Rain streamed from the sky, soaking into the ground and washing out the buildings and embankments. The hard-packed dirt roads were swamped, their even surface turned to mud. On the ground, a cloaked figure ran through the shadows. Her shoes slapped through the puddles and turned black with moisture. The woman's hair shone silver in the half-light, and water streaked it with ropes of grey. Her pace slowed as the glow of a light shone on the horizon, and a wavering membrane rose into view. It shone with the clouds and sky, images rippling over its length, and through its transparency marble castles and flowing fountains could be seen. The woman raced forwards, and without hesitation, plunged through the shimmering barrier. She slowed to a walk as she passed through, letting her cloak drop to the ground where it rippled and disappeared. Water dropped off her clothes and pooled beneath her as she stepped. Above her head, fluffy clouds drifted lazily across the sky, and the golden sun shone.

The woman's footsteps made no sound as she briskly walked through a large white arch into a huge building that was open to the sky. Flaming braziers shed pools of orange light that danced over the towering walls, and shone out through slits embedded in them. On the opposite end of the hall sat three gilded thrones, one of which was occupied. A tall man was seated in it, strong and proud with dark hair and glittering eyes. He straightened as the woman entered, and looked as if he was about to speak.

The woman completely ignored him, instead marching up to one of the thrones and sitting elegantly at its edge. She snapped her fingers and a bright flame leaped from the nearest torch, settling in her hand. She ran it over her limbs and hair, he unnatural heat instantly drying the moisture that still clung there. The man simply sat with his chin resting in his palm. He leveled angry glare at the nearest brazier, contemplating it darkly. The woman shot a glance at him.

"It's raining," she said. Her voice was clam and elegant, betraying a wisdom beyond her visible years.

"I can see that," the man growled, not moving his gaze.

"What do you think it means?" the woman asked, concern edging into her tone. "I visited the pit. I am worried." The man didn't speak.

"He's stirring, Fajr," she whispered.

A bang filled the room. Fajr stood, breathing heavily. His heavy golden throne lay on the floor behind him, where he had pushed it.

"I tire of your alarms and concerns!" he snarled. "We have been safe for years. There is no reason for that to change now. You are a worried fool, Sylnav."

Sylnav rose to meet him. Even standing straight she was a good foot shorter than Fajr, and cursed the fact that she would have to tilt her head to meet his eyes.

"It was unlike anything we have seen before," she said. "Tendrils of power grasped the ground surrounding the pit, and the air smelled of brimstone. Besides, it's raining in Ashanta. Our power has kept this place stable for years. If not a threat, then what is it?"

Fajr seemed to collapse in on himself. "I do not know," he replied. Sylnav was as fickle as the moon she ruled over, but she was seldom as worked up as this. Her anxiety warned a small part of his mind that this was more serious than he had initially thought.

"What are we doing?" Sylnav sighed. "We ought not to be discussing this without Eursa, she'll have our skins."

"If you think that's best," Fajr replied.

"I do," Sylnav answered. Fajr took the flame from her hand and blew on it. The fire grew into a large orb, composed solely of light and heat. He whispered his message quietly into it, and the ball sped out of the throne room.

Sylnav sank into her chair and after a moment Fajr replaced his before doing the same. They waited

After several minutes, a shimmering mist formed and and drifted towards the third throne. It solidified into a large figure.

"Why have you called for me?" It growled in a deep voice. "I have not sat in this throne for centuries." The figure resolved itself into the form of a giant bear. Sparking silver dust caked its fur, causing it to shimmer as it moved.

"We apologize Eursa," Fajr said formally, "Troubled times are coming." He filled her in with the details of Sylnav's visit to the pit, and the torrential rain.

Eursa examined her claw, each one embedded with three silver strips. "Rain is not good," she snarled, "the statues will rust. You, however, want to do something even more dangerous. You wish to go back to the time of Aaroc. I will not do it."

"Please," Sylnav begged. "It is our only chance!"

Eursa simply shook her great head. "He was almost our undoing last time, we will be worse off now."

"No," Fajr broke in. "We will be better this time, wiser. We will guard this one; we will make sure that it is not repeated. As Sylnav said, it is our only chance."

Eursa didn't speak. She sat for so long that Fajr believed she never would.

"Fine," she spat finally. "I will do it. But I do not like it, not at all. And when this fails, I will not be responsible for the outcome. Mark my words, this will be the end of us all."

Fajr breathed a sigh of relief, but Sylnav just stared outside the dome, to where the rain ripped at the countryside and pounded the land.

"I fear the end has already begun," she murmured.

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