She had always been impatient, always headstrong and impetuous.  Her tutors all agreed that she was a loose cannon, and would one day bring about her own doom if the fires of wisdom did not temper her.  She had been first among her peers to shape her mana into spell-forms, had been the first to unlock the secrets of the Higher Arts, and had been first to learn some of the Arts outside the book she now carried.  She had the power, but her tutors all asked the same question: did she have the wisdom?  Even though the words of her detractors galled her, as she stood here she wondered if they might even be right.  Something had chosen her to be here tonight, something had come in her dreams and the dreams of the elders.

The sun was nearly set behind the horizon when she saw a figure approaching; a figure swathed in robes like her own.  She couldn't make the stranger's actual size or gender because of the robes and the shadow, but something told her the stranger was a mage… a powerful one, at that.  The wind was freshening, flinging a fine spray of sand into the air and obscuring her vision once more.  When the wind had died back down she saw the figure was indeed a mage, by his build obviously a man.  She hailed him.

"You, you there!"

The man was still walking towards her with the aid of his staff, his skin was tanned dark, he must have traveled long.

"You!  Who are you?"

The man stood almost ten feet from her, his robes billowing around him like restless wings.  Upon his breast he bore the same symbol that graced the book, the symbol of the Vizjerei.

"Vizjerei mage, name yourself!" she commanded, unconsciously gripping the book tighter.

"You are Cassadra of Lothiar, sorceress of the fifth circle." His voice was odd, with a strange accent Cassadra couldn't recognize.

"You know me, then?"

"I know of you well, Cassadra."

"Then we have not been properly introduced, I do not know your name."

"Cassadra?" a voice from behind her intoned.

She turned; facing an older woman dressed in plain, gray robes.

"Yes, mother?"

"Who is it that you're speaking to?"

"Him."  Cassadra moved out of the way so her mother could get a look at the stranger.  Her eyes widened and she went to her knees, bowing before the man.

"Great Lord!" she exclaimed.

"Old woman… get up… do not bow…" the man said slowly.

"Mother!  Get up, don't bow to this man…"

"But Cassadra, he is Rathandel."

"Rathandel?"  Cassadra laughed as she helped her mother to her feet, "this old fool isn't the great Rathandel."

"No, he is, I know it."

She turned to face the man, her eyes burning.

"He is not Rathandel, Rathandel would not walk across the desert, he would simply appear like the wind itself."

"Cassadra, you mustn't…"

"No, Amiel, doubt can be as powerful an enemy as any demon."

"So, you think I should be cowed simply because you know my mother's name… I am not so easily impressed, Rathandel." She said sarcastically.

"Cassadra, hush yourself!" Amiel was horrified.

"So Rathandel, would you challenge me?  Your might against my humble sorcery?"

"Cassadra, you wouldn't!"

"If you wish to challenge me I will not deny you." The man said coolly.

"Then prepare yourself, Vizjerei mage, for your death!"

Cassadra assumed the spellcasting pose, gathering her mana through sheer force of will.  Rathandel simply stood there, looking at Cassadra with vague interest.  Amiel scooted away from them both, shielding her eyes from the slaughter she was sure would some come.  Cassadra formed the mana into a Firebolt and hurtled it at the older mage; the Firebolt streaked through the air straight for him.  As it approached him it slowed, finally stopping inches in front of his chest.

"Pretty… did you learn this yourself?"

"Y… yes, I did…" Cassadra was lost for words.

Rathandel put a hand around the fiery sphere, the flames avoiding his nimble fingers.  He picked at the spell's weave, looking at its individual components, before he unraveled it completely, dissipating it.

"You are… Rathandel?"

"Yes, I am."

"My Lord, please forgive my arrogance, I did not believe…"

"I know you didn't believe… why should you?  I am no god, no angel, only a man."

"But you are…"

"I am nothing, Cassadra, I am only here to bear you a message, and take you to a place."

"Where?"

"You have been called by the Light, Cassadra, to be one of its warriors."

"I know, the stars told me nights ago… they told me to come here…"

"Great Rathandel?  What will happen to my daughter?" Amiel approached them both, her eyes brimming with tears.

"Your daughter is special, and the mission she has been chosen for an honor.  But with all quests come danger… the higher the climb, the greater the fall."

"Will she…" Amiel couldn't bring herself to finish, her words choked in a paroxysm of sobs.  Cassadra put her arms about the older woman, comforting her.