The moon rose between the ominous peeks of a towering mountain range. A single path twisted its way through the snow covered knolls, dead grass waving in the silent wind like dancing omens. Upon the trail a shimmering figure walked alone, each footstep echoing in suspense, her stride purposeful.

The woman, Vashara, was known as the Oracle of Light, whose sole task was to care for the gift of Meeroos to mankind from the Gods. Yet, in recent times she had become troubled. Her rival, Orlex, the Oracle of Darkness, believed that loyalty of the Meeroos should turn away from the humans and he has begun to bring them into the depths of the world to keep them hidden away from the mortals. Together they had caused turmoil in both factions on that fateful day in the cavern. Reaching deeply into her pocket she pulled out the only piece of shard she had that remained from the destruction of the elemental stone. Earlier, she had felt a pulling in her soul, it was from Orlex, she knew he needed her assistance. After what happened between them, she was still fearful of why he would need her now.

Her expression was haunting, she was heavy with burden over the loss of the stone due to the war and fight she had with Orlex on that sad day, yet still she could not ignore the calling. Continuing up the steep slope, her jaw clenched to force back a fresh wave of tears that threatened to spill. In the distance she could make out the shadowed stones lurking atop the crest of the hill. Coming here had been a last resort as she had been hesitant for the power it would take to conduct her plan; would drain her of what energy she had left. Yet she knew it was needed to be done, at no cost.

Standing in the center of a clearing, her eyes flicked skywards watching as the moon crept into the correct position, suspended directly above her. Surrounding her were four stones, one facing each direction like a compass and upon each surface was etched a mysterious symbolic marking. With both arms uplifted, a soft, lyrical chant began to ring from her lips. The chorus of unearthly words was a spell that would send her to the very spot where Orlex stood.

As she chanted out each word, tendrils of light spun from her body like a silvery web and spread over the meadow until the iridescent cords bound her to the stones quartering the summit. The runic impressions carved into the monuments blazed into light illuminating her surroundings like a beacon in the night.

With a final call she let her plea be heard with a note of urgency and then, drained of all strength, her body collapsed to the ground. Her inner light dimmed, flickering like an ember that had exhausted its source of fuel. But her sacrifice was not in vain, her spell had worked, and she would soon appear before Orlex. She only hoped it was not in vain.