For yours is a difficult task. The history of our world is long and filled with despair. Read that you may know of the peril we once faced. Our history is no myth, no fairy tale legend. We were, we are, we remain, Wizardik. Many will seek to belittle what we have done for our world, and for the worlds of others. We are the Watchers, the Keepers of the Gem, the Protectors of magic, the Guardians of the Balance. The Power-that-has-always-been flows through our veins.

I am Zen. I am but a man. A Wizardik. Son of Joshue, one of the last remaining of my kind. Our peoples were once great. Long ago they were a wise and powerful race of knowledge seekers. We had travelled to and existed in each of the eight great realms. Our own world we led in peace – until one of our own sought to destroy all that we created. For hundreds of years, we were hunted, hated and slaughtered. Few shed tears for us. Even now, we remain a lost memory.

To those who still remember, to those who still believe, know this: Many stories are born of pure truth. An unfinished thing often has much more power than that which has come to completion. Yet for every action there is a reaction, for every deed, a consequence. May these written words carry on long beyond my time and far beyond my realm. May others be filled with the spirit of my peoples and remember that the fabric of magic flows eternal.

Metadietsu, salcomé

Zen