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Most of the space within the Cathedral was occupied with plague victims. Events that would have greatly interested the old doctor had he not been waylaid by his own nasty turn of events. At the moment it was everything the gnome could do to cling to life and even those efforts were falling short.

Space was made in an a small room on the other end of the Cathedral, and in short order the area had become a makeshift Emergency Room. An I.V. bag and drip line was being established by the only spare nurse-priest they had on hand. All others were dedicated to the plague, but it would suffice.

Genevra never left his side, seeing to his comfort and care as best she could. Even now she stood over him working diligently, calling upon her considerable healing talents within the Light. Sprocket stood tentatively by the side, wanting to desperately flee and be anywhere else but here... but feeling a strange obligation to at least wait and see if the old gnome would pull through.

On the first day Matron Stoneheardt did her absolute best to save her frail old friend, but it seems another force was equally hard at work within his small body. Her rapid and powerful infusion of light triggered a strong and nearly violent reaction to the shadow that had been slowly growing within him. Reacting to its opposing force, the shadow surged throughout encasing the old gnome in a dark shroud of protection. Genevra spent the remainder of that day trying desperately to pierce through the veil of darkness shrouding not only Cail's body but also his mind. To no avail. She finally collapsed into the seat by his bed, exhausted.

The following few days were touch and go. Genevra stayed by the old gnome's side as much as she could. Against her better judgement she dared not try and delve into the darkness again for Cail's sake. She had the sense that in its own way the shadow was protecting Cail, perhaps even healing him if that were at all possible.

Was the old gnome doing this on purpose? Had he been a veteran Shadowmancer she might conclude such, but he was wholly unskilled. Was this instead his own subconsciousness, somehow awakening and controlling latent abilities in response to a dire situation? This seemed more likely. Cail, for all his goodness and kindness, was in his own way a tortured soul with his own demons to face. Perhaps this is just one of them made bare.

Still, it pained her not knowing. It pained her even more to see him in this state, knowing what she did about the dark. There was also that ever looming possibility that this was something completely apart from Cail. Something foreign. Uninvited. The thought made her cring, but she could not discount it. Not yet any way.

A few days had passed since the old gnome stabilized. His vitals looked promising though he still hadn't awakened. The single attending nurse gave Genevra a confident nod, relinquishing Matron Stoneheardt of her dutiful but tiring vigil. She desperately needed a good rest in her own bed. A good meal. Warm bath. She stood on weary legs and patted the nurse's shoulder. The sapped woman opened her mouth to speak but the nurse anticipated her.

"I will let you know the moment he wakes."

With a thankful nod Genevra Stoneheardt retired her post.

The next day she returned, a renewed woman. The night's sleep was deep and reinvigorating after her warm relaxing bath. A stomach full of proper food helped set her out the door on the right foot with a hopeful song on her breath and a grateful prayer in her heart. Entering the Cathedral of Light reminded her of the woes the latest plague had brought upon the people. The sounds of those suffering in the quarantined wing muted the song she carried, and her heart went out to them... but before she could do anything she must first check in on her old friend.

Turning down the opposite wing of the cathedral she entered the small room where she last left the frail old gnome. Invigorated as she was, she'd determined that if he wasn't awake she would tried again to pierce the darkness within him. Light willing he would... Genevra stopped dead in her tracks as she entered the room.

The bed was empty.

Her heart stopped. Immediately the worse sprang to mind and it became hard to breath. She leaned against the door frame and bit her lip, fighting back the well of tears and anguish. It just couldn't be.. She spied the nurse standing in the corner folding sheets and straightening. Genevra stepped to the bedside as the nurse turned and jumped. "Oh my... you startled.." The nurse could see the despair overwhelming her.

"Oh nonono." The nurse waved her hands stepping swiftly around the bed. "He's not dead ma'm." The nurse took Genevra's arm to steady her. She took in the nurse with bewilderment. "Then... " She looked back at the bed.

"It was the oddest thing." The nurse motioned to have her sit, but Matron Stoneheardt was having none of it. The woman was regaining her composure and every inch of her demanded an answer, so the nurse continued. "A short time after you left yesterday, I stepped out for only a moment to gather supplies. When I returned your friend was sitting up on the edge of the bed. I screamed and dropped the supplies." The nurse politely chuckled remembering. "It made a racket and a few priest came to my attention but everything was alright. When I asked him how he was feeling he stared at me with the strangest blank expression. Sent chills down my back."

"What else happened?" Genevra urged her on.

"He simply asked for a pen and paper, scribbled out this letter," She pulled the folded letter from her apron pouch. "And asked me to give it to you when you returned." The nurse handed over the paper. "I can't really say what happened next. It was as if I blinked and the gnome was gone. I scurried about looking for him but there was no sign."

Matron Stoneheardt was regaining her stoic facade, but inside Genevra was confused and in a panic. Most of all, knowing the state he was in when she left, being shrouded and practically consumed by the Shadow, her heart broke.

"How did he look?"

"Thin ma'm, and frail, yet he held himself and moved as if nothing were the matter. That dark shroud of shadow clung tightly to him thought. It gave him such a ghostly appearance, in part that was the reason why I screamed. I thought for a moment that he had died and returned, but after a moment I could tell. He was very much alive."

"The shroud. What was its consistency?"

"Thin at first. When I drew closer it seemed to thicken and grow darker. Other than this it drifted from him like wisps of smoke." The nurse's gaze drifted briefly. "I've never seen anything like it in my life. It was both beautiful and terrible."

Genevra gave her a nod and stepped out into the hall. She had to sit. Finding a stone bench she sat and opened the letter, nervous about what it said.

The letter read:

Dearest Genevra.
You are indeed a great friend and wonderful person, having kept vigil over me this entire time has put such a strain on you.

Since the day you successfully entered my mind I have been pondering over my life. The shadow remains with me even now. I feel as though I have bonded with it and it to me, that it lives within my body and mind as a very welcomed guest. It speaks to me clearly now in a soothing subtle way. It reminded me of what had happened.

It shrouded me. Protected me, and coupled with the other treatments you and the nurses rendered it helped to save my life.

I laid physically asleep but mentally aware of everything, and I ached that you were being tortured so. When you finally left the shadow woke me. I agreed with it that leaving would be the best course of action. As long as I remain here I will only be a burden to you and my friends. I know not where I depart but the darkness reassures me that I will be safe and alone. It craves dark solitary places, and I find myself oddly attracted in kind. The Shadow will help my body recover and while I do there is much that it has promised to teach me.

For the first time in a very long while I feel enlightened.

Please forgive me, my old friend, for this abrupt and unkindly departure. Be assured that I will not be away for long. I look forward to rejoining with you at your sermon and perhaps even sooner so that I may once again delve into the vaults of Conclave. I anticipate the new insights that await me as well as long philosophical conversations with you over my new condition.

Please be well. Until we meet again...

Dr. Cail Liam Mahlr'D

Though legible, the words were scribbled in an hurry. The name was signed with a familiar flourish.

Cail snorted.

The loud noise of his own making awoke him with a jolt. He sat up abruptly and nearly fell out of his chair. Blinking the sleep away he peered around the silent tomb of the Conclave Vaults through blurry eyes. He had been in Northshire for several days conducting research.

Oh yes... research... Cail blinked down at the open book he had been using as a pillow. Glancing left then right, satisfied that he was alone and no one had seen him, Cail tucked a sleeve around his hand and wiped his spittle of the precious record, careful not to smear the ink. He then continued reading.

Respect.
Tenacity.
Power.

Three virtues. Two are shared in name by the Church of the Light and yet they are understood so differently. ...

Cail paused in thought. His head still clearing from his hour or two long power nap, he read the page again pausing at the same spot. Are they though? He shifted that book aside and read the page of another that was open beneath it.

The Three Tenants of the Church of the Light
An Examination of the Three Virtues.

It was a lengthy thesis which the old scholar with the gnome found to be rather redundant, but informative nonetheless. He glanced over the page again, as he had several times the night before just to be certain he hadn't missed something. He stopped and reasoned to himself.

Respect, held and taught by the church as a virtue of the Holy Light, acknowledges the need to be aware of oneself and their connection to the universe, but stresses the awareness of the connection of others to the same universe. By respecting the connection of others, the book calls it happiness, practitioners are serving the greater well-being of the universe as a whole and thereby serving themselves. An oversimplification perhaps but in a nutshell thats it.

Cail shifted over to a smaller, thinner book and read the page. He paused, thinking.

Respect, held and taught by this reviled Cult of Forgotten Shadow, essentially states the same thing, if only through a more self-centered prism. The universe is a manifestation of our collective power. By necessity some are more powerful than others, and disparaging the universe in any form is to disrespect the power of those around them. This is dangerous. Respecting the universe and therefore those around you offers a measure of protection as one goes about gradually increasing their own power. Again, oversimplified, but there it is.

The old gnome slumped back in his hard wooden chair. He noticed from the corner of his eye that morning's light was beginning to illuminate the room. He lifted a hand to rub his eyes again but paused, staring at the thin layer of shadow that coated his person. The old doctor turned his hand back and forth looking at it with a refreshing wonder, then glance down the front of himself musing at how the shadow permeated everything he wore. At best it muted the colors of his robes and dulled the brilliance of his adornments, few though they may be. To his flesh it gave a certain muddied purple hue in certain light. Most amusing was the way it colored his gray-white beard and hair, turning it a faint shade of purple. He had never been fond of the color, but it was growing on him. Cail smirked. In some ways quite literally.

The old gnome relaxed as best he could in his wooden armchair and steepled his fingers in front of his nose. I understand to a degree the trepidation that Genevra feels, though I admit to myself that I have not suffered her same trials. I can not afford to allow her personal bigotry, benign or otherwise, to taint my own conclusions. I can not fathom the reasons why the shadow, This Shadow, preserved me but it must be for a sound logical reason.

Cail idly turned the pages of the small thin book. The Cult of the Forgotten Shadow. Author unknown, yet so far it is the best source I can find on the matter of shadow. Cail gave a tired sigh. Scripted by a member of the Church of Light no doubt, its texts are far from impartial.

He closed the book and thoughtfully rubbed his sternum. If I am to take from its teachings, then I need to be gradually increasing my own power. Exerting my will within the universe. To do that, Cail pressed himself away from the table. ...I need more data.

Closing each of the books atop the table the old gnome, Doctor Cail Liam Mahlr'D, piled the useful tomes to one side clearing a space. He then returned to the long rows of shelved books within the Vaults of Conclave in search of more data.