It was a beautiful ceremony.

That’s really all I could even bring myself to think about it. I couldn’t say no to Chala though, even after all this time. Even if it was the last time I would ever see her.

Ever since my father died, I’ve thought about what would happen when I myself died. I’ve already tempted fate for so many years that I’ve already accepted that my luck is going to run out any day now. Indeed, I’ve been anticipating it. Perhaps even chasing it?

Is that why I took this last mission for the Consortium?

And now, I’m burdened with what seems like secret knowledge. The scroll has been destroyed, but I now carry this secret back with me as I follow the astral tether back to my broken body.

Only…something is wrong.

Where is the tether taking me?

I pull the tether taught, dragging my soul along the line which is my only route back to my body - the only thing anchoring me to this world and keeping me out of the Gray, but I have reached a point where I can move no more. The line is slippery in my hands here, as if something is weighing me down.

Panic begins to well within me; panic like I haven’t felt since my first astral projections back at the Nexus.

Held in place by an unseen force, my dim awareness slowly focuses on my surroundings. All around my soulform is an octagonal chamber where every wall seems to be made of dark glassy stone.

I have seen this room before, in a previous dream. As I ponder this, a figure comes into view. I can make out their solid form more clearly than ever before.

Their skin is like black porcelain, like living stone. Or rather unliving. Their eyes are an abyss of unnatural purplish-red surrounding an endless blackness.

“We know exactly who you are, Eshmel of Urik, and whom you serve. We know your missions, both now and later…”

By Ral, the strength of this mind! It felt as if his stone hand was gripping my arm in astral space, the pain of the contact radiating outwards from the power of that connection.

“We have seen the folly of man, the pursuit of power by our former master dooming the world and leaving him forever locked in shadow. We have already seen the world end once. This must not happen again.

“You have seen the Doomspace Prophecy. Now you will be useful in passing on our message. The world itself is not ready yet, but that is not any concern. Your old masters know how to pull the required strings.

“I will not force you to do this. There is no need - you will do it freely on your own. How could you not? If you care for this world it is inevitable.

“You have questions as to who I am? So be it. That knowledge will not make any difference in the end. I am called Niraan, and we are the Descendants of the Chosen.

“I will see you soon.”

And with that, I was released. I scrambled back towards my body as quickly as I could, still feeling the shooting pain throughout my entire soul.

When I returned to myself, I found my body in a new place.

———————————————————————————————

My dear friends, not only have Gulem and my old teachers at the Nexus answered my message, they have a plan to help save my mission! As I send this missive, I am en route to the Nexus itself where we shall discuss ways in which I can continue to serve my mission!

It was not a moment too soon either, for it seems I am now in a race against time to get there. As I have mentioned previously, I am not recovering: between the injuries I sustained at Magehome, my advanced age, and my encounter with these “Descendants of the Chosen”, my condition is no longer stable without the continuous ministrations of the Water priests. I am certain the Nexus knows this. But they are certainly a creative lot, and have historically proven very resourceful in finding ways of using the knowledge and consciousness of an individual whether their body survives or not. Since my mission’s success would benefit countless lives across all of the inhabited areas of the Tablelands (enough so that every major druidic, preserver, and life shaper organisation has lent its support), I’ve made peace with the prospect of my sacrifice.

Accompanied by my young and enthusiastic Silvaarak friend, I was carried down from the mountains by a team of strong aarakocra and then flown to Kurn where a half-giant retainer awaited us. Carried by handcart, we are now making our way into the mountains which conceal the Nexus School of the Way.

The image you see is Galth’s Spring, the most common base camp used by prospective students before attempting to scale the mountains and locate the elusive Nexus academy. Gulem scours the world for students he believes are capable and willing to take on the intense training the Nexus offers, and the first part of the rite of passage for any prospective student is making their way to Galth’s Spring. From there, they must find their way up the mountain, using all their skills and wherewithal to discover the elusive entrance to the academy.

Galth’s Spring was almost exactly as I remembered it from when I first saw this location so many decades ago. The modest oasis settlement remains an understated affair, with just barely enough maintained here to allow a solitary pilgrim a night’s rest and give them a fair chance at making it up the mountain.

And so, as an ironic parallel to my first experience entering the psionics academy in my youth, I am now to be carried up the mountain as a dying old man. It is not the homecoming I would have wanted, but I am curious to know what Gulem and his council have to say about my circumstances and the message I bring them.

Until next time, may the moons guide you.