Shaman Dakar was late again, but nobody was really surprised. The young man was running as fast as he could down the cobble stoned paths of the temple city of Normet. It was one of the few congregations left that believed in the spirits that had once been so influential in the everyday lives of most of the world. That had been in the days when the spirits had been visible to the living world, existing almost simultaneously with the mortal realm. Lately, however, not even most of the Shamans could communicate with them. Because of that, few people believed in the spirits anymore, and many of those who did were afraid of them and anyone who was associated with them. Dakar had never feared much of anything, certainly not the spirits.

“Late again, Dakar?â€