"I am a member of the Circle of Light, and you may not pass. Return to the Darkness from which you have come."

-Jean Sutton, at the fall of Manticore.

     The Council of Elders was not as impressed as I had expected when I explained to them my decision. They voiced many an objection to my son leading the combined clan in my absence. Some of the elders went so far as to ask Lord Sutton to appoint someone else while I was gone. To which he replied that his father had left me in charge, and that had not changed as far as he could see.

     It seems he has learned something of dealing with Councils in the last two centuries.

     All of the dealings with the elders, and then saying goodbye, delayed our start that morning. I gathered my old uniform, bearing the standard of Clan Cloudkill, and my armor and weapons. It had been a very long time indeed since I had last used them, not since the last battle of the Great War, but I had the feeling that I would need them upon this journey. Before we left I saw Lord Sutton and my son talking. The curious expression on my son's draconic face gave me a clue as to what they spoke, but all that the two of them would say, later, when pressed was that they spoke of the future.
The lands which belonged, and still do, to Clan Cloudkill stretch across most of the Starshine Island. Mt. Claw and Mt. Fang, upon which Cloudkill City was built, are part of the Brightstar Mountains. The holdings of the clan mostly include the mountains, although a large stretch of the plains which stretch down to the Azure Sea are also part of the clan's holdings. The Isle as a whole is located to the East of the All Clans Island, upon which rests the Council Aerie, the meeting place of the Council of Wyrms. That island is not claimed by any clan, instead it is set aside for all, and watched over by the Council Custodian, a Gem dragon. Two days march, or a half day's flight, north of where we were, was the freeport of Mansfield. There were a surprisingly large number of such Freeport's throughout the islands. Often the port itself was watched over by a clan, but the clan seldom interfered in its running. The ports were essential for the steady flow of supplies from one part of the isles to another. From there it would prove easy to catch a ship headed west across Io Bay to the All Clans Island. At least, that was my hope.

     First though we made a side trip, heading more north east, then true north on our walk. Lord Sutton wore the Cloak of Masking, and we appeared little more then travelers on the way towards the Freeport, albeit by a slightly circuitous route. A half days travel north and we were well into the shadow of Mt. Claw. Mt. Fang, with its shattered top, and all the memories evoked by such, could dimly be seen as well in the shadow of its taller cousin. Night was nearly upon us when we finally reached the remnants of the temple.
Time had not been kind to the temple. Nearly every clan had a similar place, where dragons who wished to could go and pray for guidance, or, on occasion, other things. The setting of such was never the same, but the temples themselves were remarkably similar. A stone pillar, or other large object to represent Io. Stretching from the central pillar, or object, would be smaller ones to each side representing each of the other gods in the Draconic Pantheon. Some of the smaller pillars had cracked and were being overgrown by vines and such, although the tallest one, dedicated to Io the Concordant Dragon, was still standing tall. I expect Lord Sutton to offer a traditional prayer, but what he offered was nothing of the sort.

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     Laureine stopped at the edge of the towering pillars as Jean pulled the hood back to expose his face. Freed from the magic of the cloak his hair resumed its normal silver color as did his single eye. The silver haired elf strode forward until he was standing in the middle of the temple proper, flanked on either side by the smaller pillars dedicated to all of the gods. He stood there for a long moment, a faint breeze stirring the edges of the brown cloak so that it ruffled about him. When he did speak it was not a prayer to Io, or to Bahamut which he uttered.

"I am a member of the Circle of Light, and I may pass.
I give my body, my mind, and my soul into the service of the Light.
I shall die for the Light, give my life to its service, and give my soul to it freely.
I shall block every bridge, guard every key until the Light once again shines through this land.
I revoke the Darkness, and all of its false promises.
I shall turn away from the Dark path, and follow that of the Light.
I will tread the path few dare to, though it lead me into pain, death and darkness.
This I shall do in the service of the Circle, in the service of the Light.
I do pledge this upon my body, upon my mind, and upon my soul.
May the Light shine through me and make of me its vassal."

     As he ended it was almost as if a small whirlwind of leaves whirled about him and then sped through the temple. Then all was silent and the elf turned from that old place, and left as he had come. When they were some distance away Laureine posed the question which had bothered her since she had heard his declaration, or prayer, whichever it was.

     "I joined an adventuring group, a few decades after leaving here. We were called the Circle of Light. That was a prayer which one of our number used often, and I swore to her once that I would say it here in recognition of what she had done." There was an old familiar sadness to his words, one that Laureine recognized from his father when he used to talk of how things could have been. She kept her own council as they set up camp for the night. Tomorrow would be a busy day, and they would need thier rest.