"When the Threads of Time begin to fray,

and the Veil between worlds wears thin,

The Nexus, once bound by mortal hands shall break and the Tapestry shall spin.

In the time of rising suns and falling stars, A choice shall be made by those lost to the ages. Six shall stand upon the shattered path and bear the weight of what is written in the pages.

One with scales of the ancient flame,

One of the blood who walks in shadows.

One of the wild-born, wings of light,

And One of the cunning who wields iron's might.

As time fractures, and the skies weep ash, The worlds shall merge and tear apart.

Only in the Nexus shall the truth be known, Where Time's first song once did start.

Beware the Watchers, for they hold the Keys to the doors both opened and sealed by the breeze.

A Weavers hand will shape the Loom,

but from the Void, beware the Doom

The end is a circle, the beginning is near,

In the hour of twilight all shall be clear.

The Veil must mend, or the River will drown

In timeless waters where all suns go down"

- The Prophecy of Ages.

"If only these blasted words weren't so vague, I might be able to get a glimpse of the meaning behind them!", came the exasperated sigh of a weathered looking Dragonkin, "I swear! I've read this prophecy dozens of times now and one might think something would simply fall into place."

His gaze, drifting from the aged scroll, looked upon the lands of his ancestors. Rain began to drizzle near the edges of his domain. Today would be a day of aching joints, and his favorite herbal tea. The soft glow of the Aether stone sconces, and the words of that damnable prophecy were beginning to give him a headache.

 He rose from his chair, making his way onto the balcony overlooking the keep. How long ago was it that he and his companions recaptured these lands from the shamans of that Orc tribe? His mind began to think back on his accomplishments, and all the adventures he's had. Truly he has lived an exciting life. A gentle knock on the door to his study shook him from his mental wandering.

"You may enter!", his weary voice called to the door.

 "Darling, you have been up here for almost a week straight, are you well?", came the firm, but soft-spoken query from a beautiful, golden-scaled Dragonkin woman.

 He turned, casting his aged eyes upon the love of his life, as a smile pasted his scaled snout. She looked absolutely radiant this morning with her golden scales complimenting the violet dress, she seemed to never age. A trivial matter for a Chronurge as accomplished as she, it almost made him jealous. His knowledge was nothing to scoff at. He had traveled the majority of Eldathen gathering stories, scrolls, and ancient tomes. His time in the field had really been inspiring for his compositions and drafts for his music and artwork. He glanced at a portrait hanged above his hearth, it portrayed a rather glum looking elf mage, accompanied by a well-dressed, yet intimidating looking human, and a younger version of himself clothed in the latest fashion of that time, his finest work.

 "Yes, my dear Angelica.", he spoke as he strode to embrace his wife, "I have been struggling to make sense of the scroll you gave to me concerning the Prophecy. How was your meeting with the Wardens? Did they ask to use my family's leyline to power one of their rituals? That seems to be happening more often recently. I find it to be quite unnerving if I am to be honest. A ritual requiring that much power can easily tip the scales of balance in the material plane. A severance of the planes could potentially follow which, in turn, could seriously alter the flow of all magics." He began to ramble and worry about the implications of such a ritual going wrong.

 A faint chuckle came from Angelica's lips as she broke the embrace, "My dear Maximillian do you not trust the noble goals of the Circles? I spoke with Warden-Mistress Thalira earlier this week, she claims that the power coming from the leyline is crucial for what is to come. I told her that Baron Maximillian Eshfyre Argenthrixus III will speak with her once his research has concluded on the Prophecy of Ages."

 Mentioning the Prophecy again made Max shiver. He had been reading and re-reading that scroll for days now, and the only bit of information that he knew of and concerned him was the reference about the Nexus, a legendary cosmic entity that was said to house Time itself. The Nexus truly frightened Max, for this was a place that both existed and did not exist. The Wardens of the Shimmering Veil are said to guard the Nexus with their lives, though he had never met any in person to confirm that rumor. Max, under normal circumstances, wouldn't be bothered by such a revelation; however, Thalira was a Seer, and the Prophecy her creation. The Wardens were granted an ageless existence so long as they guarded the Nexus with their very souls. Thalira was one of the first to soul-bind to the arcane wards that surrounded the Entity. The mere thought of being so close to the temporal energy made his scales itch. Any mage worth his salt knows not to tamper with such an excessive amount of magic as it could lead to unforeseen consequences if they make even the slightest miscalculation.

 "Thalira will be waiting some time then. This gods-forsaken prophecy of hers is going to drive me mad before I can interpret it." groaned Max as he trundled back to his writing desk, "I have been going through every tome that I own looking for references regarding the existence of the Watchers. Thus far I have not come across a single sentence mentioning that name. Who or whatever they are seemed to not take records of anything, and if they did it has probably been lost to time itself, ironically."

 He sat at his desk; he unraveled the scroll and began to read it over again. Strangely, for the briefest moment it seemed as if the words on the parchment were beginning to twist and shear off the page. Surely this is just my mind being overtaxed and weary. The words continued to roll and shift until a new message was conveyed upon the scroll. Mind racing, Max rose from his desk and looked around the room. Angelica! Where... A gentle voice interrupted his thoughts, "Maximillian the time has come once again to aid this world. A new threat looms on the horizon and the ever-flowing Rivers have begun to flood. The Six must be gathered and the Weavers stopped. Seek out Warden-Mistress Miriel she will know where to begin." 

 Max awoke to the sounds of his wife chanting an incantation. He recognized the spell; its only use is to break someone from a charm enchantment. Was I really charmed just now? I have ample defenses in place to prevent such a thing from happening. Whose voice was that just now? It sounded familiar but I can't recall the source. He sat up before his wife could finish the incantation, "I am alright my dear, there is no need to finish the countercharm." His head throbbed as he rose to his feet, "did you see what happened?"

 With a look of concern in her eyes, she responded, "You sat at your desk and unraveled the scroll, then proceeded to collapse! I tried to wake you through natural means but after you gave no response I resorted to magic. You had been placed under an enchantment of some kind; I acted accordingly." She watched as her husband stumbled to his lounge chair by the hearth then slumped into it. He looked more haggard now than when she first entered the study.

 "Angelica.", said Max suddenly, "Do you know anyone by the name of Miriel? A Warden-Mistress for one of the Circles?"

 Caught off guard by his question, she took a moment to think before responding, "I believe Thalira has mentioned that name once or twice before. Why? Does it have something to do with the enchantment you were under?"

 He nodded, but didn't look at Angelica, "Yes. I must have an audience with her at once. I am afraid something unfortunate is about to happen, and I have been asked to help prevent it."