The Journal of Sister Jābira ad Hayyān, High Alchemist of Andalbrass

Herein be mine own accounting of our end, as High Al-chema of the Vasnan temple of Andalbrass, for whatever little that title hath any worth now. This holy place now rattles, near empty, the keep long ago abandoned. What young there hath been long ago hath flown from here. The old have long ago died, and now only I and Pontiff Adn-ahta, his two attendants, and loyal Dachem yet remain. My experiments yield yet nothing. The Shimmering Path remains elusive. The Lady of Jade hath with tremendous grace tolerated my pestering, but she is bound between worlds and the timescape, and her great wisdom is cryptic and most arcane. She hath spake, through my many queries, of a prophetic-like thing, the very same that she spake to my mother and hers before:

"Thy forms are fix'd, and thy spirits doth change. No path canst thou find until the Changing Ones are born again unto thy bosom, for thy "curse" is no such thing; it is in Being, and only this. Thy wilde heart was not meant to beat within bones of stone. Came ye to this shattered world when thine was lost to thee, but our wheel is broken and cannot turn. So it is thy folk who must learn again to change. No sap or vine or reagent or powder will forge the Path anew. Only thy mutable souls freed in thy waking form can do this, and they shall, in time. But the time is not now, and it is not thee who bears this burden. Lady Moon shall guide Her, when she is ready... the mother of your salvation."

Her sacred words as always both ignite and douse hope in equal measure. I worry for our Covenant. I fear for the Seal. I despair for mine own life, now seeming so vain.

When we found the Lady of Jade's holy glade far below, many generations past, she gave unto us her blessing, that we might seek the newly-found whispers of Lady Moon, and build a temple atop our foremother's ore mine that had unwittingly spilled into her demesne. She proffered to us her guidance, and in return we would stand as a bulwark to her realm, tenuous as it is. Thus was our Covenant; She would guide our souls, and we were to protect hers. But we are no longer here to stand as such. Five miserable Dvar'fir are no bastion.

And the Seal that my grandmother lay below us, our shared burden with Elves and Men... I heard only tales of the Blighted One and the horrors he wreaked upon this land, but bound in three parts he lays still. Soon... soon to be unguarded save by stone and our ingenuity. The Lady of Jade advised against my suggestion of granting this place to the stewardship of Men, believing it would only hasten the seal's destruction. And so it shall be. Another covenant, broken not by our will but by our dwindling.

And so now to the wide world go I. I must leave this place. The pontiff believes it is his duty to die here, and I shall not be able to convince him or his proteges otherwise. And Dachem, poor Dachem, honorable to a fault... He will see a duty through until there is naught left to see. I shall miss him. I go now to seek the "Mother of our salvation", and I pray it is something that can be found.

If thou hast found this writing, I am like to be long-dead, and our halls, empty. If thou be a raider, cur, tomb-robber, knowest thou that thy feet tread upon the despair of a whole people, and fie to thee. May the living stone curse thy waking and thy dreams.

But if thou be Dwarf-kith or belike, I pray, Dwarf-kin... Know this: This place, hewn from desperation and beautiful triumph, is a great power, a place of awe and terrible import. It is here, I am still sure, that we are meant to find our way. If we yet live, I pray ye seek as we have sought. Our childer deserve better than doom.

I beg of thee: Protect the Seal. Protect the Lady, and heed her. And seek our salvation, wherever she may be." -Sister Jābira ad Hayyān, High Alchemist of Andalbrass

Type

Journal, Personal

Medium

Vellum / Skin