+++translated from Derekest dialect (Shan, loc. Nightlands)+++
Long has it been, months of night. An age in the hour past sunset, I walk through the soft places near Ten O'clock. There is sand here, waves of shifting dunes that flow and ebb into infinity.
It is not cold, not is it warm, for there is no temperature here. The wind barely touches ones face, smelling of nutmeg, and pulls the coat upon my back. The pilgrim beside me swears the wind smells of chocolate.
It had been a month before I came to the Kradena, from isles populated by the peoples of Quiddity in all their chaotic splendour. It has been almost a Earthly year since I returned to the islands. I had forgotten I had been here, the memory obscured from my mind, until Uriel arrived.
The pilgrim joined my company early on, sensing my need to return to the waking world. He would lead me along the path and teach me the secrets of passing through. I would bring him with me, along my memory of Earth, and stand under a sun again. This was our deal, for good or ill.
I caught a qwtyllc entering the Kradena and wove a cage of Thornalis root. These I gave to the pilgrim, who would in turn give them to my friends. By this connection I might forge a path through the barrier of the Dreaming.
The qwtyllc would be bled upon a stone thirty paces beyond the Gate of the Gods. I must try to be at the edge of Kradena by then, at a temple made of ivory. By the direction of the pilgrim I crafted a dowsing rod from the last shrub in the sands which points ever further into the sands.
There are few stars here, and they change positions when the eye isn't focused on them. Violet clouds drift across the sky, never with the wind. Once during my travel I saw a herd of massive animals which reminded me of buffalo, but they sensed us on the horizon and fled.
I've aged a year, perhaps more, my hair has grown long, and my hands are callused. Surprisingly, my staff has changed, it has absorbed some of the essence of Quiddity and there is a whole new scope of power I can channel.
I look forward to returning, and with the pilgrim's scrying stone I can view them from afar, but only briefly, time passes faster in the Dying Dominion. I look forward to returning with the task set out before us.