Eidolon

“You’ve been chosen…”

Eidolon had always loved stories. Stories of times long passed. Of the First and Second Age. Of the different gods and how they had come to be. Of the elders and the wisdom gained from long life. She had always gathered up as many histories as she could find, reading obsessively. Protecting her collection of books with a harsh coldness that preceded almost anything else.

Eidolon remembered everything about that day. She had been curious. The Plaguebringer had come and she had gone to meet her. She wanted to know more. And in that interest to know more she had gone back with the Plaguebringer to the Scarred Wasteland. Her choice was solidified in the offer from the Plaguebringer to be one of the ones that went between. To be a messenger. She could travel back to the Southern Icefields as her duties demanded. She could ferry Wraiths from the Scarred Wasteland to elsewhere. She could go to the graves of Liches and watch them rise. But those tasks were trivial compared to her personal mission. The stories. Each dragon she guided. Each message she carried. She could just add more and more to her collection.

The Plaguebringer had given her means to fulfill her self-given purpose. Had given her new life. But she had never thought that accepting the offer would have given her the scarlet-eyed Pearlcatcher who had taken to bringing her book after book… Had never thought that in her pursuit of her collection, she would end up writing her own story…

“Have you read this one yet?”