The ranger’s even, unhurried footsteps echoed throughout the pristine chapel as he walked toward the altar at the head. His booted feet meeting the gleaming alabaster tiles on the floor with every step, he furtively gazed out from under the brim of his woodsman’s fedora as if stalking his prey. Strapped over his shoulder rested a finely crafted Trueshot Bow next to a quiver of arrows.

Though obviously a man of nature by his attire, the ranger’s demeanor was more closely compared to that of an assassin. His face was never seen in the enshrouding shadows of his feathered hat, but the intensity of his gaze was such that it was unmistakable when his eyes were turned one’s way. His aspect always calm and collective, it seemed he was never in a hurry to get anywhere. By all outward indications, this mysterious man would stride calmly from a raging inferno.

This day was no different. Making his way slowly down the central aisle in the pure, unblemished chapel, the ranger presented no sign of urgency in his solitary procession. Though this abstruse figure seemed so out-of-place in the midst of such glorious splendor to Erollisi Marr, the contrast of his presence didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest.

Finally arriving at his destination, he knelt on one knee before the altar with an easy grace. The folds of his cloak parted to reveal the gleaming silver of a rapier resting at his hip, the palm of his left hand wrapped protectively about its handle.

The ranger’s aspect exuded a peculiar reverence. Not bowing his head or offering supplication, he closed his eyes and whispered fervently his invocation.

“The light of dawn I accompany in my reprieve of the night. Thy countenance warms me like rays of the sun. Beckoned, I answer. Summoned, I come. Speak thy wishes to mortal ears, Queen of Love, and enlighten the mind of thy paramour.”

No sound betrayed the arrival of the goddess to her temple. No fanfare or drums. No displays of otherworldly power or blinding light. The ranger simply knew the goddess had answered his call, feeling Her presence as though She stood before him across the altar.

Keeping his eyes tightly shut, She might have genuinely been standing before him, for all he knew. It would have taken no more effort than simply lifting his eyelids, and the radiant beauty of Erollisi Marr might have been his to behold.

But it was not to be. Instead, the ranger’s eyes remained closed, denying any such possibility from fruition. Never again would he see Her radiance. Such was his vow, spoken ages ago.

When She spoke, the sweet timbre of Her voice swept over him like the fragrance of a lover filling his nostrils.

“You have my deepest gratitude for answering my call. I feared my beckoning might go forth without response.”

“I understand such a call would not be made, were it not one of necessity, Mistress.”

“It is as you say. Had I any alternative left in which to act, I would have done so without hesitation and honored your wishes, cherished one.”

The ranger paused before speaking.

“I know.”

“The past remains the past in all things. I speak now of the future, beloved. The Cup of Ages has been discovered by the agents of hate, and soon the Pact of Zeranon will be declared by those who seek it.”

Silently, the ranger’s grip tightened on the sword at his side.

“Even now, the omens of prophecy have been set forth by the Mother and the Prince, and their disciples have embarked upon the course of selection. Before long, the advocates will go forth and fulfill the prophecy decreed centuries ago.

“Dear one, I fear the conflict of the higher planes might be visited upon the lands of Norrath should the Cup of Ages fall into possession of the avaricious. You of all mortals know the consequences of unchecked voracity.”

“I beg to remind you, Mistress, that I am not your disciple,” the ranger’s voice rose above a whisper. “What is it you petition of me that you deem unsuitable for your own devotees?”

“The nature of my beloved faithful preclude the task I require,” the voice of the goddess rang sweetly about the chapel. “Of necessity, the contrivance I intend to set forth would countermand the devout beliefs of those few who know of the prophecy. In their stead, I ask you to serve for the sake of the gods and every innocent of Norrath.

“As you say, dearest, you are not my disciple, and free to return to your self-imposed exile. But you are my beloved by virtue of the past. I come to you now in earnest need, for myself and all things. Even you would not escape the unleashed wrath of Zeranon’s Chalice. The day of the keeper approaches with all expediency. Soon the sun will rise for the last time on the lands of Norrath and become extinguished in the whispered convergence of power.

“I beseech you, beloved. Serve me now with devotion as my trusted agent, if not my disciple, lest all things come to an end.”

With calm deliberation, the enigmatic ranger lifted his head, eyes fully open. What met his gaze, he was not prepared to see.

“I am yours to command, Mistress, as I have always been since the eve of our passion so long ago. Speak your divine wishes, and I will see them done.”

Chapter 1 - Prophecies Revealed