As the wind whistled through the wood, as it had so many times in the past, I paused. This time it was different. This time, it was more personal.
I’d come to Ilithi to pray. To mourn. To once again say goodbye to those who came before me.
Memories flitted through my mind. People, places, things. Daxlynn, Tarmerdes, Skilair, Nagelwolf, Bartree, Teamarie, Nuark, Michie, Sharuul, Tiso…So many old friends, gone. Lost to time, lost to the Outcasts, or lost to their own wanderings.
Never again would the Gypsy’s laugh push away the fear of the unknown. Never would I hear the characteristic twining of the crank of Tarmerdes’ crossbow.
Ilithi, and my beloved Crystal City, were, like the populace of old, slowly dying away. Could it really be true, that I am the only remnant left of a dying world?