This is the journal of a young Komaran priestess named Meiko Komaru. It is penned at first in a shaky hand and then a firmer one as time passes. It details at first an expedition into a Minamet tomb held by desert serpents and then her thoughts and visions as she recovers in a Minamet camp.

Possession of this tome is worth **** Research Point per session, on the subject of ****. You may only use points from one book on this subject in a year. If delivered to the church, this tome is worth **** Church Prestige Point.

Weeks have passed since we escaped the tomb of Kiya Minamet and these past few days are the first that I have felt a semblance of my strength return to me. For days after I awoke, I lay in the makeshift bed at the rear of this wagon and watched the fabric that covered me. I watched it as it shook with the sand laden wind that ripped across our slow line of supplies. I watched, fascinated by the threads as they wrapped about each other, each so fragile alone and yet twisted they were strong enough to block even the eastern winds. I feel the glow of theurgy pulsing about me. Never before have I felt this and I wonder how close I have brought myself to my ascent. I think now upon my sons, so young, and I pray the Light watch over them. I fear the world that my children will grow up in should we fail, and fear more that they will not grow up at all. It was these thoughts that drove me to take up the quill, in the hope that I can record my understandings of the experience within the tomb before weakness and time drives the purity of the memories away and leaves haziness in its stead.

We entered the tomb in a procession of six. Roberto de Flourent was first as he possessed much skill to hide himself within shadows. Kazuo Minamet followed him, leading our band, sword drawn. I came after him, enveloped within my theurgy that protected from all harm as long as I dealt none. Ruriko Minamet followed me, and the Princess Consort brought up the rear with Salomon Minamet, who guarded our backs.

The first confrontation was quickly found. Four guards manned the door and Roberto de Flourent was revealed as one stumbled upon him. Fierce humans, they mumbled in guttural tones and looked upon us in hate as they leapt forward to attack. Three of the four were defeated swiftly but the last fled inside to alert those who lay in wait for us.

For those who come after me and face such things again, I give warning. These guards are strong and quick, well accustomed to the harshness of the desert and the magical violence of their Slavers. They will flee if unable to fight, and fight to the death if unable to flee. For theurgists a note, Paraceln's Protection will keep you safe from the weapons the guards bear but the guards themselves were not susceptible to my more offensive forms of theurgy. More important still, the guards are armed only with close range weapons; they would be easy prey for a good marksman. The serpents fall to the cannons on the front lines. I believe they will fall just as quickly to guns in smaller numbers. Do not waste your time with swords upon the guards; you will need all such strength for those who cannot be harmed by bullets. Save your strength for those who control the guards.

Inside the tomb tunnels led off in different directions. From above the sound of chanting was audible. The Princess and I circled in one direction and met back up with the others at the base of the staircase. Kazuo Minamet and Ruriko Minamet rapidly ascended the stairs to confrontation as I led the way down another path, discovering a bevy of serpent guards that could only have been left there to ambush us upon the stairs. The fight on two fronts was draining but I thank the Light their planned surprise was foiled.

Again, for those who come after, in areas where the path is not wide enough for two, a theurgist under Paraceln's Protection can protect the backs of all, impervious to the weapons of the guards as those above her or from a different vantage remove the threat by liberal use of guns.

The serpents who guarded the upper level were smarter and more skilled than their lower counterparts. The stairs allowed only one to ascend and battle at a time and all of my skill with Amatera was used to ensure that each of us would be of fighting ability at the top. Here the presence of another who could heal at a touch would have been a blessing from the Light. The pair of guards who blocked the stairs at the top were deadly, vicious, but more dangerous were the pair of desert serpent priests whom they guarded. The priests walked and walked a pattern upon the floor, chanting all the while. As we arrived one priest split off, leaving the other to complete the ritual that was causing flames to rise from the patterns they traced. From the hands of the priest who came closer to our battle, insects spilled forth, swarming over those he gestured at. In truth I do not know whether the insects did not touch me as he did not cast them towards me or if the protection of my theurgy saved me from these as well. Worse still than the scurrying insects, the touch of the priest's blood returned health to his followers, and the wounds we had inflicted upon the guards needed to be given once more. Finally, as the first guard fell the priest stepped into his place and was within reach of my touch.

To those who follow I give this warning. These priests are strong both in magic and in body. The corruption of their blood spreads health to their corrupt followers. They are summoners of the Aten, practitioners of geomancy, and they hold power over such lesser creatures as insects. But they are weak against the Light. Ten years ago I was gifted by the Church with the ritual of Paraceln's Castigation, a strong power against occult forces and monsters. To this, the priest was susceptible. It is a ritual that takes time in effect but the flare of Light as the symbols touched him was a reassurance to me, and my hope was restored as the creature recoiled in pain.

A warning to all, such hopes as I entertained were crushed as the two priests joined hands and from their meeting spewed forth darkness that enveloped me, corrupting my air, my lungs. I watched in horror only a few moments longer then collapsed to my knees as my body would no longer support itself. The theurgy I used and the theurgy I protected myself with seemed to draw their magic towards me. Or perhaps as I had injured one of them I became a more viable threat and was targeted. Let this serve as a warning to future theurgists who fight these creatures. The Light is your weapon here, but its blade may cut you as well.

From my new vantage point, collapsed upon the floor, I watched the last guard taken down, and then the defeat of both priests. By this time a Child of Aten had arisen from the pattern upon the floor, a pattern that glowed with flames that rose from the lines themselves. The creature itself was hideous, as if it had been made from the fabric of children's nightmares. It was so very fast, far faster than the guards we had disposed of. From its hands spewed insects and dust that blinded us. A gesture and it shattered the magic upon swords that allowed us to hurt it. It waded through the flames, giving no hint that it felt their heat, and it held off five trained warriors as easily as it would have five children.

I do not recall who was first to notice the door with its bright inscription of the Minamet family crest behind where I lay, but Roberto de Flourent was first to touch it. As his fingers brushed the stone surface a spirit arose from it. This ghostly figure, Komaran in armor, swept Roberto de Flourent's hand away with a blade. Then as Roberto de Flourent stepped away, the ghost faded back into the door. "Minamet," I cried, words being all I had strength to offer. "Only a Minamet may touch it."

And so Ruriko Minamet stepped forward, and read over the inscription upon the door that bore her family's crest. Head held high, she placed her hand upon the door and it opened for her and her pure blood. She disappeared into the room and I allowed my head to drop once more, exhausted from the blackness that tore at my insides.

I know not how the Princess Consort and the others held off the Child of Aten until Ruriko reappeared but I have seen the Princess' prowess a time before, as she opposed a demon, and I have no doubt that her fierceness and strength were just as great.

I recall Ruriko stepping by me as another swarm of insects enveloped the Salomon Minamet who stood to Kazuo's left. In her hands was a jade sword, marked with the symbol of her family. She drew the sword and stepped forward to confront the Child and as she struck I lowered my head once more.

My eyes opened as I felt my arms taken by the Princess Consort and Salomon Minamet who had accompanied us all. They lifted me, even as Ruriko, Roberto de Flourent, and Kazuo Minamet remained standing against the vicious Child. The Princess held a crystal within her hands as they carried me away from the carnage and towards the steps. The crystal glowed softly, just as Verity's had for those many years I held it. Insects scurried away from us and I gasped as the Child of Aten appeared suddenly behind us, he seemed so close that had I been enraptured by him or the death he brought I could have touched him. He was followed and flanked by our comrades and our Princess never panicked. She carried me away to safety and then stood guard over me outside the tomb as Salomon Minamet returned us to his lord's side. Even the minor effort of my escape left me too weak to raise a hand to aid her, and I have only brief memories of Ruriko, Roberto de Flourent, Kazuo, and Salomon Minamet escaping the tomb just as the Minamet soldiers arrived to carry us away from the horde of desert serpents that were surging forward to retake the tomb. In my weary sight the temple seemed to shimmer slightly and shift, and then I gave way to the blackness, only to awaken within this morning tent where I have stayed these past weeks, nursed by Minamet healers.

I learned later that the sword Ruriko Minamet found within the chamber of her ancestor Kiya Minamet was used to wound the creature and I believe the crystal the Princess Consort carried out may have been a crystal in which Kiya Minamet's soul resides, as Verity's resided in the crystal I carried for those years. As the days pass by, I find myself stronger, my breathing comes easier. Unbeknownst to my physician, I managed to stand on my own for a few minutes yesterday. I hope that the swiftness of my healing is a sign that Solariel has not abandoned me, and that Sun's Health will hasten my healing still. Today I am far too weak, but perhaps tomorrow or the next day, I shall stand again.

I have read back over this arrangement of my memories and something has struck me as vital. Aten, the Children of Aten that we have faced down are summoned, not born. Summoned by rites that seem geomantic in their flavor. The design, as I recall it, seemed like a six-pointed star and a border encompassing it. I fear I did not get as good a look as I wished, for by the time I was near enough to study it I had been felled by the priests' handiwork. My memory paints it as either six pointed or eight pointed and I recall the flames that rose from the design. The priests circled the border in repetition during their chanting.

As there are those who have witnessed the birth of Children, it seems more likely that the priests used a ritual to transport one from elsewhere on Mourn, rather than summoning one from someplace else, or creating one entire. - Komaru Takanobu, 228

I have heard of rituals to summon Cosmic powers into a host, though I have never participated in such. This seemed different however, as the Child brought its own body to the circle. Still, it gives me thoughts that perhaps as the creatures are summoned, they can be banished as well. Banishment being a far more effective tactic to fight them than those I had previously known.

I have been here near four months now, and at last I begin to feel myself acclimated to this strange mixture of desert and land of the Eastern front. I can stand on my own, and with care I manage to walk a few steps within my own tent that is raised each time we stop for rest. A few nights hence I was caught and severely scolded by my physician as she discovered me out of bed and at the door of my tent studying the night sky. The next night she had a chair placed there so if I was determined to 'ruin the great progress I had shown so far' I could at least do it in comfort. Sometimes she joins me and we talk as we watch the nocturnal activity of the encampment.

The stars seem brighter here. Perhaps it is the lack of clouds covering the sky, or perhaps it is my imagination, but they seem to shine with more intensity. At night I often sit in my chair and gaze up at them, brief thoughts of Urania no Miko flitting across my mind. She holds the stars in place, but why? Why does she wish them not to move? True, their movement foretells the coming of the End Times, but I wonder if a Miko that can hold the stars in place can also make them dance? My thoughts grow whimsical but I also recall a time when my magic seemed stronger. When I could call upon the power of Amatera to heal far more often. Perhaps Urania no Miko could return the skies and the constellations to a place where my magic would be of more use. Foolish thoughts indeed, as I do not even know of a Urania no Miko, even if I could ask her to do such a thing.

The winds are cooler this eve, as if the success against the desert serpents has turned back the sands as well and Komaru is returning to its gentle wet land. The wind even carries a hint of moisture upon it, something I have not felt since leaving Castle of the Sea. The day itself has been busy. The encampment is packing up and excited rumors are carried by everyone who passes my small tent. Spear was taken, Ciarra Lacroix rose from the ash like a phoenix to claim victory for us. The armies of dead Touraine that we feared so much at the castle marched upon the Aten and brought us a hard-won victory. The battles ended they fell to the ground where they stood and began to rest. A rest more than earned, I feel, may the Light bless them.

We have rested here near a week now on our slow journey back towards the capital. I am still too weak to serve as a healer in any capacity, but the Minamet soldiers who do guard this caravan of supplies seem to take joy in my presence nonetheless. As night falls they often bring their games and wine to the foot of my tent and implore me for stories of the Castle of the Sea and those who attend it every year. I, for my part, do my best to lay the more foolish rumors to rest without disenheartening their spirits. The men are kind though; they dote upon me much like older brothers, bringing me droughts to soothe my throat and cloths dipped in water to protect my face from the harsher winds. Two nights ago as they celebrated the victory at Spear a pair of them brought forth instruments and sang to me of heroes long dead. They were so very charming; were my heart not already stolen I think perhaps I could have given it to one of them.

Last night the music floated around me as I slept, lifting me from my dreamed state to another. In haziness, I remember lifting my head to see a dark figure within the doorway of my tent. She was shrouded in a dusky cloth that floated about her, darkening the air that it touched. I sat up in bed, feeling no sign of the weakness that had plagued me all this time. I could not see her face but it seemed to me that she smiled. "Who's there?" I called to the shape, throwing off the covers and lowering my feet to the dry grass. "What do you seek of me?"

And there was laughter, soft and musical like the lute that had echoed in my ears. "Nay, lady. What do you seek of me?" she whispered, hood falling back to reveal a face composed only of darkness and a pair of sparkling stars that floated amidst it for eyes. She took a step forward and then another as I gasped. "Do you know me then, lady?" she asked crossing the grass without a sound despite its dryness.

The word floated to my lips unbidden. "Urania." I gasped, eyes still fixed upon the stars that were hers. My word was gifted with another laugh and the lady crossed to my bed and lifted me from it. "Why?" I asked, as I rose from the bed with strength I did not have.

"You wished for answers, lady. And thus I am here." She took my hand, leading me from the tent. We seemed to walk upon air, and everywhere she stepped a mark of gold was born within the air. The marks spread from the touch of her bare feet until they bled together, tracing her path through the sky as she carried me.

Plains, mountains, rivers, and trees passed underneath me quicker than I could keep track, and then we slowed, drifted downwards to a small house. The door was open, but Urania paused at it, and gestured for me to proceed her.

The room was lit by fire, golden hues softening everything within, and there was an ever-constant change of shadows. Before me, a giant loom spanned an entire wall and upon it was the most intricately beautiful pattern I had ever seen. The multitude of colors were brightened by the firelight, but the shadows that fell upon them seemed to change their hue. At the loom sat a woman, working the shuttles back and forth across the threads with great speed. At her right rested skeins of thread in various colors, and at her left a pair of shears glittered silver against the wood of the loom. There was the ever constant chattering of pedals as the weaving grew, but the noise faded away and I began to hear her murmurs instead.

"Another is born." A thread of soft violet seemed to spring from her fingers and bind itself into the weaving. The shuttle passed over it. "Tsk. Poor souls, no protection from the wolves." The scissors flashed once and blue threads fell from the pattern against the strings by her hand and then faded. The shuttle passed back. "Some move forward here." And the black threads grew more numerous towards the top of the fabric. "And then are pushed away elsewhere." And threads of the same hue sank back from the mix of silver, red, and gold that opposed them. the shuttle passed again. I watched in silence as patterns and pictures formed and faded before me. Blue, silver, violet, red and gold entwined, gold standing on its own. Black, grey, green and sparkling, all these colors wove in and out, twining about each other, forming knots, forming bonds. Each time the shuttle passed over them to secure them, or the scissors flashed and they faded. So rapidly her hands flew, that she had no time to study the pattern she wove; it wove itself. Skeins of thread were emptied and then replaced and all the while the chatter of the pedals and the shuttle's passing kept in time. So fixed was I upon watching the pattern that evolved, I did not notice her gaze upon me until she spoke.

"Do you weave, girl?" Her voice was patterned oddly, echoing the pattern in volume that her pedals took.

"I do." I answered, eyes still fixed upon the loom. "Though never with such beauty as you."

The woman snorted. "Beauty." The shuttle flew once more. "'Tis not beauty. 'Tis birth, death. War, peace. Joy, sorrow." She looked away from the work to study me a moment though the weaving never paused. "Red and gold. Though not so plain a red and gold as many. You have a slight glow about you, girl. Have you been sick?"

I was startled, and my eyes left the loom to study her but she said no more, content in her musings. I watched her a moment longer, and when my eyes returned to the threads, I started at the change. Hordes of black threads swept in from the top, blocked only briefly by red and gold threads wrapped about one another before overrunning them. As they reached the last threads the threads flared white, glowing and the black was pushed back. Where the black threads pulled back, tattered ravaged thread was left in its place. White threads wove themselves in and out about the tattered threads, strengthening them, keeping the tapestry whole. The violet threads were thin, thinner than the rest, but they wove in and out of each other and wove about a sparkling circle that twisted the black threads that touched it this way and that.

In the center of the tapestry the multitudes of shining colors converged. Blue, white, violet, the bright silver, the red and gold that tangled about itself and the gold that stood on its own. And in the middle of these threads rose a knot, formed of a thread that flashed every color I had ever seen and pulsed like a beating heart before my eyes.

My own heart matched itself to the pace of the knot that pulsed, and I stared at it, entranced, and finding it harder to breathe. Then weakness overtook me and I fainted.

I awoke in a room of solid blackness, uneasy sounds playing over my ears. Determined to be brave I raised my chin. "Reveal thyself," I demanded. There was silence. Then colored light began to spread from where I sat. To my right the light that spread from me was black, and I do not know how I saw from it, but I did. From my front, the light that spread was a mixture of grey and green and it stretched beyond my sight. To my left a beam of blue-green spread out lightening the shadows with an aqua haze. And from my back a shimmering line of yellow-grey.

I studied these lights a moment, feeling no particular draw to any of them and then there was a rustle to my right. I whirled.

The strong hands of a Child gripped my throat. Its nails tore into my skin and the strength with which it attacked me was overbearing. I writhed, struggled, fought and yet I could not hold it back. Strength, such strength and hate, had I air enough I would have screamed but the hands choked the life from me. As my sight began to waver, I raised my thoughts to the light. Light streaked from the sky to my hand and within my hand was a blade of pure crystal; it glowed and with the last of my strength I struck the Child with the blade. The scream it emitted shook the walls. Fire and smoke leapt about as the blade touched its skin. I sliced at the creature once more and it exploded, falling away from me. I sank to my knees and the blade faded away from my hand.

I rested, and then I regained my feet. There was a rustling to my back, like the sound of leather sliding across leather. I took a step towards it. Before me, a giant snake reared. Its head was wide and patterned with lines. Curved fangs rested against its scales and at the very center of its head was an ingrown pearl. Its tail whipped about, catching me up within its coils. Its head pulled back as if to strike and my body froze. Within my mind I heard my own voice screaming, but all I could do was stare up at it, waiting for the strike of those giant fangs which would surely rip me in twain. But the strike did not come. I heard whispers in my mind. It wanted so little, it promised, and would give so much in return. Just worship it, fear it, revere it and I would never again be lost. It would always protect me. I felt myself growing weaker and then somewhere within me a new voice began to speak, calmly. "The Light is my protector. You can take nothing from me but this body, for my soul shall rise to the Light and enlightenment will be found within me." The voice inside chanted this over and over until the hissing stopped and I was calm. I opened my eyes and faced the Naga. "I am one with the Light. You cannot harm me here." It hissed and then dissolved and I was left upon the floor, uninjured.

I rested a while longer upon the floor, thinking over what I had just seen. And as I thought, the light that had grown from my front seemed to shift slightly and I began to hear the soft sounds of tears. I rose and stepped forward, tentatively, yellow-grey light spreading as I did. As the light grew, it revealed to me the figure of a young woman, curled up against the wall, dress tattered and stained with blood. She wept into her hands.

"My Lady," I asked, a note of nervousness in my voice. "Are you injured/"

The woman lifted her head and I saw my very own eyes within the face of my mother. Joy spread over her face as she reached up her hands to me. "Meiko, my love,' she whispered. "My own. I knew you would come. I knew you would find me."

My strength must have left me then, for I fell to my knees.

My mother stretched her hands towards me once more but the chains I now noticed at her wrists would not allow her the length she needed. The skin beneath the manacles was chafed, and it bled. All within me cried out at this, to see my mother so.

"Meiko, my child," she whispered again. "Come to me. Help me away from here. Let us go home. And I shall cradle you once more, and sing you to sleep as I did so long ago."

My mother. Her words spread joy throughout me and even from half a room away I could smell the scent that had comforted me as a babe, hear her voice as I remembered it, know her touch as it had been. I wanted to run to her, embrace her and I stepped forward to do so. To know her touch as I had once.

Had once. Had been. Her last words echoed in my head. So long ago. I stopped just short of her reach and she looked up at me in hurt confusion. I shook my head. "Nay," I said. "It is not so. For my mother has been dead more than twenty years. You cannot be she." Her hands reached out further as if she had found more give in the chain, but I sidestepped them. "You are not my mother," I said, anger rising within me. "I know not what you are, but you are not my mother."

Laughter erupted from the woman's mouth and she shook her head, dispelling the image and leaving in its place the hazy figure of a fox-headed creature. I stepped further away.

"Oh, but I could be." The voice purred, still sounding so like my mother that it brought tears to my eyes. "I could be your mother, your friend, your lover or your child if you wish me to be." The Fox seemed to smile and there was a flash of its tongue against sharp white teeth. "Surely that is ample enough payment for what I wish of you? I could be anything you wish of me."

I shook my head again, to clear it. "Nay, you could not. You might pretend. But you will never be other than what you are." I stepped back again and the Kitsune was left in darkness.

I returned to the patch of light which was simply white, sank to my knees, and cried.

Some moments later I felt a touch upon my shoulder. I raised my head and before me stood a pair of Mer. One, the male, so beautiful it tugged at my heart and soul to lay my eyes upon him. And the other, female, so horrifying and repulsive that I wished to yank away and scrub the skin from my body that she had touched. But I once braved a female Mer, waist deep within the ocean waters, and she did me no harm, even gifted me, so I dealt her no insult.

"You are sad?" the male asked. His voice was a fine rumble that spread across my mind like fingers. I nodded and he moved closer to me. My heart raced, his every moment was so lovely. I wanted to touch him, go to him, give myself to him.

The female spoke within my head, and if his voice had felt like soft fingers, hers felt like nails. "You are stuck here?"

I fought the urge to recoil at her nearness and I nodded again. "I do not know where I am." Then I paused a moment, as their nearness raised a question within me. "How do you come so close? The others could not, so I had to go to them."

A smile passed between brother and sister Mer before they both looked back to me and his voice was in my mind again. "You have accepted us before. This allows us to come to you with greater ease." His hand reached out and brushed across my shoulder, nudging off some dirt that had taken position there. His skin was cool, wet to the touch. "You have accepted our help before. This allows us to come to you when you are in need."

"We can lead you out if you wish?" Again her voice felt raw. I shivered and forced myself not to look away.

"We can help you." He echoed her sentiment and moved closer, hands coming about my arms to lift me to my feet. "You are in danger for as long as you are here and we can help you." He leaned closer to me. "We will help you."

I do not know what inner sense warned me, but something in his eyes was not kindness. I summoned all the will I had and stepped back from his near embrace. "You have helped me before. But this time, I must find my own way."

Disappointment, frustration, and anger passed across his face with the greatest speed but then they were gone and he moved back. I looked to his sister then, and something in her seemed to me to be amusement but she did not laugh. When she spoke, I was surprised, because her voice did not repulse me as it had before. "You are free to go, and we cannot follow. But you have accepted us before, and thus we will never truly be gone. Call upon us at need and we will come to you. But know that each time you call us, we gain further hold in your life." She stepped closer to me and at once I saw that she was the Mer to whom I had waded into the sea to receive Verity's gift from. She nodded to me. "Brave." She said. "You are still brave. And foolish." She turned then and began to move back into the shadows with her brother. "And wise."

As they left, the shadows disappeared, and I found myself in a strange circular room. The wall in front of me had been intricately tiled, and the mosaic formed from those tiles revealed figures locked in an ancient battle.

At the head was a Giant Naga, pearl deeply imbedded in its head and its long tail was wrapped so very tightly about a Child of Aten that the Child must be suffocated by the force of it. The Child was to the right and lower upon the wall and while it writhed in its death throes from the Naga's suffocation, its hand spewed forth darkness towards the Kitsune, which was swallowed by the corruption. The Kitsune, lowest upon the wheel and centered, twitched from the poison that corrupted its lungs and promised its death, but wily creature that she was, she managed to fatally wound the Mer that completed the left hand side of the wheel. A brave Mer, who as he was wounded and lay dying within his water, managed to hold down the great head of the Naga until the water killed the snake as well.

I gazed upon this ancient warring circle until I noticed the vague picture of a land inscribed in the middle of their wheel. I stepped forward to get a better sense of the land but as I touched the wall of the room, the floor disappeared and I plunged into darkness, falling falling....

And I awoke here. Within my bed in this tent, book by my side and these strangely bright memories of all that I had dreamed. It is dawn now, and I hear the camp stirring. The caravan leader wishes to make it past the mountains by mid-afternoon, so I feel we shall be marching soon. And I have no more time to wonder what this dream meant and what knowledge I should take from it.

By the Grace of the Light, I shall have time enough to do so another day.