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enemies unarmed, rather than ally myself to such a malignant power. But I was not alone, and my companions did not share my revulsion. Never before had I been so acutely aware of the vast gap that exists between our nature, Church-nurtured, and that of the pagan multitudes. And I wished I had some way to explain to them that it is better to die with a clean soul than persevere through corruption. But my companions wanted that power supporting them more than they feared its nature, and in the end I was forced to acquiesce to the Hunter’s will.
    Together we four traveled eastward to the port of Sattin—journeying by night, because the sun was anathema to the Hunter’s undead flesh. There, where the waters of the Serpent became so narrow that one could almost see across them, we found a captain willing to brave the rugged rakhland coast. But that was not the only danger facing us. There is a barrier about the rakhlands through which no Working may pass, a place where the power is wild, utterly chaotic, and even human senses lose their focus ... suffice it to say that I am still haunted by images from that terrible crossing. We made it across and set down on the rakhland shore without incident, for which I give thanks to God; it was no small miracle that got us there.
    We struggled westward along the rugged coast, to the mouth of the Achron River. From there we turned southward, into the heart of the continent. The terrain was harsh and traveling took its toll on us, as did the growing certainty that someone—or some thing —was watching us. Several nights later an earthquake struck, with devastating result: two of the horses were killed, and but for Tarrant’s aid I would have drowned in the whitewaters of the Achron. Even worse, it disarmed us at a crucial moment. For it was then that the rakh attacked.
    Your Library has information on what these native predators once were; I have attached several drawings of what they now are. Though evolution has forced them to adopt a human shape, they are not human in nature; their intelligence, which rivals our own, seems at war with a bestial inheritance, making them unpredictable and often violent. They have never forgotten what humankind did to them—or attempted to do—and the memory of that holocaust is as fresh and as real to them as though the attempted genocide of their species occurred only days ago. In truth, the only thing which saved our lives was that their curiosity outweighed their anger—for the moment—and we were taken as bound prisoners to their camp. I have enclosed separate notes on their encampment and what little we could observe of their society. We tried to argue for our lives, our pleas translated into their tongue by the bilingual khrast, but how could we argue with such an ingrained hatred? In the end it was our purpose that saved us. For the demons we sought had struck here, as well, and the ravaged souls they had left behind gazed out at us through rakhene eyes, behind a veil of rakhene tears. In serving our own quest we would be serving the rakh as well.
    We were given a guide from among their people, a khrast female named Hesseth. Ours was a tense partnership, made more so by an open display of Tarrant’s murderous powers. But she led us across the great plains of the rakhlands, negotiating with various hostile tribes along the way, and we soon came to realize that we could not have made the journey without her. Not in the face of a hatred that had festered for so many centuries, with so many different tribes to appease.
    We now knew that there was a human sorcerer allied to the demons we sought, and we did what we could to misdirect his Sight. For a time it seemed that we were successful—and then, amidst the snow-clad peaks of the rakhland mountains, he struck at us. Senzei Reese was tricked into going off alone and was killed, gruesomely; may his soul find peace in whatever pagan afterlife he created for himself. Tarrant was nearly killed as