I am sure it has already come.”

As the argument continued Allenkind wondered how he would break the news to them, he did not wish for his secret to destroy the others’ hope. Trest’s voice became as fiery as his hair, “yes? What in the bane are you talking about? Are you so convinced that waiting for the past will yield the antidote for the future’s death? Perhaps you would not mind telling me of how this plan will do any good oh great guru of time.” Temp grinned and replied, “wait and you will see.” Inwardly Temp loved to torment Trest like this, his deep seated belief of patience would drive him to continue the argument until Trest understood his meaning even if that meant eternity.

Allenkind decided that the time had come, if he did not stop the argument now, it would never end and sunrise was only an hour away. “I have already begun the process.” said Allenkind, even before his sentence was finished terror crystallized upon the faces of the others. As the news settled Trest knew that even now, it was still too late. Temp thought to himself, and said,” I hope you know what you are doing.” The awful silence returned and remained longer than any prior. The rain stopped. “How could you do this without consulting us? Surely you are aware that without our help…” Trest Akay’s sentence returned to the silence from whence it came. “I had no choice, I am sure you have felt the presence of the change. The rift will soon envelop the present as we know it, to wait any longer would be to let the past die. The encroaching oblivion must be stopped. I called this meeting not to discuss plans or bicker over trivial matters, but to ask extreme favors of you both.” explained Allenkind in his regal manner, his withheld secret now partially revealed. “What would you ask of us?” replied Temp. Allenkind spoke, “Temp my dear friend I need you to wait in the temple of solitude and I believe you will know the moment to give the chosen enough time to discover the path and perhaps save us all. Trest, I need you to gather the chosen; they will need to be introduced as quickly as possible. Lead them to the temple of Paradox, and I will finish the work from there.” When Allenkind had finished speaking, the others were looking at him with heavy hearts. They all knew that this was the only way, and yet it was not going to be enough. Something was about to give, the tension in the room was too much. The stress of the situation would soon envelop the entire universe, or at least Ashain, the quaint planet upon which this story is to unfold.

“One more question” said Temp, “how have you set the prophecy in motion?” At that moment a journal appeared, as if fate itself was to answer Temp’s question. All but three pages of the rain soaked, tea stained, half charred and half fated journal were lost. Allenkind smiled, and spoke “I sent them what remains of the diary; they will read it and they will each interpret its meaning and come to understand what it truly says. This is the knowledge that will bind them in their quest. If they survive the trip through Paradox, I myself shall fill in the remaining information and send them to find Mr. Arethe. They shall then have no choice but to continue upon the quest that the journal lay before them.” “How will we know they will want to continue; what if they don’t accept it?” spoke Trest. “They will” said Temp.

The men arose without further word, understanding that from this moment on, the future, past and present would depend upon Allenkind’s plan and the four chosen. Temp spoke up, “I Temp Arethe, disciple of Templos will do all that you ask.” Trest Akay chimed in, “I too promise my soul to the completion of the prophecy.” In but a few mere moments all had said their goodbye’s and wished each other luck. Daylight was arriving, Allenkind’s door was open and the dusty rose fingertips of dawn stretched across the lands. The men exited the inn, instantly surrounded by the fresh scent of pure rain. Allenkind closed and locked the door, with purpose to never return. The three men set out upon their tasks, heading in different directions, each filled with high hopes that the beginning of the end might never happen.

Chapter 1
Asthamon’s Journal.

Adrienne’s awakening

In the growing city of Toshom, which lay a continent and a half away from Allenkind’s converted inn, sleeps the first of the chosen who will receive the gift-curse of the derelict journal. Adrienne De’lafel dreams, completely unaware of the silent visitor that has traveled more than a thousand miles before coming to rest upon her simple wooden desk. Soon, she will awaken and be thrust towards an unknown fate and the most important event of her life.

The forests surrounding Toshom can barely be seen through the light flooding into the sole window of Adrienne’s modest room. Four maple bookcases each filled with various texts, scrolls, notebooks and small cedar chests adorn the southern wall. Along the eastern wall lie a twin sized bed upon which Adrienne, amidst her two feather pillows and chaotically tossed white sheets, snores quietly. It is the warmer season and there’s little need for the heavy black covers which are now lying at the foot of the bed in a crumpled pile. Adrienne’s desk is neat and tidy, in stark contrast to everything else.

It was approaching noon. This was the first morning that Adrienne had been able to sleep through in several months. Her ordeal of examinations and tests had finally come to a close, allowing her this rare opportunity for much needed rest. Tomorrow Adrienne’s family will arrive to see her commencement ceremony; after all it was her family name which had brought her here. The De’lafel family of Toshom was quite powerful, having two elders upon the governing council. The power and position of the family is largely due to the spark, a rare gift.

People with the means to travel from the far corners of Drashen find themselves at TRAMA, the Toshom Royal Academy of Magical Arts. While one does not have to have the spark to learn to wield magic, it certainly is useful. The spark is not well understood, and requires focus and training if one is to harness any power from it. If left for granted, untrained or unchecked it will either fade into nothingness or become uncontrollable. Most students enroll shortly after signs of the spark become apparent, usually around puberty, but unlike the other students Adrienne was unwillingly enrolled at a very early age. Very few students begin their training at such a young age and even fewer do not wish to attend.

Adrienne’s green eyes slowly crept open under the bright bath of sunlight. If the journal was alive, it would have been jumping with anticipation, waiting for new hands to unlock its tale. Adrienne sat up; rubbing her blue eyes as she stretched and yawned. She was finally a mage; she hadn’t gone through the graduation ceremony yet, but she had graduated and could look forward to years of study and perhaps she would even one day become the Archon of the academy. “Curse the De’lafel for this fate,” the thought taunted her as she threw her legs from the bed to the floor. Her dark curly hair was unquestionably tangled from the nights sleep.

She was filled with energy and purpose, her life at last taking on full form. She had dreamt of this day, the day when she could leave her prison and set out to discover her destiny. It was her dream to leave, to explore, and to be ordinary. This dream however, was not the dream she dreamt during the prior night, or perhaps sometime during the morning. Her face was awkwardly posed as she thought about it, trying to recall each detail from the shadowy memory. As she brushed her long dark brown hair she began to think of her favorite teacher, Professor Rachmon. He had taught her to pay a great deal of attention to dreams. Professor Rachmon was perhaps the only teacher at TRAMA who didn’t seem to care for the plutocracy of the place.

It did not take long before she was able to recall a flash of the dream. It was a montage, an image of a small featureless boy standing, a dreadful shadow of a terribly large creature, wings of a black dragon, a broken watch and a frozen sunset. Time marched on as she sat motionless, her brush still gripped tightly by her hand. Then she recalled a sound, it was a soulful cry that sounded to her like the wind breaking, as if the sky in thunder were to declare “remember me.” Adrienne began to feel the sweat from her sleep; she sighed and began again to remove the tangles from her hair, still obsessed with the dream.

Another image came flooding back to her, this time it was of the world, and it was shattering. It was like a frozen lake, it began with a shard of rock falling from somewhere above. A crack formed and instantly spread out across the frozen waves. It was like watching a spider spin its web in accelerated time. And then image was gone as quickly as it came. Strange, she thought, what can this be? She continued to think upon her dream; it had left her with such a strange and ominous feeling that she became unable to remove it from her mind. Her memory was stuck upon it, she couldn’t let go.

Adrienne had been worried about her final test, perhaps this was just her subconscious screaming at her, playing on her fears that she had failed. Adrienne put it out of her mind, and stood, walking over to her dresser. As she looked in the mirror the memory of the boy in front of the dragon came back to her mind. Surely this has nothing to do with my tests, she thought. She became obsessed with this image. Suddenly Adrienne wondered if this was a more a dream of a memory than a memory of a dream. The thought slipped quietly away as a soft knock came upon on the heavy wooden door. The knocking repeated, this time jarring her memory, “of course,” she said aloud, “not remember me, but rend the plea.” She puzzled over what that meant, as a third knock which was louder than the first came upon her dorm room door. This time her memory was shaken loose and her thoughts of the dream faded from her mind.

She quickly picked up her robe from the floor and quickly slid into it. The door burst open. Adrienne stumbled backwards towards her bed as an elderly man with deep brown eyes, jet black hair and a wrinkled face entered the room. “Are you in danger my child?” spoke the man urgently. “Archon Kir’sen, What are you doing here?” exclaimed the surprised Adrienne. Archon Kir’sen was the head of the school and was said to be the wisest man in all of Drashen. It took a moment but the question caught up to Adrienne and she answered curiously “No, I don’t think so, why… would I be?” “Adrienne my child, the students practicing divination felt a most dreadfully powerful magical source, they came to me and we followed it, the path ends here, it seems to be emanating from your room. I myself do not know when it appeared, how long it has been here, or what is causing it.” said the elder worriedly.

Adrienne’s expression became lost in the news as the Archon’s gnarled wooden staff began to resonate with the nearby powerful magic. Suddenly the universe itself stopped; all motion within the room ceased, as if the world had become a miniature diorama. The journal was alive and as bright as the daytime sun, pulsing with energy. The Archon and his two aides’ fell backwards, covering their eyes from the blinding light. Adrienne was somehow unaffected by the brilliant display. Her gaze fell upon the journal which was now floating above her desk, appearing to her as only a tattered book and nothing more. Adrienne could hear the book, calling to her. She became so entranced with the journal that she did not realize that the Archon now lay unconscious in her doorway.

Adrienne walked over to the journal and as she reached for it, the journal and as if hearing her thoughts leapt into her waiting hands. The book opened to the first of three readable pages. The handwriting was elegant and unrushed. The Words were remarkably clear considering what remain of the forsaken book. The Archon slowly recovered from his stupor as Adrienne began to read from the book.

The mystery of the book lured Adrienne in further. Surely there had to be more, there had to be another page unharmed by the history of its travels. “Have you found the source of the magic Adrienne” politely asked the Archon. Adrienne carefully turned the pages looking for another readable passage. If she had heard the archon she would have ignored him anyway. Kir’sen’s aides had still not yet awoken. Kir’sen walked across the room, to where Adrienne stood. He looked over her shoulder and for the first time saw the charred pages Adrienne so delicately held in her hands. The moment his eyes viewed the book he knew that it was the source of the magic. Kir’sen had waited his entire life to see that blackened binding. Kir’sen knew what exactly what the coming of the book meant and he would have to have a long talk with Adrienne.

At last Adrienne had found another passage, the last readable entry in the entire book. Kir’sen said something else and again his words fell on deaf ears. Kir’sen knew in his heart it didn’t matter, this sort of thing was to be expected. As Adrienne began reading the last entry, she was so captivated by it that she unknowingly began to reading aloud.

“…58 I don’t… it has been…. I no longer know how many days it has been since I last wrote in my journal. The only thing with any continuity anymore is the numbers to my journal entries. I can’t even tell if I am asleep. I am glad that I learned a compression spell to fit everything into this damnable book. I have found the solution, I think the man who caused everything…”The following three lines were blacked out”…I am sure of this now and I believe that by combining the essence of the three forbidden spells, I can create a fourth spell, one which should undo all the damage that has been done. I will cast this spell as soon as I have recovered the four artifacts. Hopefully I won’t be thrown too far…” There was more charring, Adrienne skipped to the bottom of the page, where there was a small note written, and she finished reading. “…As a final precaution, I shall entrust the care of this book to destiny, perhaps it will find its way into the proper hands….”

Adrienne returned from the book to reality as he spoke, suddenly aware of her place and surroundings. “Let me see that book, dear child.” said Kir’sen, but it was too late, the book had left as mysteriously as it had come. The only traces of its presence were the ash stained fingers of Adrienne’s hand. She turned to look at Kir’sen and she spoke softly “it’s gone.” Kir’sen smiled and said we need to talk, you should meet me in my study as soon as you have finished your lunch.” Adrienne nodded in response as Kir’sen dramatically turned and walked out the door, his aides now conscious again.

Adrienne got dressed while thinking about the words she had read. The words haunted her and she could not help but to dwell upon one entry in particular. “… In a matter of weeks the Solari Hand will topple…” She thought there was no way that could happen. The Solari Hand has ruled the planet justly, never once in the history of Ashain has such a broad government survived, let alone thrive, and for nearly eight hundred years. This troubled Adrienne, she like all scholars of the age had had her fair share of history. The Solari Hand movement had been the swiftest governmental change in all written history. Within the matter of eight years, starting on the day of the Solunar eclipse, it was over. One by one Ashain’s governments toppled under the dominion of the Solari Hand.

The Solari Hand had taken its name from the Solunar eclipse, a rare event which happens exactly every eight hundred years. During a Solunar eclipse, the two moons of Ashain, Lunar Bright and Lunar Dark eclipse each other and sun, forming an inner and outer halo. This eclipse is written to have heralded the dawn of many new ages. The Solunar eclipse was important to nearly every myth or legend on the planet. In the oldest caves are pictographs of the stunning sight. For centuries astronomers sought to understand the phenomenon. For some reason Lunar Dark can never be seen from the surface of Ashain. The Solunar eclipse truly frightened the ancient people. The thought of this was starting to scare Adrienne too, for she knew that in two short weeks, the next Solunar eclipse would occur. Nothing good has ever been associated with a Solunar eclipse, and of course no one living had ever seen one. Well, almost no one.

Adrienne now wondered if the rumors of a powerful secret organization within the Solari Hand were true. “And if they are,” she said, “then may Altom save us all. It was not often that Adrienne gave prayer to the god of energy. The day had become brighter, the sun shining harder than ever and Adrienne did not know what she should do with this information. She thought, if the journal is real, it must have been written recently. She sighed deeply as her heart set upon meeting the author of the mysterious journal; her destiny had begun its course, and an unseen figure in the window smiled. Adrienne had become filled with excitement and could hardly contain herself. “What stories he must have.” she said aloud. Adrienne finished putting on her clothes, skipped lunch and headed to the Archon’s study.

“It’s not here”, shouted one of Kir’sen’s aides. “We will find it Ashthen” hollered Kir’sen from elsewhere within the library, “It’s got to be here”. Kir’sen’s Study was large, filling up three stories of the TRAMA Tower. The upper two stories of his study were lined with shelves of books. Kir’sen and his aides were now running about on various tottering wooden scaffolding searching for a book as Adrienne walked in. Kir’sen was madly reading through the book spines as his other aide, Chroma, tapped his shoulder. Kir’sen surprised by the sudden contact jumped and nearly fell from the shoddy catwalk. Chroma delicately held an ancient book, covered in dust. Kir’sen smiled and didn’t stop to wonder why it was covered in dust as he blew the dust from the cover and said quietly “I knew it had to be here.”

Adrienne said “hello, Archon Kir’sen?” from below. The Archon looked down at Adrienne then back to the ancient book. “I’ll be right there, just wait by the large table,” said Kir’sen. Adrienne walked to the large table, and began to tap her fingers nervously on its smooth surface, as the Archon began to climb down the ladder with the old book. She had just enough time to wonder how they had moved such a large table to this room. The Archon’s study was 35 stories above the ground; perhaps they carved the tower and the table out of a mountain. Adrienne sat upon the cold stone chair and shook her head at the silly thought as the Archon made his way to the opposite side. Carefully he laid the book upon the table and opened it.

The benevolent Archon spoke softly, “This is the book of prophecy, it has survived for many years and no-one knows when it was written. “What does it have to do with…” Adrienne was interrupted by the Archon. “It speaks of three great wars, the appearance of the diary of ashes, the chosen and of the end of the world as we know it.” Adrienne said nothing, her green eyes staring softly into space. She could feel the seriousness within Kir’sen’s voice. Even though his voice was calm and soothing, there was a harsh edge to his tone. The kind you hear when your father tells you something you don’t want to hear.

“And so my child, it would appear that you are one of the chosen.” said Kir’sen, proud that one of his students would be responsible for carrying out the prophecy, he smiled that destiny had allowed him to be a small part of such a thing. Adrienne was silent; she did not know what to say. The Archon sensed her awe and began to speak, “Adrienne, the journal has presented itself to you, now you must seek out the other chosen, and they too will have read its pages. You will need to leave immediately, it will be a difficult weight to carry but it is necessary for us all. I’ve waited a long time, to tell the truth, part of me had hoped to have passed on before its appearance. It’s not going to be easy.

Adrienne spoke, “Archon, what exactly are you talking about? Chosen? This doesn’t make any sense; I’m ready to graduate and get on with my life. I remember the history courses and the oracle training. Not once do I remember hearing about a prophecy like this. Chosen ones?” Adrienne laughed, as if the hold of the journal had completely worn off. “This sounds like something out of the dark ages. Alright, tell me, what does it say?” It was obvious to Kir’sen by the tone of Adrienne’s voice that she wasn’t taking this seriously; she wasn’t ready for this destiny, just as she had not wanted to be a student here. “The prophecy is ancient, as I said no one knows when it was written. It’s also not taught in class because it’s too dangerous…” This time Adrienne interrupted the Archon, “Dangerous! Prophecy’s aren’t dangerous, they’re either fiction or tools of power, you taught us that.” Kir’sen sighed; slightly frustrated with the most talented student at the academy wanted nothing to do with the place.

Adrienne sighed and looked at the Archon in earnest. “I do want to know about the journal, and if it can get me out of here a bit sooner, and away from the life my parents want for me…” She hesitated for just a moment “ok, please, I’m sorry, tell me about the prophecy.” Kir’sen nodded, knowing that while Adrienne hated this life with a passion, she was completely competent. The Archon lit a cigar while his aides looked at him scornfully. Kir’sen never allowed anyone to smoke in his study, especially with the myriad books in the room. His aides always complained that he wouldn’t allow it even though he went ahead and smoked himself.

The Archon began slowly, “it reads… Unto the west the four masters’ will look at the sunset and all that has to be done. The world will open and the sky will stop. The Journal of Ash will bear its message to the fated few at the dawn of the second of three great wars. First it will to the one of knowledge and insight, second to the one of courage and wisdom, third to one of strength and hope and last it will find its way to the one of stealth and luck. At the ending of the three great wars they shall be granted the fortune to return the sky to motion, but first the path is set and the end is nigh across the frozen wastes and isle in the sky a temple of paradox and truth, betrayal and lies. Amongst them all a lonely warrior with the key to lock the door” Adrienne was sitting contemplating, inwardly cursing the obtuse crypticism and obliquely vague nature of prophecy.

Kir’sen continued, “The book of prophecy has many prophecies within. This has long been known as the dire prophecy, for this passage was the last to successfully be translated, amongst the fact that it’s the only prophecy to speak of the end of the world.” Adrienne looked at the writing within the book, and soon her head became filled with a rolling pain. It felt as if her brain was in shock, bouncing from left to right, it was becoming stronger, becoming more than she could take. Archon saw the strain in her face and spoke “Don’t look at the text my child; its shape hurts even a trained mind. Close your eyes and it will pass.” Adrienne closed her eyes and began to breathe slowly and soon enough the pain passed.

Adrienne opened her eyes to see Kir’sen sitting there, across the table, hands folded underneath his chin. He had a slightly worried look on his face. Kir’sen was watching Adrienne, waiting for her to say something, but nothing came. Finally Kir’sen spoke again. The text is called alpha. No one has been able to look at it. Those with weak minds have actually fallen into coma’s just glancing at it. There’s no shame in being unable to stand the sight of it.” Adrienne answered, “Then how was it translated?” Archon Kir’sen folded his arms and leaned back, the cigar glowing softly on the large table. “an old mage stopped by asking for a place to stay one night, in the morning he was gone, and there was a translation of the prophecy, left upon his bed, he never did tell us his name.” the Archon continued, “I’ve already sent for him, but I don’t know if we’ll find him before you leave.” Adrienne nodded and muttered the word typical under her breath.

“I suppose you had better head back to your room and prepare for an early departure, in an ironic way, I think it will please you,” spoke the Archon.” Adrienne tilted her head not quite sure what he meant. “You’ll have to miss your commencement ceremony, I suppose this wont be much of a problem for you? I’ll be happy to inform your parents that something important has come up, and you’re the only one trusted for the task.” The thought pleased her, she could graduate and avoid seeing her family, and she hated them for leaving her here. Adrienne didn’t mind her family so much but she was tired of the way she was sometimes treated, she longed to be a normal kid, in a common family.

Adrienne nodded and said “I’ll begin preparing immediately, although… I’m not exactly sure what I should do.” “Don’t worry about it; we’ll start by sending you west towards Portsmouth. I’ve an old friend there named Isaac. You’ll want to talk to him He’ll have an idea how to start looking for the others.” The Archon stood up and closed the dusty book, and carefully slid it across the table to Adrienne looked down at the book as she stood, then back up to the Archon. “What is this for?” she asked. “Isaac is the one that translated every other prophecy in the book and the only person I know that can look at alpha without getting a headache. Take this with you and give it to him, as well as this letter which I’ve prepared. Isaac isn’t exactly a trusting man.” Kir’sen produced a letter from thin air; one of his favorite ways of assigning homework as the students never saw it coming. Adrienne accepted the letter and began to leave as Archon Kir’sen spoke one last time “Farewell Adrienne, when this is all over, I expect I’ll be able to offer you any post you want, even mine. Good luck.”

When Adrienne arrived at her room the door was open and a short man with fiery hair sat quietly, seemingly waiting for her arrival. “Can I help you?” asked Adrienne. The man chuckled, “of course you can, but first we must gather the others, pack your things we leave first thing in the morning.” Adrienne hesitated and then asked “who are you?” The man smiled and said “just the ferryman, here to set you off on your journey.” he sat for a moment and then added “The Archon has informed me of the situation, he thought it only natural, since I translated the dire prophecy.” Adrienne attempted to interrupt but was cut short. “Don’t worry we shall have time to speak of this after you have gathered your things. I will see you in the morning.” He stood up to make leave of himself. Adrienne nodded and before the short man had left the room her piercing green eyes caught his and she asked “At least, wont you please tell me your name?” but he was already gone.

Achae’s Quest

“Kyris, get the torch, we’re going to need it.” stated a sarcastically overjoyed voice. The stars over the Drakai-an desert were now becoming visible through what had been thickly overcast skies. In the windy silence a sharply soft female voice responded, “Get it yourself Achae.” Kyris was tired, no longer marching across the desert with the tall stature she held in the morning, she wiped the sweat from her brow and sighed, all but giving up on her hair remaining in one place. With wind and sand in every direction for miles, she was unsure if they were still headed south. Her deep blue eyes could make out no landmarks in the endless distance; at least the wind was dying down.

The two departed from a rather small oasis that cloudy morning, determined to recover the lost tome of Ah-Then-Thür. For ten years Achae and Kyris have traveled the lands of Drashen searching for the rare tome and earlier that morning the pair of adventurers found an old man, or rather it was he who had found they and told them of a crypt due south. In the dense foggy morning neither of them would have seen the thick overcast nor would the two realize that destiny would hold an altogether different purpose for leading them here now. “The torches are in your pack Kyr,” said Achae in his telltale tone. Achae expected Kyris to respond with one of her witty remarks but there was silence. What little remained of the winds had now completely gone. He waited a moment and still she did not respond. Achae turned around, “Kyr?” he said, and still there was no response. Achae was becoming worried. The clouds had broken apart and lunar bright had begun to crest the skyline in the distance.

“I found it” Shouted Kyris as she sprang from seemingly nowhere. Achae surprised by Kyris’ sudden appearance awkwardly stepped backwards, nearly falling over. “Gees Kyr, don’t do that…” he paused “what did you find?” Kyr lit a torch as Achae stood up. The torch illuminated a large slab of stone in the desert that miraculously was completely barren of sand. A stone stairway could be seen descending into the ground in the torchlight. As the clouds all but disappeared the torchlight became compensated with pale moonlight. Two shadows of slender torch staves emerged from the darkness as the light of the moon grew strong enough to be reflected by the desert sand. “I hid down there” said Kyris. Achae looked down the stairs searching for detail within the encroaching moonlight, and soon recognized a large stone door.

“This must be the crypt of Ah-Then-Thür. My guess is that it will be just as dark down there in the daylight as it is now. Shall we go?” said Achae. Kyris handed Achae the torch, its light fell upon and accented his red eyes and hair. Achae took the torch into his left hand and headed downward along the staircase. Kyris followed, she knew that Achae would have gone on without her, regardless of her reason. Achae’s footfalls resounded among the stone steps and desert silence. There was no wind now that the clouds had gone. Achae mentally repeated the legend of the crypt in his mind.

Ah-Then-Thür was an ancient black dragon, whom according to legend disappeared after falling to the ground amidst the Drakai-an desert. The legend went on, upon his death his knowledge was transferred into a book. Thus was born the legend of the Tome. The crypt was fabled to be impossible to find, lost within the desert and shifting in location, never in the same place for more than a day. Although Achae believed in the myth of Ah-Then-Thür, he did not believe that the crypt changed location. Inwardly he knew that the crypt had to be a real place, and now he was standing at its entrance, face to face with the sealed stone door.

Achae looked at the door, searching for its secret. The torch slowly burned adding the occasional hiss and snap to the otherwise silent night. Kyris spoke softly,” Kay, I think we’re going to have to break it down. “I would really rather not defile this place Kyr.” said Achae. “So then, how do you suppose we open the door? I don’t suppose the old man told you how to open it.” said Kyris. “The old man said that all we have to do is humbly enter, and that this was to be our destiny; crazy old coot,” said Achae, “although I must admit I wonder what he meant about discovering the wrong lost tome. As thunder rumbled far in the distance the two explorers stood next to the stone door searching for a way to open it. Eventually Achae discovered what appeared to be a hidden pressure plate in the ground. He and Kyr began to clear away the small amount of sand that had accumulated at the bottom of the stairwell. It was not long before the plate was revealed and an ancient writing became apparent. “Can you read that Kyr?” asked Achae. “I don’t think so Kay, let me look at it.” Achae climbed back to the top of the stairwell, waiting for Kyris to decipher the script. He knew that if anyone could translate it, Kyr would have the best chance of being that person.

The desert was calm and peaceful, Achae could not recall the last moment he had been so excited and yet so calm. He used his torch to light the staves at the top of the stairs to give Kyris the light she would need. He then sat upon the top step and gazed upward into the stars. Not a cloud in the sky, each star was visible and the constellations began to speak slowly, whispering Achae into dream. Kyris was busy searching through the few books she had decided to carry along, for an adventurer it was strange to bring so little gear and so many books. Kyris’ dream was to learn every language on Ashain, to travel freely; she had spent so much time learning that she’d accumulated very little wealth. Her skill with a rapier and her ability to speak over three dozen languages made her the perfect traveling companion as Achae could speak fifteen languages himself.

Achae’s family had been murdered when he was a child, and his guardian fled with him and a small fortune to Drashen. His wealth allowed him to travel freely. He had been trained by Loche Highhelm, one of the best swordsmen of the period. He grew up in a small town upon Drashen’s lake. Miles away and across the lake was Drashen’s Bane, a giant pyramid, obsidian in color and it was one of the many mysteries of Ashain. When he was a child he had been told many legends of the Banes, and these in turn drove him to seek out the tome of Ah-Then-Thür. If the tome did hold eternal knowledge, then surely it would hold the truth behind the Bane’s.

Kyris shouted, “If eyes could breathe my heart would speak and my soul would see.” Achae was sleeping now, dreaming of his parents and the raid which cursed him with his life. He had come so close in this dream, finding and murdering his real father. Years ago his town had been overrun by a band of Orcs led by an evil sorcerer. The sorcerer who was a dragon in disguise killed Achae’s mother’s first husband and Achae was the result of that night. Ranna, his mother had not told Achae of her misfortune until she was on her deathbed. The sorcerer had learned of Achae’s birth and came to claim his child. Ironically Achae’s true goal in life was to find and murder the monster who had killed his family and his chance at a normal life. If the tome would grant him knowledge eternal, surely it would grant him the name of his accursed father. Again thunder rumbled in the great beyond, quieter than the last. “Achae?” this time Kyris was worried. She listened intently, perhaps this time he was trying to scare her. “Achae?” again she repeated the request and waited for a response. Kyris then began to hear the sound of snoring; quietly she picked up the torch and climbed the stairs to Achae’s restful perch. Achae was sound asleep, clutching the most ragged book Kyris had ever seen.

Kyris took a moment to look at her darling Achae before waking him. As he awoke, his red eyes were glazed over from the silent tears of his dream. Kyris asked” what book is that Kay? I do not remember you bringing it.” Achae looked at the ancient journal, instantly realizing that it was not his nor was it the tome he sought. “I don’t know what book this is Kyr, It looks nearly destroyed, I wonder how it got here.” said Achae. Before Achae could open the book Kyris repeated “The writing at the entrance, it reads, if my eyes could breathe my heart would speak and my soul would see, but the most interesting thing is that in another language it says, to blame vision is to seize the humanity from all, enter humbly the divine tomb.” she went on “whoever wrote this was a master of words, to write two languages in one text, and both to be as clear as they are cannot be a coincidence. Achae, this must be the tomb, but the engraved text does not seem to be the key to the lock.” Achae thought for a moment and spoke, “it would seem the old man was right, we must merely enter humbly, now, if I could just figure out how one does that. Perhaps there is something in this that will unveil the secret.”

Kyris looked into space, deep in thought as Achae began to read the mysterious pages. Within what seemed like a moment Achae had finished reading the three readable pages. His mind was set aflame, the words within it had touched him strangely, he knew that he had a role in whatever purpose the book had called him for and he also knew that this had nothing to do with the locked tomb door, and the unseen figure smiled. Kyris’ jaw dropped as she watched the journal vanish from her sight. Achae had still not yet noticed the transcendence of the journal; he was still caught in the words he had just read. There were enough clues for Achae to gather a glimpse of its true meaning. Perhaps the Tome of Ah-then-Thür would hold the answers to this apocrypha

“Achae”, said Kyris, “what happened?” Achae looked into his empty hands, realizing now that the book had left. “Did it tell you how to get through the door?” Achae shook his head, deep in thought. “Then what did it say Kay?” A moment of silence passed before Kyris spoke again,” Damn it Kay, what in the name of Kryses has that book done to you? You’re not the same.” The horizon had lightened, it was quickly approaching dawn. “Kyr, I am fine, it’s just too complicated to explain, let’s just get past this door, and when we get hold of the tome, I’ll be able to explain everything.” “Alright Kay, I will trust you, but this door isn’t moving.” The two explorers sat on the top of the steps deep in thought as the dusty orange fingertips of dawn spread out across the land.

As the sun rose and illuminated the land Achae said with disdain, “Damn, let’s just bash the thing down. I’ve got to get inside. Achae stood before the door and felt the cold chill of the stone. The cold touch solidified his unsteady resolve. Kyris watched as he reached for his mighty sword. Achae knew the sword as dragonfly, the rest of the world thought of it as nothing short of huge. Although Achae was a towering man at nearly seven and a half feet tall, with his half plate armor and specially made great sword he was gargantuan. Dragonfly was a unique sword forged by Achae’s uncle; its total length was approximately six and a half feet. Anyone who saw the sword could not understand its balance, it was as if someone had cut the sword in half, slid one half downward by half a foot and welded it back together only to cut the base of the blade even. Dragonfly’s handle appeared to be just about as useless as the blade itself, with two grips one half as long as the other. Another interesting feature was the four delicately crafted platinum dragonfly wings, two on each flat of the blade. The platinum is in strong contrast with the forged steel. The strange sword worked less as a weapon and more as a piece of high art, very heavy high art.

Kai’s Exile

Across the sea and upon the southwestern peninsula of the Levashan continent and within the forest of shadows lay the mystical town of knot. Seated within a less dense valley the quiet town lives and breathes within ancient wooden walls. The people of knot have survived for millennia, their domain growing and shrinking with time. The elders believe they can trace their lineage to the beginning of time. This is a place where considerance of life’s existence beyond the perimeter is taboo and any who have entered have been censored by the elders, sent away, killed, or proclaimed to be from the great tree. The residents which dwell in huts built on the ground or in the trees are all walking towards the Aenathema Shraite, a large wooden temple within a strangely perfectly circular clearing. This day marks the gathering which shall determine the fate of a “nameless” citizen.

Kai sits on his knees quietly awaiting the gathering, with his short black unkempt hair falling in all directions. His hazel eyes are averted, his mind is lost in events of the past week. As the only son of a tanner he is expected to become a leatherworker himself, while his heart yearns to wander away from the secluded prison of his kin. While reflecting on the past week his expression changes from pleasant to grim and one by one the villagers enter the chamber. Each and every one casts a small wooden ball into one of two wooden urns, one of cedar and one of ash. Kai’s hands clench as each sphere drops letting out a specific echoing clack. Kai’s fear melts away as soon as he sees her face. She was the reason he renounced the Tanner name, she who had perfect silver hair and eyes that change color to match every outfit. This was the girl who defined what it was to be perfect. Should she have lived in any other part of the world, the wars that would have broken out would have been caused by envious kings, her will would have been done and her every request granted by the first of those lucky enough to hear the voice from her lips. She is Raynne, the daughter of the eldest of elders, the priest of priests, and she was the reason Kai now sat at the center of everyone’s attention.

The final echoes of Ash resounded through the hall and Great Oak of knot spoke, “The final vote has been cast, and the decision of knot has been made. Many of you here today, have been told of Skyye’s decision to refuse the honored name of Tanner. The rest of you are aware, that the man before you today has chosen the unspeakable name.” There was a silence within the audience; everyone was watching Great Oak, except for Kai and Raynne, whose eyes were locked upon each other. Great Oak continued his speech, “As you know, the punishment for uttering this name, is death.” Kai’s mind prepared itself for the declaration, he already knew his fate, he had counted the choices of cedar and ash and he knew the orbs spoke death.

The speech continued “While you have chosen death for him, you do not know of the events of last week, what happened upon this altar.” Kai and Raynne both smiled at each other, and blushed. “I cannot speak of what happened, however I can not condone the killing of this man, even with the rules and prophecies of the ancient ones. While his death would satisfy the vengeance in my heart, it would harden my soul and send me from the forest. If you are willing, I will allow him to take the name Shade and ban him from this forest for life.” This name and fate had only been granted once before by these bizarrely xenophobic people. The audience broke out in murmurs. No one present could believe this; No one understood why Great Oak would ask this. The murmuring stopped when Birch, one of the elders stood and moved his ball of ash to the cedar urn.

Everyone looked upon Kai, who cleared his throat and prepared to speak. Raynne’s smile gave him the courage to stand. “I am Kai of knot. This name was chosen to be mine by Adias Seddai, the author of the seventeen prophecies. While I am grateful for the choice given to me by Great Oak of knot, I must refuse. While he may know of my love for Raynne and hers for me, he does not know of last weeks cause. I was visited by the very apparition of Adias himself, and by his will I took the name Kai. If you doubt this, I also bear the mark of Seddai, Raynne can verify this.” The townspeople looked at Raynne, beginning to understand what took place upon the altar. Kai continued “If this is not enough, kill me, but divine providence will see the prophecy of destiny to the end. I am KAI!”

Everyone was silent; the taboo had been broken three times. Once was death, twice was soulbind and thrice was soulkempt, the complete destruction of the soul itself, and if once was not enough to never speak the name, the second and third were. Soulkempt had been performed once in the past, to Kithsteel, who about eight hundred years ago had gone mad, and ran through the town’s night screaming “Kai is here, Kai is here” over and over again.

“Soulkempt” the chant started with a whisper but within moments it had grown to fill the chamber. Kai knew this would not be his fate. The elders began to shout amongst themselves, chiding Great Oak for his partial protection of the sinner before them. Raynne stood and yelled silence, her angelic voice instantly dislodging the sound from each present voice. “Kai bears the mark of Seddai; you must do nothing until the Solunar eclipse. If you do not wait until then, you will never know if you have committed a madman, or the one true heir unto his oblivion.” The room paused to consider her remarks, half willing to consider, half in shock of her pronouncement of the name. The Elders own daughter had now put her life on the line for a doomed man.

“Great Oak” shouted a member of the guard. “Great Oak, There is an intruder…” Great Oak turned to view the young guardsman who had managed not only to interrupt the chaos within the great hall, but had also managed to focus everyone’s attention upon the new problem at hand. “Speak,” commanded Great Oak. The guard turned and pointed towards the center of town, having no words to say. Great Oak looked through the wooden door, as did everyone within the chamber. A glowing light pervaded the night air. It was growing closer and it was soon clear that the guards who had accosted it had become paralyzed. They were completely unable to move and it had nothing to do with fear. Great Oak began to speak “Halt, who dare approach this great council?” There was no reply. Within moments all was still, all were silent; everyone had been paralyzed, with the exception of Kai and Raynne.

“I have no time to explain, Kai you must come with me, I have something urgent to show you. Raynne, take your father to the great tree; It shall explain my intervention to the council. Raynne tried to speak, but could find no words, she simply nodded yes. Kai looked at Raynne and realized that until the prophecy had been fulfilled, he would not see her again. The tear that formed in his eye became a crystal of ice; it fell to the ground, where it would remain for an eternity. The apparition glided towards the gates of knot… Kai followed.

When the townspeople finally regained freedom of movement, the criminal had vanished; the guards were still asleep and Raynne was crying. The council quickly tried to make sense of what had happened. Raynne was soon accompanied by her father, who tried to console her. As Raynne cried, she told her father the commands of the stranger. Her father understood, and began to gather the council, still in awe of what had transpired. As if to further mark the strange events of the night, one of Raynne’s sorrowful tears hit the ice tear left by Kai; it transformed into diamond.

Kai soon realized that he was alone, the entity had vanished and he was now deep within the forest of knot. The forest of knot is a place known to even the most knowledgeable guides as an endless maze. Those who wander in from the outside lands tend to never return, most people prefer to leave the peninsula alone. It was only in the wake of these thoughts that Kai realized that he had managed to escape from the council alive, and with his soul intact. After an hour of wandering Kai managed to find enough materials to put together a small campsite and start a fire. Destiny had at least seemed to have had the providence to allow the prophecy.

As Kai found a suitable spot to lie down for the night, he quietly spoke to himself. “I have nothing but the clothes upon my back; I have no money, no armor and no weapons… I may still have my soul, but I fear I will not live long in this dark place, oh Great Spirit, grant me the strength to continue alone.” As if in answer to his prayer a soft snap followed by the rustling of leaves broke the somber crackling of the fire. Kai spoke out “who is there.” there was no response. Kai picked up a large piece of wood, preparing to fight against a nocturnal predator. Knot was filled with dangerous animals. The flickering of light against the dark forest was playing tricks with his eyes. Nervously Kai looked around for any sign of movement; still there were no sounds other than that of the fire and his unnerved breath. Determined to at least make sure there was no danger Kai prodded the bush where he had heard the noise. There was nothing; the near silence remained.

He moved closer only to discover a satchel, his fear now removed he picked up the small bag and peered inside. A small dagger, some bread and an ancient journal lurked inside. Kai decided to hang on to the dagger and save the bread and journal for the morning, when he was sure he would be hungry and there would be light for the story. Confident with his relative safety he closed his hazel eyes and fell swiftly unto sleep.

Aedia’s Theft

Nestled against the mountains upon the other side of the Levashan continent lay the sprawling metropolis of Astra. Astra has been the center of government on Ashain for more than eight hundred years; it has been the center of civilization on Levashan for millennia, surviving fires, droughts, plagues, volcanic eruptions and power struggles. Within the walls of this great fortified cultural center people get by any way they can. The streets of the vast inhabitance show no relation to the varied architecture surrounding them. Very few original structures remain the only preserved site is at the center of the metropolis where the Astral Castle, the largest citadel within the land rests.

The City has grown outward towards the north, northeast, northwest, southeast and southwest, forming the great star. Astral Castle itself creates a concentric star amidst the decadent sprawl nestled against the crescent shaped valley, which serves only to reinforce the heavenly origins of the design. In the northern section of the city lie most of the inns, taverns, shops, guilds and brothels. To the northeast is the richest section of town, close to the nobility of the southeast. The southwest holds the poor and destitute, these slums are filled with people who have traveled here in search of destiny, fame and wealth. The northwestern section of town contains the middle class citizens and further to the northwest are the farmers and farmlands. Irrigation from the mountain rivers allow the struggling workers to support the millions living here. Everyone in the town of Astra can look to the west and see the looming silhouette of Levashan’s Bane, another of the mysterious obsidian pyramids which rest quietly and eternally upon the planet.

Further east of the city lies the Itoor ad Astra, A humongous complex carved directly into the base of the Astral Mountains. Within the stone walls lie the military which rule the land. The populace knows little of the activities which take place here and there are many rumors spread throughout the land of what truly goes on. Some believe that the fortress contains secret passages, the few that believe that these passages lead to Astral Castle are absolutely right.

It is within the deep underground labyrinth with amber paneled walls that a stealthy figure makes its way towards the secret castle entrance. The slender figure deftly makes way to the next corner aware that there will likely soon be a confrontation with the passage guard. With each step closer to the edge, the voices of the patrolling soldiers become louder; luckily they seemed more intent on their conversation than upon the bizarre light patterns on the end of the hall. The amber paneling was ingenious, it captured light and as if magic held it in place, it was as if a single torch could enlighten the entire labyrinth. The labyrinth and castle had survived far longer than any stories of its creation.

Aedia pressed her back against the wall and listened to the soldiers’ conversation. “You’re still not going to convince me that Edrick was assassinated, he was a soldier killed there is no conspiracy or plot there.” said a high pitched voice whining like a younger sibling who has had a first lesson in the unfairness of life. “No, I am telling you, that he was targeted, I overheard one of the superiors reporting to Whitefire himself.” replied a trustworthy voice. “Still if that were the case, Whitefire has been away on an envoy to Tinshen, there is no way, none, which your superior could have spoken directly to Whitefire.” The discussion grew more heated. “Oh please… By the banes I swear that the envoy to that isolated archipelago was a sham, and that Whitefire never even left the castle.” The annoying voice replied “yeah. So that means if Whitefire never left the castle…” the voice paused for a moment and continued “…you would’ve overheard the conversation within the castle, how in the bane would you have gotten within the castle.”

Aedia realized that this would be her chance to get past the roaming checkpoint. The argument continued the trusty voice spoke as Aedia removed a stone from her bag “I admit I was in the castle, my presence was requested by Vermillion.” The conversation went back and forth “Impossible, Vermillion died in the battle with the dragon.” “No he lives!” “If he lives, he is a traitor, you should know that yourself, and if you truly spoke with him and did not alert the guard then you yourself are a traitor.” “I am no traitor” Yelled the trustworthy voice. “You’re probably the one were searching for down here.” Aedia quickly peeked around the corner, one of the guards was drawing his sword, this was her break after all, the other guard was intently focused upon his partner’s unsheathed sword.

In one swift movement Aedia rounded the corner and threw stone towards the guard facing her. Before the unarmed guard could get out a word the stone hit his larynx and he fell to his knees gasping for air. The other guard hesitated for a moment confused by the action of the moment, it was too late. Aedia made her second lunge forward and drew her dagger and before the target could turn around to face his silent assailant her simple dagger sharply sliced through his throat. His sword fell to the ground with his body, Aedia skillfully caught them both.

Aedia’s sly gloved hand reached down and grasped the first mans neck, she squeezed slightly and heard the barely audible pop of the airway clearing, she smiled. With one guard dispatched and the other unconscious she would have no pursuers, at least not until the next patrol discovered them. Aedia quickly repositioned the bodies leaving her bloody dagger cradled in the grasp of the unconscious guard.

Aedia continued through the tunnel system making her way towards the castle entrance with seemingly careless haste. There would be precious little time before one of the other roving patrols came across the blood stained scene. The echo of her light footsteps faded behind her as she sprinted towards what her stolen map marked as the final amber corridor, within moments she would be at the secret entrance. Aedia slowed down, mentally preparing herself for the infiltration ahead, the castle would be much more difficult than Itoor ad Astra had been, let alone the ease of the labyrinth. Her map had proven most helpful; by taking the least direct route possible she had evaded at least a dozen patrols. Aedia took one last look at her map before putting it away and drawing a pair of throwing knives.

The final corner loomed in front of her; listening intently she heard no sound. Without slowing down Aedia turned the corner and saw the giant stone door at the end of the tunnel. The fire emanating from two rows of torches flickered and danced on either side of the hall. Aedia’s skin tingled, something was not right, “there should be two guards here” she thought two herself, “could they be the ones I ran into earlier, or are they in the next chamber ?”. The eerie guilden glow of this place was beginning to get to her. Earlier she overheard a patrol talking about the removal of a guard who went insane because of the color. Aedia pressed her ear to the door and listened intently.

The sound of air flowing through the tunnels and the crackling of flame from the torches filled the universe. A strange harmony balancing the two, Aedia realized she was hearing the sound of a flute. The Aeolian melody reminded her of her youth; it was a folk tune from Ishan the village of nowhere. Aedia was birthed by two travelers resting in Ishan. The village of nowhere acquired its nickname because it is amidst the snowy plains of the northern most part of Levashan. It was this place, where Aedia was abandoned as an infant.

The tune brought a sour tear to her endless black eyes. Aedia soon realized that she had a problem; the complex tune was becoming louder. Unable to determine the direction of the wily music Aedia put her hand to the large handle, preparing to open the door. Putting pressure on the door she pulled gently in an effort to gain silent entry. The door did not move. “Locked” she whispered quietly as she looked for a keyhole. Aedia was prepared to pick any lock, get past any trap or climb through any space. The torches went out and darkness spread through the tunnels.

“Of course it’s locked.” came a whispered voice from behind her as the music stopped. The voice was vaguely familiar. Aedia remained calm and said, “who are you?” The whispered response came, “Is it not obvious? Leave now, the one who sold you the map has laid a trap for you, if you continue, you will one day understand.” Aedia’s mind was spurned by the complex thought, intently focused on the mystery she did not notice as the stranger slipped an ancient journal into her pack. Aedia turned around never thinking to light a torch and see the face of the strange benefactor. Moments passed with no sound, Aedia spoke “Are you there?” there was no response. The torches suddenly re-lit and the darkness was instantly replaced with the warm glow of soft yellow. Aedia’s eyes searched the corridor, no signs of anyone. She wondered if the one who had sold her the map had indeed set a trap for her. “No, it can’t be” she whispered, “I stole this map.”

Suddenly the behemoth door opened, blinding light pierced the tunnel, and it was as if a thousand suns were waiting in the next room. A tall silhouette appeared against the white backdrop and a cold voice emerged. “Aedia of Astra, invested with the power of this sacred world, I hereby proclaim your arrest. Guards, seize her.” The tall silhouette receded as the light went out. There was a sharp blow to her head and then, nothing.

Aedia awoke upon a cold stone bed, her vision blurry and her head sore. She was cold; her gloves had been removed revealing her slender pale white hands. As her vision returned to clarity she noticed more detail in her cell. Locked within a dungeon and with her possessions taken she felt vulnerable. It was the first time since she was a child that she felt this helpless, no tools, no weapons and no clothes. Aedia saw no means of escape, and screamed for a guard. Her perfect scream echoed amidst the dungeon walls. It would seem that there was not a single soul here. Each minute that passed seemed like an eternity.

The previous whispering voice returned, “Tsk tsk, you should always listen to your instinct. Here is your equipment.” Aedia could not see the person who spoke the muted words. A small thump as her pack hit the iron bars. Aedia emptied her pack and began pulling her belongings through the bars as she spoke “thank you, whoever you are.” Dressing herself quickly while looking at her gear, she missed the presence of the badly torn journal as she noticed her lock picking set was missing. The whisper came again, “see the journal?” Aedia nodded. “If you read that journal, I will give you your lock picks.” Aedia picked up the journal and began to read…