Countless days and nights I travelled, the winds forming my road to Cardea. My memory was lost as I opened my eyes in the heart of a forest, beneath a spire strange indeed.

But not all memory has left me: when the wind blows in from the North, I am reminded of something I cannot name and for a moment, my heart is still. I oft try to recall whose face it is I see briefly, a question poised on his lips. I do not even remember my answer. Shapes form in the sea fog--a house, a ship, a village; cloaked figures rushing home before dark. I do not know what it is. I simply do not remember.

In Cardea, my hands itched to work and I found that they seemed to know already the work of the alchemist. In brewing potions I found solace from my questions. Gladly I turned my mind to much study, and mixing gradually more powerful and useful potions, that gleam in their bottles like jewels. I am pleased to have work that occupies my mind, and that is quiet, solitary toil in studious surroundings. It brings me security and allows me to be dependent on none but myself.

Always my heart and hands are in service of the threefold lady, Dante-- She who governs the Fate of us all. Like a ship running swiftly before a strong wind I came to Dante, grateful to join Her holy order; to find sanctuary in Her temple, friends closer than any in Her followers, and wonderful peace and awe in contemplating Her threefold ways.

I know not where my path leads me in Cardea, but I have been blessed with strong friends and sound advice. I am in the hands of Dante; I walk with bright hope in Cardea's forests and cities. I am a proud craftswoman, I am a free citizen of Maine. May all who walk in the lands know such contentment.

(Written by Windwalker's player)

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