Book Description

Slowly the long line of robed figures made their way toward the end of the huge antechamber that featured the ornately patterned high arching doorway carefully positioned at the rear of the cobblestoned pathway, offering only one way to approach its uniquely stylized threshold. Each figure stood silently awaiting their turn. Each harboring their own thoughts of grandeur. Yes, for each had spent centuries in constant study. Blood, sweat, and tears expended often, and freely, in their ever-pressing efforts to learn what it meant to be counted amongst the chosen. Years spent learning through trial and error the arts that would ultimately prove them worthy of the trust that came along with such daunting responsibility. The prestige allotted to those who sought to become a member of The Order of Truth. Priscilla Whitestone stood ready to embrace the challenge. Ready, for she knew that she was destined for greatness. She and Benjamin Arcanus Trueth were the best of their class. The strongest ever. They were rivals. They had also been lovers once. Lovers whose mutual arrogance would not allow such an emotion as benign as love to take root in their callous hearts. No, for their one true love was power. Power that could only be had as a result of their mastering the sacred arts detailed within the Tome of Shades. Then and only then could what they both desired most be fully realized. They both would have the chance to show their mastery today. Today, all would be revealed for everyone to see. Yes, for today, all the robed figures assembled here would take part in the Ritual of Binding. That most sacred of rituals that would forever bind them to the land of Samarq. Today they would either become one of its guardians, or they would perish. Measures had been set in place to see to that. To each side of the robed acolytes was another group present. Those whose job it would be to ensure that none of the assembled peoples turned back. Not all those present were human. Still, the law was the same for everyone. Everyone must proceed. Yes, for the point of no return had been reached. None of them could turn away from this. To do so now meant certain death one way or another, or worse: madness. Even if one were to survive in that debilitated state, such one could not be allowed to live. That was the law. The throng of hard-eyed observers was here to enforce it. They would not allow any of them who had not completed their trial to live. Unless they were to exit through the door to the left. The door with the drawing of the all-seeing eye encased within the swirling crystal ball upon it. It was well known amongst them all that once one had learned the lore necessary to become an Acolyte of Truth, that one was forever marked. Marked for either greatness or marked for death. There could not be any in-betweens. She knew this for a certainty, for two of their number had fallen already.