Excerpt from a book entitled “The Tales of Tyburn Wells, Explorer” found buried in the Temple Ruins. The book had been buried for a long time. Most of the pages were damaged by the elements and rendered illegible.

… And 'twas with great difficulty that I finally reached Zimma, whose mages are said to work wonders with the very fabric of Life. The mechanical contraption I used for the last leg of my journey, the one I had bought in the bazaar at Rena seemed to give up as soon as I stepped off it. The first village I came across on this fragment was rich. Not in sense the palaces of Mion were rich, or the Kings of Bone. These people seemed to have an abundance of peace. The village radiated an aura of calm that seemed to ease my weariness merely by virtue of my being here. Their fields were more verdant than the season warranted, their crops larger than any others I had seen in my travels.

I found a man who agreed to lead me to the monastery I had braved so many storms to reach. One of this village's simple inhabitants, going by the name of Keichi. Warning me that the journey was long, and at times perilous, he advised me to stay the night in the village and set off in the morning. I had been travelling for three years, one more day would hardly harm me.

Setting off from this haven of peace, we marched towards the hills at the far end of the fragment. On either side of the road were fields as far as my eye could see, right up to the edge, where vast and ancient trees seemed to warn me not to approach them. As the day dragged on the road started to climb into the hills, and still the fields continued. When we decided to rest for a while, we sat on a patch of cleared land about a hundred paces away from the road. As I rooted through my pack for a bite to eat I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye. I looked up, hoping to see my guide returning from collecting water, but there was nothing there but a group of trees.

Before long my guide returned and we were able to continue on our way. As the day dragged on, and my guide being increasingly vague about the distance remaining to the monastery, I started to hear whispers. Thinking them merely a trick of the wind, I paid them little heed, but soon enough I was able to distinguish words: foreigner… unwelcome… protect…

I asked my guide about this, and he replied that he didn't hear anything. His face betrayed the lie.

As night fell, we started looking for a place to set up camp, and settled on a patch of clear ground amidst an oddly familiar-looking group of trees.”

I lay on my back looking up at the the storms playing out in shades of green, and I tried my hardest to ignore the incessant whispering. As the night wore on and I found myself unable to sleep, I could have sworn it grew louder. I could understand more words: secrets… monastery… death… Keichi…

When the stormlight became bright enough to see by, my guide was nowhere to be found. In his place was a patch of dried blood and a sapling. I decided to continue by myself, after all, what more could I lose?