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"I am of the nature to grow old. There is no way to escape growing old."

(-Rememberance of Buddha)

High in the night sky the Red moon Lunitari hung, casting her red luminous glow over the great city of Malaketh. The windows of the houses that lay within the stone walls of the city were dark, their occupants having retired long before. The neatly paved cobblestone streets shone beautifully in the red moon's light, but they were devoid of all that could admire their radiance. Well all except for one. A lone hooded figure briskly strode through the deserted streets, slowly making it's way to the large tower at the city's heart.

The tower rose high above any other building within the city, and the stone was masterfuly rounded to form a perfect cylinder. The beautiful stain glass windows that dotted the exterior of the tower were still alight, and shadows of figures could still be seen moving behind them. This was the great tower of Malaketh. One of the five mages towers that existed on the continent of Farleth. Here younlings, those who were born with the gift of magic, were taught how to wield their power. Form the utterance of each syllable in the language of magic, to the casting of spells, and even the workings of enchantments. This was were every mage's life began.

The circle of mages were divided into three groups. The red robes who practiced neutrality and worshiped Lunitari, the goddess of the red moon. The white robes who practiced working for the benefit of others, healing, and worshiped the God of the white moon: Solinari. And the black robes who practiced the darker arts of magic, and worshiped the God of the black moon: Nuitari. These three groups formed the mages council and each faction had their own respective heads. Though the one who ruled over them all was the archmage, who was elected by members form each faction and remained archmage until death.

At last the hooded figure rounded the corner that brought it before the great tower. Surrounding the tower was a twelve foot tall iron gate, inscribed with various runes, that surrounded the tower. As the figure reached the gate a guard appeared on the other side carrying a torch before him. The guard was dressed in a simple red robe, which was the color of neutrality amongst mages, and wool lined boots on his feet to keep out the chill. The guards hood was down exposing his face which was that of a Doberman. The guard had a scar that ran from the top of his left eye all the way across his cheek and stopped at the beginning of his elongated muzzle. He carried no visible weapon, though it was not as if he even needed one. His weapon was that of the mind. As he reached the gate and saw the stranger, and his muzzle curled back in an agitated snarl.

"It is hardly a decent time to be skulking about cloaked in shadows, show yourself now stranger if you wish admittance."

A low growl came from within the hood of the stranger as it pulled back it's hood, revealing it's face and identity to the guard. The face was that of a black panther, with piercing jade eyes. The panther was female, though her dull brown robes hid her natural curves form the world. With a glare she snapped at the guard in an impatient tone.

"Open the gate Jarred, you know right enough that master Nelac has summoned me. Or do you wish to go against the archmage's wishes and deny me entrance?"

The Doberman grumbled and a brown paw disappeared with in the folds of his robe, only to re-appear a moment later with a ring of keys. As he unlocked the gate to admit her he spoke, more softly.

"Forgive me lady Shirra, I did not know it was you. The word around the tower was that you were still in the mountains, and would not arrive for another week."

As soon as the gate was opened the panther briskly strode past him and up the tower's steps, not bothering with a reply. She did not have time for idle chit chat with Jarred tonight. Tonight she had been urgently summoned by her master, the head of all three orders within the mages council, Nelac Frostmane.

As the panther traveled through the tower's wide halls, to her masters chambers on the top floor, she wondered at his condition. Six months before he had been completely fine. Old perhaps, but he was in perfect health. Then suddenly while staying at the tower he had come down with a horrible sickness. At first he could not walk long distances without taking multiple breaks, and then it progressed to where he could not walk at all. He frequently coughed up blood, and his breathing was ragged and uneven. No one knew what had caused the sickness, and everything the healers tried failed to work. Only Nelac's personal healer: Dulac Brightscales, a male draconian who was head of the white robes, was able to brew a potion that seemed to lessen the horrible pain that Nelac suffered. Dulac had been at Nelac's side ever since he became sick, working tirelessly to cure him of the strange ailment. Though so far a cure had eluded him. Looking up form her wandering thoughts Shirra found herself already outside the wooden door that lead to her master's chambers. Gently she pushed the door open, not bothering to knock. She and Nelac were well beyond such needless formalities.

Nelac's chambers were large and open. At one end stood his study which was lined with rows of book shelfs, each book containing something pertaining to his research or various spells. About half way across the room stood an ornate fireplace that burned steadily, filling the room with a consistant heat. At the other end was Nelac's bed itself. It was beautifully carved from wood, and the silk sheets were a deep blue that reminded Shirra of the sea at night. The constant rising and falling of the sheets, much like the lapping of waves, reassured her that he was still alive... at least for now.

Quietly Shirra padded over to her master's bedside, sitting in a greed chair that stood beside the bed. It was comfortable, but she found that she couldn't relax in it. To much was wrong in the world for her to feel that she could ever relax again. As she sat down Nelac turned his snowy white head to her opening his golden orbs to gaze upon her.

Nelac was a white tiger who was very old. In his youth his black stripes shone proudly upon his white fur, but these had all but faded away. Even his white fur seemed to be bordering on gray. But his eyes... his eyes had always had a spark of life in them that betrayed no signs of ageing. Now however that spark was only a dim glow, and it saddened Shirra to see him reduced to this. Confined to his own bed, without the strength to leave it.

Despite his current state he smiled when he saw her, a genuine smile of joy that lifted Shirra's heart ever so slightly to see. She was the only one he smiled like that for, and it made her feel special. Without even realizing it she smiled back at him, and took his aged white paw in her own youthful black one.

"Master I have come as you have asked, what is so urgent that you would send for me? Have you gotten worse?" She said softly, worry clearly etched in the lines of her fur.

"There there little one, I am no worse than the last time you saw me. If anything I am just tired, and rest is something that eludes even me. But that is not why I called you here. I must tell you something very important. Something you must tell no one else. Do you understand?" He asked her in a soft caring tone, one with much affection.

Shirra nodded solemnly, giving his paw a gentle squeeze to show that she understood. She did not quite trust her voice to speak at the moment.

"Good then." He was quiet for a few moments while he collected himself, and then took a deep breath before beginning again. " I have had a vision in my dreams Shirra. In this dream there is a figure who is cloaked in a robe, but of what color I can not make out. The figure is surrounded by darkness, but it stands in a circle of light that ceases to be snuffed out, and in its hand is a sword Shirra. I believe that this is the one. The one who will either stop the darkness, or aid it. Of that I can not tell, for it is not for me to foresee. The Gods gave us choice, and choice is not a thing that can be foretold."

For a while Shirra was silent as she listened to his tale, jotting it down to memory like she used to when she had been his apprentice learning spells. Then she spoke.

"Well what should we do master? If this is the chosen then we can not be expected to sit idly by and do nothing."

"No you are right my girl, we can not sit idily by and do nothing. That is why I have summoned you, for you are the only one I trust." At this Shirra blushed ever so slightly, unused to being complimented so highly by her master. "You must go south to the farming village of Kalel. There you will find the chosen one. Find him and bring him back here so that he may be taught in the art of the magi."

Shirra nodded and rose form the chair, pringing his delicate paw to her lips and kissing it before placing it gently back on his chest. "This I will do master, but how will I know who it is? There must be many people in that village. How am I to know which one is the chosen?"

"'Look for the one who's vision is clouded in blood'. That is what the dream said, and so it must be. That is how you will know. Now go, there is no time to wai..." The tiger sputtered not able to finish his sentence as a horrible coughing fir overtook him. When it subsided his white paw was covered with drops of scarlet. Breathing heavily he rang a silver bell beside his bed. Within moments his personal healer, Dulac, entered the room carrying a silver bowl.

At his entrance Shirra bowed to her master, holding back the tears that threatened to fall from her muzzle. It pained her to see him in such pain, but she could not show it. It would only make him worse to show him how much she worried. With out a word she left his chambers quietly, and began the decent to the tower's stables. She would ride to Kalel and find the chosen one so that he could be trained, find him before the forces of darkness did. For if they reached the chosen one first, then all hope was lost.