Drya was an altogether well-favored sage, a shining example of the metamorphosing properties of the Mazar's standardized training. Through the years she had changed drastically, from a fanciful young student to the collected, scholarly woman she was today.

She now stands within a humble chamber, seeming to be a workshop, but serving as a makeshift meetingplace. A great aperture for stargazing dominated the wall opposite her, the rest of the room littered with codices, sketches, and manuals. Standing central, demanding the attention of the sage were three figures of the Mazar. The first was Drya's jhawla. A teacher for the sage, it was he who prompted this meeting out of consideration for her. If the first was Drya's teacher, the second, who kindly lended her place of work, was Drya's role model. A respected scholar and astronomer, she climbed her way near the top of the tower as a woman. This was a remarkable achievement. Finally, the third figure was perhaps the most esteemed of all: A high delegate of the Apostols, who oversaw the meeting to ensure the best interest of the church. His blind eyes were covered with wrappings, yet Drya had the impression he gazed into her soul.

"A meeting of this nature is highly unusual for the matters of a common sage," declared the third. "Hark, Drya is no commoner," her jhawla told him. "From what I hear, you are well known throughout the Mazar. I respect you, and your resolution to accompany the Young King through the Urd." "Oh eminent one, I humbly thank you." Drya performed a slight bow, as was customary when interacting with the upper delegates. "However, the Apostols are not convinced that sending him into the wild land is our finest course of action." The second spoke next: "We also must consider how his Imperial connections would react, knowing that we endangered their darling ruler." The third huffed. "Indeed, there may be political ramifications for Mazar Cultus, or even for our nation." "Drya, what say ye on this matter?" asked the first. "Please, allow me to take the blame." This response took her jhawla aback. "What? Against the Empire?" She nodded before expounding.

"Consider a single, rogue, agent, whisking the Young King away. It makes for a better story, and I am well prepared to bear this burden on my shoulders-- General Archelos already despises me, so he will not hesitate to consider me an enemy to the Empire. If he wishes to send an army after us, I say let him; we are few and we know this land better than any else. Furthermore, I much less fear retribution than the consequences of failure."

It was a drastic ploy, but too a necessary one. For her Mazar, her only family, Drya was willing to risk her life. Thankfully, it seems that this idea went over well with the delegate. "The Apostols will be most pleased by your sacrifice, young sage."

"On another note," started the second, "of the Young King ye must be as cautious as ye are protective. Verily he is precious, but too is he impulsive. Keep a close eye on him." The third agreed. "This will be a test for him. A test of his kingship- Does he have the resolve to lead us?" "I have the utmost belief in him," Drya responded. "Hmm... Your word is satisfactory. The Apostols would like to hear your evaluation of his performance throughout the expedition. Return alive, for their sakes. Now, be dismissed young sage." The three wished her good luck and said farewell. "We shall pray for your safety and good fortune."

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Drya bowed and made her leave, coming to terms with the responsibility she had just walked herself into.

***

The gathering hall brimmed with shadow. It was night, and the last worshippers of the starry sky had concluded their practice. Grand columns and engravings loomed over Drya now as she drifted down through the emptied chamber. How long has it been since dusk?

She spotted a silhouette there, down by the opening to the moonlit outside world. From this place he peered at her, a hooded figure emerging from the dark, inner belly of the Mazar. "I formally apologize for my unpunctuality," she said, the words echoing outwards towards the Young King. "I suppose now we must set off." "Truthfully, sage, I am pained to leave this place so soon." He turned to gaze at the moon. "What is it that holds you here? Long-gone memories? Nostalgia?" "Partly..." The Young King seemed to be under a heavy strain. "Truthfully, it is a matter of obligation... To you, who have shown me so much kindness." Drya stepped from the shadow, the two sharing an illuminated patch of moonbeam. "Your augustness, it is mine duty to protect you on our forthcoming journey-- Unquestionably. I do not expect material recompense." "It is non-material. Floating, yet heavy. Veiled, yet unforgettable." "A secret?" Drya did not judge him as a keeper of secrets, ever. "Hark, if it does not need to be known by me, then hold it close without-" "I had a dream of the apocalypse-- I think by the will of a Natural God." He spat the truth out fast, so as to get it over with painlessly.

A confused look shot across the sage's face. "A- A dream? The Natural God who rules the realm of dreams- This is..." "Surely it was the Seventh. Mine senses tell me the dream may connect to your missing tome... Sage, I have been laboring to discount this vision, to forget it, yet this proved impossible in the end. I had to tell you." "Worry not. You have mine gratitude for being forthright." The two began strolling outwards, to the Mazar's paddock. The Young King took his first step into the outside world, leaving the safety of the Ivory Shrine. "Now, our hands are cleaned. We have no secrets between us," he said. What an innocent presumption. Drya had not even considered until this very moment the proposition of sharing the contents of her earlier meeting. The thought crossed her mind, gradually, words inching towards the tip of her tongue...

Yet she remained silent. It is for his own protection. However his faith in me instills fear for the day he learns the truth... She retreated into the shade of her hood.

"Sage, what ever is the matter? Come, let us mount and be off." "I may be a sage, but I am also Drya. Could you, Young King, call me by this name?" He smiled. "You too are my friend, Drya. I hope that this is evident." She was expressionless, eyes cloaked in shadow. "Let us be off quickly. The air is chilling me to mine bones."

***

In the days since that heretical theft took place, the Tome of the Antecedent has certainly traveled far. A great, active power sits dormant, waiting eagerly to be unsealed.

With this knowledge, the fated duo shall search wherever the wind may sweep them-- From one corner of the sun-blessed lands to the other; from Urdhiin's vast plains, to its shaded wood, and to its deepest of umbral caverns.

Seven pairs of heavenly eyes shall foresee their destiny.