The efforts and deaths of three scriers have led me to this book, to these words, to this introduction. I cannot possibly explain everything to you, as I lack the time and certainly the strength to manage this for long. Content yourself to know that I have spent a year to understand what is going on, and this has led me here to you.
I am within your brotherhood. I am indeed a Seeker, which is how this all began. Discrepancies and turbulence in the veil awoke my mind to the possibilities that lore was begun, lore which is new and yet already proscribed against. I write to you because although I have no clue where and when you are, you are indeed the only Known Quantity. You must be. You were to be that way from the very first, measured and re-measured, precisely sculpted since your birth to be what you are, what you must be. Forgive me if I say things that confuse you, that make no sense. You should know of what I speak, and if you do not, then I am gravely concerned about telling you too much of delicate matters. I speak of how you came to be in Araby, your ancient home, years ago. You know our credo. It is not enough to know, but it is the learning that makes both the lore and the seeker worthy.
I killed a man in Turkesh who knew more than he would say. I blotted from this realm a princeling of Libya, who pretended to be far more than he actually was, but his vizier told me much. It seems that our brotherhood’s theorem of life originating in the Dark Continent might be quite true. At least man’s life. Our most potent and eldest of lore exists there. Truthfully, our weave itself seems to stem from the deserts and savannas that are now lost to us. Something to think upon.
But I digress.
You are hunted now. There can be no other way for it. I know not of the Event that occurred to you, although we all can sense its gravity. One of our number, no friend to you, has posited a theory regarding that great weights are now freed and swing rapidly. What they will impact remains to be seen, but you have already begun to notice the enhanced consciousness of your existence by now. There will be more. Ward yourself and your friends well, cousin wizard. There will be much much more, and you undoubtedly now bear the power to sustain you all through this. Never tell me what it was that transpired in the North. Mortals can only know but so much before they fall into an abyss whose scope they cannot perceive. Gods save you that you never learn such a lesson, if that is indeed possible for you. Those who know and seek to know believe that new tokens have been birthed, and will come for them.
The Seekers will now be both friend and enemy to you. Take what you will from the rest of this missive, and trust me or not, for I seek as they do, as you do. And you should suspect me as well, by now. But I come to you bearing only good will and some small information that might help you. Regardless, we may meet if the fates decree and should we, I will introduce myself bearing a blue lily, so that you might know who I am when you see me.
And now my message.
Danger walks the land once more, there are powers in play that dwarf what we all know and understand. They conflict and compete with some great prize in mind. From what I know, there will be a sceptre, a rod of tremendous powers that will be vied for. A sceptre that can make Kings and change destinies. A totem not unlike our own wizard’s staves, something that can channel and intensify and focus. Something that can take up dreams and build them into realities.
I say ‘will be’, because it does not exist yet, I have learned. But the making of this mighty artifice falls somehow into your domain, yours and the people you are bonded to now. I know not the why’s and wherefores, but this artifact could be a deciding force in the hands of many. And all hands will grasp at your robes to claim it. Guard yourself and your tomorrows well, for many of these forces will be no friend to you, or to the Continent at all.
It seems to me that you will be crucial in deciding the fate of these things, you already have your fingers on the pulse of the matter. Again, be wary you who trust, even myself. Such power will be tempting to everyone.
Including you. Guard the most against yourself, brother. Trust yourself not. Your reckoning is coming. And of course, I understand what happened in my city and I hold you not accountable at all for it. I know how things lie. I doubt I will have the means to contact you through your libram again. Nor will I be able to read your diction here either. Be wary, because if I can reach these words, so can others.
I miss our fellowship. I miss our history and our forsaken futures, brother wizard. I trust this finds you well, and ever seeking. Trust in what you learn, and in what your own mind presents you. Know thyself and gain power over thyself. Now more than ever, the old adage is so very, very true.