It has been 362 years, 200 days since the Victory of Lanival the Redeemer. It is the now the 6th month of Arhat the Fire Lion in the year of the Emerald Dolphin.

For a wandering Mage like me, returning to the wasted lands to my beloved guildhall and refuge to find that our Master Tiv is not among us, was most disturbing. Perhaps, we speculated amongst ourselves, he has made contact with our lost brethren Monks and is returning with them to reunite the Crystal Hand once more. Else, we feared, mayhap some other fate has befallen him?

It has been a long time since the conservative days of our Order. Gone are the staunch diets and shaven heads traditional to the studying monk; nay, these have been lost to our need to survive -- and thus blend in with others, unknown to them, but not dissimilar, as our teachings in strategy reflect. Now, only visitors, "tourists" even, grace our inner-walls. Pah. "Can you tell me where the moon artifacts are?", they ask. "Are you an actual Monk?" they ask. Why, one day I was reflecting what could be the very nature of lunar mana itself when some cretin barged in, to the meditation chamber of all places, blithering some inane garbage about cutting down more of our prized flame-roses. "Attain peace, attain harmony, attain perfection", I patiently intoned, and did not collapse the poor man's mind.

The hardened, glossy lava walls echo softly here today as I look out south over Elanthia from the edge of the Volcano, the platform and seat once held quietly, but nonetheless perfectly, by Master Tiv. I reflect on how, like him, I found this place out of a passionate desire to know, to understand. And I am filled with that same fire now as I ponder the future before us.

Naturally, my students are upset by his absence, more so considering that it happened while we were training in the field. They cling to the ideals and philosophies he instructed them on, and the teaching Monks like myself keep a peaceful, contented look, but inside, against our training, there is a fear brewing. We've heard that the Progeny of Tezirah has revealed the location of a gathering place to the south, which has begun to recruit new members. This has several of the Elder Monks concerned, albeit in my estimation, this is premature. As Braun pointed out so long ago, the heavens unite us all, and so as always, it will be for the Monks to maintain balance, peace, and harmony. We will recruit our own into the ranks, but we shall do so in our way, and no other.

The resonance from the cosmos has had disturbing fluctuations lately, as I have sensed them within myself, and have read the thoughts of the students. They busy themselves with mental labors, instruction, or merely standing in place in the rock garden's smoothed sands, focusing on an aspect of lunar power, but for them, the ripple effect is no less evident.

An old friend, a G'nar Pethian, stopped by last evening, his face drawn from the long trip. We Monks have always had a fondness for those from the Arid Steppe, and as I greeted him, his sightless brow furrowed with concern as his weathered hands touched my own. "Troubled are ye, old friend?" he asked, his voice dried and rasping.

I sat, exhaling a breath that came from beyond the depths of my soul. Pouring my visiting friend a touch of Windhaze from an old crystal decanter, I paused, gathering my words precisely, knowing the old G'nar's penchance for brevity. "It would be trouble to some, but it is mere reflection of sensed disturbances.", I replied, quietly.

He laughed, rare but rewarding, knowing the path the old one had walked along his life. "Transparent ye are," he replied. "The Hand marking your guild is no less."

"Since Tiv's been gone, and the Progeny has become increasingly active..." I trailed off. The old one turned his face towards me, the soft candlelight playing gently across his cheeks. He took on a knowing look.

"Nothing has been revealed to you by your spies." He said it with an air of statement, not as if to question. "Concerned you are that balance will be shifted, that the Monks will lose ground." He stopped, sipping his Windhaze with hesitance.

I sighed. I could never conceal anything from the elder G'nar, not since we had essentially grown up together. "Yes, it is this, it is many things," I said, turning to look out the window of my chamber. "As always time is the solvent to be best applied to my questions, my concerns."

Later, when my old friend retired to our guest quarters, I reflected on his words, nay, the entire swath of cloth from which these times have been cut. As I released the last of my mana, and blew a gentle breath across my single candle, I contemplated days to come.