I do not own any part of DragonLance. Currrently, I am in the process of rewriting this and chapter one. Hopefully, I will have a chapter 2 up soon.
300 Years after the Age of Mortals…
Aeson, Head of the Conclave and Head of the White Robes, stood alone in the large library in the newly built Tower of Wayreth.
It was circular in shape, and many storied, tall book shelves lined the walls on each story. Few tables were scattered about. Few already having stacks of books forgotten by what few students attended. For now, it was dimly lit, despite the many torches scattered about. The ceiling unseen from the light unable to pierce the darkness. The only source of light coming from the giant fireplace on the ground floor of the library, where Aeson stood.
He stood, staring into the bright flames, hands behind his back. He was waiting for the arrival of the two other Heads of the Robes. A hand thoughtfully ran through his long grey beard as he comtemplated the news he needed to inform them. His pure white robes reflected a soft gold from the light of the fire.
Finally, the large doors to his left opened, allowing two figures to step in. One tall figure in black, and the shorter in red. The red robe gently closing the doors behind them before following the black robe to Aeson.
"Exactly why have you sent for us?" asked the black robe in a nearly bored tone. "I was in the middle of a study when one of your…students, if that's what you wish to call him…interrupted me." He put back his hood, showing his thin face and disapproving expression. His long, raven hair was kept in a low ponytail by a leather strap, and he hid his long fingers into his sleeves.
"Hush, Dorjan," the soothing, sweet voice of the red robe answered. "Whatever he called us in for is more likely important. More so than your so called study…which is probably something with bat droppings by how you smell." The cowl of her robes already down, showing her freed honey blonde hair. Dorjan, the black robe scowled, and she only smiled good-naturedly at him in response.
Aeson cleared his throat before Dorjan can comment, and replied, "Yes, it is quite important, Fronia. I had a strangest feeling the other day to check on one of the locked up books. Fistandantilus books. One of them is missing."
"Probably a curious student got their grubby little hands on it," Dorjan remarked. "I see no reason to summon us over a lost book. Just find out who took it, and have it brought back."
"I have thought of that, Dorjan. But I still have a strange feeling that something isn't quite right," Aeson replied calmly. "I also noticed the stars. Dark times are ahead, I'm afraid. Something powerful has awakened."
"Dark times? What do you mean? It's impossible that Fistandantilus, or Raistlin, can come back," Fronia quickly stated. "We all know they died at least three hundred years ago!"
"Remember, they thought Fistdantilus died once before. Yet, he somehow got possession of a young mage while he took the Test," Aeson replied with a sigh.
"For once, I agree. Any ideas where to start, and what student has taken it?" Dorjan asked, frowning. He gave a shudder at the mentioning of Raistlin.
Aeson sighed, sitting in one of the overstuffed chairs before the fire. "That's the problem. I don't believe that the book is in this world. Those books still contain plenty of power still. Hopefully, whoever finds it, brings it back into this realm before unlocking its power. Before there is a new Raistlin for us to worry over."