Candlelight

Inside the labrynth, they had found an alchemical study. It seemed so out of place — a small, but well-stocked library in the middle of nowhere. Outside, someone had been farming reagents, and there could be found raw ginseng and the deadly mandrake, among others. The floor was etched with mystical runes of the same sort that Azeron had first encountered in Ocllo, long ago...

Khyrian had told him a tale once — a tale of a temple on that island. He told of the creatures that resided there, and enslaved the island of Ocllo long before the age of Chaos ended. That kingdom had long since fallen, as had the temple. And yet, even now, that rune remained, etched into the very earth. Azeron recalled a book that Khyrian had found in the Dungeon Deceit that mentioned this same tale — a book that now rested on a shelf in the guildhouse downstairs...

Azeron continued to pour over the manuscripts. Some of them were torn. Some were burned partially away. Some were so brittle that his gentlest touch threatened to crush the pages into dust. He took a moment to rub his eyes fiercly, and allow himself a long stretch. It had been a long night — one of many — and there was still so much to read. But the picture was slowly coming into focus.

Khyrian... where are you? Are you any closer to finding a cure than when you began? Azeron worried about his missing friend. There was no doubt that time was running short. He prayed — not only for his friend, but for his beloved wife — that the pieces of this puzzle could be put together soon.

Az let out a sigh, pushing himself away from the desk. Standing up, he stretched again, letting blood flow back into his legs. He sorted out the books that he had already examined, and stacked them into his arms. Perhaps if he put them in the bookshelves below, others could study them and see something he had missed. Hope fought against desperation as he carried the books to the ground floor of the Tao Guildhouse.

He made his way back upstairs to his office. Taking one last glance at the room, he sighed again. The candle on the stand still flickered quietly. Leaning over, Azeron blew it out, watching the wisps of smoke curl upward, reaching for the moonlight coming in through the window. He turned and locked the door, ready to head home once again.

The night air was cool, but not unpleasant. Looking at the moon, he knew it was late. Poor Melyanna would once again be asleep when he arrived. In the morning, he would water the roses and make sure the table was set with clean dishes. He hoped that she noticed such things, even though she would still be resting when he departed. Each day he promised himself that he or Khyrian would find a cure soon...

Across the dew-covered grass of Tel'Ruid, Azeron Daefaroth headed home, to watch over his sleeping wife.