Overview - Seeking - History

Overview

Arcaenum, often referred to simply as 'the Circles' is a guild consisting of magical artisans. It is an extremely secretive and exclusive society. Arcaenum holds magical lore and ancient knowledge very closely and members are regarded as experts on the ancient arts. They also possess more than the normal knowledge of vampires and were-creatures, many of which are members of the circles. They are enchanted by these creatures due to their magical nature. Arcaenum accepts members practicing both white magic and dark arts. Generally, members believe a balance of both light and dark is necessary in life, although some factions of the guild focus strongly on one or the other. Tiernyn and Ocaenna are the immortal leaders of the guild.

Seeking Arcaenum

I. Class
Be of a magically oriented class: Mage, Cleric, Druid, Psionicist, Wild Mage, Warlock, Necromancer. Bards are also accepted as long as they display a strong magical nature. It is extremely unlikely that a warrior, barbarian, rogue, ranger or monk will be accepted to the guild.

II. Level
Be of the 25th level of ability. Those below this level are not considered ready to become members of Arcaenum.

III. Role-play
Display strong role-playing skills and be able to do so at all times. Role- playing is required in this guild and any deviations may result in removal from guild. Anytime a character needs to be OOC, he or she MUST specify they are doing so. It is extremely unlikely that an immortal of Arcaenum will be OOC at ANY time.

IV. Knowledge
Display strong knowledge of all aspects of the MUD including areas, historical lore, equipment statistics, and combat skills.

A note on combat skills: An applicant need not have PK skills, but must display basic survival and fighting skills. It is unlikely after all, that those who claim to be authorities in the field of magic, cannot use it to adequately protect themselves.

Process of Application:

I. Introduce yourself
To begin, pen a brief scroll to the Arcaenum introducing yourself. Include the extent of your abilities, knowledge of magic, your reasons for joining, and the Circle that you seek (see help circles).

II. Write a History
Write a well-thought out history about yourself. This will help us know you better and guide current members as they assign you vouch tasks, and interact with you. Written histories should be thorough. Should you not care to take the time necessary to present a thorough history, you may never get to step III. as a seeker.

III. Obtain two vouches from current members
Seek out two members of Arcaenum to vouch for your membership. At least one member should be of the circle you'd like to join, if that is already decided. It is likely that the decision on whether the member gives you a vouch or not will be based on their assessment of you with regard to Roleplay and Knowledge.

Returning members:
Former members of Arcaenum who left in good standing and wish to return to the Circles, must obtain a single vouch from the Acharya of their earstwhile Circle and the blessings of the dieties of Arcaenum to be reinstated to their earlier rank. They must, however, apply through normal methods as described above - only the vouching requirement is different. If for some reason the Acharya of the sought Circle is unavailable, the former Adept may, with permission of the dieties of Arcaenum, seek vouches from any Arcaenum Acharya instead.

Please note, that should you request a vouch from a member and be refused it, it is EXTREMELY unlikely that another member will entertain your request for a vouch. Having been refused, you would do well to accept the fact gracefully and go about your business. At a later stage, should you feel that you have rectified your shortcomings, you may appeal to the immortals of Arcaenum to allow you to apply again.

The History of Arcaenum

The Beautiful Stranger

As told to Esme: I was prepping the Inn for closing one evening when a stranger walked through the door. Never one to turn away customers, I welcomed the strange female in. Only nodding, she sat at the bar. Now Ive met many a folk being in this business, but this one, she was peculiar. Tall and lithe, with the most enchanting eyes Ive ever seen, the woman glanced around nervously as if she were looking for someone. Well, being the curious one I am, I figured I would ask.

"Is there someone youre looking for, Maam?" I then realized I hadnt offered the lady a meal or drink! "And can I get you a cup of coffee, Maam, or perhaps a bowl of soup?"

She narrowed her sparkling eyes at me and for a moment I become nervous. The stranger could see this though, and as she looked into my eyes it was as if she could see all that I knew. She smiled then, which eased my tension some.

"A water will be fine, thank you," the enchanting stranger replied.

I turned towards the icebox for the pitcher of water when she spoke again. "You know much about these lands, this city?" she said questioningly, although already knowing. "My name is Ocaenna, by the way," the woman added. I set the glass of water down before her, only realizing now the awesome power this woman emanated. I dont know why I was on edge - she seemed kind enough. "Compose yourself, Esme," I thought to myself.

I introduced myself to Ocaenna just then and told her I'd been running the Wayside for years. I suppose I am passionate about this place and she could sense this in me. This seemed to please her, and she asked if I would write of her tale. Now Ive been working on a few tomes already, but I gladly obliged. Ocaenna nodded, seemingly pleased, and announced that she would return tomorrow eve, at the same time. I immediately began to gather a series of questions in my head for the beautiful stranger.

Ocaenna did indeed return the following eve and I locked up the Wayside early as she requested, so we could be alone. She certainly liked privacy, this one. Not wasting any time, I laid out my writing scrolls and grasped my pen. The following is what I recorded:

Esme: Where do you hail from, Ocaeena?
Ocaenna: I was born in the Alvyrne Forest 350 years ago to kine and sylvan parents. My mother, Tara, who later took the sylvan name of Talya, was kine. My father was of pure sylvan blood and his name was Vassily. I lived in the Alvirne forest for 50 years until it was destroyed by fire caused by the greed of the neighboring town. Now, 50 years of age is quite young for an elf, so it really wasnt a long time.

E: Tell me a bit more of your family and of yourself, if you would.
O: My mother Talya was from a neighboring town - in fact, the one that destroyed the forest. She was a poor woman but had the gift of healing. She kept it a secret though. You see, this town, it was incredibly repressed about these sort of things. She was found out sooner or later though, and the townies wanted her burned at the stake for witchcraft. To make a long story short, it was my father who helped her escape before she was burned.

Now my father Vassily was a sylvan priest of sorts, but a practitioner of the mystical arts as well. He was revered amongst the forest as a powerful man and some even dared call him a magus. He fell in love with my mother, much to the dismay of the other sylvan folk. But they grew to love Talya in no time, and through the mystical arts, transformed her into an elf. I was born shortly afterwards, of full sylvan blood.

As I was saying, 50 years later my home was burned to the ground. The town despised magic and when they caught wind of sylvans living in the forest, they destroyed it. My family was separated at this time, for safety reasons. My mother and father each left without one another, and because I was still a child, I was instructed not to journey alone. I ended up with the sylvan Tamarisk.

E: How awful for a young child to endure such horror. Did you ever see your family again?
O: We were joined again 150 years later by chance really. I was a young maiden at this time and Tamarisk had taken me as his lover. Tamarisk was a dark magician, and I do mean dark. His magic frightened me, but I respected it. He did promise to never hurt me, however, and I was in love with him.

We found my mother first. She had been living with a kind midwife for most of this time. This midwife was a wise woman, or witch. We went to her because I was with child and we needed someone who took kindly to sylvan folk. Tamarisk and I spent the last two months of my pregnancy with the midwife and my mother in their home. I lost the child though. It just wasnt meant to be I suppose.

It was another 50 years before we found my father. The midwife my mother was living with had passed on, and my mother, she was ill. I had become quite good at disguising my sylvan heritage by this point and frequently mingled with the townsfolk as much as I hated them. I wanted to find my father though, at least for my mothers sake. There was a mystics guild rumored to have formed in the Naryxa Mountains north of the town, lead by one called Vassily. It had to be my father. Three sylvans passing through the town limits is no easy feat but we managed, although it involved bloodshed. We traveled for a week or so up the mountainside and eventually fell upon a tiny community of priests and mystics. We had finally found my father and our family was reunited at last.

E: Amazing! Together at last. But that was 100 years ago, what has happened since?
O: Well, we learned my father had began a small guild known as the Circle of Khoury. It was a circle of men and women who devoted their lives to becoming priests and priestesses of the mystical arts. They were holy people but open- minded to the power of magic. Eventually the guild developed other factions now that the three of us there. My mother led the Nahele, a circle of wise woman, shamans, and hedge witches. Tamarisk led the Moander, a circle of dark magicians, much to the Khourys dismay, but they respected them and allowed them to practice so long as they didnt infringe upon each other. I practiced on my own for a while, not falling into any of these circles and began my own, the Azuth Circle. The Azuth were ceremonial magicians practicing both the light and dark aspects of magic. We called the four circles together, Arcaenum.

E: What brings you to Arinock, Ocaenna?
O: My parents and my husband were old and within the past ten years each of them passed away. You have to remember that Tamarisk was a grown man when I was a child, so he was much older than I. When each of them died, their circles separated. My own circle had only just begun, but had little member- ship. I was passionate about magic, though, and knew Arcaenum must go on. I am here because I have searched the realms for a place tolerant of magic, tolerant of beings of different races, a place that embraced diversity amongst its people. There is much magic in Arinock and it is here that I wish for Arcaenum to rise again.

I was fascinated by the sorceresss tale and wanted to know more. I began to ask of her magics, but she gathered her belongings and would tell me nothing of them. As she rose from her chair, a heavy book fell from her arms and its pages fell wide open upon the floor. Ocaennas eyes grew troubled when she saw that I saw the pages title, 'Of Kiyannite Secrets.'

Perhaps another tome to be written at another time.

The Raven and the Dove

Magic. It has ever been here, and now in walks among us incarnate. It's energy pulsates in the cells of all living things, and in the very elements of this physical world. And only one has seen from whence It came.

A mortal Avariel wandered lost in a world he did not belong too. This Abyss, as the mortal who passed amongst that ether called it, is infinitely more dark and chaotic than what his fleshy eyes could see, but in that seemingly chaotic plane there is order, and hierarchy: The souls found him and scourged his mortal soul for memories like hungry beasts unfed. Seemingly lost, these souls of the damned serve not only the mortals who can tap and channel the Fire, the source of all magic. These slave-souls also bow to the biddings of the Fire's will. Other creatures, commonly known as wraiths or demons, are able for a time to pierce the Veil, the thin places between the Abyss and the plane of the mortals, by use of the Fire's power. A short lived freedom abruptly ended when that same force calls them back, for the Fire is the source, the magic... the Fire is everything, and It too is bound to the Abyss.

The mortal who struggled in the Abyss did what was impossible. He twisted the castings of a powerful necromancer and tore a rift in the Veil. As he fell through the rift into the fires of a burning desert sun, a Tongue of Fire exited the rift, into something newlight. In mortal terms a tongue of fire is a small thing that singes a sliver of wood with it's heat, but a "Tongue of Fire" is but a fraction of the infinite magics of the Abyss, therefore infinite itself. The infinite Fire took in the air around it, casting it's particles through the new medium and quickly reached across the land, unseen. This permeation of Fire resonated in the souls of magic users, and throughout the world the simultaneous mumblings of spells fell from their lips, as they unknowingly bid the source welcome to their plane and It accepted the bonds of physical reality. Like the brassy shimmer of cymbals, the presence of the Fire forced itself into the Immortals' awareness, and each cast their vision out through their dominion to find the cause.

The Tongue of Fire looked at the man, torn and bleeding his life force into the grains of sand, and considered his form, his shape, his physical nature. It gathered back it's particles of magic from the atmosphere, contracting the infinite wild energy into something almost tangible, almost mortal in appearance but It's features were too undefined.

In the Hall of the Arcaenum, the Immortal raven-winged creature known as Tiernyn, peered into an onyx bowl filled with water. Sensing the flow of Fire into the world, he sought the source and gazed fully at the visage of the congealing Fire. He spread his wings, reaching them high in the air and raised his hands, calling not to the Fire of the Abyss, but that Tongue that now existed in this realm, and hearing the call, the Fire of smoke and mist turned eastward in response.

'I am not the Fire of the Abyss that feeds the spells of mortals. I am the Fire that walks this plane, and channels the will of magic users, shaping it to my own devices. Do not call me to your bidding, sorcerer' The will of the Fire boomed audibly in the chambers of Tiernyn, a howl of gibberish to the mortals in the Hall of Arcaenum who fell to their knees, covering their ears, yet the immortal held his pose.

'I am not a sorcerer that feeds on Fire. I am Tiernyn, and I am the Immortal that channels Fire and weaves it into chaos and magic in this plain, spreading thine energy throughout all' Tiernyn's response echoed over the sands of the desert to the consciousness of the Fire.

From the depths of the scrying bowl, the smoke and mist that is the Fire gathered, boiling the water to steam. As the steam entered the air, there was a wordless howling, a tempest of energy, and the Fire gathered together before the Immortal. And then, silence. Two figures, power rippling unseen in the space between them, calmly regarding one another.

Finally the dark Immortal spoke in a soft voice.

'I lead the circles of Arcaenum, but ye and I together art the Circle. I, wielder of magic, and thou, wielder of the casters.' The Fire sensed the same and now realized the mortal that wandered the Abyss brought him to this plane by Divine design. It was no accident that his body was cast into the Abyss by a djinn. Seeking to break through the veil, the Fire sent that servant to bring the body to the Abyss. The Fire did not, however know that It's presence in the mortal plane fulfilled a destiny, until this moment.

Behind Tiernyn a door opened and a creature of great beauty walked into the room. Upon seeing the form of the shadowy Fire she fell to her knees and trembled, fearing a great demon had come to attack her Lord. Tiernyn turned in a rage upon the Acolyte of Nahele for not knocking, and the weight of his fury pressed her writhing to the floor. Gliding forward swiftly, and thus banishing any thoughts of punishment Tiernyn might have entertained, the Fire enveloped the youthful flesh of the mortal woman.

'What is this creature? Light was the first surprise to me, unknown beauty, and yet again I find something new.'

'This is a woman. The cardinal opposite to the form I take, that of a man.' The Fire considered the masculine appearance of the Immortal, the feminine of the Acolyte, then the circular nature of the two powers' coexistence.

'Then I will be woman of Fire, your opposite, and your equal. I will be called Astyron.'

The Fire drew away from the now unconscious acolyte and gathered It's particles to assume the new form. In It's study of Tiernyn's form and the woman the Fire understood better how to shape the details of the mortal, and to assume a form more comprehensible. Arms and fingers flowed from the smoky matter, stretched and reaching. Supple legs flowing up into a gracefully arched back and neck formed. Hair of cobwebby fine wisps of smoky power spun out from a small round face, graced with an upturned nose and full lips. Denser flesh the color of ashes congealed, swirling with the colors of magic. Her serious eyes held a steady icy gaze that could look into the souls of others and see the finite currents of Fire within them. She finally swathed her new form with robes of Fire, and buoyed her unnatural body with misty wings of power.

'Let us call together the Circles and begin the work anew.' Spoke Astyron in a voice that was cold and emotionless, ringing clearly like a bell struck sharply, yet pleasing and alluring to the ear. The two powers faced each other and placed their palms together. The air crackled and hissed around their hands and a plethora of gates opened to the distant keeps of the Circles....

Recollections of Ruusbar

My first waking moment was in the abyss. Chaos was the first thing I knew, but I eventually grew accustomed to it. I had no definite shape to begin with. You could think of me, I guess, in that time period many years ago, as a thought. The things one experiences in the abyss can't really be explained in words worthy of what occurs. The closest I can come to really explaining it is that, through the chaos, one begins to gain a fairly accurate perception of reality. That's not to say that I knew anything about the world outside of the abyss, but I knew it existed. It was just a matter of finding a way to get there.

As time went on, I found a way to project my conciousness out to Rhia, and I began to explore this brand new world. It came to the point and time where exploring with my mind wasn't good enough, and I needed to be there in some sort of physical form. Thus, I began to cultivate, in my mind, what a respectable and good form might be. Eventually, I molded into my mind the form that I possess, currently, and pushed that thought into Rhia...

I panicked. I know had five senses that were completely new to me. I could hear what I could never have heard in the abyss. I could feel the air moving around me and I could taste the salt from the ocean not far from where I first stood. The place now escapes me, but I remember standing completely still for what must have been ten minutes as I let myself grow accustomed to my new surroundings. The experience must be on par with being birthed from a mother's womb. You could feel and hear and even see, (though one can really only see darkness) but the feelings take on a whole new meaning when there is a world past what you have known for all of your existence.

Eventually, I got myself walking and came upon a small village that I believe has been destroyed or abandoned. Again, the name of this place escapes me. What doesn't escape me, however, is the name of the first person who I came upon: Belain. She was a kindly woman who was more beautiful than any other woman I had seen in my first wanderings of Rhia, while still in the abyss. She was a priestess of Rhian, and one of the village elders. Being of sylvan descent, however, she had aged physically slower than must humans. I was in love before I even knew what love was.

We spoke at length as a small crowd gathered around us. As I explained my situation, I noticed that the crowd began to grow larger and larger. Eventually, the entire village had gathered around us, and the rest of the village's elders stepped forward to take a look at me, and I was asked to stay so they could learn a little of what the abyss is like from me. I agreed, and became a member of the village.

I talked at length with the elders about the abyss and they benefited from my knowledge as I did from theirs. Each elder practiced a different form of magick, and I studied with each to learn what I could. After a few weeks, I was fairly profficient in most every type of magick. Still, my thirst for knowledge and this strange new realm was not quenched. Belain, who was a powerful druidess, explained that Rhian's blessings were everywhere we looked. I didn't understand at first, until she plucked a withered flower from a patch of weeds, and held it in her hand. As I watched, the flower returned to life, changing from brown to blue, and from crumpled and withered to full and blooming. It was at that point and time where I knew I really did love her, and I expressed my feelings.

She told me that it was unbecoming of an elder to cavort with anyone, let alone with a stranger from a different realm. She shared my feelings, but said we could not be together. Although this had saddenned me, I knew she was right. I took her hand, then, and kissed it, and we returned to the village.

It was not long after that, that the villagers spead rumours of noblemen and women wreaking havoc across the country-side. This worried the village elders, and they began to prepare for the worst.

In the end, the nobles did come, and we were under- prepared. We fought valiantly, the elders and I using our magicks, and the villagers fighting with brawn. However, their numbers overwhelmed us, and we were taken prisoner.

General Codis had us bound at the village green. I was in between the village necromancer and Belain as we sat in a line on the ground in front of the troops and the surviving villagers. Codis had told us that we, the village elders, would be used as an example against what happens when you mess with the Crimson Rain. Belain was brought forward, and set with her head bowed halfway between the elders and I, and the villagers. A man came forward, a large axe in his hands, and a malicious grin on his face. Panic flowed through me as he raised the axe... and brought it down on my beloved's neck.

I sat there stunned for what felt like hours, but must have only been a few seconds. With a cry of complete loss and hopelessness, I threw myself into the abyss, once again. Vowing never to return in corporeal form, again.

To take my thoughts off of Belain and her untimely fate, I busied myself with mastering the arts that I had begun to learn in the village. As centuries rolled past, my thoughts and anger faded along with the memories that tormented me whenever I wasn't concentrating on some task.

My anger subsided and my longing returned full blast. However, I could not bring myself to relive the experience... That is, until a mysterious gateway opened and, I knew, it was time.

Signed with a fluorish,
Ruusbar

The Mistress of the Mist

Astyron, the Lady Dove, sat beneath the welcoming embrace of the shade given by a large cherry tree upon a misty hill. Small tails of mist twirled about restlessly, while a larger collection of mist rested imposingly at the base of the hill. Her quill scratched at an open journal with such speed that the sounds seemed to meld into one, pausing only to dip the feathered pen in a pool of black ink.

Silent, blown by a light breeze, the mist crept closer to where the woman sat. This mist however, was dissimilar to common mist, itself having been bred from chaos, from the Abyss. Having escaped the chaos of its existence through a gate to a demon of the abyss, controlled by an unsuspecting mage, the spirit had cloaked itself as a patch of swirling mist and had begun to explore the new world it found itself open to, a world of power, a world devoid of chaos, a world of balance.

The mist had traveled far since its birth into the world of Rhia. Keeping to the shadows, it had observed the lands' great many riches, among which were its people, many of whom possessed great magical prowess. Of all these beings, however, the mist had been drawn to this woman. It had visited her day in, day out, the Dove unaware of its presence, for many days now.

Astyron glanced up from her writings for a split second, and stared through the mist, scanning the horizon. She then spoke aloud, not to herself but rather to the mist itself. 'Why do you watch me, mist?' The swirling mist paused for a moment, momentarily stunned. 'Of course, you wouldn't think I have not noticed your presence. I've watched you for a long while now. Now, answer me, why have you come?'

The mist gathered itself into the vague shape of a human and hissed aloud, 'Isn't it obvious? I am drawn to you, lady, Tongue of Fire. Bred from chaos, you are not so very different from myself. You and I both radiate power, yet you wield this power such as I cannot.'

Astyron's cold, emotionless voice rang out once again. 'Yet, you have managed to escape the confines of the abyss to venture into the realm of mortal men. What exactly is it that you seek by coming here?'

The mist countered almost immediately, expecting the question. 'I seek the power of the magicks, their sources, and the knowledge to wield them.'

Astyron's eyes probed the mist for a long while, silent. At length the lady Dove spoke. 'You will learn nothing by watching. If you wish to learn the ways of the magicks, you must dedicate your whole being to the craft. You must immerse yourself, let go of all thought, absorb magic in all forms. If this is the path you truly seek, find yourself a form more suited for mortal eyes, and take your first step down a long but rewarding path.' As the Dove's words faded, the mist began to shift, whirling about in a funnel so fast that for a moment nothing within was visible. Finally, the mist began to slow, and as a powerful breeze tore across the hill, disappeared. Left in the spot where the mist had formed stood a stunning white-haired beauty, robed in elegant silver. 'Greetings,' the figure said aloud, its voice warm in contrast to that of the Dove. 'Thank you for the opportunity.' The spirit paused, then continued, 'I shall be called Ashanni.'

Ashanni's understanding grew quickly under the Lady Dove's watchful eye. Many long days and nights passed in study, every moment devoted to the sole purpose of understanding magic. Neither needed sleep, for neither experienced mortal needs of any type. Rather, by sun, moon, and candle, Ashanni gleaned knowledge from her mentor.

The leaves turned from green to brown and then to dust, yet the Dove continued her teachings, the student eagerly embracing the lessons learned. Days turned into weeks, weeks to months, and months to years. Ashanni felt herself growing more powerful by the day, as though the magicks themselves flowed through her veins.

At long last, the Lady Dove's teachings ended. Resting in the shade of the cherry tree upon the same hill which Ashanni had first visited so long ago, Ashanni cleared her mind and recalled some of the finer points of the magic of the elements. Her focus was broken by Astyron's words, which seemed to echo with a tinge of excitement. The Dove had never benn known to use representations of human emotion in her voice, and her words caught the woman of the mist off guard.

'Ashanni,' the Dove spoke aloud, 'I have been given a most precious gift. The gift of what I speak,' the Dove peered around herself, her voice now an excited whisper, 'is that of mortality. The Blessed Mother has given me the chance to experience life as a mortal for a short while, perhaps even for an extended length of time. I will finally be able to experience emotion, feeling, the essence of the only thing which I do not yet know, mortality.'

'Astyron,' Ashanni countered, 'it is mortality itself that causes mortals' downfalls. Emotions and feeling lead them into making rash decisions, most leading them down the wrong path. Why would you wish to experience such insecurity?'

The Dove answered Ashanni's question as though expecting it. 'This is an opportunity that few, if any, immortals have experienced. I am drawn to mortals, for though my powers are limitless, I have never felt vulnerability. I have taught you all that you need, Ashanni, Mistress of the Mist. There is only one gift I have left to give you.'

The lady Dove led Ashanni to a mountain path, protected by a warded door. Astyron spoke a few archaic symbols, unknown to Ashanni's ear, and the doors' wards on the door fell. The great wooden doors creaked open slowly, and the smell of stagnant air met Ashanni's nostrils. She began to protest to the Dove that she was unfamiliar with the words, but the Dove gave her no more than a passing glance, and stepped within the mountain.

Astyron passed through a mist filled corridor, dimly lit by blue flame. Ashanni followed behind, curiously observing her surroundings. At long last, the pair came to an opening. The cramped corridor abruptly ended, revealing a wide, circular chamber. Sunlight rained down upon the Dove and Mistress of the Mist, causing Ashanni to adjust her vision in the light. Smooth black obsidian walls, lined with bookcases, surrounded the circular room, while thousands of volumes lined their shelves. The ground itself seemed to be of the very same mist that Ashanni had first come to take as her form.

Bewildered by the awesome sight, Astyron allowed Ashanni a moment to come to her senses before speaking. At long last, Astyron faced her student. 'This, Ashanni, is my gift to you. This library is home to nearly every magical work ever created. In these books lie the secrets to all magic, and even knowledge beyond. You hunger for knowledge, and here, you shall have your fill. I leave you to study within this mountain. When I feel that you are ready, I will return. You have been an amazing student, and I hope that when I return, it is you who will be the teacher.'

Ashanni could say nothing. Although she had not experienced mortal emotion, she could tell this was as close as to being awestruck as she had read about. The woman merely nodded to Astyron in thanks, her face full of wonder.

'I will leave in your care my tree, which the both of us have learned many a lesson under. I trust you will keep it just as I have. For now,' Astyron paused, turning away, and whispered to herself, 'Saissa awaits.'

Ashanni raised an eyebrow at this unfamilar name, yet the Lady Dove had allready disappeared. Down the corridor, Ashanni heard the wards being placed once again on the large door, and at long last, silence.

The Mistress of the Mist turned to her new library, admiring its slendor. After making her way around the room, familiarizing herself with its beauty, Ashanni picked up a dusty tome of dellicate vellum, and sat beneath the familar tree. She paused, looking up, and then began to read. A lengthy search for knowledge awaited her eager mind.