I tried not to think about Jared’s words as I set to work on the scroll.

There was a small desk near the windows of my room, showered in crisp, early spring sunlight. I set up camp there, rummaging around in the drawers for paper and several quills, then set to work.

Translating anything from Pritian was always a challenge, especially with no published texts to work from. Pritian was nothing but symbols that danced in an uneven rhythm. It could be ...