For those who are foreign to the ways of the children of Argus, "a moment" in this case is Draenei polite form for 'quite a while, but it is necessary for this situation, so please wait.' Translation being what it is, it rarely took 'a moment' as the good elder so politely stated. It would take a deal more. As for the Anchorite, his normally heavy step and dignified gait quickened, which spoke of his excitement as he went to his makeshift study. This was a hint, a sign. The land had begun to speak. He was delighted, and set to decoding and translating the language. She bowed and said, "I will return," a statement recognised and dismissed by a quick, absentminded nod of someone intent on another subject entirely.

Instead of disturbing him, she decided she would take care of herself. So she bathed, checked and treated whatever cuts or bruises that may have needed tending, changed into a clean set of clothes, checked her tools and gear, and took them to be repaired and cleaned. Before going back to the Anchorite, she cleansed herself once more, took a drink of water, and meditated by a nearby pool until her mind was clear and refreshed once more, ready for more magic. She got up and went to the Anchorite's study.

She found him in a state of quiet contentment. He had claimed victory in his contest against another language, and all was now clear to him. When he saw her, he stood up and reached for his notes, inserted into the pages of the book.

'Now, let's see...'

His powerful blue hands handled the fragile pages delicately, the way he treated his patients.

'In the process of translating this, I believe I've learned more about the drunken exploits of a certain 'Andrew Clementine' than about the journal's author.'

Her eyes widened with shock, then narrowed with irritation for a moment. She was expecting some silliness on part of the person who had scribbled all over the fine writing, but not this much. Seeing her expression, Anchorite Paetheus suppressed a chuckle under pretext of clearing his throat, and continued.

'But, no matter. Mister Clementine's... er, 'contribution' notwithstanding, this seems to be the journal of a man named Nolkai. The entries toward the end describe a brutal battle.'

His expression sombre, he extended the text for her to see.

'Take a look at this passage...'

He handed her the translated script, and she read,

"The enemy is nearly upon us. We've gathered up all the survivors and retreated to the temple to the east. It's the last ground we truly hold on the island, and there is a sense among the survivors that we will make our last stand here. I've taken care to bury my last few possessions on the grounds of the temple, with the hope that someone will find them and know what happened here."

Her hands fell, almost dropping the text. This was a sad thing. A sad thing to happen, a sad thing to know. The Anchorite read her features, and understood. He understood far more than she did, for, unlike her, his memories of the loss of their homeland were loud and clear. She carefully replaced the translated text, bowed to the Anchorite, and requested he keep the precious book- a fair payment for his assistance, and a fitting gift for his station.

She remembered all that had passed in her obtaining the journal, and was lost in thought for a moment of silence before she recovered herself, and described the pavilion and her fight with them to him. They discussed what they both had found.

The owner of the journal-for such it was that she had found- was one Nolkai, one of the souls who had lived upon the isle long before her people had come. The buildings she had so admired were the remnants of a temple of his nation before it fell to "the enemy", which could have been the serpent-beasts, or could have been anyone or anything else. Nolkai had asked whoever read the journal to find his belongings, which he had buried near "The Place" as she had begun to call it in her mind. Such a simple and humble request, yet it was the last will and testament of one who had lost his home. Very much like her own people. Was their new home the setting for yet another great tragedy? How many more souls were hurt this way, on this world, and on others? This one, this one being, seeing that he and his people will die and be forgotten, had reached out into the void of oblivion, beyond death, using the one thing they could- writing what they had experienced. After an immense measure of time, she was the first he had reached. She, of all people and things that lived. The idea of being so close to someone who had the same fate as hers, displaced over time and space, hurt.

'Who is this Nolkai?' she almost demanded of the Anchorite, quite forgetting her place in her sorrow and anger.

A brow rose and fell at the tone of her voice, but knowing her reasons, elder Paetheus did not go beyond this in admonishment. She noticed, and lowered her gaze in apology.

He mused, and replied, "Judging by his penmanship and vocabulary, he must have been quite the scholar, if not an outright aristocrat. His manner of speech, however, is too practical for those accustomed to show and luxury. It is almost military in mind. Its logic is clear and simple, and despite being in a life-or-death situation where death was certain- see here, the hand that wrote this never wavered once."

Surely enough, the handwriting remained as clear and as beautiful as it was on the first page. 'This man had great control over his own mind. I would say he was a scientist or a mage of his folk, if they knew these arts. He could also have been a priest, but there are no forms of implorations, invocations or pleas to any god or deity whatsoever, so most likely a man of knowledge rather than faith.' He paused, wistful, feeling as if he had lost the opportunity to have met a great friend. That small silence spoke for him, and she understood, waiting patiently. He straightened his posture and resumed,'From what you say, they had enough architectural skills to build towers and arches.'

She nodded, and, after a thought said, 'Who was this "enemy" '?

There was a short, mutual pause in which they both considered, but refused to speak their common minds. It could have been the same enemy that drove half their nation to evil and the other half to flee, leaving their burning world behind.

She dared break the mutual silence.

'Was it..?'

'It is possible, for they seem ancient. We cannot tell without analysing some samples of their relics. But it is also possible that this world has its own evils.'

'What had happened to his people? Did any survive?'

'Most probably they all died if we are to trust our steady-handed, clear-minded, brave Master Nolkai. If any did survive, I would be most glad to meet them. Shelter and protect them, too, if we can. But I doubt they have lived for so long, unless they are immortal, if such a thing exists, as it sometimes can.'

She did not give up. 'Would we be able to meet their descendants if we explored further?'

He smiled at her. This is why every race needed a new generation as often as possible. 'Who knows? I most certainly hope so. I think we may be lucky and meet them further outland. Perhaps overseas. But be well prepared when exploring, and always let us know beforehand.'

This was a fine idea. She would do her best to find them. Perhaps the strange creatures with the flying eyebrows and obsession for big, arcane red gems in their camps knew. Was it them? Light, no, it couldn't , they were beautiful, wore beautiful clothes, built beautiful towers of their own, showed and wielded considerable power - but they lacked a sense of...solidity? Constancy? Eternity? as was shown in the white ruins she had found. No, these beings were different. There was a certain worldly opulence in the lines of all they were, made and also carried a hint of weakness. Was it the way they clung to whatever sources of power they could find? It was almost pathetic to see them huddle -whatever brave name they themselves might call it- around the massive, chained red crystals in their settlements. The Draenei manipulated crystals and energy, not consumed them. How did she sense this clawing weakness? Was it the way they died with such refusal and rejection at her hands?

They were magnificent, flamboyant, majestic, vain: above the land and its powers, not derived from it. It is as if their presence was a luxurious privilege to all those who experienced it, whereas these others, the buildings and writings of Nolkai and his people, made one feel drawn to them. She wanted to be there, transported into an orderly, calm realm between the spirit, magic, and the power of life. They were not only derived of the land, they connected to it fully, to all that lived. Yet it felt as though only few were truly welcome as one of their own. They would not reject, they would not invite, but call upon one to come witness their marvels, and submit to the greater being, the greater order that made and ruled all that is, yet never as one of themselves. They were far too deeply rooted in their own world, in their own ways, in their own connection to their world, for far too long. Theirs was not a distance of arrogance, but of inwardness. Yet those odd few they accepted, they sheltered and nurtured with their very life force, at cost of their own peril where necessary. These would have been the greatest of allies, and the best of friends, had they lived.

She could see this in the way vines and plants had clung and thrived upon the white walls of the temple and other buildings. All other life had gotten poisoned by the alien energy that ate into the life essence of the island, changing colour, and even acquiring another, sinister spirit, whereas the plant life in the ruins remained pure of essence.

She shared her thoughts.

Anchorite Paetheus stood silent for a good while before speaking.

'It seems you have touched the hearts of two different nations, young one. It is not so easy to glean the spirit of a people from such little contact. The vines and small clumps of plants inside the buildings thrive, you say? That is interesting. It could be very useful information. We should report it. All this shall be reported, of course,' he said, the roles of archivist and officer coming together in him.

She nodded her embarrassed thanks, and asked, 'Would these enemies with the flying brows and red gems know?'

Anchorite Paetheus' own brows met in disagreement. 'I should think not. It is possible, but, ..no. Not is only an assumption, but they do not seem to be the same...'

'What I have seen of Nolkai's folk would only bolster that assumption,' she affirmed.

'How about this "enemy". Was it the slithery warriors?'

'You mean the Naga? Were the Naga as ancient as these buildings you speak of?'

'I do not know. I need to they are, then they must know. But to capture and question one of them would take a small army, from what I have seen. I do not know if they speak any language we do, " she added at the end.

'Let us say they are as ancient as the events described by Master Nolkai. Why didn't they conquer all the isles during this time?'

'Something must have stopped them.'

'Yes, but what? Did you see them anywhere else on the isles?"

'No, sir. There were no such reports to my knowledge."

'Nor to mine. Hold a moment... Tracker Lyceon!' he called out to a leather-clad Draenei passing nearby, who stopped and turned.

Anchorite Paetheus went out to meet him, and she followed. 'Light grace your path. Our young one here says she has seen and fought the Naga in the Eastern shores- ' Lyceon's back straightened, muscles taut.

'Do you know if they were reported seen anywhere else?' continued the Anchorite, pretending not to notice.

Lyceon's pale eyes raked the young Draenei in assessment, as if disbelieving she could contend with such formidable enemies without assistance. His deep voice came reluctantly from his chest. 'No, neither I, nor other trackers nor their outrunners have reported Naga being anywhere else. What is your business with them?'

The Anchorite explained briefly, and the Tracker nodded, then looked back towards her, his gaze slightly more respectful and less assessive this time. He addressed her directly.

'You sure you can manage on your own?'

'So far, sir.'

'Let me know if you need an escort. I will round up a fellow or two.'

'Thank you, sir.'

He turned to the Anchorite. 'Sending a young one to her death as soon as we arrive? Leave the dirty work to us elders.'

She tried to protest. 'I- '

'She is learning, as we all are, Master Lyceon. Better start early.'

'Hmph.'

The ranger left them with less than warm feelings, but, just as they returned to the study, she caught him out of the corner of her eye, speaking with two other rangers, indicating the study, then the direction of the temple with his head as the others nodded. A second glance to the other side enabled her to see yet three others join in the conversation, which attracted the attention of one of the vindicators.

'Looks like there is going to be a heavy patrol at The Place today,' she said.

The Anchorite peered from behind his doorway curtain and saw the scene of gathering paladins and rangers. 'Seems like it,' he smiled. 'Stirring a hornet's nest, are we, young one?'

'Looks like I had better get there before they do. No need to make a fuss.'

The Anchorite chuckled.
'Ohoho! How solitary and sneaky of you! Are you sure you are not better suited for another path in life?'

'Sir?' She was flustered. Stealth and skulduggery, well. Not much suited to a student of the arcane arts, though the occasional invisibility spell did save her hide. More than once, she remembered uncomfortably, grateful for the skill.

'The Naga..' she continued.

'Yes, little one.'

Little one.

She blushed at this, feeling like a child who was being praised by an elder with a gentle pat on the head. Draenei children being so small, their elders' hands could be like umbrellas of a kind- a shelter. It felt nice, but it was somewhat embarrassing to enjoy such shelter at her age. 'Why did they remain within the boundaries of the temple and..' she faltered. '..similar buildings under the sea?'

The Anchorite's gaze suddenly became sharper as she continued, 'Did "the enemy" use magics so powerful that the earth itself was broken? It did not seem like a natural break in the rock..'

'Underwater, you mean the land was larger than it seems?'

'Yes, sir. It extends towards a further set of buildings underwater. I also think I saw some islands further out eastwards.'

He leant forward onto his desk, planting both hands upon it.

'It seems we have much more than we bargained for.'

'What could that be, sir?'

Anchorite Paetheus turned, his serious gaze twinkled with a little mischief.

'Why not ask Master Nolkai himself?'

'Pardon, sir?'

'Fulfil his wishes,' he declared. 'Find his things, and bring them to us. Let us see what he has to say.'

'Yes, sir!'

She bowed formally and left on her quest for Nolkai and his people.