Below the demon-haunted sky;
Above the tombs of lordly bones
From Dhakaan and years gone by.
‘Twas there, beneath the moonlit stair,
My future cast its shadow past
A white-robed dame with sable hair;
Transfixing stare that held me fast.
“Take heed, you seeker, bow your head.
For I am Lady Sarharel.
I speak with living and with dead
And all your fates are mine to tell.
“I see the rising of the sun
On eastern seas beyond your ken;
I see that light fade into none
On western plains unwalked by men.
“The distant past is mine to see,
And future waves upon the shore
Once ripples on another sea
Might rise and fall like tides once more.”
“O palest lady! Grant me peace!
For here I am, bereft of care.
From this dark path I crave release;
From all this torment and despair.”
“Too well I know the words you seek,”
The lady whispered in my ear,
“Your tragedy is not unique,
Nor does it end in anguish here.
“For Truth itself is my sole chain,
A bond that none can ever break.
A single question born in pain
Is mine to answer for your sake.
“All Truth is mine to comprehend;
All futures and pasts I see.
Against my truth none can forfend,
Yet first a task I crave of thee…”