I have learned from my forefathers that though we may bitterly repent our wretched sins, we shall be made to pay for them for all of eternity. Know then, that I was there when the walls fell down, and that I have wandered the earth for lost years, undreamt and unknown to all the worlde. I have been fortunate enough to be granted the mercy of the goddess of ice beneath the mountains that lie at the western-most horizon, and have profited for the many moons I spent in the granite keep that lies upon the river Styx in tutelage of the Uncrowned King. I have faced the ravages of both time and element trapped in hells unimaginable, and I tremble even now at their recollection. And above all, I have earned a new name. I am still the poet of olde, and I still wander, searching for the cause and the cure of the Great Unrest, as even now I can feel its dread grasp beginning to enclose my every motion.

My time in this life is running short, as the sands of my years have gone into winds that howl across the universe. To whom I write these words I know not, but know that I have searched to the ends of creation for this thing, and it has still gone undiscovered. You, who are reading this now, will have no doubt read my many other tales of all that has occurred thus far, but still I have not found what I seek. If only I were able to find the prophetess the Uncrowned King told me of so long ago...She is out there, I know, I have seen her in many a dream. I can feel the storm tightening around me now; I can feel the winds steal at my breath. And yet, somewhere in all this I have heard rumour that the Garden of Zais is once more part of the waking worlde. I have heard it said that a daeva-man has wandered out of the Des-aret far to the west of this place, and to those foreign lands do I travel now, knowing not where else to go.